“I’m weary of the duchess and her family. The depths of my empathy have been plumbed. They can send a tray to me here, for I have absolutely no intention of joining them for dinner.”
“In that case . . .” He pulled his loosened neck cloth from the collar of his shirt and dropped it on the chair before urging me to sit forward so that he could slide into the space behind me. I happily obliged, leaning back against his chest as he settled. He draped his arm around me and sank his head back against the cushion as he gave a long sigh.
“Yes, the duke does not see why his son needs to appear at the coroner’s inquest,” he finally said, his voice tinged with mockery.
“He killed a man. Even if they intend to argue it was justified, he still killed a man,” I reiterated. Though in truth, I was not surprised. The duke was, after all, a duke. He would not only expect but demand special dispensation for his son.
“There’s also that little matter of his pushing you down the stairs,” he practically growled. “But let’s set that aside for the larger issue at hand. Your points were exactly my and your brother’s arguments. Allow the justice system to perform as it should, and show good faith by having Lord John testify like any other upstanding citizen. Ultimately, the duke agreed. But I don’t hold much hope Lord John will still be here come dawn. And short of standing guard outside his door all night, I don’t know how I’m going to keep him here. Perhaps not even then, if his brothers take the duke’s part in this.”
I turned my head to the side, lifting my hand so that my fingers could play over the buttons at the top of his shirt. “It’s rather disheartening, isn’t it?”
“Here we are, in pursuit of truth and justice, and yet there is little hope for that when a member of the nobility is found to be the culprit. Unless the victim is of the same class.” His hand had curled into a fist where it lay against his lap and then released, as if acknowledging the futility. “But the rules have always been different for aristocrats. And why should they change them when they work in their favor?”
“Careful, darling. You’re sounding rather like a Jacobin,” I jested. A term that had been bandied about a great deal recently by opponents to the Reform Bill that Parliament had been attempting to pass.
He chuckled lowly. “Heavens. What would my father think?”
Though it was no laughing matter, it was easier to joke about it than dwell on our dismay and disenchantment. But his mention of Lord Gage unsettled me in a different way. I could only hope Henry intended to speak with him soon.
He leaned forward to rest his chin against the top of my head. “Perhaps we should take a respite from these inquiries for a time,” he said, misunderstanding the reason for my silence. “Not because of the child,” he hastened to add, lest I take offense that he was falling in line with my sister’s wishes. “But because, frankly, I do not think I can stand to be manipulated by one more pampered aristocrat.”
“It’s not as if we have a choice much of the time. We do have a tendency to trip over murdered corpses and befriend people who find themselves in trouble,” I remarked wryly, and then sighed. “But I agree. So long as we can help it.”
His fingers combed through my tresses, making my scalp prickle with awareness. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you spoke to Marsdale alone this morning when I asked you not to.”
I bit my lip as he gently grasped my jaw, tilting my head back. His gaze seemed to become snagged on my mouth for a moment before meeting my eyes.
“But given the circumstances, I suppose that’s all that needs to be said.”
His gaze softened as he looked down at me, and I lifted my hand to his chin, fitting my thumb to the small cleft there. “I hope he and Lady Eleanor will finally be happy.”
Though she had not publicly made her choice, Gage seemed to be of the same opinion I was. “I do, too. And her children as well.”
I nodded.
His gaze flicked toward the swell draped by my dressing gown. “What of little Casworan?”
“Casworan?” I repeated incredulously.
His eyes twinkled. “Another family name.”
“We are not naming our child Casworan, or Meryasick, or any other of your bizarre Cornish great-grandfather’s names.” This was not the first time he’d suggested such a thing.
“Meryasek,” he corrected.
I bit back a smile. “We’re still not naming our child that.”
He leaned closer so that his mouth hovered above mine. “So you think.”
I laughed. “So I know.”
He kissed me then, leaving some doubt as to who had won the argument, if that’s what it could be called. More like a playful disagreement. In any case, my injuries proved to be sufficiently healed, and our dinner was served to us rather late that evening.
But I was glad we’d taken the respite, for sunrise heralded both a new day, and also a great deal of frustration. Lord John had indeed disappeared by dawn, and although the family claimed to have no idea of his whereabouts, we knew better. For my part, I was angered by the discovery that Lord Henry had accompanied him. Even his note of apology and plea for forgiveness, as well as his promise to pay a call on us in Edinburgh as soon as he returned from the task of seeing his brother settled abroad, could not entirely assuage my irritation. Particularly as I had no idea how far abroad he intended to accompany him.
Given this development, part of me was determined I should tell Gage about his half brother immediately, but Gage’s foul temper and necessary attendance at the coroner’s inquest in Yarrow impelled me to remain silent. The verdict of accidental death was to be expected, considering the pressure the duke brought to bear, and the procurator fiscal’s surprising capitulation. What the duke had to promise him to gain this, we did not know, but it must have been substantial. Still, I expected Lord John to remain abroad for at least a year or two, until people’s memories of the event were overshadowed by other scandals.
We departed for Edinburgh the next day, only too eager to be quit of Sunlaws Castle. Whether I would ever complete the duchess’s portrait, I hadn’t decided. However, it would not be done within those walls—that I was certain of.
Given the cholera outbreak, we had considered returning to my childhood home in Elwick, just over the River Tweed in England. But New Town, where our townhouse was located, was reported to have escaped the worst of the disease, and Edinburgh was where Dr. Fenwick practiced medicine. I trusted the physician accoucheur who delivered Alana’s fourth child, and I wanted him to deliver mine. Given the reticence I felt toward most medical men, this was no small thing. So to Edinburgh we went.
However, cholera was not the only danger infesting the city. And as resolved as our intentions were to avoid mortal mysteries for a time, their tenacity in befalling our friends was stronger. With the birth of our child fast approaching, the stakes of our investigations were growing ever higher, and this time our lives were not the only things at risk.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anna Lee Huber is the Daphne Award-winning author of the national bestselling Lady Darby Mysteries and the Verity Kent Mysteries. She is a summa cum laude graduate of Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tennessee, where she majored in music and minored in psychology. She currently resides with her family and is hard at work on her next novel.
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A Stroke of Malice Page 35
