“That only added urgency to the task,” said Octavia. “To put a fine point to it, Benedict was worried that we might be in danger if Kirkland or the widow got wind of what we were doing.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder about one thing. “Whatabout Ashton’s drawings? How did you know they were in the rooster?”
“We put them there for safekeeping.” A wry grimace. “We were aware that our things were being searched, and knowing Mrs. Ashton disliked the bird, we thought it a clever place in which to conceal the papers.”
“Too clever,” murmured Charlotte.
“Yes, you can imagine my chagrin when she made a gift of it to you.” Octavia sighed. “I’m not sure whether it was high drama or high farce.”
“Perhaps,” she mused, “it turned out for the best.”
“Let us return to Benedict and his disappearance,” urged Jeremy. “Or was that merely an act to throw us off the scent?”
Octavia looked stricken. “No!” she exclaimed. “I swear it! Benedict was making a visit to the toolmaker’s shop but after that, he was going to meet with a former maidservant at Mrs. Ashton’s love nest, who said she had some letters written by Lord Kirkland to his paramour. However . . .” She swallowed hard, struggling to keep her voice from cracking. “However, he never returned.”
Her gaze turned to Jeremy, who looked as if he might be ill. “As I told you, I fear something terrible has happened. Benedict wouldneversimply slink off and leave me.”
“You seem very sure of that,” said Charlotte softly. But knowing what she did about the young man’s past, a very ugly thought leaped to mind.
“I am.” Octavia hesitated. “You see, we’ve made no announcement of it yet on account of the troubles, but we’re engaged to be married.”
“Love.” Wrexford chuffed an exasperated snort. “As if we haven’t enough youthful follies to plague our patience.”
Charlotte shot him a warning frown.
Glowering, he fell silent.
No one seemed anxious to speak. Jeremy rose and moved tothe window. The draperies tremored as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to the fog-misted glass.
Her heart ached for him. It looked as though bile was churning, hot and acid, in his belly. She guessed that he, too, was thinking the same thing she was.
Octavia watched him, her gaze turning troubled. “Lord Sterling? Is something wrong?”
For a long moment, it seemed Jeremy hadn’t heard her. He held himself so still that his form slowly faded into the surrounding shadows.
If only it were that easy to escape from fears that threaten all we hold dear.
Jeremy finally tore himself away from his own inner demons and turned to face them. “Miss Merton, much as it pains me to do so, I must ask you how much Benedict has told you about his past.”
A tiny muscle jumped at the base of Octavia’s throat as she swallowed hard. “You are, I presume, referring to a misunderstanding he had at Oxford concerning a friend’s missing purse.”
A look of anguish flooded Jeremy’s eyes.
Octavia saw it and stiffened in alarm. “It was amistake,” she said. “Benedict had picked up his friend’s coat, thinking the man had left it in the lane, and was accused of—”
“It was no mistake,” interrupted Jeremy. “Benedict was driven by a desperate need of blunt for his books, and made a bad choice. It was I who helped extricate him from the affair and see to it that he was not charged with the crime.”
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t believe it. Benedict doesn’t have an evil bone in his body.”
“Nonetheless it is true,” replied Jeremy tersely. “He is a dear friend—do you imagine I take any pleasure in digging up old scandal?” He pressed his fingertips to his temples. “I don’t think one mistake damns a man forever. I’ve always believed in Benedict’s integrity. But I have to accept that I may be wrong.We can’t turn a blind eye to the fact that money once lured him to set aside his scruples.”
“And if he has done it once,” intoned Wrexford, “the odds are, he would do it again.”
“I don’t believe it,” repeated Octavia, keeping her chin up even though she looked white as a corpse.
Charlotte found herself liking the young woman for not throwing Benedict to the wolves. And yet . . .
“We must consider the possibility that Mr. Hillhouse has succumbed to the temptation of money and is in some way connected to Mr. Ashton’s murder,” she said. “But we must be equally open to the fact that he may have poked a stick into a nest of vipers.”
