“But still...”
At that moment a maid came in to announce a bath and a bedchamber had been prepared for Lord Brentworth, interrupting their conversation.
“If you’ll excuse me. I would like to wash off this blood.”
Gabriel stood and left without another word. Without trying to kiss her, without touching his son. She knew he was doing it because of the blood. But it felt like a rejection. Something in his gaze had extinguished.
For over a year now, he had been a constant source of warmth, comfort, and passion. Every time she had needed him, he had been there. His love, his strength, everything he was, he had put at her feet. Now it felt as if he was retreating, and she couldn’t stand it.
She had taken his love and devotion for granted. When he had asked her to marry him, to legalize their love, to bring it out of the shadows, she had sent him away. Told him to wait. She had been a coward, and her cowardice had nearly cost them everything.
Hannah looked down at her son, peacefully sleeping in her arms, and broke down in uncontrollable sobs. She had almost lost her baby tonight. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel, if he had listened to her and gone away, their beloved son would have died.
How could he ever forgive her for being so stupid when she could never forgive herself?
CHAPTER 47
THE DUKE OF AYCLIFFEthrew him a narrow-eyed glance and paced the abbey’s splendid library with mounting frustration. Gabriel observed the duke with outward calm. They had been at it for hours. Ever since the constable had arrived just as Gabriel finished bathing and dressing. The sun was finally rising over the frigid landscape, gilding the room with orange light.
“Damn it, man, you must give me something more than that balderdash. This is serious, Brentworth. A man is dead.”
“I’m unlikely to forget that fact, as I was the one who killed him.”
Mr. Barrington, the constable, was a short and stocky man with bushy sideburns and even bushier eyebrows. He took one look at the situation, and decided it merited rousing the county’s Justices of the Peace, one of which was Aycliffe.
“Look, I’m trying to help you. But I can’t do it if you don’t tell me the truth. I believe you are innocent, but you have to admit the situation is highly irregular. The constable sent for me because he didn’t swallow your story. And neither will the other two Justices. This could escalate all the way to the Home Office. We have known each other long enough. Have been through difficult situations where we had to rely on each other. I thought you knew you could trust me.”
He was conscious of how suspicious the circumstances were. If not, the hostile looks the constable had thrown his way before leaving with Blackwell’s body would have left no doubt in his mind that he was in a precarious position with the law.
“I do trust you. But the details are not mine to divulge. I trust your powers of persuasion to convince the other Justices to buy the story. If persuasion doesn’t work, use your rank. You are the highest ranking amongst them.”
Aycliffe continued pacing as Gabriel remained seated, the picture of nonchalance, as he sipped cognac.
“Maybe I could, on minor stuff. But this is too big.”
“Then I guess we will go to trial. Whatever you do, just try to keep it as quiet as possible. And leave the duchess out of it. She didn’t even know I was there.”
Hannah had already been distressed too much. She had retired not long ago and could only be persuaded to do so because Sam needed her.
“That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Why were you here without the duchess’s knowledge?”
“Stanhope named me the child’s guardian. It was my responsibility to protect him.”
Aycliffe made an exasperated gesture. “You know damn well your actions go far beyond a guardian’s duties.”
“If you learned that someone planned to harm a child, especially one under your protection, wouldn’t you act the same way?”
“Of course! What I don’t understand is how you learned of his intentions. Doesn’t seem like something someone intent on murder would divulge to all and sundry.”
Gabriel shrugged. He was so weary. Weary of this conversation, of the struggles that never seemed to end. He only wanted to be near his child. Next to Hannah. But with each event, that possibility seemed further away.
“I have my ways.”
Aycliffe sat back down, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. And impaled Gabriel with a stare. “You know what the constable suggested?” At Gabriel’s head shake, hewent on. “That Blackwell was staying at the house. After all, as a nephew of the old duke, it wouldn’t be unusual for him to visit. He implied you were the one who broke in with nefarious intentions, and when Blackwell discovered you, you murdered him.”
Although he remained outwardly calm, Gabriel’s temper boiled at the preposterous suggestion. “That is ridiculous. Blackwell had not been welcome at the abbey for years. The old duke didn’t trust him. Which is precisely why he named me and not Blackwell as the child’s guardian.”
“Then how did you come to be here?”
