Her eyes narrowed. “When were you going to tell me that Eleanor broke off her engagement to you?”
He grabbed the tail of his temper as it attempted to escape. “Where did you hear that?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, a note of challenge in her voice. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
How much should he tell her? All of it or only enough to distract her? He thought he caught a glimpse of something in her eyes, a longing to be wrong. Or was it his foolish hope instead? “Do you really want to know the truth?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I do,” she said. Her voice trembled a little, but she put her hand over his.
He took heart from her impulsive gesture and placed his other hand over hers, then regretted it when she quickly pulled back. “I’ll hold nothing back. But listen quietly and don’t ask any questions until I’m finished. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“She didn’t break her engagement to me. I broke it.” When she gasped and opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Remember your promise. I’m not done.” She shut her lips and he stared at her, willing her to believe him. “I know this isn’t pleasant to hear, but I caught her and Fosberg in a . . . a compromising position.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again at his warning glance. She shuddered, and he realized how hard this was for her. She’d loved Eleanor. But he didn’t think she knew her friend very well.
A toad hopped across the grass by his feet. He watched it go and tried to think of an easier way to tell her the story. There was nothing easy about such an unsavory tale. “I’ll just say it,” he said, his voice harsh. “She spent the night at his cottage two miles up the coast. I received a tip that I’d find them there. I didn’t care enough about Eleanor to be upset, but I refused to be made a cuckold. His valet tried to dissuade me from entering, but I forced my way in and found the two of them in bed together.”
She gasped. Or was it a moan? He wished he could take her hand but forced himself not to touch her. Her head was down and her shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry. I wish I could spare you this, but there’s more. When they saw me, Fosberg leaped from the bed in his nightdress. Eleanor clutched the covers to her neck and screamed at me to get out. I told her I was leaving and that our engagement was at an end. By the end of the next day she was dead. So, yes, I do feel some guilt about her death. Perhaps she feared I would tell what I’d seen, but I had no intention of humiliating her.”
“I-I can hardly believe it of Eleanor.”
“I’ve told no one. Not even my father, though I’m going to have to tell him. He has a crazy idea to marry me off to Olivia Stewart. I wouldn’t marry a Stewart if she were the last woman on Earth.” He spat the name Stewart from his mouth.
Lady Devonworth went white and still. “So is that why you wish to marry me? To foil your father’s plans?”
“No.” He wasn’t ready to tell her his feelings. “Have you spoken with your mother about my proposal?”
“I have. She believes it the proper thing to do.”
“Is that a yes then?”
She nodded her head without looking at him. “I fear I have no choice.” She raised teary eyes to his. “So she really did kill herself?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said. “She didn’t seem the type to do harm to herself. I believe Fosberg would have been willing to marry her. He seemed quite besotted.”
She nodded. “He said they were going to be married,” she said, looking away.
He saw the guilt in her eyes before it was hidden from him. “What else did he say?”
“That she broke her engagement to you and that you killed her.”
“I didn’t kill her!” he said. When she didn’t answer, his chest constricted. “Do you believe him?” Please say no. He held his breath and waited for her answer. Her hand crept across the metal to grasp his. He squeezed her fingers.
Her head came up and her eyes met his. “No,” she said. “I don’t think you’re capable of murder.”
He wanted to sweep her into his arms and press his lips to hers, but he restrained himself. There was time to win her. And he would.
Gaslight chandeliers cast shadows in the cavernous dining room as Olivia pulled a chair out to sit by her mother, who was at the head of the table. Delicious aromas filled the air: barley soup, roast duck with cranberry sauce, and chateau potatoes.
Her stomach objected to the thought of food, but she took up her napkin and smiled at her mother. “Dinner smells heavenly.”
Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “Whatever is the matter, Olivia? You look like you’ve lost your best friend. And where are your friends, by the way?” She leaned back so the footman could lay the napkin in her lap. “And I thought I saw your young man out there.”
“I saw Katie in the upstairs hall. She and Will will be down shortly.” She put her napkin in her lap. “Harrison was here, Mother, and I agreed to marry him. But there is a wrinkle in that plan. He is quite opposed to marrying Olivia Stewart.”
Her mother shot her a startled glance. “What do you mean?”
“There were some problems between him and Eleanor. He said Olivia Stewart would be the last person he would ever marry.” She bit her lip. “I could hardly tell him my name then.”
Her mother shrugged. “An engagement will suffice for now to restore your reputation. You can break it in your own time and tell him the truth.” She glanced at the mantel clock. “I like to dine precisely at eight. It’s five after.”
“Katie said to extend her apologies. Jennie was crying and upset, and they read her a bedtime story. She’s been having nightmares since the storm destroyed the lighthouse.”
Her mother’s expression softened. “Poor child.” She motioned to the other footmen hovering in the doorways. “You may serve the hors d’oeuvres.” The men jumped to do her bidding and went to the serving tables, where canapés were arranged with caviar, cheese, foie gras, and liver pâté. Her mother selected the caviar only, took a bite, then dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin. “So you still haven’t told me what is wrong.”
