He couldn't deny it, nor would he. "I bought out his debt, and then he owed me. I made the terms and he was too much of a coward to stop me or even question me. That's what Hartwell has always been, a spineless coward and even more so after Anthony Wexley's untimely death."
"That poor man died of a heart attack, right? You didn't have anything to do with it?"
He liked the questioning in her voice. It let him know that her love for him was beginning to fade, and she saw the world, finally, for what it was. She had been a pawn, a means to an end, and now his use for her was ending. "Are you certain you want me to answer that truthfully?"
She gasped and her hand moved to her lips, those lips I had been forced to kiss to keep her happy — never again. "Why are you telling me all of this now? This night?"
"Because I need you to do something for me."
"Why would I help you?" she asked, and he liked the forcefulness with which she said it. Every time she spoke, he heard the threads of her heart breaking and her love for him shattering. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. It freed him more than he ever thought possible.
"Because if you don't, you will be out on the streets. No money, no help. Nothing. Do you want that?"
"Do you want people to think you abandoned your own family?" she bit back. "Do you know how that would look to the people in society?"
He turned and bent down into her face, placing both hands on the chair to keep her still and unable to move. "You do not threaten me, Cecelia. My wife. Do not forget, I know things about the family business that can tarnish your good name. And don't forget your daughter. Do you really think someone would want to marry her if some of the information I know comes out?"
"She's your daughter too."
"In name only." He sneered and backed away. The clock on the mantle struck eleven. No more time to waste talking over things that could never be changed. "Now. You will go upstairs and change into some day clothing. You will wake Trudy and tell her to pack her things. We will get Elizabeth to help as well. You and Trudy will be gone by morning."
"Where?" Her voice shook. He smiled. She knew she had no choice. It was how he liked it.
"Everdale. My mother's old home. I've procured a home for you there and a servant. You are to never go into town yourself, do you understand? You or Trudy for if you do, I will cut both of you off. No more money. No more protection. And God help anybody who tries to think or speak ill of me for doing so." He refilled his whisky glass. "You will be gone indefinitely, until I have had my revenge."
"You're revenge? Anthony is dead. Rebecca is dead…"
He held up his hand to stop her. Every time he thought of Rebecca's death it was like being stabbed in his own heart. Death during a second child's birth. That made her death Simon's fault for a woman could not become with child without a man. "That man couldn't even protect her. If she had been with me, she would have gotten the best doctor's care. She wouldn't have died. I wouldn't have allowed it."
"You were out of town when I had Trudy," Cecelia reminded him… like he needed reminding. "How would you have known if something had gone wrong?" She sounded bitter. She was slowly becoming a woman scorned. Just the way he wanted her.
He said nothing in response. No, he hadn't been around when Trudy was born. Why would he be? He cared not if Cecelia died in childbirth. In fact, it probably would have helped his cause more. The grieving widower. He could imagine the secrets he would have learned from helpful friends trying to make him feel better.
Then again, no. He had to admit that he was glad she'd had no complications and hadn't died. Though he didn't love her and he was, in fact, breaking her heart at the moment, the last almost twenty years with Cecelia hadn't been entirely bad. She had her moments, and they'd had a few moments of happiness. Not many and definitely not as many as he would have had with Rebecca — but they were there. Though he didn't love Cecelia, he didn't wish her ill.
When he wouldn't answer, she sighed and continued. "You have Simon and Rebecca's daughter. What more can you want?"
"You have no idea." He answered. How could she understand? Cecelia had never uttered a cross word about anybody — ever. She was a good woman, that could not be disputed, but she had served her purpose, and now it was time for her to do one last thing for him.
A few moments passed without a word from either of them. "Go," he said finally, wishing for the interminable silence to end.
Cecelia rose, but hesitated when she got to the door. "I loved you, Frederick Dodsworth. Heart and soul. I gave you the best years of my life. I took care of you. I took care of our daughter. I would have given you anything in this world. Anything."
Frederick kept his back to her. "You couldn't give me what I wanted."
"What was that?" He heard the hope in her voice. She truly loved him and would have given anything to keep him, anything to keep him happy.