He drew a deep breath. “Yes. I think it’s time to speak to my father.”
“You know he has the same conclusion.”
Graham nodded again. “Yes. I cannot imagine the pain it’s causing him. As for Eugenie and Donner, I doubt they’ve given it much thought since she’s with child and they’re getting ready to move into Longfield.”
CHAPTER 65
They found Vereker in the estate room finishing up his quarterly review of rents and expenditures with Mr. Spalding, King’s Head estate manager for seventeen years. Graham had spent little time with him yet. He was a square man both face and body who’d reached his fiftieth year, and had, Blakeney had told them, a brain stuffed with so many facts he spewed them on anyone within hearing. “Many times I fear I’ve wanted to smack him, I mean, who wants to know how many children Queen Isabella of Spain produced? Of course he keeps his trap shut when he is with his lordship.”
Vereker looked up, smiled at them, waved them in, thanked Mr. Spalding and sent him on his way. Mr. Spalding bowed to Cam and Graham, opened his mouth, thought better of it, and left them.
Vereker stopped smiling. He rose slowly and came around his desk. “Spalding shows restraint upon occasion. Come in. You’re still feeling fit, Cam?”
“Yes, sir.” She walked to her father-in-law, hugged him, kissed his cheek. “I am ready to waltz with you, sir. Blakeney assures me you are a better dancer than your son, whoperhaps, when he’s not concentrating on his steps, jumps around like an ostrich.”
“Unfair and a lie,” Graham said. “You told me I danced like a prince.”
Vereker met his son’s eyes, Madeline’s eyes, and he thought,If only you could see your son, Madeline. If he could only remember he would see himself in you—
Graham took his father’s arms in his hands. “Sir, it’s time, past time, we faced this head-on. You know as well as we do the person who took Simon and me also tried to kill me again, here and in Ventnor. Cam and I know you’ve given this endless thought as have we. Who do you think it is?”
Vereker said slowly, “I can see it in your eyes, both of you.” He sighed. “There can be no one else, I know that in my gut but still I don’t want to accept it. I ask myself why? How is that possible?” He turned and walked to the fireplace, stood silently, staring down into the glowing embers. He said without turning, “But like you, I’ve examined this every way I can think of, I still cannot understand why. Tally loved you, Graham, both you and Simon. I remember so clearly how the only times he seemed really happy was when he was with you boys. He taught you archery, he took you fishing, he—” His voice fell off a cliff.
Cam saw the pain in his eyes but she didn’t stop, she couldn’t. “Sir, I’m very sorry, but Graham’s life is in the balance. Since he cannot remember, it is you who must remember for him. You must face this head-on.” She studied his face, stiff, his eyes pain filled. “Sir, do you believe Tally would kill two young boys—his nephews—to become your heir?” She paused, watching him shake his head. “Sir, would he kill any more boys if you had remarried? Would he kill you?”
Vereker looked as if she’d struck him. He started to shake his head, then he said slowly, “I’ve told you when Tally came back from fighting at Waterloo, he was changed, everyonesaw it. He wanted to be alone. He built the cottage in the eastern woods. For years he only dined here once a month.
“But he loved both you and Simon, I know that to the deepest part of me. But now? After Ventnor and the falling beam at the abbey ruins that could have so easily killed you? If he did these things, and yes, I know I must accept there is simply no other choice, but listen, I would swear to you he simply never wanted my title, my birthright. That wasn’t what Tally was ever about. He loved life, loved being a soldier, told me he was born for it—until he came back from Waterloo. And wouldn’t that mean he’d abhor violence? That he would protect Graham and Simon with his life?”
Neither Graham nor Cam said a word, merely stood quietly watching him.
Vereker said finally, “So it makes no sense unless he is mad.”
CHAPTER 66
Graham knocked on the bright blue door and waited, Cam beside him. He knew he had to accept it, as his father had, there was no choice. He only wished Cam didn’t have to be part of it, but of course there was no way to keep Cam away and safe, short of tying her down. As for his father, Graham hadn’t told him what they planned. Did his father guess he would face down Uncle Tally himself? Graham hoped he didn’t. They’d left him in his study, staring out onto the east garden, and knew he was trying to figure out what to do. As they’d left the study, Graham looked back at this man who was his father, this man who’d accepted him without hesitation, who’d welcomed him, loved him immediately with his whole heart. It didn’t matter Graham had no memory of this man, he would do anything to protect him as much as he could. Which wasn’t much at all, really, but Graham knew he had to deal with this himself.
As they waited, Graham felt the burn of renewed fury because Cam could so easily have been killed, and all because of this man who was supposedly his loving uncle. Like his father, Graham had not a single memory of this man, nomemories of his growing-up years with him. Was his father right? Was Uncle Tally mad? Or was it all a lie? For years this man had lied, believed his nephews were dead and he was indeed his father’s heir? Biding his time, waiting, content that all would come to him? What was one more murder, namely Cam?
He knocked again. He felt Cam stiffen beside him at the sound of light bootfalls, a man’s whistle. The door opened.
“Graham, Cam—oh my dear, are you well enough to walk all the way from the house here?” He paused, cocked his head to the side. “You both look very serious. Is something wrong?”
But he knew, Graham and Cam saw it in his eyes. He knew. Tally stepped back, said in a calm voice, “Do come in. I’ll bring you some tea, just made and not too strong.” He turned away.
Graham called after him. “Uncle Tally, we do not want tea. Come with us to the parlor.”
Tally looked at them, slowly nodded. “I must turn off the kettle. Go into the parlor, I will join you in but a moment.” And he walked away.
Cam said low, “What if he runs away?”
“No, he won’t run. There’s no place to run to. He cannot know we haven’t told people we were coming here. No, Uncle Tally knows it’s over. Come, let’s sit down.” He hugged her close, said gently against her temple where the beam had struck, “This must be done.”
When Tally joined them a moment later, he said in a deep, calm voice, “I was waiting for someone to come but I believed it would be my brother, not you two.” He sat opposite them. “Yes, my dear brother—he was more like another father to me growing up. He was always fussing over me, so careful he was—” Tally shrugged. “I believed he loved me but you see, he stood in my way, always. After our fatherdied, I knew I should be Earl St. Lucy, not he. I thought about killing him but knew it would be too dangerous. And so I left to fight Napoleon. Years I was gone but finally I came home. At last your mother, Madeline, birthed you and Simon—little interlopers, that’s how I always saw the two of you. Of course I pretended to love you, pretended to enjoy playing with you, teaching you, but I knew I had to, else what would my brother think? I knew I could do it and I did. I waited until I knew the time was right. The two of you disappeared.” Tally paused, smiled. “Gone, just like that,” and he snapped his fingers.
Graham looked at him emotionlessly for he felt no betrayal since this man was a stranger. “But you failed, you didn’t manage to kill me. I am here and healthy and your reign of terror is over.”
Tally tapped his fingertips together. “Yes, I failed with you. For the longest time I believed you drowned, that you’d probably floated dead and fish-eaten up to the shore of the Thames in London because I’d struck you down and simply tossed you overboard. There are always dead bodies floating in the Thames, what was one more?
