Chapter 13 #2
Charlotte clutched at the saucer. Her complexion was noticeably paler, and I wondered for a moment if I should ring for a vinaigrette.
“My lord, you astonish me. I had no notion you were in trade,” she said, her voice flinty. “I think we must speak of this when we have more privacy.”
Brisbane inclined his head, and I smiled to myself. Behind her, Plum’s expression had turned decidedly smug.
Father issued a few more instructions then, most notably that no one was to approach the chapel without his permission, nor were messages to be sent to Lucy that he had not first approved.
Emma asked if she might go and sit with her now that she was in command of herself, and he agreed.
She also received permission to bring her sister a few articles she might require for her comfort.
Father then bade the party good-night in a clear gesture of dismissal.
First to leave was Charlotte King, sweeping out without a word of apology for the broken cup or a glance for her erstwhile fiancé.
Plum trailed behind her and Portia followed with Emma.
Ly and Violante walked out slowly, murmuring softly in Italian.
Alessandro followed them, casting bewildered glances at me as he left.
I lingered with Brisbane, watching Sir Cedric and Henry take their leave.
Father stretched his legs to the hassock. His rheumatism was doubtless playing up again as a result of the cold. He showed no sign of stirring. I laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you coming, Father?”
He shook his head. “Not quite yet. I mean to finish this rather excellent whiskey and have a bit of a think. Good night, both of you. There will be much to do tomorrow.”
Brisbane and I bade him good-night and left him. Much to my surprise, Brisbane escorted me up the staircase and through the long gallery of the dorter toward my room. It was a breach of propriety for him to do so, but I did not think anyone would trouble about it under the circumstances.
Before we reached my room, Brisbane took my elbow and turned me to face him.
“I realise his lordship has sanctioned your involvement, and I do not deny you could be quite helpful in the present circumstances,” he began.
I bit back a retort. “However,” he went on, “I will reserve the authority to remove you from this investigation at any time should I feel your safety may be in jeopardy.”
I could not help it. I laughed.
“Brisbane, you must be joking. That is quite possibly the most pompous thing you have ever said to me.”
His grip tightened. “I am not in the mood for jokes, my lady. I meant precisely what I said. If at any time I think there is even the merest possibility of danger, I will have you out of here if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out on my back.”
The image was a delicious one, but I pushed it aside. I could feel the warmth of his palm even through the heavy satin of my sleeve. “But we were partners together—we solved a murder between us, or had you forgotten?”
“I have forgotten nothing,” he ground out.
His eyes dropped for an instant to my lips, and I knew he was thinking of that reckless kiss on Hampstead Heath.
He dragged his gaze back to mine, his eyes suddenly cool and pitiless.
“Most particularly, I have not forgotten that I bungled that investigation so badly you nearly died.”
I paused. It was true the investigation had ended badly. But that had been due as much to my own foolhardiness as anything else. In fact, Brisbane’s timely intervention had saved my life. I could not believe he thought otherwise.
I shook my head slowly. “No,” I whispered, “all those months in Italy—not a word from you. It was not because of that. Not even you could be so willfully, blindly stupid. You saved my life.”
“I nearly cost it,” he countered. I searched his face, but it was implacable, cold and white-lipped as marble.
He dropped my arm, and I stepped back. His fury was almost tangible as it crackled in the air between us.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to evenness.
“I have as much right to investigate this murder as you. This is my home, my family, and it is my father who has lent his authority to my involvement. So do not think that I mean to step aside simply because you click your fingers at me. We are partners again, whether it pleases you or not. Besides,” I finished with a malicious smile, “someone will have to make inquiries while you settle matters with Charlotte. I rather think your engagement is at an end.”
I hurried down the corridor to my room. I hazarded a glance behind me as I gained my room, and was not surprised to find Brisbane staring after me with a baleful expression.
As I undressed, I realised my hands were shaking, an inconvenience without Morag to assist me.
But eventually I fought my way out of the gown and went to stand in front of the looking-glass.
Where Brisbane had grasped my arm there were bruises rising, faintly violet in the candlelight.
The sleeve itself was crushed, and no amount of sponging would salvage it.
I thrust the gown into the wardrobe and closed the door. I would not wear it again.