“Drew, where have you been the last few days?” Alex asked in an attempt to end their bickering. He tried to keep his tone even. He wanted to engage his brother in conversation, not irritate him into fleeing. He wanted to speak to him about Simon and the investigation, but he didn’t want to do it in front of their mother. Why this morning, of all mornings, had she decided to wake early?
“With friends. In a more hospitable environment.” He stood and poured himself another cup of coffee. “I came to retrieve the last of my belongings, then I shall retire to my own home, have a bath,” he said directly at their mother, “and then sleep for two days.” He downed the coffee, then winced, no doubt the hot liquid burned straight down to his belly. “Mother,” he said sharply, as he left the dining room.
At least, for the time being, Drew intended to be at Danbridge while he gathered some items. Alex would give him some time, and then seek him out for conversation. But just to be certain, he rang for Hodges and instructed him to alert Alex should Drew make to leave the house.
“He is a horrid man,” she said after Drew was gone.
“Mother, that is not a very kind thing to say about your child.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and remained silent. Her lips thinned as if she’d swallowed her tongue and she took a deep steadying breath. Perhaps she was taking his threat to send her to the country seriously.
“Now then, what has you awake so early?” he asked. He took a sip of his own coffee before filling his mouth with buttered bread.
“The servants are talking,” she said.
“How scandalous,” he said. “Would you prefer I hired mute servants?”
“I don’t find you any more amusing than I do your brother,” she said.
“Servants talk, Mother, there is nothing to be done about that.”
“I do not abide gossip,” she said.
“It’s not gossip if it is true and unfortunately Drew gives them plenty to whisper about. It will pass.” He wished that were true. It seemed the Foster men were hell-bent on trying to test how much scandal the Carrington name could endure.
“Though it might be surprising, this time I am not talking about your brother,” she said.
“What are they gossiping about?”
“You.” Her lips pursed and deep lines formed on her forehead. “They are whispering about you and that tart you have sleeping in the next room. If, in fact, there is any sleeping going on at all. It’s scandalous, Alex. And I would expect better from you.”
Then again, perhaps she had discounted his threat all together. Alex said nothing for a moment, merely finished chewing, then took another swallow of coffee. He contemplated what to say, if he should bother denying it. At the moment, though, he was angry. He didn’t want anyone to disparage Mia’s reputation or speak ill of her. It was one thing for his mother to ignorantly think poorly of Mia; his mother was shortsighted about a great number of things. But he’d been most careful when he’d carried Mia to her room last night. And no one had ever walked in on them in an embrace. As best he could tell this was purely gossip.
All that considered, the truth of the matter was that it wasn’t anyone’s concern. He’d never intended to have a mistress, but that was before he’d met Mia.
Would it matter that the majority of Mia’s virtue was still intact? Probably not. His mother was out for blood this morning and she clearly wanted some of his. Perhaps he should leave the room and go find Drew, let her chew on him for a while.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked.
He almost checked under the table to see if she was tapping her foot, but he resisted the urge. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said. Alex had been debating whether or not to discuss with his mother the cruelty she’d dished onto Mia the night before. She had just made the decision much easier for him. “Instead, I should like to chide you for your nastiness to Mia earlier.”
Fury flamed in her eyes, eyes that were the match of his own. “I see she ran off to you and told you about our little conversation. Well, no doubt she embellished everything.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “You have no liking of her, though you do not even know her, and you aren’t afraid to let everyone know.”
“She was very disrespectful to me,” she said, sounding much like a spoiled child.
“More than likely she was merely defending herself from your tongue-lashing. I know you, Mother,” Alex said.
“I said what needed to be said. Your harlot is no longer my concern. What is my concern is your pending nuptials. Alex, how do you expect to marry Juliet Beckinsale if you are bedding that woman?”
“I’m not seeing the problem. And I am not bedding Mia,” he said. “No one listens to rumors between the servants.” He knew that wasn’t true; though they spread rapidly, they were also the easiest rumors to squelch.
“That’s not true and you know it. Juliet and her family are expecting a proposal and you, for reasons I shall never understand, are dragging your feet,” she shook her head. “You can dally with the Danvers girl if you must, but you had best make your play for Juliet’s hand soon before she loses interest and moves onto someone with a better offer. Or at least someone who pays closer attention to her. She is one of the most sought-after girls this year, Alex, we’re lucky she wants to be a duchess. Otherwise your bumbling would have driven her off by now. You must handle the situation correctly or you will lose her.”
Bumbling, a not so gentle reminder that he hadn’t been groomed for this. He was a soldier and not exactly what everyone was looking for when it came to a duke. He knew he needed the perfect woman to be his duchess and to make up for his shortcomings. He had to do whatever he could to salvage the Carrington name.
Mia lacked the required skills to be a duchess. She couldn’t oversee a house or decorate a room or charge the servants. Yes, she had been raised in an aristocratic home and probably had been trained in such skills once upon a time, but that had been a lifetime ago, before her injury and before she’d lost her sight.
