by CJ Archer
Susanna's couldn't believe it. Walter had lied to her.
Another one.
John, Phillip, Orlando, and now Walter. Was there any man she could truly trust?
"Why?" she whispered. "Why would he do it?"
Orlando pressed a hand to her back and directed her to sit in the chair at her writing desk. "I don't know," he hedged, "but I think it was to keep you poor."
"W-what? Why would he do that?"
"To force you into marriage."
"Force me?" No, Walter was much too sweet, too good. He had never done anything wrong or cruel in his life. He was reliable, his reputation beyond reproach.
To think he was no better than the others...
Orlando's hands wrung hers, his fingers kneading the knuckles. "Susanna, think about it a moment. You are on the brink of ruin here at Stoneleigh. Any poorer and your situation would be desperate. As it is, you have hope while you still have your marmalades and succades to sell. Destroy that hope and you're left with nothing. He wants you to turn to him in your need, and wed him."
"But even if I didn't find any buyers for my orange stuffs, I wouldn't marry him. I don't care enough for him and I've never married for money. Not once. Poor foolish Walter," she muttered.
"You feel sympathy for him?"
"A little. I certainly can't hate him."
He dropped her hands. "No?" he rasped. "After he deceived you in such a way?"
"You deceived me. And I don't hate you."
He folded his arms over his broad chest, still so wonderfully naked. "It was not done willingly, I assure you."
"Unless your life was in danger for revealing your secret, you were willing."
He barked a laugh and turned away. Her heart plunged to her toes as a sinister thought embedded itself in her mind. "It's not, is it?"
"Hughe is my friend," he said without facing her. "Don't worry about me."
It wasn't an answer.
"When your clothes are dry, we'll confront Walter together," she said.
He spun round. "I will confront him. It's too dangerous for you to leave the house. You must keep all the doors and windows locked in my absence."
"I should be the one to speak to him, Orlando. Your methods might be a little...strong for the likes of Walter. He's a gentle man."
"Is he?"
"What do you mean?"
He rested his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling. "Susanna, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that Walter is the one who hired the Guild."
"No. No!" It wasn't possible. Not dull-witted, safe, reliable Walter Cowdrey. "He claims to love me, why would he want to kill me?"
"It's possible he commissioned us in order to intervene and look like he'd saved you. What woman can resist a hero?" he said, wryly.
"You think he threw the knife at me just to make me think I'm still in danger?"
"Perhaps," he said, carefully.
"But it could have struck me."
He said nothing. Nor did he keep eye contact. The churning in her stomach became a painful twist. "Orlando, what is it? What are you thinking?"
"You won't want to hear it."
"Tell me anyway. I need to know."
He conceded with a brief nod. "I think that it's possible he truly wanted to go through with the act. So no one else could have you," he added quietly.
"No one else...?" Oh God. Oh God, not Walter. "But...but he has always been so good to me. So helpful." She buried her face in her hands, but she did not shed a tear. She couldn't believe Walter would want her dead, yet he had tried to ruin her chance of financial freedom. That alone was deceitful. He deserved no tears.
"Whether or not it was Cowdrey, I do think the person who employed the Guild to assassinate you threw the knife," Orlando said. "He grew frustrated with our lack of action and took the task into his own hands. Walter Cowdrey appears to have a motive, of sorts. I'm sorry, Susanna. I know you consider him a friend."
There was a knock on the door and Orlando answered it. Bessie gasped and covered her eyes. "Mr. Holt! Put on some clothes." She held out his pack.
"Thank you," he said, taking it.
Bessie peeked through the gap between her fingers. "I'll fetch your breakfast."
She shuffled off and Orlando shut the door. "Susanna, I'm sorry your faith in Walter has been destroyed, but I can't pretend that I care. He may or may not have tried to kill you, but he has steered you in the wrong direction regarding those merchants."
"Just as you have steered me wrong?" But that wasn't fair and she knew it. Orlando had not tried to block her in order to keep her tied to him. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm...overwrought."
He stepped toward her but stopped and crossed his arms, his hands high up under his armpits. "I'm going to make it better for you," he said. "I promise."
She nodded. "Just don't kill anyone."
"I'll try not to."
