Bound by Their Secret Passion Read online

  ‘That is all, Lord Penford,’ the coroner said. ‘But I may have more questions, so please remain available.’

  Dell took his seat.

  Walsh glanced at a piece of paper before looking up and saying, ‘Mr John Jones.’

  Dell’s coachman was called next, though whether his presence was to support the truth or dispute it he couldn’t fathom.

  Jones came forward, was sworn in, and testified that he did not see Tinmore fall. The man would have lied if Dell had asked him to. Should he have done so?

  No. The truth must be told, nothing else.

  Walsh asked Jones, ‘Did you have any reason to believe that Lord Penford had a dalliance with Lady Tinmore?’

  Dell’s insides clenched. Would the jury believe that he and Lorene had not been lovers?

  Jones looked surprised at Walsh’s question. ‘Me? I never heard of it.’

  Lord Tinmore’s physician was called next and testified that it was entirely possible that Tinmore had experienced an attack of apoplexy.

  Dell’s hopes rose. An attack of apoplexy made perfect sense.

  Although a conspiracy between two lovers to murder made a much better story.

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Walsh inclined his head. ‘That will be all.’

  The coroner turned to Lorene next. ‘Lady Tinmore, would you be so kind?’ He gestured to the dais.

  She stood and walked to the dais with her head held high. Her courage in the face of what could be humiliating questioning was indeed something to admire. She answered the questions without hesitation, keeping her composure throughout, but it disturbed Dell that she must endure this questioning in front of all these people.

  Dell wished he could tell what the jury members were thinking as she talked. All he could tell was that they seemed to be listening intently.

  The next person called to testify was Ross.

  ‘Tell us, my lord,’ Walsh asked deferentially, ‘of your acquaintance with Lord Penford.’

  Ross’s voice practically boomed. ‘We have been friends since our school days. He is closer than a brother to me.’

  ‘Do you have any reason to suspect an...attachment between your friend and Lady Tinmore?’

  ‘None,’ Ross responded. ‘And I have had occasion to witness them through their whole acquaintance.’

  Except Ross had not been present the few times when Dell and Lorene had been alone. Like a few days ago when he’d seen her running across the fields like a young deer, so if Dell and Lorene had engaged in an affair, Ross would not have known. Would the jury realise this? Would they believe Ross or think him trying to cover for his friend?

  Walsh finally called Dixon to the dais.

  Dell clenched a fist and tried to control his anger as Dixon spun his tale of infidelity and conspiracy and murder as dramatically as Dell feared he would.

  But Dixon also admitted he had not seen Tinmore fall and had never seen evidence of an affair. Unfortunately, one of the footman testified to seeing Dell embrace Lorene. It had been that one moment of comforting her after Tinmore’s death.

  Could that one brief moment get him hung for murder?

  Walsh excused the footman and asked the crowd if there was anyone present who witnessed Lord Tinmore’s fall. No one came forward.

  Squire Hedges instructed the jury to deliberate on their decision and the twelve men filed out to do so.

  Ross turned to Lorene, Tess and Glenville. ‘I arranged a private dining room for us with some refreshment.’

  Dell remained seated while the group gathered themselves to retire to this private dining room.

  Ross leaned down to him. ‘You, too, Dell.’

  * * *

  Lorene caught glimpses of Dell from across the private dining room while the others discussed how the proceedings had gone. He sat at a slight distance from the rest of them and appeared to be caught in his own thoughts.

  ‘What do you think, Ross?’ Glenville said. ‘The physician made a good case for an attack of apoplexy.’

  ‘He did,’ said Rossdale frowning. ‘It all depends on who the jury believe, Dell or Dixon.’

  Lorene sipped a cup of tea, not too reassured of the outcome, even though the inquest had not been as horrible as she’d feared. She’d feared the infidelities of her parents would be brought up.

