After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(34)

“Urgh,” she said. “That’s a terrible deception. I don’t see how you make money at all that way.”

“We don’t!” Mr. Hunter threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Well, you are the worst pair of fraudsters ever to grace my doorstep,” Mrs. Martin said. “You need to practice your swindle—this one is dreadful. The absolute worst I’ve ever heard, and I’ve encountered a lot of them. Dear God, I have never heard such a pair of rank amateurs.”

Mr. Hunter sighed. “Of course we sound like incompetent fraudsters. It is because we are not fraudsters at all.”

“Well, you are not telling the truth.”

“Yes,” Adrian said, “technically, I am—that is, I do know someone who has ties to Yoruba, I suppose, broadly speaking? And also, I do donate money to charity.”

He trailed off as Mrs. Martin shook her head, clucking her tongue. “You really are bad at this. If you have to put the word ‘technically’ in front of ‘the truth,’ you are not telling the truth. I don’t know what you’re after, but you won’t be getting it from me.”

Camilla sighed. Well, she’d left the matter to him. That hadn’t worked. Should she…?

Yes, she decided. It was time to intervene.

“Mrs. Martin,” Camilla said, “you’re right. We haven’t been honest with you.”

“Utterly shocking.” Mrs. Martin shook her head, singularly unshocked.

“Rector Miles found me eighteen months ago,” Camilla said. “I was in another household, and I had developed the unfortunate habit of kissing a footman named James.”

“Kissing.” Mrs. Martin scoffed. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“I, um—”

“Just call it what it is. Fucking. The word is fucking.”

Camilla felt herself turn bright red. She hid her face in her hands.

“I can hear it without combusting,” Mrs. Martin informed her. “I’m old. If my ears were going to fall off, they’d have done so years ago.”

“Rector Miles was worried about…the state of sin I was potentially dealing with.”

“By fu—”

“By kissing,” Camilla said, hurriedly. “Among other things that do not need to be detailed at length at this moment.”

“Have it your way.” Mrs. Martin sighed. “Children these days. So circumspect about everything.”

“Rector Miles offered to take me in. To provide me with spiritual instruction. He kindly offered me half wages for his trouble.”

“Hmm. And did he provide spiritual instruction?”

Camilla shut her eyes. “Yes.” Her voice shook. “He reminded me at regular intervals that I had very little hope at redemption. He told me I was a disgrace and an embarrassment and that I should consider myself lucky to have my half pay.”

“Hmm,” said Mrs. Martin. “Sounds like him. Go on.”

“And I tried,” Camilla said. “I tried, I did, but every week I did something wrong. I was too friendly or not friendly enough, or maybe my gaze lingered somewhere too long or I looked away too quickly—nothing I did was ever right. And then Mr. Hunter visited—serving as a valet to a guest—and we became stuck in a room together, and the rector tossed me out and told everyone I’d been—” She cut herself off. “Kissing. Among other things.”

“Hmm,” said Mrs. Martin again. “And you hadn’t?”

“No!” And then, because the woman was watching her with narrowed eyes, she added, “Not that time. Not with him.”

“Go on, then.”

“So I thought of you. I know you’d talked to the rector months ago about a charity donation. And he had mentioned that you were angry about something earlier when I was in his presence. Did he misuse funds you donated? We want to know because we despise him and wish to expose him as a fraud.”

“My goodness.” Mrs. Martin shut her eyes. “That was an excellent effort. I feel myself wanting to give you money just for that. Dear God, that was good. Sir, you need to let this young lady conduct your fraud. She’s much better at it.”

“We’re not after your money,” Mr. Hunter said in aggrieved tones.

“Speak for yourself,” Camilla snapped. “I’ve been working for half-wages for eighteen months. I’ll take anything.”

Mrs. Martin cackled.

“But technically, we’re really not after your money. We just want to know what happened. Will you tell us about your experience? Did Rector Miles convince you to donate money?”

Mrs. Martin sighed and shut her eyes. “To my great dismay. Worst experience of my life—excepting, of course, my marriage.”

Camilla leaned forward.

“Tell me more.”

“So here I am, imagine.” Mrs. Martin threw her arms out. “I have one living relation in the world—my nephew. Like all men of his ilk—which is to say, men in general—he had lived upon the expectation of an inheritance from me, his aunt. I cannot begrudge him that, I do not think.” She looked dubious, as if her grudges were growing lonely and she would not mind giving them company.

“Mmm,” Mr. Hunter said, and Mrs. Martin sighed.