The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4

by Tracy Goodwin

  “Stronger?” Sybil scoffed. “You are weak. How else could I have succeeded in repeatedly stealing your identity?”

  “Make no mistake, Sybil, I am stronger and I have you to thank. You taught me how to fight for my life. Your machinations reunited me with Logan. Your deceptions made me wiser. Your maliciousness made me love my husband even more than before. Your lies made me even more grateful for my happiness,” Arabella hissed. “I am happy and my husband will never abandon me. You are nothing, not anymore. You once possessed potential, I will grant you that, but you squandered it. You made enemies who will never forgive your sins.”

  Sybil pointed at her sister, articulating each word as her index finger sliced through the air. “It is you who is mistaken, Arabella, for you will never outwit me.”

  “I already have,” Bella’s expression softened. “Poor dear. You still don’t understand, do you?”

  “To what do you refer?” Sybil steeled her shoulders.

  “Before I help you understand, I want to thank you, Sybil, for making my life one that I adore.” Arabella knew this would enrage her sister like nothing else she could say. “I appreciate everything I have, my exquisite family, because of your duplicity. The others will not feel the same, of course. I am quite certain they will have words for you, if not more.”

  “What have you done, Arabella?” Sybil growled through clenched teeth, her eyes darting about the stage.

  Searching for witnesses, no doubt.

  “Granted your dearest wish,” Arabella smiled. “Tonight, I made you the star of your own production, a grand spectacle detailing your sins. You played the only role you were meant to play – that of yourself.”

  The green curtain dropped to the floor, revealing a crowd of two dozen. More than Arabella expected. Victoria, Eve and Tristan were in attendance, as well. Bella was certain Logan was watching the scene from the wings – by her side, just as he promised.

  “This is your adoring crowd. No, I take that back. I believe they detest you, though I will allow them to speak for themselves—”

  “Damn you!” Sybil lunged for her sister, who pulled the sharp blade from her fan.

  “Now, Adolphus!” Logan’s rich baritone echoed throughout the spacious theatre.

  The canine ran onto the stage, planting his feet firmly between Arabella and Sybil. Defending his mistress, the canine snarled at Sybil, barking his warning and baring his teeth.

  Bella clutched the blade as Logan placed his hand on the small of her back. “Well done, love. You improvised with great efficiency. If I were a betting man, I would think you had some practice.”

  Turning towards her husband, Arabella smiled. “Perhaps a little. We did agree to be prepared for anything.”

  “True,” Logan kissed the top of her head. “My savior.”

  Sybil’s eyes darted from Arabella, Logan and Adolphus to the crowd in the audience who were beginning to stand. She grabbed her skirts in an attempt to run, but Adolphus blocked her path, continuing to snarl and bark.

  Several men stormed the stage, one shouting profanities while the others threatened jail and other forms of retribution. Grabbing Sybil by her arms, they dragged her from the stage. The words “London” and “authorities” were muttered by at least half the group.

  “Leave me alone!” Sybil shouted as she squirmed, wrestling to break free of their solid hold over her. “Release me at once!”

  Her pleas fell on deaf ears, as the crowd continued to shove her out of the theatre in the effort of returning her to London to face her crimes.

  Colin clapped, “Well done! I am impressed.”

  “Stand in line,” Logan quipped, grinning at his friend.

  Victoria approached the stage, a crease lining her brow. “We were so frightened when Sybil ambushed you. Thank God you are safe.”

  “And strong,” Eve placed her arm around Tori’s shoulder. “Truly a member of the family, I dare say, for we are a sturdy lot.”

  Clapping Colin on the shoulder, Tristan suggested, “I think it is best that we escort the crowd to their carriages. See that Sybil doesn’t bolt.”

  Nodding, Colin shot Logan a wry look. “We shall meet you upstairs.”

  The couples exited the theatre together, hands clasped. Husbands and wives – one united front.

  Like Logan and Bella.

  Arabella sighed. “It is over, is it not? Please tell me it is.”