He wanted to defend himself. Remind his mother that he was doing far better than Stephen had done. At least Alex had courted the girl. But he did not want to play the sullen child. Besides, as irritating as it was, he knew his mother was right. About this one thing.
Juliet was that perfect choice. He had waited long enough, but the truth was, he would never find a woman who was simultaneously beautiful, intelligent and interesting. Well, sadly, he had found that woman, he simply could not have her.
“You will see her tonight,” his mother said. “It is time. Make your declaration, ask for her hand. Make it official, Alex.”
Chapter Twenty
Alex finished his breakfast and left his mother sitting at the table alone. He then went in search of his brother. He was not looking forward to the conversation. But hell, it had already been a rather piss-poor morning; what was a little more confrontation to add to the day?
He’d already once accused his brother of murder and now that the evidence had continued to mount, he would have to tell him that it would not be long before the inspectors came to arrest him. Alex refused to believe that Drew was a killer, and he wanted to make certain his brother knew that.
If Drew were arrested, it would most assuredly cause a devastating scandal. Of course that would be the least of Alex’s concerns at that point as providing Drew the necessary assistance would be at the top of his priorities. Perhaps he did need to secure an engagement with Juliet before a scandal with Drew hit. Otherwise he might find it rather difficult to find a suitable bride at all. If he couldn’t have the woman he wanted, what did it matter whom he married?
Granted, it was not really Alex’s intention to trick a woman into marry him, but making her his betrothed before she decided to run in the other direction simply made good sense. Eventually the scandal would be replaced by another, especially once they discovered the killer’s true identity. And it wasn’t as if Ju
liet was marrying him out of some misguided affection. This was a business transaction as much as anything, as most marriages among the aristocrats were. He would be making her a duchess, only a handful of women could make that claim. It was worth a little scandal in the meantime.
Alex made his way upstairs and found his brother sitting alone in the library. He had bathed and dressed since his visit to the breakfast table, though his cravat was untied and his too-long hair was damp and unbound.
“I went ahead and bathed here,” he said with a shrug. In that moment Alex could remember him when they’d been children, sitting in this very room playing hide and go seeking and Drew had been the first to be found because he’d giggled the entire time.
“Did you eat anything besides bread earlier?” Alex asked as he entered the room.
“No.” Drew crossed his legs at his ankles and looked up at his brother. “I didn’t have much of an appetite.”
“When was the last time you ate an actual meal?”
Drew shrugged. “I eat.”
“You drink. That is not the same thing.” Alex sat adjacent to his brother, noting the weathered expression in his eyes. Tiredness settled heavily on the younger man’s shoulders like an invisible weight. It was on Alex’s mind to ask him what was wrong.
But then Alex knew what was wrong. What had been wrong for the past twelve years. But any time he’d tried to approach it, Drew would walk away. So because he needed his brother to listen today, he would not broach subjects he knew would further anger Drew.
“Drinking fills me up just the same,” Drew finally said with a shrug.
Alex wanted to demand to know precisely who Drew had been talking to regarding Mia. He had most assuredly told someone, it was the only logical explanation.
Hell, he’d grown up with Drew and though they weren’t best mates, he knew his brother’s temperament and it was simply not in his character to take another’s life. He wouldn’t mention Mia. Yet. And in the meantime he’d keep from his brother the fact that Mia was staying here in the house, though he suspected if his brother stayed for any length of time he’d hear about it from the servants.
“Did you really follow me in here to glare at me and ask me about my bread consumption?” Drew asked.
“No, as your older brother, I am merely concerned for your welfare,” Alex said.
“You’re taking this head-of-the-family thing a little too serious, Alex,” Drew quipped.
“It’s my responsibility to keep my family safe and well cared for,” Alex said.
Drew made a grand gesture to his person. “I’m still able to stand and walk so whatever I’m eating, or drinking for that matter, seems to have left me no worse for wear.”
“I’m concerned.” Alex watched the weariness settle onto Drew and in that moment nearly all of the devil-may-care attitude that his brother worked so hard to attain disappeared. “Where have you been?” Alex asked. “You’ve said with friends, but you are here so rarely. I don’t even know if you’re sleeping outside.”
Drew shrugged again. “Are you asking if I’m staying out of trouble?”
“In part. We have a situation. It appears as if you share some similarities to the killer. Besides merely being in the same place as each killing.” Alex watched his brother for any kind of reaction to the news, but his expression never changed. “What do you say to that?”
Drew’s jawline clenched for a moment and a flash of anger flitted across his face. But then the casual arrogance returned and Drew merely shrugged, but he said nothing.
“You have nothing to say?” Alex asked.
“What the devil should I say, Alex? Are you asking me if I killed those girls?”
“No, I’m not asking you that, merely warning you that someone is considering that possibility. You even said yourself that the killer could be a crazed aristocrat. All you need to do is tell me where you were when Sally was killed. And the other girls.”
“None of your damned business.”
“They’ll arrest you for certain if you refuse to cooperate,” Alex said.
