Chapter 48
YOU’VE BEEN DAMNED MOODY SINCE WE GOT BACK,” Sebastian remarked as he listened to John slamming lids back on pots on the stove.
The kitchen was cold, despite all the cooking that had been done in it that day.
What had been left to simmer on the stove for their dinner just didn’t heat a room of that size.
The fire crackling in the hearth was too far away from the table as well.
They should have moved the table closer to it, but Sebastian couldn’t seem to get up the gumption to do anything.
Eight inquiries about jobs had been left with Maurice, the caretaker, but he hadn’t bothered to read any of the notes.
“I take my cue from you,” John replied as he came to the table with a bowl of thick stew.
“The hell you do,” Sebastian shot back. “You usually just try to distract me out of my dark moods.”
“Would it work this time?”
“No.”
“There’s your answer, and your dinner is getting cold. Or were you going to eat that bottle of brandy tonight?” John asked, eyeing the brandy in front of Sebastian.
“I’m thinking about it.”
That reply cracked a grin out of John, but it was brief. Sebastian had never seen his friend like this before. Sebastian had moods, but John was the optimist who could be depended on to pull him up from the depths.
“Spit it out, John.”
“The boy is unhappy. He really took to your grandmother and misses her.”
“And that’s what has had you making a nonstop racket for the last two days?”
John sighed. “I actually thought we would remain in England. Why, you might ask? Because you married Lady Margaret! You might not ever speak with your father again, but she is there and is reason enough to stay. If you had no intention of doing so, you shouldn’t have married her.”
“So,” Sebastian said thoughtfully, “you’ve been slamming things around because you are annoyed with my decision? Or because, like Timothy, you find yourself missing someone we left behind?”
John flushed angrily. “Unlike some people, I don’t deny I’ve met the woman I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with.”
“You don’t need to wait this out with me, John. Go on back and claim your lady.”
“And leave you to drown in your mistakes?”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
Sebastian laughed at the rejoinder. When John was annoyed, he was quite amusing. But he supposed he shouldn’t have left him in the dark.
“I’m giving Maggie a week to start divorce proceedings,” he explained. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. But if I find she hasn’t done so, then she will have lost her chance to be rid of me.”
“That implies you’re going back to check?”
“Of course.”
“Well, damn me, you couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?” John complained.
Sebastian shrugged. “It wasn’t an easy decision to make. Maggie deserves better than me. But for once I’m going to be selfish.”
“That’s if she hasn’t started the proceedings. What if she has?”
“Then fate will have decided the matter.”
John rolled his eyes. “Why leave it to chance? She doesn’t think she’ll ever see you again. She has no reason to delay a divorce.”
Sebastian’s lips thinned out. He’d decided only that morning to keep Margaret—if she didn’t immediately get her divorce. He really hadn’t thought much beyond giving her a few more days to see to it. But chivalry didn’t suit him at all. Why indeed leave it to fate?
“If she’s divorced me, perhaps I’ll get down on bended knee and actually ask for her hand. How long do you think she’ll laugh?”
John scowled at him. “Why do you do this? Why do you feel that the life you’ve taken on is contemptible? You’ve helped a lot of people who were desperate and would otherwise be flat out of luck if not for you.”
“And done a lot of meaningless jobs that merely served the greed or vengeance of the ones hiring me.”
“So there were a few bad jobs mixed in with the good. The good ones still count. What made you think Lady Margaret would turn you down if you offered her your life rather than the one she’s accustomed to?”
“I said I’m going back,” Sebastian said defensively.
“But you were joking about asking her to marry you, the real you, the man you are now, not the one you used to be. What makes you think she wouldn’t have you?”
“What makes you think she would? Every interaction I’ve had with her was forced on her, including making that marriage real. She had a host of reasons why she didn’t want to marry me and would have trotted them all out had I let her.”
“Perhaps because you forgot to tell her that you wanted to marry her? Or am I reading this wrong? Did you tell her how you feel about her?”
Sebastian downed the remaining brandy in his glass. “You’ve made some good points, John. I’ll give it more thought.”
“By the by,” John added curiously, “what did Denton have to say?”
“When?”
“In his letter.”
“What letter?”
John rolled his eyes. “I should have known you were too deep in thought earlier to hear me tell you I put his letter in your room. It arrived this morning.”