  Logan wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist as Adolphus lay at her feet. “Yes, I do believe it is. Arthur will print what transpired in his latest edition of the Tattler, as soon as we learn what happens to Sybil.”

  “Grant me one wish,” Arabella leaned against his length.

  Nipping her ear lobe, Logan promised. “Anything.”

  “That you and I can celebrate this victory with our family. Let’s invite Fiona, and the children to Winterthorne. Let us spend some time with our loved ones, free of danger. I want our home to be filled with love, laughter and family. Please.”

  “You, our baby, Colin, Eve, Fiona, Victoria, and Tristan, and their children,” Logan whispered.

  Bella grinned. “Your list?”

  “I have been reciting that list of names repeatedly. All the people I love, all those I needed to keep safe.” He rested his chin on her shoulder.

  Arabella tilted her head until it leaned against his. “You succeeded in keeping us all safe, my love. You were following me down those tunnels, were you not?”

  “I was on Sybil’s heels.” Logan’s cadence was strong. “As a matter of fact, I was so close that I tripped her several times and she failed to notice. I think she feared someone was haunting her. She may have thought I was a ghost. Regardless, it gave you time to proceed without being in danger from her.”

  “My hero,” Bella whispered.

  Logan and Adolphus sighed in unison causing Bella to burst into raucous laughter.

  “I love you,” she turned, kissing her husband with all the adoration that filled her heart.

  As her tongue brushed against his, Adolphus whimpered. His paws clacked against the wooden planks as he exited stage left.

  Arabella smothered her giggle with another kiss. “We must reward him, poor thing.”

  Logan’s expression was animated. “I refuse to fight him for your affection.”

  “There is no contest. You always have been and always will be the keeper of my heart.” She placed his palm against her chest. “Though someone else will be sharing that sacred place with you. Would you prefer a son or daughter to shower your affection upon?”

  “Hmm,” Logan pondered this question for a brief moment before answering. “Boy or girl, it matters not, for I already love that babe with my whole heart. I am blessed and blissfully happy. Add to that the fact that we are safe, our family – you, me and our babe – along with our extended family. I am certain you will agree that enough of our wishes have come true. I don’t want to tempt fate by asking for more.”

  Arabella ran her thumb over his jaw. “Wise man. That is very prudent.”

  “Though,” he paused. “I do hope that he or she inherits your good looks.”

  Shaking her head, Arabella insisted, “He or she will be a combination of us both. In looks, in strength of character, and in their ability to love with their whole hearts.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” his words had taken on a dreamy quality.

  Taking her husband’s hand, Arabella and Logan carefully descended the steps leading from the stage.

  “I think we may need to further expand our family,” Bella rested her head against her husband’s shoulder.

  Logan sighed. “I almost hate to ask but what are you suggesting?”

  “That we find Adolphus a mate. I believe the poor thing is lonely,”

  “So, you have the ability to communicate with our dog now?” Logan’s tone was brimming with unfiltered amusement.

  “Of course,” Bella admitted. “I have asked him that very question and he has not argued again
st my suggestion therefore it must be so.”

  “You are using the Dowager Viscountess’s logic, I see. Well then, who am I to protest?” Logan quipped as he swept his wife into his arms. “I must confess, I love that you have such adoration for my dog.”

  “Those are the precise words every wife longs to hear,” she offered him a wry grin.

  “It is one of many remarkable attributes of yours—”

  “Tell me more,” Lacing her arms around his neck, Bella’s heartbeat quickened, her hairs standing on end like they always did during these intimate moments with her husband.

  She wondered if such feelings, such sensations, would ever cease.

  Bella hoped not.

  She dared to predict that they would not.

  “You are brave,” Logan nipped her earlobe, “and incredibly intelligent not to mention witty, kind, loving and breathtakingly beautiful.”

  “That is quite a list,” she teased.

  “You are quite a woman.”