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m certain you don’t read the papers, Drew, but you’ve been in all of the locations of the murders. And this last one. It was the barmaid you were seen harassing merely an hour before she was killed. Has it occurred to you that it could be one of your friends?” Alex asked. He knew some of the men that Drew drank and gambled with, but he didn’t know any of them well.
“That’s unlikely,” Drew said.
“Is it?” Alex asked. “Consider the coincidence.” Again he was tempted to mention Mia, but her safety was more important than chastising his brother. And if he was acquaintances with the killer, Alex certainly didn’t want the man to have any additional information that could put her in greater danger.
“You’ve attended several of the same functions, though clearly you wouldn’t lower yourself to visit the Duck and Dog. Still I wasn’t the only man there that night. But you would have had the same opportunity as I for the girl killed in our alley.” Drew sat forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Seems to me the killer could just as easily be you.”
“That’s absurd,” Alex said.
“But you naming me as the killer is not? Tell me, brother, did you actually manage to get out of the war without blood on your hands? Perhaps the police are investigating the wrong brother.”
Perhaps Alex deserved that. Hell, he knew Drew was innocent, so he most definitely deserved it. “I’m not accusing you of anything but perhaps being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Many times over. It looks bad. Suspicious.”
“Whether or not you care for my friends matters not to me, but they’re not killers.”
“They’re drinking mates, nothing more. They will never assert themselves, make anything substantial of themselves. Find wives or anything worthwhile. What about you? Have you found a woman you’re interested in?” Alex asked. This was a much easier subject to broach than the one where he accused him of murder.
Something flickered across Drew’s face, but it vanished just as quickly. “I have plenty of women I’m interested in.”
“Whores and servant girls don’t count, Drew.”
“They serve their purpose.” He leaned back onto the chair and thumbed through the book in his hand.
“What do you want, Alex? Why all the awkward banter? If you have something to say, say it.”
“Simon came to see me again,” Alex said.
“About me?”
“The evidence is mounting.”
“Evidence for what?” Drew asked.
“Haven’t you been paying attention to anything I’ve said? For the murders, Drew. The police are suspicious of your behavior, your whereabouts and your connections to the girls.”
“It is you who does not pay mind to what I am saying, there is no bloody connection. I didn’t do it,” Drew said, his voice weary and ragged.
Relief poured over Alex. Not because he’d doubted Drew, but because he finally saw in his brother the fight to deny any allegations brought against him. Alex relaxed some on the inside, but knew that simply because he believed him didn’t mean that the accusations would go away or that the Scotland Yard would move on to another suspect.
“The police are close to arresting you. I’ve held them off for this long to help find evidence to the contrary.” Again he wanted to mention Mia, but he feared retaliation against her if his brother did in fact know the killer and let too many details slip.
“Why bother?” Drew asked.
“What?”
“If they want to arrest me, why stand in their way?”
“Because once you’re in their custody, once you’re in a prison, I can no longer help you. Men of wealth and title don’t do well in prison,” Alex said.
He stood and stepped around the chair he’d been lounging on. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to be picking up after me.” He tossed the book on the ground, then his eyes narro
wed. “You’re just so bloody afraid I’m going to tarnish the precious Carrington name.” He took a ragged breath. “You know we can tell everyone the damned truth. Makes no difference to me. That would clear you of any claim of me.”
“You’ve been doing everything you can to do just that,” Alex countered. “Haven’t you? Christ, Drew, it is my duty to ensure our family name stays clean of scandal. But that’s not what this is about. You are my brother and, like it or not, you are a Carrington.”
Drew stood to his full height. He was taller than Alex, had been since they were boys despite their three-year age difference, but he was leaner, too. “I am a Carrington by seed. But I am a bastard all the same. The only reason all of London doesn’t know is because of that woman upstairs who has never once treated me as her son.” The vitriol in his voice was palpable. “She has spent her life keeping my secret, but treating me as a bastard all the same. So all this energy you’re spending on protecting me from a scandal, you can bugger off, brother. I can take care of myself.”
Alex took in a slow breath. Frankly he didn’t give a damn if their mother, his mother, was upset. But that didn’t mean he could disregard her status in the family. “There is protocol, Drew. We can’t ignore it. Regardless of who your mother is, you belong in this family and it is my duty, now as Duke, to protect you. You don’t have to like it, but I will still endeavor to do so.”
“Next time the police come to get me, move aside. I don’t need, nor do I want your protection.” Then he left the room.
Alex had always wondered if Drew simply knew who his mother was, if that would have made a difference in how angry he was about the situation. Though, of course, how he’d found out about the truth of his birth had no doubt affected things greatly. He’d been all of fourteen years old when he’d heard their parents arguing and their mother, Alex’s mother, had said that she wasn’t Drew’s mother and would never bother to love “your whore’s son.” Drew had changed overnight from a happy, albeit rambunctious-bordering-on-fiendish, child to an angry, aggressive boy.
Maybe Drew was right, maybe Alex should merely stand aside and let the man take care of himself. Stephen had never bothered caring what his brothers had been doing. Of course Stephen had gotten himself killed with his own reckless behavior.
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