Innocent Betrayal

by Mary Campisi

  He cleared his throat and set his teacup down on the mahogany table in front of him. “I said I have been at Glenview Manor for two weeks. I have been in Mr. Sandleton’s employ for much longer than that.”

  “Oh? How long and in what capacity?”

  “Years. I’ve had various duties, depending on the need at the time.”

  The man was deliberately avoiding her questions. “Mr. Billington, it’s becoming quite clear to me that you do not wish to answer my questions.” She clenched her fingers around the delicate china cup as she waited for his answer.

  A full minute passed before Edward Billington opened his mouth and spoke, “It is not that I refuse to answer your questions, Lady Sandleton, but I am employed by Mr. Sandleton and cannot divulge information without his permission.”

  “Oh. How exactly do you obtain permission, Mr. Billington when my husband isn’t here? No, don’t bother to answer that, because I know you won’t anyway.” She set the teacup on the table before she crushed it between her hands. “Henry Barnes said my husband was here recently. Is that true?”

  “Mr. Barnes speaks out of turn.”

  “At least he speaks.”

  “Fools speak all of the time and rarely say anything.”

  “Where is my husband?” Emily threw the question at him like a volley from a cannon. He looked surprised but recovered within seconds, the mask of indifference back in place so quickly she almost thought she’d imagined the look. But it had been real. Edward Billington knew where Noah was.

  “Lady Sandleton,” the words were stiff and very precise, “you are his wife, whereas, I am only the butler. Certainly, if anyone knew Mr. Sandleton’s whereabouts, it would be you.”

  He was a smooth one, she’d grant him that. He knew how to turn and twist a phrase to make her question her own words. Almost. Emily leaned against the sofa and pasted a smile of serenity on her face. “One would most certainly think so, Mr. Billington. Unfortunately, that is not the case in this instance, as we are both well aware. I think you know my husband doesn’t plan to return, and I also think you know where he is and how to contact him. But, since, as you say, you cannot speak on this matter without his permission, we will pretend that he is ‘unavailable’ for an indefinite period of time.” Emily leaned forward, attempting to close the distance between them. Edward Billington inched toward the edge of the couch. “Therefore,” she continued, her words strong and steady, “until further notice, I will be in charge of running Glenview Manor. All questions and decisions will be handled by me.”

  “Certainly you do not wish to be bothered with such a tedious chore, Lady Sandleton. Mr. Sandleton left very specific instructions as to how the house should be run so as not to interfere with whatever pursuits you may entertain.”

  Emily noticed the slight twitch in his jaw. He wasn’t happy with her announcement but he was making a very good show at remaining indifferent.

  “Why, it’s no bother at all. I look forward to working with the staff and learning all about Glenview Manor. Since my husband left specific instructions as to how his home should be run in his absence, I will be most anxious to review the list as soon as possible.”

  Edward Billington remained silent, his bony fingers crossed at the knee. Emily noted his knuckles were white. A dull flush crept up his neck, stained his face and ears. He was either very angry or embarrassed at getting caught in a lie of his own making. Emily was fairly certain the specific instructions he referred to were mere fabrication.

  “Well, I believe that will be all at the moment, Mr. Billington,” she said, rising.

  “Yes, Lady Sandleton,” he replied, unfolding his lanky form into a standing position. He nodded once and turned toward the door.

  “Ah, Mr. Billington?”

  “Yes, Lady Sandleton?” He’d reached the door in less than ten strides and had his hand on the knob, ready to bolt. His gaze remained on the oak door in front of him.

  “I’ll expect that list no later than tomorrow morning.” There. Let him stew over that.

  “Yes, Lady Sandleton.” The door opened and he disappeared before she could take another breath. Or give another command.

  Edward Billington could try one’s nerves with his cold stares and one word responses. She knew no more about Noah’s whereabouts now than she had before her meeting. She moved to the sideboard, grabbed a crystal decanter, and headed for the sofa. She could use a nice, hot cup of tea, with just a hint of something stronger to relax her. Then again, she thought as she poured a healthy measure of amber liquid into her cup, perhaps she’d skip the tea this time.

