“What makes you so certain?”
Marianne’s lips formed a wry curve. “Why else would he concoct this plan to have her investigate theton? He’s keeping her away from the true danger—and saving her from herself, I might add.”
That insight did not sit well with Ambrose. Even if Marianne was right, he didn’t trust Strathaven’s motives. Didn’t want a dissolute libertine entangled with his innocent sister.
Stiffly, Ambrose said, “Even if he didn’t kill Lady Osgood, he was having a salacious affair with her—a married woman. He is morally corrupt.”
His spouse made an amused sound.
“What is so humorous?” he said, frowning.
“You, darling.” Still smiling, she kissed his jaw. “By your standard, no gentleman would be good enough for Emma. What man hasn’t had anaffaireor kept a mistress?”
“I haven’t,” he said.
“You are the exception. That is why I adore you.” Her hand glided down his chest, and he felt himself hardening, responding as ever to his wife’s touch. “You want to handle Emma with care. You don’t want to push her away.”
“I can’t talk about my sister when you do that,” he said hoarsely.
Marianne smiled her siren’s smile. “Will you consider what I said?”
In his work, he prided himself on considering all the evidence before drawing any conclusions. He supposed he ought to do the same in this instance. Objectivity could be dashed difficult, however, when one’s own family was involved.
“I will try,” he conceded.
“Thank you, darling.”
His wife’s lips caressed his neck, her hand wandering lower still. Fire ignited in his loins, and rolling her onto her back, he took her mouth in a hungry kiss. She sighed with pleasure, her ardor obliterating his thoughts, and for the next little while at least, all worldly troubles scattered to the winds.
Chapter Twenty
Two days later, Alaric found himself in his carriage with his brother. They were outside Palmer’s, a small establishment tucked between Covent Garden and St. Giles. From the window, Alaric saw the weathered sign above the door which bore the gun shop’s emblem of a pineapple. Will, seated on the opposite bench, held up the torn cartridge wrapper.
The half oval with the squiggly lines was a perfect match for the fruit on the sign.
“This is the place,” Will said with satisfaction. “Kent’s on his way from The Cytherea. Once he arrives, we’ll go in and question the owner.”
Alaric hesitated. A part of him wanted to praise his younger sibling’s scouting abilities. Another part felt... awkward. Too much had passed between them, bricks of hostility and misunderstanding forming an invisible wall.
Yet Willwashis brother. His only sibling.
He settled for a compromise. “How did you manage to find the shop? It was no small feat, I imagine. There must be dozens of gunsmiths in the city.”
“Compared to tracking down spies and scouting enemy terrain, this is child’s play.”
Pride gleamed in Will’s brown eyes nonetheless—and threw Alaric back into a memory. Of the two of them as boys, trespassing on their neighbor’s property. The McGregor had been the stingiest, meanest man in the county, and the wagers amongst the village lads oft involved his infamous tree, which boasted bright red apples the size of small melons.
Any lad who could show a McGregor apple would win undying respect from his peers, and at age nine, Alaric had craved that respect more than his next breath. A single apple was guaranteed protection against the taunting and beatings of the other boys; he’d been prepared to filch the fruit or perish trying. What he hadn’t been prepared for was his little brother’s insistence on tagging along.
If you don’t let me go, I’ll tell Ma, Will had said.Da’ll whip you for trespassing.
In the end, he’d had no choice but to let Will have his way. At first, things had gone well; using a ladder, they’d made it over the tall stone fence, racing through the waving grass fields undetected. Alaric had climbed the tree and tossed the apples down into Will’s waiting arms.
I told you I could help,Will had called proudly.
Without warning, a shotgun had fired.
The idyllic summer afternoon exploded with cries of panicked birds. The next instant, Alaric jumped to the ground, hissingRunat his paralyzed brother. When Will didn’t move, Alaric yanked him by the arm, dragged him back through the fields, apples scattering as they ran for their lives. When Will stumbled, crying, Alaric hauled him up and towed him along.
