By Love Unveiled Read Free

“So listen to me and come away before the new owner spies us.”
    Marianne hesitated, but her aunt was right. She would learn nothing just standing here watching the house, so she let her aunt draw her off down the road. “Does anyone know who bought the estate?”
    “I have asked, but they seem reluctant to tell me . ” Aunt Tamara frowned. “Perhaps they still don’t trust me entirely.”
    “They’ll tell me .” Shifting direction, Marianne headed for town.
    Her aunt let out an oath. “You’re supposed to stay out of Lydgate as much as possible.”
    “This is important,” Marianne said. “I have to find out who he is. And I know just the person to tell us.”
    She headed straight for the apothecary shop. As they entered, Marianne threw back the hood of her cloak and began to remove her mask.
    “I advise you not to do that,” the owner said in a stern voice.
    “But we’re the only ones here, Mr. Tibbett,” Marianne protested.
    He softened his expression. “If the people of Lydgate are to protect you, Miss Winchilsea, you must do yourpart and keep your face covered when strangers are about.”
    She sighed. “Then you must remember to call me Mina. I’m a poor half-gypsy gentlewoman, or had you forgotten?” When his face fell, Marianne hastened to add, “Forgive me, dear friend. I do appreciate all that you and your fellows have done to keep me safe. I should never have placed you in such danger.”
    “Nonsense.” A smile cracked his usual reserve. “It is wonderful to have such a skilled healer in our midst again.”
    “Don’t flatter the girl,” Aunt Tamara grumbled, then poked Marianne. “The mask, Mina.”
    With a sigh, Marianne restored her disguise.
    “Now then,” Mr. Tibbett said. “What might I do for you today?”
    The apothecary might be a rather ponderous old Puritan given to platitudes and maxims, but he’d taught her much about medicines and herbs.
    Just now, however, Marianne was most interested in his shameful tendency to gossip. “We wish to know who’s the new owner of Falkham House,” Marianne said baldly.
    Mr. Tibbett blinked, then sighed. “So you heard about that, did you?”
    “Of course. But no one will say who bought it.”
    “It wasn’t bought . . . exactly. It was, you might say, acquired. The Earl of Falkham himself reclaimed his estate.”
    “Oh, poppet, a great noble, no less!” Aunt Tamarasaid. “We should leave here before you find yourself in more trouble.”
    “I don’t understand,” Marianne said. “Pitney Tearle had no claim on it—”
    “No, not Sir Pitney. The real earl, Garett Lockwood.”
    Lockwood? She knew that name. “You mean the man who died in the war, with his wife?”
    “Not him but his son,” Mr. Tibbett said. “Everyone—apparently even his uncle, Sir Pitney Tearle—thought he’d been killed with his parents. Sir Pitney was only a knight before then, but as a distant cousin, he inherited the earldom. Indeed, that’s why he married the former earl’s sister, because she was actually heir to the property through her mother if the earl died. Once all heirs to the title were believed dead and Lady Tearle was the only heir to the Falkham estate, Sir Pitney gained both the property and the title.”
    “But Sir Pitney sold Falkham House to my brother-in-law,” Aunt Tamara said. “So by the terms under which the king was restored to the throne, this other man—the Royalist—could not reclaim his property unless . . .”
    “Father died,” Marianne said in a hard voice. “Or was proved a traitor. Or both.”
    Mr. Tibbett blinked. “Now see here, I know what you’re thinking, but his lordship would never do such a thing.”
    “You mean arrange the arrest of my father so he couldregain Falkham House? How can you be sure? He was only a boy when he left. Who knows what his character became?”
    “Ah, but he’s a man of some renown now. Every day some new story surfaces of his bravery in battle, how he fought with