  “I meant what I said to Sybil tonight,” Arabella paused, gauging Logan’s reaction. His encouraging gaze was all she needed to continue. “I am grateful, in an odd way, for what she did. It made us stronger people, it made us treasure our love even more than we did before. It made us fighters, did it not? It made me learn what I am capable of and just how resilient I am.”

  “It made us who we are today,” Logan sighed. “The fact that you can accept me knowing all my sins—”

  “No more recriminations,” Bella instructed. “Let us be happy.”

  “I like the sound of that. It can be our family motto.”

  Words to live by indeed.

  Upon returning to the main level, Logan was shocked to discover that he and his bride had a guest waiting for them in the parlor.

  The Dowager Duchess of Atwell, Lady Lawrence. The same person who hired thugs to kidnap Arabella.

  “Wait with Colin and the others,” Logan instructed his wife. “I will deal with—”

  “Absolutely not,” Arabella shook her head, her tone brokering no argument. We are in this together. You and I.”

  Logan released an exasperated sigh. “Will you at least stand behind me?”

  “I will stand beside you, where I belong.” Arabella caressed his cheek. “Don’t be so antiquated, my love. I am brave, remember?”

  He kissed her curls. “Yes, as maddening as your independence may be at times such as this, you are my brave wife. Therefore, I shall acquiesce because I believe in you. However, if there is one hint of trouble—”

  Bella’s fingers traced a path to his jawline. “It will be my turn to acquiesce. Give and take. The perfect partnership.”

  Leading his wife into the parlor, Logan spotted the Dowager Duchess of Atwell immediately, seated upon a settee in the far corner. Her shoulders were rod-straight, her hands placed primly in her lap. Her rigid posture and countenance conveyed an iron will and her unyielding devotion to duty.

  She was, in essence, the perfect representation of the haut ton. Uncompromising and judgmental while her house retained many secrets, probably much worse than those whom she criticized so harshly.

  Refusing to bow to the woman who hunted his wife and endangered her life, Logan stood in proud defiance. “What do you wish to discuss, my Lady? Or may I go first and suggest that you leave my wife alone. For if you ever send your thugs after Arabella again—”

  Lady Lawrence silenced Logan with a wave of her violet gloves. “I apologize for that misunderstanding. I was misled, something you both have fallen victim to by the hands of the same person.”

  “I accept your apology, my Lady,” Arabella offered the terse woman a compassionate glance. “How is your son?”

  “My son …” Her words trailed off, the only sounds disturbing the thick silence being the faint tick-tock of the clock on the mantel and the fire hissing and cracking in the hearth.

  For the first time, the steely façade began to crumble as the Dowager Duchess expelled a deep breath. “My son is an eccentric man. His wife died after a brief union. He has no heirs. In truth, he lives the life of a bachelor. I say this because I believe I owe you the truth. I trust that you will not betray my confidence.”

  Arabella nodded. “You have my word.”

  “And yours?” Lady Lawrence studied Logan, her tone terse.

  Her eyes had taken a hollow appearance, as if weighted by fatigue. Logan knew enough about human nature to discern that this woman was in desperate need of speaking with someone.

  Therefore, he complied with a nod. “You have my word, as well.”

  “My son is a child, really. Though he possesses a title and inheritance, he is lacking the good sense to realize that hiding jewels and currency in one’s mattress is bad form.” She pursed her lips. “As was inviting your sister into our home. I reside with him, you know. I was in my upstairs suite. When I entered his room … imagine seeing your child bathed in blood, wailing in agony. Though grown, he will always be my child. On that night, I thought he would die. He almost did.”

  She paused, removing a pristine white handkerchief edged with lace before dabbing her eyes. “When White – Harry White, our former footman, told me the name of the culprit, I sought vengeance. I had no intention of killing you, just handing you over to the authorities.”

  “You were willing for society to know the truth about your son?” Logan’s brow furrowed.

  He had not expected such an admission.