Olivia glanced at the clock. She likely had ten minutes before their guests joined them. The subject was hardly dinner conversation, but her mother would never let it go until she pried out the information.
She sipped her water, then put down the crystal goblet. “Mr. Fosberg returned this afternoon. He told me a most distressing tale.”
Her mother paused with a canapé halfway to her mouth. She put it down on her saucer. “About Eleanor?”
“It’s about Father.”
Her mother smiled. “He’s located your father?” Her voice was as animated as a girl’s, and a flush lit her skin.
A pang struck in Olivia’s midsection. Her mother genuinely loved the man. Olivia wasn’t sure how she herself felt. Her father had been like a king or nobility to her. She’d worshipped him and tried everything in her power to make him proud of her, to make him utter one word of praise. The discovery that he had feet of clay was a blow she wasn’t sure she could recover from.
“No, Mother. H-He says he has a valid will that Father executed. It was discovered in a safe that was buried in debris during the Great Fire. It was written in 1906.”
Her mother’s eager smile faded. “Your somber expression tells me this is somehow bad news. You know how I detest it when you dance around information, Olivia. Out with it.”
Olivia toyed with her spoon and stirred sugar into tea. “According to the will, Father has another heir. A son.” She glanced up to see how her mother received the surprise.
The words seemed to echo in the high-ceilinged room. It was her mother’s greatest shame that she’d never given her husband a son. If only she hadn’t had to tell her mother this news.
Her mother’s eyes grew wider as the words sank in. Her high color faded to a sallow yellow. Her throat clicked as she swallowed. “I don’t understand, Olivia.”
The facts. Stick to the facts in a neutral tone
of voice that might calm Mother. Olivia somehow managed to speak in an even tone. “Father had an illegitimate son, Mother. The son was traced here to Mercy Falls but evidently changed his name, and Mr. Fosberg was unable to track him down.”
“What is his name?”
“Richard Pixton.”
Her mother’s hands curled into fists, and she banged them onto the table so hard that Olivia’s water glass toppled. “Pixton!” She swallowed again, and a single tear ran down her cheek.
“You know the name?” Olivia asked.
“Lulu Pixton was my personal maid. She threw herself at your father, and I dismissed her at once. I thought she went to live with her sister in San Francisco.”
“That’s where Richard was born.” The older woman moaned at Olivia’s words, an eerie sound that raised the hair on the back of Olivia’s neck. Olivia reached over and took her mother’s hand. “I’m sure Father didn’t love her, Mother. I’m sure he was just trying to do the right thing. He was always careful to attend to his responsibilities.”
“His responsibility was to me, his wife! And to his own children.” Her mother rose so quickly that her chair tipped over. “I’m going to my room. I have a most dreadful headache. Give my regards to our guests.” She rushed from the room.
Olivia dabbed the spilled water with her napkin. She motioned for the footmen to remove her mother’s utensils and to repair the table. Her chest was tight, and she ached for her mother’s pain. And where was Father? They needed him now.
TWENTY-FIVE
HARRISON SLID HIS arms into the vest Eugene held out. “I don’t feel like eating dinner tonight, Eugene.” Nealy looked up at Harrison’s words as if to check that his master was all right.
Tonight he was to attend a celebratory dinner hosted by the owner of the business Harrison had just acquired. He was surprised his father had agreed to attend, given his displeasure over the price Harrison had paid.
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to make your apologies?”
“No, I have to go. Who knows what my father would say to Mr. Riley if I’m not there.” He buttoned the vest, then grabbed the jacket from the form by the window. “I hope I’m not seated next to Fosberg. It’s going to be all I can do not to throttle him.”
He didn’t expect an answer from his valet, and sure enough, Eugene simply took the clothes brush and went over Harrison’s suit one last time. The valet was a great sounding board but seldom offered advice. He knew his place, though Harrison thought of him more as a peer than a personal servant.
“I think I love her,” Harrison said. “How did that happen?”
Eugene knelt and gave the toes of his shoes one last buff. “I imagine it’s the usual way, sir. She’s very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is. And I like her spirit. The way she analyzes everything. She takes something you say and hears what you’re really saying underneath. How does she do that?”
“Women are most incomprehensible,” his valet said. Eugene stood and stepped back. “I believe you’ll pass muster and not put me to shame.”
Harrison grinned. “I’ll try to do you proud.” He clapped a hand on Eugene’s shoulder. “Have you ever been in love, Eugene?”
“No, sir. When would I have time?”
“We’ve had some attractive chambermaids. There was that pretty lady’s maid my mother had a couple of years ago. What was her name?”
“Lucy.”
Harrison tugged on his cravat. “Ah, yes, Lucy. Whatever happened to her?”
“She married the butler.”
“That’s right.” He dropped his arm when Eugene gently pushed it out of the way to fix the blasted tie. “But I’m sure you’ve had ample opportunity to find a wife.”
“A wife would demand more time than I can give her.”
Harrison had already turned toward the door but veered back at Eugene’s words. “Are you happy here?”
He studied his valet. Eugene was what, about twenty-five? Average height and slim build. Pleasant enough features. Brown eyes and a trim mustache. Harrison paid him well too, so Eugene should have been appealing to the opposite sex.
