“Sounds like a woman who could easily believe she has a right to ensure that she remains in that high place she thinks she deserves.”
“It does.”
Bened could see how his news upset her and fought the urge to take her into his arms to comfort her and ease the pain he could read in her eyes. He knew what would happen if he held her in his arms again. The feel of her slim, pleasantly curved body pressed close to him was still all too clear in his mind. He wished he could have found a gentler way to tell her what he knew but then decided there really was no gentle way to tell anyone such news. Betrayal by a member of one’s own family cut deep, even when one did not particularly care for that person. Too many of his own family had learned that lesson all too well.
“As you said, however, they mentioned no name. Did not even mention what she looked like.”
“Now you try to comfort me. Do not. I need to accept this. It could easily be a matter of life and death. All that stands between her and becoming a baroness with a fortune and some fine lands is Simeon. I have to think of him and not my poor bruised feelings.”
“You also stand in her way, do you not?”
“Not as much as my brother does.”
“True, but I have the feeling she may have plans for you as well. She has to know how you care for your brother, would search for answers if anything happened to him. That is not something she would ignore. Do you think she knows you suspected her of killing your father?”
Primrose nodded, remembering all the tears and recriminations Augusta had heaped upon her when she had guessed that her darling niece could think such a cruel thing about her. There had also been a lot of sorrowful talk of how much she had loved Peter Wootten, what a kind, sweet man he had been, and how much she owed him. Primrose had not believed a word of that but it had worked to end her intense search for some proof that Augusta had killed him. Augusta would not leave that to chance, however. That explained the sudden appearance of Sir Edgar Benton, the man her aunt insisted she marry.
“She had guessed,” Primrose finally answered.
“And claimed to be hurt and upset, crying about her undying love and gratitude for your father.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “You have seen this play before?”
“It was easy to see. It means, however, that she knows you suspect her. She will not chance that her act worked. Did she do anything to try to get you out of her way before you left to hunt for your brother?”
“She tried to marry me off to a Sir Edgar Benton, a neighbor and longtime friend of my uncle.”
“Ah, an old friend. And he was old, was he not?”
“Nearly two score years older than me. But that was not my biggest objection. Many women marry men much older than they are. The pool of unwed men who are considered acceptable through birth and fortune is a very small one. But this man is a horrid little fellow. I doubt there is a vice he does not indulge in. My uncle is about the only one for miles around who will even speak to him.” She sighed, finished her coffee, and set her cup down. “I also discovered that he was covering some gambling debts of my uncle’s. I was payment for that debt.”
“Sold you off. And she thought that enough to keep you quiet?”
“Once wed to him, I would become as ostracized as he is. I would be going nowhere and seeing no one. I think he may also have caused the death of his last wife. Rumor is rife that he beat her to death even though he claimed she fell down the stairs. I did my best to avoid it happening but soon saw that my agreement might not be needed in the end. That is when I decided I really needed my brother to come home. Yet now I fear I would be sending him into the lion’s den.”
Bened finished his coffee, set his cup down, and leaned toward her. She sat in the chair opposite his and he could see how uneasy talk of her aunt’s plans made her. This was the reason she had taken such drastic action. There was not even the risk to her reputation for her to consider for the marriage would destroy it anyway. Augusta Wootten was indeed a dangerous woman. Bened suspected the woman was as cunning as Primrose thought, so cunning that she was going to be difficult to stop.
“And there was no help from your uncle?”
“None. Augusta is the backbone in that marriage. He has none. He is a weak, foolish man. He gambles and makes no secret about his infidelities. Not once did he do any work while living off my father’s largesse.” She shook her head. “He is truly useless. If he knows what she plots he does not care, or might even approve, just doesn’t have the spine to do it himself. The only regret he showed for the death of his brother was to whine about what a pittance was left to him in the will. A will even I have not read yet,” she murmured, and frowned, then shook the concern of that aside. “There is nothing in him, if you know what I mean.”
Bened nodded. “So you do not see him as the dangerous one.”