  “It was the only way to teach him his lesson, if he recovered. Which he did, thank goodness.” Lady Lawrence leaned forward, another crack in her steely façade. “I acted without considering the consequences and failed to comprehend that White may have been mistaken or may have lied to me. I also failed to consider that the men I hired might endanger you, regardless of my instructions. I am sorry for my shortsightedness.”

  Arabella nodded her understanding. “The truth will reveal itself now.”

  “It may,” the elder woman with brown hair peppered with a streak of silver strands nodded. “Although I don’t believe others in attendance this evening are as willing as I am to allow their indiscretions to be revealed. Scandal is the means to ruination. Will all of them be willing to suffer such a fate? I think not.”

  Lady Lawrence voiced a valid point.

  Time would reveal Sybil’s fate.

  The Dowager Duchess stood, smoothing her violet and silver skirts. “I must take my leave. Thank you for inviting me this evening, Mr. Ambrose. I wish you and your wife a happy life together.”

  Logan escorted her to his footman, instructing the burly man in green and gold livery to escort Lady Lawrence to her carriage. He then rejoined his wife in the parlor.

  Bella stood by the windows, her arms crossed over her chest. “She is right, you know. Many of Sybil’s victims will not wish for her to live. They will want to protect their secrets.”

  “I know,” Logan slid his palms around his wife’s waist until they rested on her abdomen. “It is no surprise. We expected as much.”

  Inhaling deeply, Arabella stood stock still, staring out the window. Watching as the Dowager Duchess of Atwell ascended the stairs to her carriage before disappearing from view.

  She concentrated on her husband’s hands, warm and gentle, splayed atop her belly, where their child currently resided. She concentrated on the torches lighting the entrance to Winterthorne and the large trees that dotted the landscape surrounding the circular drive. In truth, Arabella concentrated on everything but the fact that her sister will most likely die at the hands of her victims.

  Yet, try as she might, Bella could not forget.

  “When do you think we shall learn of Sybil’s fate?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  Logan kissed her neck. “On the morrow. Arthur has no doubt proceeded with the plan and is presently on his way to London with Harry. He will drop the young man off and supply us with information about Sybil as soon as he learns of it.”

  Arabella’s heart ached as sh
e placed her hands over Logan’s, realization setting in. Sybil, her twin, the person she knew long before they were born, having shared a womb for nine months would most likely die on this night. The fact that Sybil tried to kill her only added to Bella’s heavy heart.

  It could have been different.

  It should have been different.

  Her sister didn’t have to live the life she chose. After all this time, Arabella still failed to comprehend Sybil’s choices.

  “Sometimes we will never know what motivates those we love.” As if reading her mind, Logan’s whispered words caused a ripple of icy acceptance to shoot up her spine.

  He was correct, of course. Bella would never know what caused her sister to be so callous about human life, to choose the path she had. What Arabella could comprehend was that she was in no mood to celebrate on this night.

  “Perhaps our celebration can wait?” she asked, leaning her head against Logan’s chest.

  “For as long as you need.” He kissed her neck once again, his warm breath causing her to shiver.

  “Let’s retire for the evening,” Arabella laced her fingers with his. “I am cold and fatigued. The one wish I have is for you to hold me.”

  Logan wrapped her in his warm embrace. “That is a wish I will gladly grant. All night and beyond.”

  Her husband was true to his word.

  Holding her all night and into the morning. Though Arabella shed no tears, her soul wept for her twin. For all Sybil could have accomplished, for the person she could have been, for the love she could have known. If only she had been less selfish, less envious, more compassionate.

  Logan’s warmth infused Bella with fortitude for the dreaded news that arrived as they were dining in their suite late the following afternoon.

  The footman delivered the latest edition of the Tattler with a personalized note from Arthur. Written in his smudged, choppy script were two words:

  My condolences.

  Arabella handed the Tattler page to Logan, as bile rose in her throat. “Please read it.”

  He skimmed the page. “It says that Sybil attempted an escape en route from Northamptonshire to London. She jumped out of a moving carriage to her death. Bella, I am sorry.”