Eugene smiled. “I’ve been with you for four years, sir. I hope I may be so bold as to say I look up to you. You have been very good to me. My life is full.”
“I realize that every important decision I’ve ever made, I’ve discussed with you. Though you never tell me what to do, talking it out has always helped. So what should I do about Lady Devonworth?”
“There isn’t a woman alive who could resist you when you put your mind to wooing her, sir.”
“Spoken like a true friend. So I just woo her? I’ve already proposed, but I’m sure she has no idea of my true feelings. She just thinks I merely want to do the right thing. I’m not sure how to go about letting her know how I feel.”
“She’s quite taken with your aeroplane,” Eugene pointed out.
Harrison scowled. “Which is now strewn across half of California.”
“You have the new model nearly completed. Ask her to go up in it again.”
“I intend to have it finished by the time the comet’s tail arrives in two weeks. But I need to be assured there will be no more sabotage.” He glanced at Nealy. “Perhaps I will put Nealy to watching it.”
Eugene stepped past Harrison and opened the door, then stood aside. “Has the constable discovered who was behind your accident?”
Harrison went past him into the hall. “I doubt he will. There are no clues. He’s asked at the pubs and cafes, but there has been nothing for him to follow up on. I need to be especially vigilant before taking up the new plane.”
He paused partway down the hall, then turned to see Eugene following five paces behind. “Take the night off, Eugene. Take a girl to dinner.”
His valet’s teeth gleamed as he grinned. “I’ll see what I can do, sir. Though it would never do for both of us to be in love. Someone around here needs to have his brain engaged.”
Harrison laughed. “You might have a point. Good night.”
“Thanks.”
Harrison jogged down the hall to the stairs and out the door to his car. He had instructed his driver to bring it around, but the Riley home was only a few blocks away and it was a beautiful night, so he decided to walk and waved the driver back to the carriage house. It took only five minutes to stroll to the Rileys’. When he stepped into the foyer, he could hear the tinkle of glassware and the murmur of laughter and conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was to make small talk when he could be working on his aeroplane.
He found the guests milling through the massive dining room. Everyone was talking about the Lightkeeper’s Ball, and the level of excitement about it was high, though the chatter stilled when he entered and he intercepted a few sly glances. Nothing like this had ever been done in Mercy Falls, and people would be unlikely to refuse to attend in spite of the scandal that had just erupted. Lady Devonworth’s New York friends were another matter, however.
After chatting with the host and his wife, he found his way to the food. Tall linen-covered tables held hors d’oeuvres of every type. Footmen served glasses of champagne and wine. He greeted neighbors and customers as he made his way through the crowd to where his mother was talking to Addie and John North.
“There you are, Harrison,” his mother said when he brushed his lips across her powdered cheek. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come drag you from your house.”
“Just running a little late.” He shook hands with John.
“We’re celebrating,” John said, his grin widening. Addie blushed and glanced away. John’s grin told the story.
Harrison’s mother rapped her fan on Harrison’s arm. “They’re going to be adding to their family.”
“Congratulations.” Harrison meant it. The Norths had been childless since their marriage two years ago and had hoped to give a sibling to Edward, John’s son by a previous marriage.
A warm sensation enveloped him when he saw the way the Nort
hs looked at one another. If only Lady Devonworth would look on him with that kind of love in her eyes.
Still smiling, he turned toward the door and froze. Fosberg had arrived.
Firelight flickered in the huge stone fireplace. Olivia sipped her after-dinner tea and stared at the crackling flames. Her father’s letter to Eleanor lay in her lap. Will and Katie were playing checkers at the game table, and their banter flowed around her, but she paid little attention to what they said.
The Jespersons’ game ended. “I’m going to peek in on Jennie,” Will said.
Katie joined Olivia on the sofa. “You’re very pensive,” she said. “This news about a missing half brother has rocked you, has it not?”
“Very much,” Olivia admitted. “I thought my father an honorable man. Aloof, but a good man.”
“You seem nearly to idolize him. Was he home much?”
Olivia shook her head. “His businesses took him away quite often. Africa, California, Europe. When he was home, the world revolved around him. He often hurt me with his comments about how disappointed he was that I wasn’t the son he wanted.”
Katie wrinkled her nose. “I hate to hear that. I’m sure he loved you very much.”
“I always felt I had to earn his attention. You know what I thought of first when I’d heard he died in that cave-in? That I would never hear him say, ‘I love you.’”
Her friend squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, my dear.”
“So am I. But now there is another chance. I don’t understand why there has been no communication from him since this.” She lifted his letter off her lap. “Why hasn’t he shown himself?”
Katie hesitated. “Are you sure it’s not your wishful thinking? How can he be alive and here in town without being seen?”
“I’ve wondered the same thing. But I have to find him if he’s alive,” she said. “He’s the only one who can straighten all this out.”
“Are you sure that’s his handwriting?” Katie asked.
“It certainly appears to be his.”
“Will’s brother is a private investigator. You could try to have him track your father.”
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