Chapter Seven #5
“Oh. Thank you.” She made the play, then continued as if there had been no interruption. “How did Alastair take the ring back from you? You told me you’d put it in your desk. That little drawer where you drew out his marker, it would be a secret from most people, wouldn’t it?”
Griffin rose and stabbed at the fire, then added more coals.
“I have always wondered that you did not ask. It caused me to consider that you already knew.” When her head came up sharply, he was glad of it.
For a moment the glazed look of defeat vanished from her eyes as she prepared to take umbrage with his assumption.
He put up one hand to forestall her. “It was a reasonable conclusion, and you know it. Your brother’s marker was so outrageous that what was I to think except that you were party to his suggestion? ”
It was difficult to remain offended when she could not fault his logic. “You might have asked,” she said mildly. “Though I don’t suppose you would have had cause to believe me.”
“It did not seem so at the time.” Griffin returned to his perch on the arm of the chair. Before he settled completely, he reached across the table and made a play for her that she was in danger of missing.
“That is annoying,” she said.
“Yes, I know.” He was unrepentant. “My sisters have said the same when they are at cards. I cannot help myself.” When he leaned forward again, she lightly slapped his hand away.
He grinned, mostly because she did not look at all abashed.
He sat back, folded his arms, and was largely content watching her.
“You have not answered my question,” she reminded him after a time. “The ring. How did Alastair take it from you?”
“He didn’t. Not precisely. He had an accomplice.”
“An accomplice? One of your own staff?” Even as she put the question to him, she knew the answer lay elsewhere.
He had the loyalty of everyone who worked for him, and more than one servant had been moved to remark that he was a generous employer.
Olivia could not conceive that Alastair had been able to persuade one among them to come to his aid. But if not a servant, then who?
Watching her, Griffin knew the precise moment Olivia hit upon the answer. Her eyes widened beneath raised eyebrows; her hands ceased to turn the cards. She stared at him, looking to him for confirmation of her thoughts before she gave them voice. He nodded once.
“Mrs. Christie?” She breathed the name more than said it and, conscious of insult, still posed it as a question.
“Certainly, Mrs. Christie.”
“You have always known?”
“I have always suspected. I knew when I said as much to her and she did not deny it. She wanted me to know but did not possess the courage to say as much aloud. I broke off our arrangement, but in her mind she has had the last word.”
A small vertical crease appeared between Olivia’s eyebrows. “It seems you had a complicated arrangement.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps it was. It was straightforward at the outset, at least to my way of thinking. Such entanglements as there were, were of her making. I did not encourage them.”
He would believe that, Olivia thought, and she felt something akin to pity for Mrs. Christie. She could imagine that Griffin’s former mistress had allowed herself to hope; therein were born the entanglements. “A woman scorned,” she said softly, more to herself than to Griffin.
“One motivation, certainly,” said Griffin.
“But you hadn’t yet ended your arrangement.”
“No, but she was entirely capable of seeing the road ahead. She may have known before I did that we would part ways soon. It is very much like her to plan for such an end.”
“But to help Alastair…” Olivia could not quite grasp the sense of it beyond Mrs. Christie’s desire for revenge.
“You are his sister,” Griffin said gently. “His older sister, in fact. The truth does not come so easily when we fail to see our loved ones as someone outside their relationship to us.”
Olivia blinked as the import of his observation was borne home to her. “They were lovers?”
He smiled because she was so clearly astonished. “You knew there was a woman.”
“Yes, but…” She shook her head. “But Mrs. Christie? It is beyond my comprehension.”
“Judging by the attention your brother received here—from women, I might add, who were clearly attached to their gentlemen escorts—I can attest to the fact that his face and figure were much admired.”
Olivia waved that aside. “I am very aware that Alastair is possessed of a handsome face and figure, my lord, and for that matter, a handsome income as well, but he is not you.”
Griffin found himself the object of Olivia’s frank study. It was never easy being on the receiving end of such regard, which was why he often was the one initiating it. He suffered it for several long moments before he was struck by the humor of it.
“Have a care, Olivia, else I will think you mean to flatter me.”
“Of course you will think that. You are ever hopeful. Still, at the risk of encouraging you, I must underscore my point that Alastair is not so well favored as you, financially or in any other way.”
It was then that Griffin was compelled to point out what she’d allowed herself to forget. “He is also not married.”