Chapter 11 #2
His father scoffed in irritation. “Stop being a fool, Sebastian. An overt appointment such as a cabinet minister might be beyond my reach, but with the right connections and your charm and pedigree, you could be home secretary or foreign secretary someday. Perhaps even prime minister.” His voice had grown impassioned but then turned more measured as he glanced at me.
“In spite of your wife’s past and peculiarities. ”
The image he’d painted sounded like a nightmare to me.
I already struggled as a hostess, and that was a politician’s wife’s primary role.
I’d known that my brother-in-law, Philip, was considering a bid for such a high position, and as a powerful earl this was a genuine possibility.
If so, Alana was well suited to her role, and as her sister I’d been prepared to endure greater public scrutiny.
But not as the politician’s wife myself!
Because of this, I didn’t feel the slight of my father-in-law’s words as perhaps I should have, but Gage clearly did.
“When will you listen to me?” he demanded. “Father, I have no political ambition. I will take up your seat in Lords when the time comes, but beyond that, I want nothing to do with it. And none of your machinations are going to change that!”
“I knew I would regret being swayed by your mother when she begged me not to send you to sea,” Lord Gage retorted, his own temper getting the best of him, for I knew he didn’t mean the cruel words.
He’d admitted as much some months past, confessing he was glad he’d not forced the same life upon his son that he’d faced after being compelled to join the Royal Navy at the tender age of nine.
“You have no aspiration, Sebastian. No initiative!”
“I do,” Gage growled. “They’re just not the same aspirations you desire for me.”
“Gentlemen!” I stepped between them, raising my voice.
“We are straying far from the matter at hand. Miss Whitlock’s heinous murder.
” I turned to glower at my father-in-law.
“A matter we have already been putting our utmost efforts into solving. Now, what of pertinence—if anything—have you learned today?”
Lord Gage fastened a black scowl on me but allowed himself to be redirected.
“Lyndhurst claims he was seeing to his wife’s comfort at the time the murder occurred.
That his wife’s maid can confirm this. As you may have noticed, Lady Lyndhurst has been struggling with poor health.
” Hence her dietary restrictions. “And Melbourne and Foley were playing billiards.”
Except I’d already decided wives and husbands and friends were not sufficient enough of an alibi, and the word of personal servants could likewise be suspect, given their loyalty to and reliance on their current employer for their future prospects.
However, I decided to pretend for the moment.
“Did Melbourne or Foley hear anything or notice anyone else about?”
“No, and they expressed surprise that they hadn’t.”
“The billiards room is somewhat tucked away from the rest of the house,” I conceded.
I assumed this had been done on purpose to mute the noise of clacking balls carrying throughout the manor.
Regardless, I couldn’t decide whether the gentlemen’s response spoke more or less in favor of the veracity of their story.
I turned to see if my husband had anything to add, finding he was still visibly riled from his exchange with his father.
“You might see what else you can learn from Birnam.” I judged from my father-in-law’s begrudging tone that he was speaking to me. “He seems to respond better to you than us.”
Maybe because I hadn’t treated him like a parasite and all but outright accused him of sleeping with and then killing his secretary.
Lord Gage’s gaze flicked over my features. “And because you’re a woman, he won’t bother trying to change the topic to the Factory Act.”
It was true, Birnam was rather like a dog with a bone when it came to the subject.
But as a lady, I could not serve in parliament, and neither did my opinion count for much in the eyes of many men.
Though presumably Birnam believed females had some intellect, or otherwise he would not have hired one as his personal secretary.
“Well, before I trot off to do that, I would like to look in on my daughter,” I replied pointedly, knowing what a weak spot he held for his only grandchild.
I pressed a hand to Gage’s upper back as I turned to go, letting him know he had my support, and also conferring that he was free to walk away.
He needn’t continue this conversation until he was ready, or at all.
He’d already communicated his intentions for the future.
The fault for not listening lay with his father, and it was not Gage’s responsibility to correct it.
—
Unfortunately, Emma was napping, her cheeks pink with slumber and the warmth of the nursery.
I lingered for some minutes, chatting softly to Mrs. Mackay about my daughter’s day, but since Emma had just drifted off, I decided not to wake her.
She nursed just twice a day now, in the morning and evening, so we could be separated for the duration when necessary.
However, as I was walking away, I suddenly realized how much I’d been looking forward to her smiles and snuggles.
Only the sound of children’s laughter coming from a room farther down the corridor that we’d put to use as a secondary nursery kept the tears that threatened at bay.
I peeked inside to find my nephew Malcolm entertaining his two younger sisters and brother, as well as Lorna’s older son, Rory.
I presumed her younger son, Sherry, was also napping or with Lorna.
At four months old, he would still require more rest and more frequent attention from his mother.
Alana was speaking with the nursery maid left in charge of this rowdy bunch, but at the sight of me, she excused herself to come over to me.
“I suppose you’re looking for me.”
“Not actually.” I glanced back over my shoulder. “I came up to look in on Emma, but she’s asleep. This is merely a happy accident.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say, there isn’t much to tell,” Alana said with a shake of her head, making the pale chestnut brown curls at the side of her temples bounce.
“Mrs. Birnam evaded every attempt I made to pry any information from her.” Her face screwed up in displeasure.
“Though she made certain to once again insult my modiste and my fashion sense.”
“I would have thought she would leap at the chance to vent her displeasure at Miss Whitlock.” I frowned. “Unless she’s afraid to do so.”
Alana turned to watch her children, who were now slithering across the floor as if they were snakes. “That’s what I wondered. If perhaps she’s afraid of saying the wrong thing, of revealing something she shouldn’t.”
And she would only be afraid of that if she thought she knew something related to Miss Whitlock’s murder. Something that implicated either herself or a member of her family.
“She thinks she’s protecting someone,” I said, putting it succinctly.
My sister nodded. “The question is, who?”
“And how do we figure that out when she won’t confide in us?” I sighed. Maybe Mr. Birnam would give me some hint.