Curious, Sebastian went to fetch the letter but was disappointed when he read it. He returned to the kitchen to tell John in disgust, “Cryptic as usual. I don’t know what his problem is these days, that he has to skirt every issue.”
“Why did he write to you, then?”
Sebastian snorted. “To tell me that if I want answers, I might find them with Juliette’s brother. Why the deuce doesn’t Denton just give me the answers?”
“Perhaps he doesn’t know what they are,” John offered.
That thought gave Sebastian pause. He reread the letter:
Seb,
I didn’t think you’d leave this quickly. I needed time to readjust my thinking. Juliette had me convinced for the longest time that you were the culprit. It quite removed the halo I’d placed over your head.
I should have told you this sooner, that yes, Juliette has been responsible for father’s accidents.
Although he suspects nothing and swears they were just accidents, and she hasn’t stated clearly that she’s caused them, she’s implied it, and has promised worse will happen if I divorce her.
But before that, there were other things she held over my head.
God, even now I don’t have the guts to tell you.
But her brother, Pierre Poussin, might know.
She had him tossed in prison on some charge she fabricated, because he was going to stop her.
At least, she throws it in my face that she got rid of him for me.
Maybe he doesn’t even exist. Maybe everything she says is just lies. God, I just don’t know.
“Actually, he says as much,” Sebastian remarked, handing the letter to John. “That he doesn’t know. Although it sounds like Juliette has him convinced that she is causing my father’s accidents, which I’m not sure is the case a’tall. She’s using them as a means to control Denton, though.”
John looked up from the letter. “Ah, Juliette’s brother in prison ... her remark the gardener overheard at Edgewood makes more sense now.”
“That she got rid of her brother for him, and got rid of me for him? For him? Hmm, I just may have to beat my brother senseless and rearrange his guts for him, since he seems to have lost them.”
John chuckled, but only for a moment. “It does sound like Lord Denton is or was involved in more than we imagined. Though it also sounds like he wants it out in the open, or he wouldn’t be suggesting that you find Juliette’s brother in order to get some answers. Does he say which prison?”
Sebastian shook his head. “He probably doesn’t know that either.”
“Well, this all began in Paris where they met Juliette, so we can perhaps assume it is one near there. You are going to pay him a visit?”
Sebastian frowned. “You know, if you think about it, Juliette’s name comes up too often in relation to strange events—the duel, Maggie’s sister’s abrupt departure from White Oaks, my father’s accidents.
This is one hell of a convoluted scheme, whatever it is, much bigger than we could have guessed. ”
“Cause and effect?” John suggested thoughtfully. “What might have started as a single plot could have spiraled into many more.”
“Could it be that simple?”
John chuckled. “Probably not, but—”
The caretaker opened the door to announce in high annoyance, “A visitor, monsieur. I tell him to come tomorrow at a better hour, but no, he will not go away. He says he knows you, but he will not give his name.”
“Where is he?” Sebastian asked.
Maurice thumbed his hand behind him. “Out front. It is amazing how many people will honor those outer steps as if a door still stood there blocking their way. Is that stew I smell?”
“Help yourself to a bowl, Maurice. I’ll see to our visitor.”
“Want me to go?” John asked. “Half of them say they know you just to gain access to you.”
“Which will make it easier for me to send him on his way. Is there light out there, Maurice, or should I take some with me?”
“My lantern. I leave it on the steps.”
Sebastian nodded and left the kitchen. He hadn’t needed to be concerned with light.
It was a clear night. Moonlight bathed the debris in the ruined old great hall he had to pass through.
And the glow of Maurice’s lantern was a beacon that outlined the broken stone arch that was all that was left of what used to be the entrance to the keep.
The chap stood on the steps there, his back to the arch, staring out at the moonlit countryside as he waited. He wore a tiered greatcoat for warmth, a thick scarf about his neck, and a hat pulled down low.
And then, apparently hearing Sebastian’s footsteps behind him, he turned. And Sebastian did recognize him. He just didn’t believe what he was seeing.
“I’m real,” he assured Sebastian. “Flesh and bone.”
“And blood? Let’s just make sure you aren’t vapor, shall we?” Sebastian said as he slammed his fist into Giles’s face.