existence.'
'I doubt she would have had the strength to break his neck,' I mused. 'Though she could have caused him to fall. Or an accomplice might have killed him for her.' I sighed. 'I see too many accomplices in this. Lydia Westin could have stabbed her husband, but she could not have carried him to bed, were he not already there. Lady Breckenridge never would have been able to fling her husband over the back of a horse and drag him to the edge of the rise and pitch him over. No, a man, every time, has done the brute work of it.'
Louisa touched my hand. 'But that man was not my husband.'
I ought to have known she would have guessed my fears. 'I am afraid I cannot put the suspicion from my mind.'
She shook her head. 'No, Gabriel. Aloysius would not have killed him, even accidentally.' She gave me a quiet look. 'You know he would have made certain it was you, first.'
'Hmm. That is comforting.'
'But nonetheless true.'
'You might be right. That still leaves us with an appalling number of suspects.'
Her eyes narrowed. 'Yes, Mr. Spencer and his brother, to name two.'
'And Eggleston. And this Major Connaught, whom I have not yet met.'
She levered herself up on the divan, as if determined to leave her sagging posture behind. 'Aloysius is acquainted with him. Ask him to introduce you.'
I smiled mirthlessly. 'Your husband is more likely to give me a punch in the jaw than help me. If he discovers that Denis told me where you were instead of him, he will have apoplexy.' I sobered. 'Why did you ask Denis not to tell him?'
Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. 'Because I am not yet ready to face him. My return will be stormy, I know that. I am not yet strong enough for it.'
I took her hand in mine again. She rested it there limply. 'When you do return, would you like me to go with you?'
'No,' she answered quietly. 'It must be between me and him.'
I nodded. I hated to let her face him alone, but I knew she was right. She would win, but it would take much strength to do it. The last time I'd seen her face him down had been the day I'd lain before them both, drunk with opium, my leg shattered, and she had discovered what he had done. I had laughed, far gone on the drug and pain when she had turned on him, furious and shocked. I had laughed, unable to stop, until I'd wept.
She abruptly withdrew her hand and tried to sound bright. 'I was quite pleased to meet your Mr. Denis. An interesting man. I was at last able to tell him what I thought of his treatment of you last spring.'
I raised my brows. 'Good lord. I would dearly have loved to have heard that conversation.'
'We were quite civil, do not worry. I found that we agreed that you were often not as prudent as you might me.'
'I will not forgive him for dragging you into this,' I said.
'I, on the other hand, am pleased he called. I had not realized how much I missed you, my friend, until he offered to send you to me. And then I knew I missed you sorely! To speak to you, to advise you on your latest conundrum, I knew I must do that.'
'Thank you for letting me come.'
Her fingers were cool on mine. 'You comfort me. You cannot know how much.'
We shared a look. Her eyes were gray as winter skies.
'You have comforted me so often,' I said softly. 'How could I not return the favor?'
The clock on the mantel struck the hour. I caressed the backs of her fingers. She looked swiftly away and withdrew her hand.
'About Aloysius,' she said.
I sat back. 'Please do not lecture to me about reconciling with him, Louisa. His actions this past week have put reconciliation further away, if anything.'
'If he did not care for you so deeply, you could not hurt him so much.'
I folded my arms. I was not ready to feel great depths of sympathy for Aloysius Brandon. My last encounter with him had all but unraveled our tense politeness. The next time we met, the gloves would be off, much like they'd been when I'd boxed Breckenridge.
'I think you misread him,' I said.
'No, I think you do. I still remember what he was like when I first met him. He was a great man, full of fire and able to inspire that fire in others. You felt it.'
'Yes,' I had to say.
'The fire has dimmed a little, and disappointment has tarnished him. But it is still there, Gabriel, deep inside. He is a man others will live for. That is the man I stand by.'
I could not argue with her. When I'd first met Aloysius Brandon, I had been rather dazed by him. I had just reconciled myself to go on living with my martinet father until he died, bearing his tantrums and his beatings, my life bleak and predictable. And then this man, this astonishing man, had told me I could have a life, a career, honors if I wanted them. All I had to do was follow him.
He had compelled me to return to my father, tell him I had volunteered in the King's army, and that I, his only son, was leaving him. That interview had become eight hours of stormy shouting, violent threats, and broken furniture. In the end, I'd flung myself from the house, vowing never to enter it again.
I'd joined Brandon, who had listened with sympathy to my woes. Later, just before we embarked on the ship that would take us to India, he had introduced me to his bride, Louisa.
Life had not been kind to her. I clasped her hand again. As she chatted to me of the boardinghouse and the people she had met here, I wished with all my heart I could change that for her.
Chapter Sixteen
I spent the following weeks in an odd mood. On the one hand, I could not shake a feeling that I was ineffectual, a spinning wheel going nowhere. The identity of Westin's murderer eluded me, as did evidence of Captain Spencer's killer. Nor was I any closer to proving who had murdered Breckenridge.
I had not seen or spoken to Lord Richard Eggleston since the incident. I had tried on two occasions to make an appointment with him, but was told firmly by his secretary that he was seeing no one while mourning the death of his friend.
I likewise had no luck questioning Brandon about events in Kent. He refused point blank to see me. He once shut the door in my face himself, and I could only leave his doorstep, muttering choice curses under my breath.
Grenville and I met occasionally to discuss things, while Anton brought us dishes both unusual and delicious. Grenville had tried to meet the elusive Sir Edward Connaught, but he had not been able to find the man. Connaught had left town for the summer, the caretaker of his London house had informed Grenville. Letters to his country house went unanswered.
The newspapers, at least, had tired of taunting me and moved on to bread riots in Seven Dials. London grew hotter still, and I slept with my windows wide open, praying for a breeze or cooling rain.
On the other hand, my mind was much relieved by knowing Louisa was safe. My heart ached for her sorrow, but as promised, I said not a word to her husband, a promise made easier by his refusal to speak to me.
And then, I had Lydia. While part of me puzzled over her husband's past and berated me for not knowing the answers, the rest of me rejoiced in her.
She was a lady like no other. I spent countless time tangled in her black hair, touching her skin, breathing her in. Her smile made all the hurt go away, even deep hurts that had tucked themselves into my heart for years.
I do not know if I soothed her as she soothed me, but when she kissed me, her lips were gentle and warm, and when she slept beside me, her breathing was deep and even, without distress.
William aided and abetted our secret affair. Because she was newly in mourning, Lydia did not go to the opera or theatre or balls, such places that lovers might meet, and in any case, it was high summer and
