Gabriella softened, with a look that sent a dart of pain through me. “You will like him, Father. He is clever, if a bit shy. Very hard-working.”
What every father wanted to hear—industrious, doesn’t speak much, isn’t a complete fool. “He cares for you?”
Gabriella flushed. “Of course.”
“No ‘of course’ about it. If he doesn’t worship the ground on which you walk, I will thrash him.”
Gabriella laughed uncertainly. “There will be no need for that.”
“I only want you to be happy, my daughter. Marriage can be uncertain, and I do not want you to experience a bad one.”
“You and Lady Donata are happy,” Gabriella said. “You shout at each other but enjoy it, and you make it up.”
I could not deny that arguing with Donata kept my blood warm and my spirits high. I doubted I’d do well with a cheerful wife who never contradicted me.
“My mama and papa are happy too.” Gabriella gave me a sideway glance. “Though I know you and she were not so well suited.”
“It worked out for the best,” I managed to say. I always felt awkward discussing Carlotta.
The truth was, I’d been a rotten husband to Carlotta—a timid yet spoiled young woman who’d expected to be wrapped in cushions and taken care of. Following the drum was a hard life, and not a good one for her. Donata, on the other hand, had the strength of a hard-bitten general. She’d have kept Isherwood in his place—and every other ranking officer as well—had she been on campaign with me.
We turned for home, Peter jogging at my side. People smiled at us as we passed, indulgent at my little family.
When we reached the house, Brewster went home, declaring he’d spend time with his Em before I put my plans into motion.
I’d settled down to coffee, meaning to tell all to Donata once she’d risen, when Bartholomew handed me a note.
“Delivered a few minutes ago,” he said. “By one of them Quaker lads.”
I broke the seal and opened it. “From Mr. Bickley,” I said in surprise, and read the short missive.
He’d returned to Brighton, reluctantly, to settle some business matters, and would like to speak to me.
This was fortunate, because I wanted to speak to him. There was a particular question I wished to ask him. I’d planned to write to him in Chichester, but this would save time.
“Tell Mr. Brewster I’ve set off to meet Mr. Bickley at this address.” I shoved the paper at him. “He can meet me there if he has a mind to.”
Bickley had listed a house on the road to Hove, which was not a long walk from our square. I took my walking stick and hat and left for it.
It had occurred to me as I read the note that Armitage could lure me to a lonely house by pretending Mr. Bickley had asked me to attend him there. However, the note had rung with Bickley’s voice, and I did wish to question the man—he might know more about this business than he realized. He could be the linchpin that held the entire case together.
The house I reached was set back from the road behind a colorful garden, rife with summer flowers. A sign on the gate read,Rooms to Let.
Mr. Bickley was truly there, no sign of Armitage or Desjardins. Bickley met me at the door a maid opened and took me through a bright passage to a parlor in the back of the house.
Bickley looked haggard. His plump cheeks sagged, colorless, and the sadness in his eyes was difficult to witness. His son’s death had taken all joy from him.
“I thank thee for seeing me, Gabriel.” His voice rasped as though he’d worn it out.
The room was sparsely furnished, with only a few hard chairs, though the tall windows let out onto a green with a splendid view of the sea, no houses to block it. A person could stroll from here to the water and enjoy the solitude.
“Not at all,” I said. “Are you settling in with your sister?”
“Indeed. She is most kind. She was fond of Joshua.” Bickley choked off at the name and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
“My dear fellow, I am so sorry.” I went to Bickley and laid a hand on his shoulder. “There was a time when I thought I’d lost my daughter. A very long time. The days were dark. I understand.”
“But there is no more light for me.” Tears trickled down his cheeks. He opened his eyes and gazed at me sadly. “I am a grave sinner, Gabriel. I have asked thee here to beg thy forgiveness.”
