“He does. He started helping your mother as soon as the money your father received to fire Blackmoor Hall ran out.”
“Helping her?” Instinctively her fingers sought out the place where Cutberth had struck her. She’d been thinking such bad thoughts about the mine clerk. Were they—at least somewhat—unwarranted?
The earl didn’t answer her question. He stepped closer and touched the bruise himself. “What happened here?”
She didn’t want this to become any more about her than it already was. She only had to stay another couple of weeks. It was better to leave matters as they stood, with Cutberth feeling as if he’d exacted a bit of revenge for her defection. “I ran into something yesterday, at the shop.”
“What?”
Her mind grappled for a plausible scenario. “The… door.”
He lifted her chin. “If someone hurt you…”
She cleared her throat so that she could speak more stridently. “No. Of course not. Don’t worry.”
“I do worry.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and he stole a kiss before stepping away. “About Cutberth…”
“Yes. Cutberth.” When the earl was around she could hardly think straight. “Why would he ever help my mother?”
His expression showed concern. “They were having an affair, Rachel. I didn’t want to burden you with this news, didn’t think you’d believe it even if I did, but I confirmed it with Mrs. Cutberth just this morning.”
She struggled to take that in and to find some credibility in it, but it wasn’t easy. Wouldn’t she have seen some indication of inappropriate behavior had her mother been sleeping with Jonas Cutberth?
“You’re right—I can’t believe it,” she said.
“I get the impression he’s admitted it, at least to his wife.”
“So the payments have nothing to do with the fire?”
“It doesn’t seem that way. He probably wanted the ledgers because he was afraid evidence of those payments would reveal the affair.”
“But if his wife already knew…”
“She found out this week, after…” he motioned around them “… all this. Mr. Tyndale was at the office when she showed up with several letters they’d written to each other. Jonas must’ve found them here or at the shop and taken them home.”
“Why wouldn’t he simply destroy them?”
“Sentimental value? I don’t know, but they’re gone now. Jonas burned them the day she confronted him.”
Rachel couldn’t see Cutberth with Jillian. The thought that they might be lovers had never even crossed her mind. “He was helping my mother because he loved her?”
“That’s what Mrs. Cutberth indicated.”
She thought back through all their many encounters. “But he came here quite often. I never got the slightest inkling that he was involved with my mother.” Had she been blinded by her own romantic fantasies? By the hope that he found something worthy in her, since she was so taken with him?
No! Feeling the way she did toward him would’ve made her more sensitive to how he dealt with other women, rather than less. “That can’t be true, my lord.”
“It’s difficult—”
“No more difficult than what I believe to have happened,” she broke in.
“And that is… ?”
“It was hush money.”
“Blackmail?”
She couldn’t imagine her mother blackmailing anyone. “Maybe not blackmail exactly. Perhaps an incentive to remain quiet, offered rather than extorted.”
“And Mrs. Cutberth was in on the whole thing?”
“She could be protecting her husband.”
“Subjecting herself to such humiliation wouldn’t be easy.”
He was sensitive to it because he’d been through it. He couldn’t imagine anyone lying about such matters. But Rachel could see where they might view that as the lesser of two evils. “Is she standing by him?”
A cynical smile curved the earl’s lips. “Yes.”
“It’s only been a few days. That’s not very long to come to terms with something so painful.”
“And to think I liked her.”
Rachel righted a chair that had been tossed on its side. “Jonas couldn’t find those ledgers, so he had to cover for what they revealed.”
The earl massaged his hand, as he so often did. “Why? I’ve been through them carefully. There’s nothing in the ledgers that indicates the money came from him.”
“He doesn’t know that. My mother could’ve kept far more meticulous records, even left an explanation.”
“No wonder he searched your house and shop.” He scooted the broken shards of a bowl into a pile with his feet. “There’s this, too: He’s aware of the paintings, as well as what they’re worth. I asked his wife about them this morning, and she readily admitted a familiarity.”
Rachel used her broom to sweep the glass away. “Are you going to have him arrested?”
“Not yet. But I will have him sacked, especially if he’s the one who struck you.”
She brought her head up. “How’d you know?”
“You had to have learned he did this somehow. I’m guessing he paid you a visit.”
“Yes.”
“If he ever touches you again, I’ll kill him. He needs to understand that.”
“Don’t ever court trouble on my account.” When she met his eyes, she saw steely determination and that made her fear for his safety. “Truman, please.”
“Now you’ll use my first name?”
“You have to listen to me. The miners will not tolerate much more.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Against how many?”
“As many as want to precede me to the gallows.”
She flinched. “Don’t talk about the gallows.”
When he saw how worried she was, his expression softened. “I saw Geordie in the stables this morning,” he said. “He’s sad you left.”
She felt a pang of longing for her brother. “I said good-bye, but… give him my love, will you?”
“Of course.” He glanced around the house. “I’m sorry about this.”
“I know.”
In a sudden, brisk movement, he stepped toward her and took her hands. “Come back with me to Blackmoor Hall, Rachel—at least until I can get you situated in London. You want to be with me. I know you do.”