Anne Herries - A Worthy Gentleman

John found it difficult to understand how that could be. Many of his servants had worked for him for years, and some for his parents before him. He would have sworn that every one of them was loyal. Why had this person turned against him? What had he done that deserved this?

John had puzzled over it, but could find no answer. Perhaps his enemy had bribed one of the maids to place Andrea’s things amongst his, hoping to unnerve him? It had certainly given him a nasty shock the first time, but afterwards he had begun to suspect what was going on. When he returned home he would ask his housekeeper if any new maids had been taken on in the past few months.

And why was his enemy trying to ruin him? Was it because Andrea had taken her own life? He had wondered if Sir Andrew had written his own letter in order to threaten him, and yet he could not truly think it. His father-in-law had known that her child was not John’s—how could he blame John for the fit of despair that had driven her to take her own life?

Who else would want revenge for her death? John could think of no one. She did not have any brothers or sisters, and her mother had died when she was but a child.

So perhaps it was nothing to do with Andrea. Perhaps she was merely the tool being used against him. John frowned as he slowed his horses to a steadier pace. He had no idea where to start looking for clues. He could tell Tobbold what had happened so far, but he could give him no help in solving the mystery.

It was possible that this nonsense might be something to do with Sir Courtney Welch—or even Sir Montague Forsythe. John had been involved in both those affairs. He had helped when Charles had been desperate to discover his sister’s whereabouts after Forsythe had had her abducted, and John had also played a big part in scuppering Sir Courtney’s attempt to force Arabella into marrying him. It was also possible that he had trodden on someone’s toes for quite another reason, though he did not know of anyone who had a right to hate him. He had not insulted anyone, nor had he ruined another gentleman at the card tables.

It was a warm spring day, but John felt the chill of winter enter his heart. The future looked bleak indeed. It was hopeless. How could he ever discover who his enemy was, let alone prove his innocence to the world? He had no answers to the questions others would ask of him. All he did know for certain was that he could not ask any woman to marry him while this shadow hung over him. Only a selfish man would think of his own happiness when it might bring harm to the woman he admired more than any other.

Yet had he the right to ignore Sarah? He had once given her to understand that he was in love with her. In the rose arbour she had seemed to invite him to speak, and a part of him had longed to oblige her—but he did not wish to bring her down. If he were to be disgraced—or, worse, accused of murder—it could ruin her life.

John knew that he must conquer the guilt he felt concerning his wife. It was true that he had not been able to give her the love she needed. Kindness and concern were all very well in their way—but was it his neglect in making their marriage a true one that had driven Andrea to take her life? Or was there some reason of which he had no knowledge?

Only when he had settled his own mind would he be able to think of making plans for the future.

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