She eyed him. “Yes, well, it’s also a pity that you disappeared into a bottle for days, my lord.”
“Touché,” he said. “That hit.” He looked down, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Do you intend to continue looking into it?” she said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose my initial reasoning for it hardly matters. I could leave if I wished. I have had a harried letter from Lady Caroline, wondering what has become of me. I am sure everyone in London would be pleased if I returned.”
“I am sure they would,” she said. A pause. “Well, in that case, I don’t suppose there is any reason to tell you what else I know.”
“You know something else.”
“Betsy found a drinking glass hidden away in Mr. Hardy’s bedchamber. She said it smelled of laudanum.”
“Oh, Lord!” cried Byron.
“Yes,” said Jane.
“But why would he kill her?” said Byron. “That makes no sense at all.”
“No, I know,” said Jane.
“Well, did she show you the drinking glass?”
“No, she said she could not disturb it, for she is the only one who enters the room, and she said that if she did so, he would know it was her, and she could not bear that. She left it there.”
“It’s still there?” said Byron.
“Yes, but she said that if we did anything about it at all it would alert him to the fact she must have discovered it—”
“Not if I happen to discover it myself,” said Byron. “On accident.”
“How are you going to accomplish that?”
“Never you mind. You’re completely done with all of it, are you not?”
She felt sulky, but she nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, then, I suppose that’s all between us,” he said with a shrug.
She knew he was expecting her to protest. She, indeed, wanted to protest. But she also was a very stubborn person, and she couldn’t very well explain this all away to Cassandra, and she had said she was done with it, and—
“I suppose that’s all,” she said, lifting her chin.
He held her gaze for a moment and then turned away, and his expression was rather crestfallen, like a little boy, and she felt positively awful.
But then he offered her his hand and said it had been ever so good to meet her and he was grateful for the time she’d spent with him, and she shook his hand, and then they said their goodbyes, and then he walked out.
Lord Byron was gone from her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JANE MIGHT HAVEbeen gloomier in the hours that followed if she hadn’t already effectively mourned the end of her association with Lord Byron before it had been formally cut off.
As it was, there was little for it, so she made her way up the stairs to continue her work onFirst Impressions, and she lost herself to that for the rest of the day.
Then there was dinner, and afterward, she told Cassandra that she had sent Byron off that afternoon and Cassandra said she thought it was for the best, and Jane agreed.
It was late evening, nearly time for retiring to bed, when Mr. Beaumont arrived at their house. He was red-cheeked, a little out of breath, as if he’d been running about for hours.
