Chapter 24
Lord Gage was far more satisfied with our report than I’d expected him to be.
Though I suspected part of that satisfaction derived from learning that Birnam was less moral than he purported to be.
Not that my father-in-law should cast any stones.
He had also had an affair which had resulted in a child who had also fortunately been claimed by his lover’s husband.
In this case, knowingly. Lord Henry Kerr, Gage’s beloved half brother, was acknowledged by the rest of the world as the youngest son of the Duke of Bowmont and no relation to the Gages.
He would be arriving with our other guests on Saturday.
At any rate, Lord Gage had bid us to continue our investigation with haste.
An entirely unnecessary command, for we would continue regardless and were making as much haste as possible.
I was still grumbling about this under my breath when we reached the grand south staircase only to encounter Trevor descending.
His footsteps slowed as our eyes met, and I felt my heart still in dread.
“I was just looking for you,” he said quietly before glancing about as if to see who might be listening. “We should talk.”
He was right, but I also couldn’t help but silently balk at the notion, fearful of the answers I might receive to my questions. I turned to suggest that Gage wait here, but he spoke first, understanding that this conversation was one that should happen between brother and sister.
“I’ll see if Melbourne is interested in a game of piquet,” he informed us before disappearing into the green drawing room.
I considered suggesting the library, but it adjoined the study where we’d just left my father-in-law. There was only one place we could be certain of not being eavesdropped upon, and this was not the time to risk it. “Our sitting room?”
He nodded and waited for me to join him on the fifth riser, offering me his arm as we climbed the rest of the staircase.
Neither of us spoke until we’d reached the privacy of Gage’s and my suite.
I listened for any sound of Bree moving around in the adjoining bedchamber.
I knew Anderley would be busy belowstairs trying to get Mr. Simpkins to talk.
But if my maid was present, she was completing a quiet task.
In any case, it didn’t really matter if she overheard.
Bree had been trusted with grave secrets before.
I had never favored strong spirits, but the burden of the day’s revelations and those potentially to come weighed on me.
So I went straight to the sideboard and poured myself a glass of Matheson whisky from Philip’s distillery.
After taking a single swig, wincing at the bite and burn as the “water of life” slid down my throat, I turned to offer Trevor a glass.
He declined, remaining standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers even as I settled in the chair closest to me.
“You’ve spoken to Matilda.” This was less a question and more of a statement, leading me to suspect he’d seen us together.
I took another drink of whisky, trying to decipher his expression before I answered, but either I was too tired, the spirits were working too quickly to dull my senses, or he’d gotten better at hiding his feelings from me. “Yes,” I confirmed. “But not before we spoke to Mr. Birnam this afternoon.”
I knew I wasn’t mistaken when I noticed the way his shoulders stiffened and his gaze turned watchful.
I swirled the remainder of my whisky in the bottom of the glass. “It seems Matilda is not the only one who has lied by omission.”
Trevor did not attempt to deny this, but he did take a moment to gather himself as he rounded the settee and sat down facing me.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
While he appeared wretched, he also looked relieved.
“I didn’t want to lie to you, but I’d not even come to grips with Birnam’s refusal to allow me to continue courting Matilda and his…
preposterous notion that I’d be content to offer for Miss Whitlock’s hand instead, when you found her dead.
I couldn’t reconcile myself with any of it.
And then I realized that the fact that Birnam had spoken to me just hours before her death could make me look guilty.
Or that it could make Matilda look guilty, if she’d found out about it. ”
“The two of you didn’t discuss it?”
“No.” He stared at me, as if the answer might be written on my forehead. “Did she…know?”
I decided it would not break Matilda’s confidence to tell him. Not when he’d also been informed. “Yes. Her father told her before they left Twizel Hall.”
His head bowed. “I wondered. Especially after she admitted to bringing the vitriol.” He scraped a hand back through his chestnut brown locks, making some of them stand on end. “But I didn’t want to think that she could have done such a thing.”
“If it’s any consolation,” I said, setting aside the rest of my drink, “I don’t think she did. Attack Miss Whitlock, that is.”
