Bloody hell, if Alec said anything, his cousin would die…slowly.
Alec lifted the decanter. “Would anyone care to join me? I find that one can learn the most interesting information while enjoying a glass.”
Preston knew for certain that his cousin would soon be dead. He did not yet know which method he would use but already visualized his body in the family crypt.
“No thank you,” Miss Claywell murmured as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Please don’t go,” Alec said. “I’d much rather talk to you than my cousin.”
Miss Claywell paled.
Bloody hell, she was liable to bolt. No doubt she had just recalled the connection he and Alec shared, and that was through Uncle Gerald, the gentleman she believed her uncle had betrothed her to.
Maybe Preston wouldn’t leave enough of a body to be buried.
“You were aware that we are cousins, were you not, Miss Claywell?” Alec asked with concern. “Our mothers were sisters. Unfortunately, they are no longer with us, but their older brother is hale and hearty, and if I recall correctly, a close friend to your uncle.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” she answered quietly, and Preston saw true fear in her eyes.
“The two of you enjoyed playing chess, did you not?” He turned to Preston. “Uncle Gerald said she was the only opponent who was ever a challenge. Rather insulting given he was the one who taught me.” He turned back to Miss Claywell. “Perhaps we should have a game since I haven’t spoken to or seen my uncle in months.”
She paused in her retreat. “You do not correspond with your uncle?”
“Neither one of us are much for writing letters,” he answered. “How often do you write to him, Preston?”
Alec knew very well when Preston had last written to their uncle. He’d been here and it included a marriage proposal. His cousin was going to suffer a slow death. Very slow. Perhaps a year on the rack, such had been used during the Inquisition. That would be a fitting end to his cousin.
“My correspondence with Uncle Gerald is erratic at best,” Preston admitted.
“What say you, Miss Claywell? I would enjoy a game of chess, especially if you are as good as my uncle claims.”
“I’m afraid that I no longer have time for chess.” With that, she took two steps toward the door. “I really must attend to lessons for tomorrow.”
Miss Claywell was gone before Preston could stop her.
Leave it to Alec to ruin a perfectly good opportunity in which Preston could spend some time alone with Miss Claywell.
Preston rose and walked to the door and glanced into the entry and toward the stairs. She’d already fled to the school floor. His one concern was that she may be packing a valise to leave Ambrose Hall.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he informed his cousin.
Preston then went in search of Mrs. Wilson and Jackson and asked that they keep watch for Miss Claywell trying to leave and if they saw her with her valise to alert him immediately.
Even though he hadn’t explained the situation to Jackson, he was certain Mrs. Wilson had confided in the butler as the two had few secrets between them, though they kept many from the other servants.
Preston then returned to the parlor and closed the door. “What the bloody hell are you about?”
“Curiosity,” Alec offered innocently.
“About?” Preston went to pour his own brandy, though perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision when with Alec.
“I thought Charlotte had misunderstood the relationship and was on my way to question you for further confirmation.”
Preston quickly explained how Miss Claywell had come to live in his home.
“No wonder she went pale. I thought she was going to run away, but couldn’t figure out why she’d do such a thing over an innocent conversation.” Alec laughed.
“I feared the same.”
