Her brother shifted his gaze from the window to her. “I’m still not certain that it was a good idea. But I seem to have little choice about it.”
Guilt needled her insides. She’d campaigned rather fiercely to be included. “Ambrose, I—”
“I cannot very well exclude our most successful investigator from the case, can I?”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. For her to recognize the faint smile in his golden eyes. “Do you mean that? Truly?” she said.
“I can’t deny the facts, Em. You got information from Strathaven’s maids and those theatre folk that I could not. You are undoubtedly skilled.”
Joy bubbled through her. “Thank you, Ambrose.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile faded a little. “I want you to know, however, that it was never your ability that I doubted. I’ve always known how capable you are, Emma.”
“If you’re worried because of the danger, I’ll take every precaution—”
“Even if you do, I’ll always be concerned. I can’t help it. I’m your brother.” Ambrose studied the pleat on his trousers. “The truth is there’s another reason as well.”
“Because it’s not proper for a female to be an investigator?” she guessed.
Her brother gave her a wry look. “When has a Kent ever cared about convention?”
He had a point.
“What is it then?” she asked.
“Do you recall the time you came to London on your own? When the cottage caught fire, Father was ill, the family was about to be evicted, and you somehow made it here to get help?”
“I remember.” How could she forget? It had been an adventure, terrifying and thrilling. “But why do you bring it up now?”
“You were only sixteen, Em. You shouldneverhave gone through that.”
His quiet vehemence startled her.
“It couldn’t be helped,” she said. “I did what needed to be done.”
“Had I earned a better living, been able to take better care of the family, you would have been spared that ordeal.” His jaw clenched. “It was my job to protect all of you.”
Looking at her brother’s face, she saw how genuinely earnest he was.
“You did everything you could,” she protested. “You were working yourself to the bone to support us all. Ambrose, you cannot possibly blame yourself.”
“Marianne tells me the same. Logically, perhaps it is true. But here,”—he placed a hand to the place over his heart—“here I’ll always wish that I’d done better. Especially for you, Em.”
Her throat thickened. She’d had no idea that her brother had carried this burden.
“This is why I want you to have the freedoms, the choices you missed out on as a girl,” he said quietly. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am,” she said tremulously.
Her brother hesitated. “With Strathaven?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “I cannot say I like the man, but I will admit that I may have misjudged him in one regard. The other night, he risked his own life to save McLeod.”
When Ambrose went on to describe Alaric’s heroics during the capture of Palmer, it didn’t surprise Emma one bit. Nor did the fact that Alaric had made no mention to her of his own valiant behavior. One of her father’s sayings echoed in her head.
Virtue doesn’t call attention to itself; it is its own reward.