  Who knew what the jurors would think? They surely knew of her parents. Who had not heard all the stories? They might presume she was just like her mother and, therefore, capable of colluding in a murder. It had not occurred to her to fear what her fate might be if the jury determined Tinmore’s death was murder. She was more concerned about Dell. What if, because of her scandalous family, he was accused of murder? How could she bear that, when he’d merely been attempting to come to her defence?

  She glanced over at Dell and found him looking at her. Their eyes held for a moment and she experienced that schoolgirl thrill she feared had led them into all this trouble and that was so terribly out of place at this time, in this situation.

  She glanced away again and lifted the teacup to her mouth.

  She felt penned in by these walls, by the inquest itself. How often had she felt that same sensation when at Tinmore Hall, when in the presence of her husband? If Glenville and Rossdale were correct and Tinmore’s death would be declared accidental, perhaps then she could feel free.

  She was afraid to hope.

  Tess sat down next to her. ‘This will be over soon. The solicitors will be gone. All will be settled. Have you decided yet whether to come to town with Genna or with me?’

  ‘I would not impose on Lord and Lady Northdon.’ Lord and Lady Northdon were Glenville’s parents with whom Tess lived.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Tess exclaimed. ‘They would be delighted to have you stay with us. And it would be so nice to have you with me when the baby is born.’

  ‘We will all be with you when the baby is born!’ Genna cried. She slid into the seat on the other side of Lorene. ‘You must come with Ross and me, Lorene. We have plenty of room and you will be close by Tess. We can see her every day, if you like. You can’t stay at Tinmore Hall, that horrid place!’

  ‘I won’t stay at Tinmore Hall,’ Lorene said. ‘But I do not want to stay in town. If I did, apparently I have a house of my own to live in.’

  ‘Do you plan to stay at that horrid dower house?’ Genna made a face.

  Lorene glanced away. ‘Not the dower house. I prefer no connection at all to Tinmore Hall.’

  Genna threw up her hands. ‘Where then?’

  Lorene took a breath. ‘Summerfield House.’

  ‘Summerfield House!’ Genna and Tess cried in unison.

  ‘Dell offered it to me.’ Even talking about it made it feel like a refuge. ‘To stay there through my year of mourning.’

  Genna jumped up and rushed over to Dell. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘How very kind of you, Dell. Lorene will be among people who love her.’

  Instead of servants who resented her.

  Tess spoke up. ‘But will that not cause talk? I mean, there is the matter of Tinmore’s accusation.’

  ‘Pfft!’ exclaimed Genna. ‘What does that matter? She will be home!’

  ‘Marc.’ Tess turned to her husband who had been conversing with Rossdale. ‘What do you think?’

  He smiled at her. ‘About what, my love?’

  ‘About Lorene staying at Summerfield House during her year of mourning.’

  Glenville looked taken aback. ‘It is Penford who must say.’

  Dell’s gaze rose. ‘There should be no talk, Tess. I will not be there.’ His glance swept all of them. ‘But you must visit any time you wish. Lorene may treat it as her house.’

  Rossdale turned to him. ‘Very decent of you, Dell.’

  He shr
ugged. ‘It is at no great cost to me.’

  But it meant everything to Lorene.

  There was a knock at the door.

  The innkeeper poked his head in. ‘Squire Hedges said to fetch you. The jury has made its decision.’

  ‘Already?’ Genna cried.

  Was that a good omen or a bad one?

  Lorene’s gaze met Dell’s once again. Her hands trembled as she set down her teacup.

  They left the private dining room and made their way back to the room where the inquest had been held. The jurors were seated, but the spectators were scrambling for their seats. Finally Squire Hedges silenced them all and asked the jury for their conclusions.

  Lorene gripped the ribbons of her reticule.

  ‘We find Lord Tinmore’s death to be accidental,’ the jury foreman announced.

  * * *

  Dell would have been glad to merely slip away after the inquest, but Ross offered to pay for drinks all around. The innkeeper led everyone to the public room and the taps flowed with a spirit of celebration Dell thought inappropriate.

