Chapter 17 Kitty #2
I looked over my shoulder, trying to peer into the gloomy hallway. “Shouldn’t we return the missives? What if Grandfather discovers them missing?”
Edward moved with unhurried precision and crossed to the door to listen for movement before shutting it partway.
“He won’t,” he said at last. “I’ll return them.
The latest correspondence has stirred him to reorganize his papers.
I have not encountered these before. Have no fear, Kit.
But it is intriguing news on all accounts, and I want to verify all of it. ”
“Who will verify it? Edward, our mother must be alive! We must reach her. Does this not align with the previous missive I told you about months ago?”
His beaver hat cast a shadow on the sharp planes of his face. “For whatever reason, Grandfather kept the truth from us all these years. I shall sort this out.”
A shiver rippled through me. “What would cause hallucinations? A fever? Perhaps the officials made a mistake.”
“It could have been poison,” my brother mused as he studied the paper. “Datura, for example. The thorn apple, which grows plenty in India.”
I folded my arms across my chest, thoroughly chilled.
He pierced me with a pointed look. “There are reasons we are forbidden to go back to India. Don’t go probing in Grandfather’s study again. You may not like the answers you find.”
“I dislike being kept in the dark with so many secrets,” I kept my voice to a whisper, even though I longed to shout.
“You really do not know what the world outside is like.” How weary he sounded.
“I hate that he kept you isolated, but at least you did not have to endure what I did at Eton and Cambridge. Always on the outside, never fitting in due to our heritage, allowed to attend only because of the Grenville purse. We were the children of royalty in India. Here? What are we?”
My skin pebbled at his banked rage. “You seem to have friends enough.”
“Are they?” he challenged. “At any rate, I’m good enough to borrow pounds from to satisfy any gambling debts.”
“Edward!” I did not care for this admission of my brother playing the role of a moneylender.
He arched a black brow. “Enough about my sins. I have my reasons for them. Whatever made you decide to rifle through his things tonight?”
“I overheard Aunt challenge him several weeks ago regarding my impending wedding. She, too, was surprised to hear of my engagement with Sebastian. She said something very curious about Father and warned him never to allow me to return to India.”
I hesitated, my throat tightening. “Ever since I found that letter from Hyderabad—the one Grandfather refused to let me read—I’ve had reason to doubt him. I had to know the truth for myself. So yes, I’ve written to Hyderabad more than once. I cannot rest until I know our mother is safe.”
“Oh, Kit, however did you sneak your letters out of this house?” Edward held up a warning finger. “Don’t tell me. I’d rather not know the answer. You are determined to hurt yourself, aren’t you?”
“I want the truth of why Grandfather forbade us to contact our mother. Sebastian doesn’t carry your fear. He mailed my latest letters for me.”
“Did he?” The harsh line of Edward’s mouth softened.
“Sebastian is a good man. A rare sort for the ton. A nonesuch, and I do not compliment men lightly. Grandfather may have overplayed his hand in ordering the two of you together, but I would not so readily dismiss Mr. Sinclair because of one overbearing old man.”
The strange ache within me intensified. “Sebastian plans to return to India within a fortnight. He has urgent matters to settle. Besides, his inheritance hinges on marriage. That is the only reason he’s here.”
Edward’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he studied me. “And yet he fought for you. Kit, a man does not risk his reputation in such a way unless there is something deeper.”
My heart twisted. “I cannot allow myself to believe it’s real.”
Edward set his beaver hat on the table and leaned closer. “You do not love him, then?”
“I don’t know.” The words came out in a whisper. “I’ve seen glimpses of the man he is—his kindness, his convictions—but I can’t tell what is true and what is . . . duty.”
Rarely had I seen my brother so shocked at a confession of mine.
His mouth parted. “Truly, I am staggered, Kit. That fight earlier between him and Chudley. Why, I thought that you . . .” He retrieved his beaver hat and tucked it beneath one arm.
“Do promise me you have not agreed to anything with Chudley. Has he compromised you?”
I bristled at Edward’s fierce tone. “Lord Chudley merely wanted to best Sebastian, yes? Neither man has done anything but deliver flowers to me and offer a few invitations to events.”
“Listen to me. Men are fools when it comes to love, but even a fool does not vow to woo a woman unless he’s already lost a part of his heart to her. No man simply delivers flowers out of an abundance of manners,” Edward persisted as he gripped his cane.
“Nor does a man simply buy a lovely hat for a childhood friend,” I challenged, now placing my fists on my hips.
He leaned over me and blew out the candle on the desk, but not before I got a closer look at the wolf’s head of his cane. “Touché, Sister. And on that vindictive note, I shall bid you good night before we awaken the household.”
I trembled after Edward left me, for I was certain I had not witnessed mud but something cleaned hastily, leaving residue deeply embedded into the carving.
My enigmatic brother, who left our house at the strangest hours with his intimate knowledge of Indian poisons and London’s darker nightlife—he seemed more a stranger than kin these days.
Had I spied blood?