He almost looked afraid to hope.
“But you’re right in that you deduced the real reason behind her packing that bottle of vitriol.
However, she told me she regretted it almost from the moment she’d done so but was unable to dispose of it until arriving here.
She swears she would never have actually harmed Miss Whitlock, that she could never have gone through with it. ”
“And you believe her?”
“I do.” I leaned toward him. “She loves you, Trevor. And she let her despair over her father’s actions temporarily cloud her judgment.” My lips creased into a humorless smile. “I think we’ve all had moments when we’ve let our emotions cloud our judgment.”
My brother seemed to recognize I was referencing my own previous mistakes, for the corners of his lips curled into an answering smile.
I grimaced, tilting my head. “Albeit to varying degrees.” For I could not absolve Matilda of all responsibility for what had befallen Miss Whitlock.
Matilda had brought the weapon which had been the cause of Miss Whitlock’s demise, even if she hadn’t been the person to use it against her.
This was something I could tell she felt a keen regret for.
“The important thing is that she almost immediately came to her senses and recognized what a horrific mistake she was making.” I straightened, returning to the crux of our confrontation.
“I do hope you would have eventually trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”
Trevor’s eyes glinted with regret. “I wanted to—numerous times—but I just couldn’t find the words. I think I was deluding myself that if I pretended Birnam hadn’t said them to me, then…” he spread his hands in a gesture of futility “…they wouldn’t be true.”
“Did he tell you that Miss Whitlock was his daughter?”
He sat bolt upright, frozen by surprise. “Are you in earnest?”
“Yes.”
He blinked several times before exclaiming, “No! He…told me that she would also have a handsome dowry.” He scowled in distaste.
“As if that made the least bit of difference to me. But he never said anything about her parentage.” His gaze trailed to the side as he seemed to grapple with the ramifications of this information.
“Then that means…Good God!” His disgust was evident.
“He was attempting to swap one sister for the other. What Matilda must have felt!” He turned back to me.
“Did she know? That Miss Whitlock was her sister? Her half sister,” he clarified.
“Not until this evening when her father told her.”
He seemed appeased to hear this but then shook his head angrily. “Birnam has a lot to answer for.”
“Yes, he does,” I agreed, picking up my glass to drain it of whisky. “And the question remains to be answered, is he capable of filicide? Could he have killed Miss Whitlock either because she defied him or because he believed she was going to betray him?”
Trevor sank back into the cushions behind him, almost appearing bowled over by the implications.
“I don’t want to think so, but…his actions toward me and Matilda, the very fact that he still came here under false pretenses…
” He gestured weakly with his hand. “I don’t know if that makes him capable of murder, but it certainly puts his morality in question. ”
“And yet you still wish to marry his daughter.”
He stared at me blankly.
“Trevor.” I set aside my glass with care, attempting to organize my thoughts with the same precision.
“You once pointed out to me that while you would not be marrying your in-laws, they would still be an important part of your life. You asked about how Lord Gage has affected my life. And while I still stand by my response that I would have wed Sebastian ten times over, even if things had not turned out well with my father-in-law, I have to take pause. Because for all of Lord Gage’s faults and his efforts to keep his son and me apart, he was never suspected of killing his own child.
” I met his gaze evenly, trying to convey my concerns without alienating him.
“So I ask, do you still want to marry Matilda, even knowing all of that, even knowing all of the obstacles?”
To my relief, he did not take offense, and he did not rush to answer, giving the question due consideration.
Out of deference to this, I resisted the urge to expound needlessly, trusting he already understood everything that was at stake.
When he looked up at me to answer, I could tell he was both resolved and speaking from the heart.
“Yes. Even knowing all that. I love her, Kiera. My life is better when she’s with me. And I…I can’t imagine finding someone who better suits me. I want her to be my wife, to be the mother of my children.”
I nodded in easy acceptance, for I knew my brother. I knew his heart. And if he believed Matilda was the bride for him and he was willing to brave any difficulties to make her thus, then I trusted he was right.