  Almost everyone who’d been present for the inquest stayed for the free drinks. Not Dixon, though, Dell noticed right away. Some local gentry took this opportunity to make Dell’s acquaintance.

  ‘Bad business, sir,’ one man said, lifting a large tankard to his mouth. ‘Came out all right in the end, eh?’

  Dell nodded, not knowing how else to respond.

  Some members of the jury came up to him, eager to explain why they determined Tinmore’s death to be accidental.

  ‘It all fit,’ one gentleman said. ‘What you said. What the physician said. We weighed the facts and did not give credence to suspicions and assumptions.’

  ‘I am grateful you listened to the truth,’ Dell said. ‘I am only sorry that this interrupted your holiday celebrations.’

  ‘Nothing to apologise for, m’lord,’ another juror said. ‘Seems to me Lord Tinmore caused all the trouble.’

  ‘All that nonsense about Lady Tinmore,’ another added. ‘We’ve never heard a word of gossip about her and gossip travels, y’know.’

  As the group turned louder and more jovial, Dell looked for a quiet place where he might sit and wait until Ross and Genna were ready to leave. He found Lorene seated alone at a table in a dark corner of the room.

  As he approached, she said, ‘I am hiding.’

  He could not help but smile. ‘May I hide with you? I fear the gaiety does not suit me at the moment.’

  She gestured to the chair next to her. ‘It does not suit me either. I am glad without measure that the jury decided as they did, but none of it seems cause for celebration.’ He sat and she continued. ‘I am so sorry for what this has put you through, Dell. You did not deserve it.’

  ‘It is over. We can put it behind us.’ He resisted an impulse to take her hand.

  Her lovely brow furrowed. ‘I do hope you will not be plagued with gossip about this in town.’

  ‘Do not worry over me.’ Having someone be concerned about him was too close to him caring about them in return and he did not want that. ‘Tend to yourself. Do as you like at Summerfield House.’

  She sighed. ‘Do as I like? I wonder if I know how?’

  ‘You will have your year of mourning to learn.’

  She smiled. ‘I will, won’t I? And thanks to you I will spend my year back home. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that.’

  Her sincerity warmed him.

  ‘Do not stay long at Tinmore Hall,’ he cautioned. ‘You are welcome to move in tomorrow, if you like. I am leaving Summerfield in the morning.’

  Her smile fled. ‘So soon.’

  He needed to put some distance between them, not only to forestall gossip, but also to keep from thinking of her so much.

  ‘I will miss you, Dell,’ she said.

  * * *

  As Dell suggested, the very next day Lorene moved to Summerfield House. By week’s end her sisters and their husbands left as well. It took time, though, to feel at home.

  Both she and the Summerfield servants kept a reserve between them that had not been there when she’d been at home. It took time for her to shed the veneer of Lady Tinmore—and for the servants to accept her again as plain Lorene Summerfield. But, slowly she accepted their coddling and their pampering, as if she were still a small girl with a stubborn case of fever, and generously they provided it.

  At first she dressed in black, although she did not mourn Lord Tinmore. He’d been generous to her in some ways, in the fortune he left her, in the gifts he’d given her, even in his willingness to help her siblings. She had given to him, too, though, she realised. He’d been a recluse before their marriage, but afterwards he’d rejoined the world, returning to London and the House of Lords, becoming alive again after years of withdrawal.

  Unfortunately, becoming alive meant becoming tyrannical.

  She’d done her best, though, to acquiesce to his demands; that is, until her one defiance on Christmas Day.

  After a week or so, she put her black dresses away, donning them only if someone called and people rarely did. Instead she wore the old clothes she’d worn before her marriage. She needed to impress no one with her finery. She could be comfortable. She could be herself.

  She played her old pianoforte every day, sometimes for hours if her spirits turned low. She’d left the gilt pianoforte at Tinmore Hall. She never wanted to see it again.

