“Nathan,” Monty warned him with a growl.
“You have more secrets than the entire British spy network, Monty. It is time to reveal a few. It is not healthy to keep so much inside you,” Nathan added.
“Utter rot.” Monty wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye. “Just because you lot can’t keep a thought inside your head does not mean I have to join you.”
“You kissed Iris Challoner? And not only that, you did it at the Duchess of Yardly’s birthday party? Where anyone could have seen you?” Mary demanded.
“Shut up,” Monty said.
“Well, I never.” Gabe whistled. “You never slip out of your disguise, and yet I’m fairly sure you would not kiss a woman as Plunge, therefore you must have done so as Monty—”
“Who are one and the same!” Monty snapped.
“But not in public. How interesting that you let your old childhood friend see a glimpse of your other persona,” Zach added.
“Stop smiling. You all look like fools.” Monty stomped to the side table where he’d put the papers earlier. Snatching them up, he returned to his guests, who were all smiling at him.
“Well, they say it takes a fool to know a fool,” Zach said.
“No one of sense says that. Now read these and shut up.” Monty held out the papers. “The subject of Iris Challoner is over and will not be raised again.”
“Not over,” Mary said, her eyes scanning the first note. “There will be more discussion on said heated embrace.”
“Oh, it’s over.” But the truth was, Monty wanted to be in a heated embrace again with Iris.
“Iris gave me the one that had my father’s name on it. She said she found it and immediately knew she must bring it to me personally. The rest she found with it in a secret drawer under her husband’s desk.”
“How clever of her to bring it directly to you,” Forrest said, looking at the paper he was handed.
There was silence while they all read. Monty paced the room and knew his reprieve was a short one. They would be at him again soon. He fingered the two wooden carvings in his pocket.
“Thank God, Haven. I need sustenance after the shocks I’ve just received,” Nathan said when his butler staggered in with two laden trays.
“So, from these”—Gabe pointed to the papers—“Challoner is into something, and from the first note Iris gave you, he could be involved in your parents’ deaths?”
“Murder,” Monty snapped. “My parents were murdered.”
Gabe nodded. “I don’t know the details, as it happened many years ago, Monty. Will you tell us now?”
He never spoke of that night. Only he and his staff and uncle knew exactly what had taken place. Not even the members of Alexius he’d dealt with when he first entered knew everything.
“I don’t speak of that night.” The words came out harshly.
“Completely understandable, but perhaps now it’s time,” Michael said calmly.
“Talking sometimes helps with trauma,” Forrest said. “Speaking to someone who is not involved, I believe, genuinely helps heal the wounds, Monty. You have carried this burden alone for many years is my guess.”
Monty wanted to tell him to shut up. He never relived that day unless it was in his nightmares. For the most, he’d locked it away in a dark corner of his brain.
“My late wife was addicted to laudanum,” Forrest said, “and I walked into my daughter’s room one day to find her placing a pillow over Ella’s head. It is a memory that has not lessened given time, but now that I have talked of it with this lot”—he waved a hand to the others in the room—“I can think of it with less pain.”
“I’m sorry, that must have been hell,” Monty said.
“It was. But my child lived. Your parents did not. If you wish to speak about that time, we will listen and never speak of it again if that is also your wish,” Forrest said.
“You have been alone for so long, by choice,” Mary said, holding out her hand to him. The anger had now eased from her face to be replaced with worry. “Let us be there for you, Monty.”
He took her hand in his and saw the bracelet she wore. The one he’d given her on the day she married Zach. It had been his mother’s.
