Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
“Isee the rumours are true,” Toby said as he strode into Warner’s study and sat in the seat opposite him.
Warner blinked blearily at his cousin. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He ran a hand across his face, surprised to find the start of a beard on his jaw and cheeks.
His head pounded, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. The half empty bottle of scotch beside him made his stomach turn. It had been two days since Adele had left, since he had let her go. At least, Warner thought it had only been two days. It had been hard to keep track.
The journal lay open on the desk beside him.
“What are you doing here?” Warner asked hoarsely. “Why did no one announce you?”
Toby looked around the room. “Mr. Turner did announce me; you simply did not acknowledge him.”
Warner’s brow furrowed. It was a mistake; it only worsened the pain in his head. He let out a groan and clutched it, the taste of whiskey strong in his mouth.
“You look like hell, cousin. And you smell like it too.” Toby wrinkled his nose.
Warner stood up, resting one hand on the desk to steady himself. Am I still drunk? “Did you come here just to goad me?”
“No, I wanted to congratulate you on finally seeing the truth.” Toby ran a hand through his hair, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a smile that did not meet his cold eyes.
“What are you talking about?” Warner wished his head did not feel so thick.
He reached for one of the cups on the table, sniffing it. It was tea. He drank it and frowned. It was cold, but it helped get the foul taste out of his mouth.
Toby peered around them. “I note your wife is not here. Apparently, you forced her out.”
“I did nothing of the sort; Adele left of her own accord.” Warner’s chest twisted.
She had sent for her sewing things the day before. Warner had stayed in the study, not wanting to risk seeing his wife. Seeing the chill in those warm brown eyes. He found out when the servants had left that he need not have bothered; she did not come herself.
“So, her guilt finally got the better of her.” Toby’s voice pulled Warner out of the memory.
“Guilt?” The hairs on the back of Warner’s neck stood on end.
Toby gestured around them, his voice colder than Warner had ever heard it.
“Why else would she have left? By all accounts, you have given her a rather luxurious life — you are every bit the doting husband. What woman would choose to leave that unless she could not bear the weight of your kindness? And why would a normal woman struggle beneath that weight? Because she has a conscience — it is only a pity that it did not stop her sooner.”
“I do not care for your tone, cousin. What exactly is it you think weighs on her? Speak plainly, I have no patience for anything else.” Warner’s hands curled into fists.
Toby turned to face him, his mouth thinning into a line. “She is a murderous little harlot who killed my brother.”
Warner had crossed the space between them in an instant. He grabbed his cousin by his shirt, pulling him towards him. Tobias put up no fight, simply arched an eyebrow at him.
“Choose your next words carefully, Cousin.” Warner’s voice was little more than an angry hiss.
Blood rushed in his ears. He felt a muscle work in his jaw. His hands clenched tighter in his cousin’s shirt. Toby’s eyes danced in the moonlight with a sharp, bitter pain that Warner had never seen in him before.
“Still under her spell, Scarfield?” Tobias did not try to break Warner’s hold on him but simply looked at him with angry eyes.
“She is not the murderer.” Warner growled.
“That is not what the papers say. Her own servant reported her for goodness’ sake.” Toby’s face was reddening, and Warner realised that he had lifted his cousin off the ground slightly.
He made no effort to put him down. “A servant that no one has been able to find since the damn story broke.”
“Rather convenient for her. Perhaps she had them killed.” Toby twisted violently, breaking out of Warner’s grasp.
He was panting and massaged his chest. Warner clenched his hands into tight fists but did not try and grab his cousin again. His rage simmered beneath the surface, colouring the world around him.
“Or the servant was never real,” Warner pointed out.
His eyes drifted to the journal on his desk. His mind replayed the conversation with Mrs. Patmore. The smell of roses filled the air, and he shook his head. A wave of nausea hit him, mingling with the anger.
Toby was leaning against a chair, adjusting his rumpled shirt. “Why are you so determined to believe her innocent, cousin? It is not like you to be so forgiving.”
Warner met his cousin’s gaze. “Because I know her. She does not have the heart of a killer.”