  Chapter 10

  Noah called himself a hundred kinds of fool for the note he’d sent Emily telling her he missed her. It had been almost two weeks, and he’d gotten no response. Not a word. What had he expected, anyway? Even if she had received the letter, which was uncertain with a brother like Ian, she might well have torn it to shreds without reading it. Or, she might have read it first, and then torn it to shreds. She probably considered him among the lowest vermin on the face of the earth after the way he’d married her, bedded her, and deserted her. He’d had no business trying to contact her.

  So, why in the hell had he? He told himself he hadn’t broken his promise to Ian by sending the note. It was just his way of trying to ease the pain he’d caused her and a feeble attempt to appear less of a cad. He must have failed miserably, though, because every hour that dragged on without a response from Emily told him she wasn’t pining for him anymore. That was one thing he’d learned about his wife; the woman could carry a grudge, especially if she had a reason.

  It had been a stupid thing to do. Even if she’d received the letter and responded in a positive manner, what could he have offered her? He’d given Ian his word and short of challenging him to a duel, Noah had to stay out of Emily’s life. A small part of him had hoped Ian would read the letter, take pity on the miserable, besotted fool he’d become and relieve Noah of his vow. Of course, it was a ridiculous, unfounded hope. His emotions were getting the best of him. He was moody and in a bad temper most days. He’d tried to take his mind off his wife by concentrating on his spice and silk business, setting up meetings, and arranging shipments with various merchants. Filling in time, passing the hours, that’s what he’d been doing but he couldn’t wait any longer for a message that wasn’t coming, a message he had no business waiting for.

  Tomorrow he’d leave England and head for the Indies. Billington would serve as his eyes and ears, sending him detailed reports on his wife. But Billington wouldn’t be able to describe the way Emily’s gray eyes sparkled when she laughed, or how the golden highlights danced through her hair when the sun shone on it a certain way. His account would not mention the faint scent of lilac that drifted about her or the soft murmur of her voice in the night.

  It would only contain facts. Details. Appointments. Noah would have to settle for this. As long as she was safe, he would save the rest for his dreams and lose himself in the sweetness of remembering each night as sleep took him. As long as she was safe, he would stay away. But if anyone or anything threatened that safety, nothing would keep him from his wife. Not a brother, not a best friend, not a vow, not a duel. He would die to keep her safe.

  ****

  “Mr. Billington, I’m going riding. I expect to return in time for afternoon tea.” Emily stood in the middle of the oak hallway, adjusting the gold trim on the sleeve of her riding habit.

  “If I might say, Lady Sandleton, this is certainly a departure from your usual riding attire.”

  “Indeed it is.” She knew he was referring to the customary white shirt and breeches she wore every day for her early morning ride with Allegra.

  “Is there, ah, any particular reason you’re dressed in such a fashion?”

  How nosy of him. At least he did have the good grace to be hesitant about it, which meant he knew it was none of his business but wanted to know anyway. Why? So he could check it off on his list of specific instructions?
Was checking up on his wife, Noah’s unwritten request? That whole ordeal had been a laugh. When Billington presented her with the list the following morning, there had been six handwritten directives, beginning and ending with “do not overburden Lady Sandleton with mundane details.” The handwriting was bold, sloppy, and totally unfamiliar.

  Emily had accepted the proffered list without a word. How could she dispute anything when she couldn’t identify the handwriting as her husband’s? After all, the only writing she’d ever witnessed was his signature in the marriage register. She’d not considered that little obstacle the day before when she’d been so adamant about obtaining the list. Of course, Noah could have written the list but Edward Billington could have penned it also. Or, perhaps it had been the cook, or the scullery maid. Fact was, it could have been written by anyone. There’d been no choice but to let the matter drop with a curt nod and a murmured thank you.

