The Notorious Widow Read Online Free PDF

outcome, it would attach another unsavory episode to Catherine’s name. Or maybe Seabrook did not believe Jasper was responsible for the rumors. No one else had mentioned his name in that regard.
    Again he shifted, resting one foot on the opposite seat. He had to keep an open mind, at least until he’d spoken with Catherine and interviewed any witnesses. If the tales were false, or even exaggerated, he would try to temper people’s outrage. Seabrook was right that the gossip was hurting more than Catherine. Learning that he had young sisters explained this request. William had to contain the damage before he could bring the girls out.
    But Blake couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Catherine was innocent. Evidence supported that conclusion as well, starting with the sheer volume of rumors – not merely the fact that the notorious widow’s escapades were on every tongue but that every tongue cited a different tale. Then there was Seabrook’s own behavior. Could a man who cared deeply for the land and its people keep a wanton in charge of his house and family? Apparently she had oversight of both.
    As the carriage topped a rise, a modest manor appeared briefly in the distance, protected by a hill from the storms that swept in from the sea. The façade remained Tudor, hinting that the family had never been wealthy, but it offered welcome and the promise of peace.
    Yesterday he’d called on his friend’s aunt, Mrs. Crumleigh. She had been hosting an at-home, so he’d met a dozen of the local gossips. Without asking a single question, he’d heard tale after tale about Catherine Parrish – she seduced any man she could find, even servants and youths; she taught seductive arts to every young girl she met; she flaunted her disdain for propriety everywhere.
    Mrs. Telcor’s comments had been typical. “Shocking, absolutely shocking. I’ve never encountered such moral turpitude in one body. You would think her brother would turn her off to protect those girls from harm.” She’d continued with a vehement diatribe condemning several of her exploits.
    “Who is her current protector?” he’d asked when she paused for breath.
    “She doesn’t have one,” she’d said, sniffing. “Few would mind if she did. A discreet affair is not unheard of. But she flouts every rule. Godless. The dear vicar would turn in his grave if he knew how his wife was conducting herself. And what that brother of hers is thinking to condone such behavior, I don’t know. How is he to fire off those poor girls with this scandal in the family? No one would offer for someone corrupted by that woman’s evil influence.”
    The gentlemen’s club had also echoed with rumors – her visits to Torquay and Plymouth, where she had bedded half the seamen based at those ports; her trip to Taunton, where she had exposed a dozen schoolboys to her perversions; her calls throughout the parish that recruited participants for satanic orgies reminiscent of the old Hellfire Club, with her in the role of priestess.
    Blake shook his head. Seabrook was puritanical. If he’d heard that last claim, he would have called out the speaker, then banished Catherine forever. He had nearly killed a fellow student at Eton for poking fun at the church. Anything hinting at blasphemy put him in a frenzy.
    But the tales raised serious questions. None contained specifics. Where had the liaisons occurred? With whom? When? Who were the witnesses and why had they remained silent until now?
    “No gentleman brags of his conquests,” the White Hart innkeeper had insisted when asked to name one of Mrs. Parrish’s paramours.
    It was a lie, but Blake had not pressed. Though he’d learned to keep his own contacts private, he knew many gentlemen who graphically compared courtesans, opera dancers, widows, and matrons. Devereaux and Millhouse openly competed for ladies’ favors. The betting books were crammed with their wagers naming this female or that.
    So this lack of names was odd.