“You would be surprised what darkness lies in people’s hearts.” The anger faded from Toby’s eyes, replaced by something darker and more haunting. His voice was like brittle iron, and it broke through some of Warner’s own anger.
He placed a hand on his cousin’s arm. “What happened to you Toby? You are not the man I used to know. Where has that easy laugh gone? You were always the first to see the positive of any situation.”
Toby snapped. “War happened. My brother’s murder happened. Such things force one to see the truth of the world.”
Warner noticed the slump of his cousin’s shoulders, the tightness of the younger man’s jaw. His face had lost all the boyish softness. The easy, charming rake had vanished. It tugged at Warner’s heart.
How could I have been so blind? The guilt chipped away at his anger. He should have noticed his cousin’s state; he should have been there for him. He swallowed. I have let myself ignore my duty for too long.
Warner kept his voice gentle with an effort. “And yet, it seems to have blinded you to it as well. Adele has put herself in danger to find the real killer. She is the one who opened up avenues I had not even thought of.”
Warner gestured to the page he had taken from the pharmacist with his half-finished breaking of the man’s cipher. “She is the one who helped me get that. Why would she do this if she was the killer?”
“Perhaps it is a false lead to throw you off the scent.” Toby shrugged and then peered at the paper. “She has decoded that wrong by the way. That should be an ‘D’ not an ‘E’.”
“And how do you know that?” Warner frowned at him.
“Code breaking is something of a hobby for me. This one is simple enough.” Toby peered at it, his mouth forming a thin line on his face. “Clearly, she was trying to mislead you.”
“She is not the one who has tried to decode it; that was my work,” Warner explained trying to keep the defensiveness from his voice.
“Then she clearly distracted you.” Toby insisted.
“No. She did not.” Warner gave his cousin a long, hard look. “You do not have to trust Adele, but you should trust in me. She is innocent; I feel it in my bones. I know it as surely as the back of my hand.”
“Scarfield, you have to see why it is so hard to believe that. You clearly care for her. Can you blame me for thinking that she has fooled you into thinking something she is not?” Toby canted his head towards him.
“I do care for her.” The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “That is why I let her go.”
“What do you mean?” Toby straightened.
“I cannot be the man I need to be, not when she is near me.” Warner let out a sigh. “I have let everyone down. I have failed all of you. Adele made me feel like perhaps I did not need all the trappings that I have made to keep myself on the straight and narrow — but her faith was misplaced.”
He thought of Adele’s hurt face as she had left his study. He remembered the moment of weakness as she had been about to leave. He had wanted to ask her when she would return, but when he had seen her eyes, the words had died on his lips.
The closest he could come to the question was asking if she would be taking her sewing with her. He hated the way he had wished she would say no, but he knew that this was for the best.
“And why are you so convinced of that?” Toby asked.
Warner shrugged. “You know what I used to be like. The kind of trouble I was in.”
“I do, considering I was at times your partner in crime.” For the first time, Toby’s smile touched his eyes. “We were quite the pair when the mood took us.”
“I have worked hard to keep from being that man. To do right by your brother. He always believed in me, and I did not want to let him down.” Warner felt an enormous weight settle on his shoulder as he looked at his cousin. “In truth, Toby, Adele does not deserve your anger. I do.”
“And how have you come to that conclusion?” Toby folded his hands across his chest.
“I let myself stray from the path Rothwell set me on, and instead of focusing on solving his murder, I…” Warner trailed off as Adele’s smiling face stole into his mind.
Toby’s voice was so soft Warner almost did not hear it. “You fell in love with his widow.”
The truth of his cousin’s words hit him with the force of a bullet. Warner was about to deny it, but the fight had left him. “It does not matter. I cannot be the man she needs, not when she is around. It is too easy to fall into my old ways.”
“You make it sound as though you were the worst man alive.” Toby shook his head. “But there was still much good in you. That is why Eric stepped in to help you. He never wanted you to completely abandon that side of yourself; he just wanted you to be the man he knew you could be.”
“I let myself get lost in Adele, in the freedom and carefreeness that follows her. When I married her, I swore I would protect her, but I cannot do that, not while I indulge in my weakness, and she makes me… she makes me forget.” Warner leaned against the desk, his hands tracing the spot where Adele had last touched.