Chapter 22
“Portia Whitlock was your daughter,” I stated with even more conviction, as half a dozen thoughts flickered across Birnam’s astonished face.
I could tell he was considering denying it, thinking of displaying outrage instead, but my firm expression must have persuaded him it would be useless.
The anomalies in the bone structure of their hands coupled with their unique eye color were too much to ignore.
His shoulders slumped. “How did you know?”
This was too much of an admission for Gage to remain impartial. “Portia Whitlock was your daughter?” he repeated in disbelief as he moved nearer to us. “And you didn’t think to say anything about it until my wife figured it out?”
Birnam made no response to this charge, though he seemed relieved that it was finally known. I gave my husband a stern look, glancing at the chair perpendicular to ours in a not-so-subtle suggestion that he take a seat. He complied begrudgingly.
I picked up the unguent to begin applying it. “Obviously you knew. And I assume Ellie Whitlock knew.”
“Aye.” He didn’t attempt to deny the fact that they’d had an affair.
My voice was sharp with disapproval. “What about your friend—her husband?”
But if Mr. Birnam had ever felt any guilt over what he’d done, he didn’t display it now. “If Clive knew, he never said.”
I shared a look with Gage, both of us still struggling to grapple with the ramifications of this discovery and what it meant for our inquiry and the potential motives of our suspects.
I wiped the extra ointment from my fingers on the dressing before beginning to wrap his hand, starting at the center of his palm. “And your wife? Did she know?” Given Mrs. Birnam’s treatment of Miss Whitlock, I suspected I knew the answer, but I waited for him to confirm it.
“Aye. She figured it oot a few years ago.”
“Just before Miss Whitlock was sent away?”
He lifted his gaze to my face, and I glared at him in challenge, waiting for his response. “Aye.”
I shook my head, for his dejected tone of voice grated on my nerves. He was not the victim here. And it sounded like his poor decisions had wounded almost everyone around him. “Have you told Jemmy and Matilda that they have a half sister?”
“Nay. They dinna ken.” His voice hardened. “And I dinna want them to.”
I eyed him with scorn, finding it difficult to believe he didn’t think either of them had grasped the truth. It would explain Jemmy’s animosity toward her. It certainly cast new light on Matilda’s declaration that Portia had been like a sister.
“I think you’re na?ve,” I told him baldly, surprising him, before returning to my task. “Miss Whitlock—your daughter—deserves justice. And we cannot promise the truth won’t become known—if it isn’t already.”
“So you weren’t her lover,” Gage said, earning a glare from Birnam as he sorted through the implications.
“When you decided not to find her a husband immediately and instead to hire her as your secretary, you were what…trying to spend more time with her?” Gage tapped his finger on the table. “Did she know who she was?”
He hesitated, making me look up as I finished with his first hand. “Aye.” He seemed almost confused by this. “She kenned even before I told her.”
“So her mother told her,” Gage guessed.
“She must have.”
That or Miss Whitlock had figured it out on her own. Either way, I didn’t see that it mattered.
“And you weren’t playing matchmaker with Miss Whitlock and your son,” Gage mused.
“I already said I wasna,” Birnam protested as I began wrapping his second hand. I’d wound the dressing around several times, concentrating on getting the tautness and spacing even, before he added, “I had someone else in mind for her.”
There was something in his voice that alerted me to the fact that this wasn’t an idle remark, and when I lifted my gaze, it was to find him watching me carefully. It took only a few seconds to realize what he was hinting at.
Dismay trickled through me. “Do not tell me you’re talking about Trevor.”
When he didn’t respond, this all but confirmed it.
“But he’s been courting Matilda. And he loves her,” I argued in alarm and distress. “And she loves him!” Yes, they’d recently quarreled, and that may have changed matters, but that didn’t alter the events that had led to this moment.
Birnam was unmoved. “Your brother misconstrued the situation. Wi’ Matilda’s bonnie face, her sweet nature, and my fortune, she needn’t settle for anythin’ less than a title.”
I stiffened in affront at the notion that any girl would be “settling” if they married Trevor, and I must have inadvertently tugged on the dressing, for Birnam winced.
Perhaps I should have apologized, but I didn’t, thinking it was less than he deserved.