  “Lady Emily?” Mr. Billington closed the distance between them. “Might someone be joining you today?” He asked the question as though he had a right to a response—even expected one. She wondered for the third time in as many days, what his relationship to her husband might be that he should assume such an arrogant attitude.

  “Why yes, as a matter of fact, I am riding with a friend today.” The nosy man would have to pry the rest of the information from her. She headed for the door but had taken no more than three steps before she heard his very precise voice behind her.

  “I was not aware you had made any acquaintances since your arrival at Glenview Manor.”

  He was dying to know what she was up to. Hiding a smile, Emily pulled the heavy oak door open and glanced over her shoulder. “Well, I have, Mr. Billington.” She stepped outside still holding the door open. “And he’s quite a handsome acquaintance at that.” With those parting words, she pulled the door shut and hurried down the steps, breaking into a run as soon as her booted foot reached the ground.

  The stables were several hundred feet away from the main house and Emily’s riding habit made running any distance quite difficult. Oh, how she wished she’d worn breeches! She tried to move faster as the steady, forceful steps of Edward Billington closed in on her, but her skirt was too constricting to break away from him.

  “Lady Sandleton! Why are you running from me? Please stop!”

  “I can’t, Mr. Billington,” she called back to him. “I’m already late.”

  He huffed behind her. “If you’ll hold up a moment.”

  Emily stopped. The man had begun to annoy her with his persistence. What right did he have to question her? After all, he was only the butler. Wasn’t he?

  Edward Billington rounded on her, face flushed, breathing heavy. “You are”—he drew in a deep breath—“riding with a gentleman?”

  “If that is any of your concern, Mr. Billington, which I seriously doubt, then yes, I am riding with a gentleman.”

  “Who is the gentleman?”

  She pressed her lips together before a blasphemous word escaped.

  “It really is none of your business,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest in agitation.

  “But it is Mr. Sandleton’s,” he answered, copying her stance with his long arms folded in front of him.

  “How dare you? If Mr. Sandleton were concerned, he would be here, wouldn’t he?”

  Edward Billington’s gaze shifted to a point beyond her. He remained silent.

  “Exactly.” She tried to ignore the hurt his silence caused. Even the butler knew Noah didn’t care about her. She turned to leave, feeling dejected and so alone.

  “He would want to know.”

  Those simple words ignited a fire in her blood, angering her all over again. She spun on her heel and faced Edward Billington, fists clenched, mouth tight. “If he wants to know, then he’ll have to ask me himself.”

  ****

  “How long have you lived at Penworth?” Emily asked.

  “I purchased the property two years ago, but have only been living there for the last six months.” Andrew Kleeton smiled at Emily, revealing two deep-set dimples on either side of his mouth. “Please, call me Andrew. Mr. Kleeton reminds me of my father.”

  Emily smiled back at him. “All right. Andrew,” she said, testing his name on her lips. “Then you must call me Emily.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They sat in an open meadow on the north side of Glenview Manor. Finch and starlings danced around them, with an occasional blue jay darting into the path. The melodies they created were gentle, soothing notes carried along with the early afternoon breeze. Emily closed her eyes, trying to block out her confrontation with Mr. Billington.

  “There’s nothing quite so beautiful as nature in all of its naked glory.” Andrew’s soft words reached her as she basked in the warm rays of sunshine on her upturned face.

  “I’ve always preferred the country to city life,” she confessed.

  “So, you did not go to London during the Season?”

  “I went, kicking and screaming,” she said.

  Andrew laughed. “Well, I was there and I didn’t notice anyone kicking or screaming. Wait a moment. I take that back. There were a few confirmed bachelors who got snagged by determined future mother-in-laws. Right into the marriage mart, with their heads still spinning.”

  Emily laughed, opening her eyes to see his grin. He looked like a Greek god, his longish blond hair bathed in sunlight, his skin a deep honeyed tone reflected by the rays. His handsome face was unmarred—no scars, bumps or bruises. No crooks in his nose. A vision of Noah’s battered face the last time she’d seen him popped before her eyes. Her smile faded.

