After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(17)

Miss Shackleton stepped into the room, crossing over to stand by Miss Winters.

“This looks bad, Camilla.” The rector spoke in a low, soothing voice. “We all know your past. We know you have terrible impulses, that you often give into them.”

Miss Winters turned crimson in ugly blotches.

“Is there some innocent explanation for why you’ve spent an hour behind a locked door with a man?”

“It wasn’t an hour. And neither of us have a key.” Miss Winters sounded on the verge of tears. “We couldn’t have locked the door.”

“You asked me for the spare key this morning,” said Miss Shackleton.

“I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Miss Shackleton reached over, thrust her hand into Miss Winters’s pocket, and pulled out a single key on a ring. “What is this, then?”

It was like watching a farce play out—and not the funny kind, either. Adrian could imagine how all this might seem, but…

He knew for a fact that she could not have locked the door. She had been here when he arrived—clear across the room from the entrance, feather duster in hand.

She had been standing four feet from the lock when he’d first tried it. Adrian wasn’t sure who in this room was lying or why they were doing it, but he knew who wasn’t. What the hell was happening?

“Camilla,” the rector said in a sorrowful voice. “I trusted you when you said you would cease your immoral behavior. You’ve disappointed me.”

Miss Winters started crying. Adrian just felt even more baffled. What was happening? Why?

“She’s been flirting with Mr. Hunter since she first arrived,” Miss Shackleton said, shaking her head.

“I haven’t,” Camilla sobbed. “I’ve been trying so hard to be good.”

“The truth, Camilla.” The rector’s voice was calm.

“I flirted a little,” she admitted. “The first day. But I did what you always told me to do. I noticed my behavior and I corrected it. Really, I did.”

“The real truth, Camilla.”

She swallowed. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, shivered shut. “I flirted a lot the first day.”

For God’s sake. It hadn’t been that much.

But the rector shook his head. “Lying, deceit, licentiousness…”

She let out another sob, and something in Adrian’s chest snapped.

He took a step forward. “This has been enough. I was here, too; it happened precisely as she said. She’s in tears. Have a little human kindness.”

A silence swirled through the room.

“So,” the rector said. There was a pregnant expectancy in the way he drew out the syllables. “You’re willing to make it right?”

“Your pardon?” Adrian said in further confusion. “Make what right?”

“We’ll discuss this in my office,” the rector said. “Kitty, conduct Camilla upstairs and lock her in the servants’ quarters until her future is decided. As for you…”

He gestured at Adrian. None of this made sense. Everything was off. Adrian knew Camilla hadn’t locked the door, that he hadn’t been in this room for the hour that they claimed.

What on earth was happening?

Then, behind the rector, he saw Bishop Lassiter. Adrian had been sent here to spy on the man for his uncle; that small, self-satisfied smile that touched the bishop’s lips froze Adrian’s blood.

It was the only explanation he could think of: The bishop knew what Adrian was trying to do.

He had tried to be careful; he hadn’t contacted his uncle at all. But Adrian was a terrible liar. Somehow, Lassiter must have found out that Adrian was working on his uncle’s behalf. The two bishops hated one another. His uncle was willing to spy on Lassiter. Why had he not realized that Lassiter would retaliate?

It made perfect sense. Lassiter had planned this whole bloody thing just to discredit Adrian and any testimony he dredged up. Now, if necessary, he could provide witnesses showing that Adrian was an immoral fellow.

A second thought slotted into Adrian’s head.

He should have listened to Miss Winters. She lived in this household; she knew what it was like. She had told him it was time to panic, and she had been right.

Unless…

It was possible that she was a part of this whole play. Somehow. Maybe not likely, but it was possible. She was either a very good actor, or he’d just watched them try to ruin her life simply to hurt him.

“Come,” Rector Miles said, gesturing, and Adrian followed. Bishop Lassiter didn’t quite smirk as Adrian went past. Maybe it was his imagination, but he still felt a certain self-satisfied air to the man.

Adrian had come here at his uncle’s behest to try to bring Lassiter down. He’d hated the idea. He’d hated being in service. He’d hated the very underhandedness of the scheme. He’d been reluctant, to say the least.

Now?

Adrian knew he should be angry. Likely he would be, when he had a moment to think matters through.

But as he left Bishop Lassiter behind, what he actually felt was pity. If Lassiter thought a farce of this magnitude was necessary to cover up whatever it was he was hiding?

He’d done something wrong.

He was going to be ruined. Adrian felt sorry for the man.