  When the weather turned fair she took long walks—often breaking into a run and reminding herself of Dell discovering her that day he offered her this respite here.

  * * *

  One day coming from a long run, she returned to the house and walked through the rooms, noticing chips in the plasterwork, frayed upholstery on the furniture and walls in need of fresh paint.

  She hurried off to find the estate manager who was in his office in the far west wing.

  ‘Mr Barry, I have a request for you.’ Mr Barry had been the estate manager for as long as Lorene could remember. Though of an age with her late father, he was strong and vital, built like a firmly planted tree one could safely lean upon and be sheltered by its leaves.

  ‘Indeed, my lady,’ he said. ‘How may I be of service?’

  ‘I would like for you to write to Lord Penford and ask if I might oversee refurbishment of the house. I should like to restore it to its former beauty.’

  He nodded. ‘I will do so, if you ask it, but could you not write to him yourself?’

  ‘I could,’ she admitted. A widow could write to a single man. ‘But I do believe he will be more honest in his answer if you make the request.’

  * * *

  Before a fortnight had passed, Dell’s letter to Mr Barry arrived, giving her permission and asking Barry to charge the costs to his accounts. That Lorene would not allow, though she convinced Mr Barry to keep it secret. She was, after all, wealthy enough to pay for every bit of it.

  Lorene threw herself into working room by room, project by project. Soon the house shone with the beauty she remembered when her mother had still lived there and visitors came often. As the beauty was restored, so were her spirits. She felt useful, a part of something bigger than herself, and happy again, as she’d been in her childhood days. She also became stronger in body and will.

  * * *

  Ross and Genna visited briefly at the beginning of summer and marvelled at what she had done. Tess gave birth to a baby boy, second in line to become Viscount Northdon. Edmund wrote of his and Amelie’s son thriving.

  They were settled, safe and happy—Tess, Genna and Edmund.

  * * *

  One day on a walk to the hill looking down on Summerfield House, Lorene let go of them. No longer did she need to take care of them, protect them, see to their happiness. It was her tu
rn now and she knew precisely what she wanted.

  A house and property of her own. Nothing grand, just a place where she could be left in peace, as she’d been this whole year, a place where no man could tell her what she could do and not do. From now on she would take care of herself and do whatever she pleased.

  First she would dispose of her Mayfair town house, then her carriages and horses. She’d find an agent to search for the perfect property for her, but she would have to go to town to accomplish both. She felt strong enough to face London, strong enough to refuse to care about London society.

  Who certainly did not care about her.

  Chapter Seven

  March 1818

  Dell made an impulsive decision to leave London after the passing of the Indemnity Bill. Over a year had passed and he knew from Ross and Genna that Lorene, her year of mourning over, planned to leave Summerfield House. By the time he reached there, she would be gone. He needed the respite of a few days in Lincolnshire and Summerfield had become a home without the memories and ghosts of Penford, his family’s estate.

  He’d been opposed to the Indemnity Bill. It seemed to him that the rights of citizens were being taken away instead of respected. Last year the government suspended Habeas Corpus and now this year it absolved any official of wrongdoing even if they’d abused their powers. Where was the protection of the citizens in this?

  He chose to ride his horse to Lincolnshire, to take his time, and forgo the services of his valet. He wanted to be alone.

  In London Dell had felt a profound need to carry on the work of his father, a zealous Whig reformer. Dell believed in much of what the Whigs stood for, but not all of it. For one, the Whigs had been opposed to the war with Napoleon, but Dell fought in that war. Napoleon had been a dangerous tyrant bent on conquering the world. Dell would have given his life to vanquish him.

  He wished he’d been a part of that last great battle, Waterloo, when Napoleon was defeated. But it had been shortly before the battle when he’d been in Brussels awaiting the call to arms that Ross showed up, informing him of the fire that destroyed his family.