Wick touched his swelling jaw and winced. “Save the groveling for Violet. You’ll need it.”
Richard’s throat closed. God… he’d mistrusted her, treated her badly—ruinedher. Groveling was too good for him; he deserved to be horsewhipped.
With hammering urgency, he said, “I’ve got to get back to the house. To make things right.”
Wick dusted off his jacket, grumbling, “I’ll come with you, you great lummox. But only because I want Violet to be my sister. That way, at least I’ll have one sibling who isn’t insane.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The two brothers rode back to Traverstoke as the sun was sinking into the horizon. As dusky light flickered between the passing oaks, Richard’s thoughts were a whirling vortex. How was he going to make things right with Violet? If not because of Wick, why had she been so aroused in the churchyard? He still didn’t fully understand all that had happened, but he did know that he’d wronged her. He urged Aiolos into a faster gallop.
The sooner he got back, the sooner he could straighten things out. Grovel, if need be.
Nearing the house, Richard saw people clustered outside by the fountain. Amongst them, he spotted Violet with Kent and his wife along with two men he didn’t recognize. Nearby, footmen were loading trunks onto a carriage. Richard dismounted, heading straight for Violet, his brother behind him.
As he approached, he saw Violet’s flushed face—hell, the tear tracks on her cheeks—and remorse pounded like a fist against his chest. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Lady Ainsworthy pushed her way forward to confront him.
“And there is the defiler himself,” the dowager hissed. “Have you no shame, sirrah, showing your face here. My back was turned for a single moment, and you managed to ruin this gel beyond all redemption—”
“Thank you, Lady Ainsworthy, we can take it from here,” Kent cut in. “If you would be so kind as to give my family privacy?”
The simmering menace that emanated from Kent gave even the dowager pause. With a huff, she turned and hobbled back toward the house. Once she was gone, Kent said, “Lord Carlisle and Mr. Murray, I’d like you to answer some questions.”
The investigator’s cool, impersonal tone stirred the hairs on Richard’s neck. This wasn’t about Violet then? And why did Kent want to question Wick? All of a sudden, the identity of the two strangers struck Richard: hell…Kent’s partners. The brawny brown-haired fellow was likely Mr. McLeod, the imposing African beside him Mr. Lugo.
Foreboding snaked through Richard. Sensing his brother’s trembling tension beside him, he silently willed the other to stay calm. What did the investigators know?
“Mr. Murray, explain your connection with Monique de Brouet, if you please,” Kent said.
Devil take it, how had they discovered Wick’s relationship with the deceased?
Richard’s gaze shot to Violet. She looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
Red splotches appeared on Wick’s cheeks. “I—I don’t have any connection,” he stammered unconvincingly.
“You were not her lover? You did not break things off a mere fortnight before this party, causing problems between the two of you? Monique de Brouet did not threaten to get revenge for the way you treated her?”
“How did you find out…?” Wick’s bewildered gaze turned to Violet. “Yousworeyou wouldn’t tell your brother about my ring. You promised,” he choked out.
“Wick, I didn’t tell him anything,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Ring?” Kent swung to face his sister, his expression thunderous. “Whatbloody ring?”
Seeing the panic in her eyes, Richard intervened swiftly.
“It’s not her fault. It is mine,” he said. “We found Madame de Brouet’s body exactly as we described, but we neglected to mention that… Wickham’s signet ring was in her hand. I knew my brother had nothing to do with it—he wasn’t even at the house during the time she was killed—but I feared that such evidence would be falsely incriminating. To protect Wick, I decided to conceal the fact of the ring. Miss Kent had nothing to do with that decision whatsoever.”
“Richard,” Violet whispered, “you know that’s not true—”
“Stay out of this, Violet.” Hellfire blazed in Kent’s gaze.
She bit her lip and fell silent.
Turning to Richard, the investigator snarled, “I ought to have you dragged in front of the magistrate along with your brother. You’ve aided and abetted a murder suspect, and you’ve involved my sister in this mess!”
“The m-magistrate?” Wick’s chin quivered. “He knows about me?”
“Yes, I told him,” Kent snapped. “It’s my duty to aid in the apprehension of criminals.”