  “Emily?”

  Forcing a gaiety she no longer felt, Emily said, “Tell, me, Andrew, how did you avoid being snagged by some young girl’s mother? Did you hide in a closet?”

  “Of course not!” he pretended outrage. “Do you think me a coward? Not I,” he vowed. “When I spotted some willful mother approaching me with her simpering daughter, I merely pulled the nearest old woman into my arms and began dancing with her. It drove the mothers mad and made my dance partners giggle like young schoolgirls. Quite a civilized way to avoid capture, I might add.”

  Emily laughed, forgetting about the shadow that had doomed her high spirits a few moments before. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Thank you, m’lady.” He bowed his head in mock sincerity. “I wish I’d met you last Season. I might have swept you off your feet before Sandleton got to it.”

  His words were light and teasing, but there was no humor in the blue gaze that settled over her. It was dark, intense, and deadly serious. Emily shifted, uncomfortable with the way he looked at her. “You say that now that I am a married woman, but I’ll wager had I looked at you twice, you would have dragged two old ladies onto the floor.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Then again,” he sighed, all seriousness gone, “perhaps not.”

  She shook her head and laughed. He did indeed remind her of Christopher with his intelligence, wit, and sense of humor.

  “I suppose we should be getting back,” Andrew said as he stood to brush bits of tall grass from his clothes. He held out his hand to Emily and she accepted the gesture as her eyes drifted to the soft leather that covered his right hand. And his left.

  He followed her gaze. “A war injury.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away.

  “Don’t be. It happened a long time ago. I grew tired of women fainting at the sight of all the scars, so I bought gloves. Boxes and boxes of them. Different colors, styles, textures.”

  “How clever.” Emily slipped her hand from his and moved toward Allegra. The sun was high above them now, indicating they’d been out at least a few hours. Time to head back to Glenview Manor and the inquisitive Mr. Billington.

  The horses chomped the tall grass, filling their bellies as they trimmed a path for her. Emily patted Allegra’s neck and reached for the reins. She mounted and turned toward Andrew who stood quite sti
ll, his hand shielding the hot sun from his eyes as he stared off into the distance. A lone figure sat on a horse.

  “Andrew, do you know who that is?” Emily asked as prickles of apprehension raced through her.

  “He’s too far away to tell much.”

  “Why would anyone be—” The words hung in mid-sentence. Billington! It had to be him. She couldn’t wait to get back to the house to give him a piece of her mind. Spying, indeed! “I know who the culprit is, Andrew.”

  Not taking his eyes from the horse and rider, he replied, “Who is it?”

  “My overzealous, overprotective butler.” She tapped her riding crop in her hand, beating a rapid staccato. “I’ll take care of the situation as soon as I return to Glenview Manor.”

  ****

  Emily left Andrew at the corner of their properties, apologizing again for her butler’s rude behavior. Andrew seemed quite bothered by the whole incident, almost outraged, vowing to intervene if Emily deemed it necessary. He insisted someone had to look out for her welfare in her husband’s absence, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that was exactly what Billington thought he was doing by spying on her. Nor would she tell him her husband might well have been the one encouraging such behavior.

  When she reached the stables, she dismounted and went in search of Henry Barnes. She found him in one of the stalls, tending to a huge black stallion. She guessed it was Noah’s from the untamed look about him, as though he tolerated civilization, but barely. Like his master.

  “Mr. Barnes,” Emily began, trying to control the anger burning in her gut, “did Mr. Billington leave about two hours ago with one of the horses?”

  The old man scratched his scraggly gray head. “No, ma’am.”

  He had to have taken one of the horses. Emily tried again. “He didn’t come to you and request you saddle a mount for him?”

  That got a laugh from Henry Barnes. “No, ma’am. That old bag o’ bones can’t ride no horse. Hah!”

  “Well, then, did anyone come to you and request one of the horses?” she asked.