“You were never going to accept his offer for Matilda’s hand, were you? You were misleading him all along.”
Gage joined me in my disapproval, scowling at the man. “For shame, sir. Trevor St. Mawr is the finest of men. Matilda would be only too fortunate to have him as a husband.” He shook his head. “That was poorly done.”
“No worse than you leading on Paddington’s daughter,” he countered snidely.
Evidently, he’d heard the gossip speculating there would be nuptials between my husband and Lady Felicity Spencer, or he’d asked someone to dig up what he could about all of us before coming here, for that was old news.
Lady Felicity had wed someone else over a year ago, and rumor was that she was quite content with the way things had turned out.
“I never led Lady Felicity anywhere,” Gage responded evenly. “And she knew it. If there was any misunderstanding, it was between our fathers.”
“Well, I’ve since made matters plain tae Mr. St. Mawr. If he continues tae delude himself, that’s no’ my fault. Lady Darby, really…?” he scolded when I yanked the dressing too tight again.
“Say that again?” I exchanged a glance of misgiving with Gage. “You told my brother? When?”
“The evening Melbourne and the others arrived. A few hours before Portia was attacked.” His head tilted back as he leered at me almost menacingly. “Suspicious timing, that. Maybe ye should be investigatin’ your brother.”
My blood rushed to my head in a mist of fury. How dare he suggest such a thing!
Gage rested his hand over mine before I could deliberately tug on the dressing. “Careful, Birnam. I wouldn’t be issuing veiled threats if I were you. Particularly until she’s done tending to your wounds.”
My heart pounded and my mind spun, grappling with the hurt, confusion, and yes, fear that flooded me. For if Trevor had known that Birnam wasn’t going to let him wed Matilda, that he wanted him to court Miss Whitlock, why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he concealed it?
He must have realized it could have bearing on our inquiry. Did he not trust that we would examine this with equanimity? Or did he genuinely have something to hide?
While my thoughts unraveled and I fumbled through completing Birnam’s wrapping, Gage kept his head. “Did Miss Whitlock know of your intentions?”
“Aye,” Birnam grunted. “I told her that afternoon, shortly before dinner.”
No wonder she’d seemed so uncomfortable at the table. What must she have thought when he’d told her? She must have been able to see the way Trevor and Matilda felt about each other. Given that, it was doubtful she would have welcomed this revelation.
Was that what she’d wanted to speak to me about privately? I supposed it was possible. But why would she have been so afraid of being overheard? For certain, such a revelation might besmudge a few reputations if it became known, but that was not enough to warrant outright fear.
“And Matilda?” Gage asked as I secured the end of the dressing.
Birnam sank back in his chair, perhaps realizing his answer could create trouble for his younger daughter. “I told her before we left Twizel Hall.” His estate in the Borders. “I didna want her tae become too attached tae the notion o’ marryin’ St. Mawr and joinin’ your family.”
Yet he expected her to come here and pretend, knowing all the while that he would never consent to the marriage, that he intended Trevor to wed Miss Whitlock. It was beyond heartless. It was outright cruel!
I could only imagine how distraught Matilda must have been. Had she expected she could convince her father to change his mind? She must have. For it was still abundantly clear to me how she felt about my brother.
This was what had prompted her to bring the vitriol.
In her grief and anger, she’d reached for the tool she’d seen others use to lash out and sway events in their favor.
I only hoped she’d been honest with us. That she’d never truly intended to use it.
That she’d stopped herself before it was too late.
I left the supplies on the table and pushed myself to my feet, too disgusted with the man before me to remain a moment longer.
All of the empathy I might have felt for him for losing his daughter Portia had been subverted into revulsion at the way he’d treated Trevor and Matilda.
Not to mention the manner in which he’d lied to us all.
Gage soon followed, catching up to me as I stalked back to our bedchamber.
I’d hoped I might find my brother still there, but he was gone.
The hour was later than I’d realized, and Bree and Anderley were already preparing our evening clothes for dinner.
But I was wound too tight to dress, pacing back and forth across the sitting room as I grumbled to myself.
When our maid and valet entered to see what the disturbance was, Gage informed them of everything we’d just learned.
Their exclamations of shock and disapproval were at least satisfying.