“Are you fearful, Smythe?” Eoin asked as he resisted the urge to rub his hands across his face. It was so damnably frustrating that no one would speak of his mother and his sister, even with the previous Foxglen dead and buried.
A surprising wry smile burst over the man’s face. “No, but as I said, I was not entrusted with much knowledge of her. I do know that your grandfather tried his best to prevent you from being exposed to anything remotely connected with your maternal side.”
“Like changing my name from Eoin to John to obscure my Irish ancestry?” Eoin said. “Or his insistence that I attend daily Anglican services even though he did not in an effort to suppress any Catholic tendencies?”
Eoin’s examples caused Hannah’s heart to squeeze, especially in light of their conversation last night.Since the age of six, my grandfather groomed me into the lord he wished me to be. But now that I have obtained the position, I am unsure of my role.How many decisions had Eoin been deprived of?
“That is precisely what I meant, Your Grace.” Smythe inclined his head.
Hannah pushed aside the pain she felt for Eoin. The best way to help him was to remain clearheaded. He needed her rationality, not her emotions. “Are you recommending that Eoin gather clues about his mother by considering what he was forbidden from doing as a child?”
Smythe’s assessing gaze landed on her, and she realized that she’d inadvertently dropped her silly coquette act. The man, however, did not appear particularly surprised.
“Yes. His Grace, for example, forbade ale from the house and would only serve brandy and sherry. Also after your father’s death, he ordered all cats be removed from the stables, even those who’d proved to be excellent mousers.”
So Eoin’s mother loved cats—not a particularly useful clue. But by the way Eoin quirked his head, it was clear that he was hungry for any detail, no matter how trivial.
“Of course, some of the late duke’s behavior could also be attributed to his son’s treason. His Grace was adamant that we should immediately report if we ever saw the young lord engage in fisticuffs,” Smythe explained.
Eoin grimaced. “He wouldn’t even permit me to learn to sword fight.”
Now it was Hannah’s turn to tilt her head. “Isn’t that a normal part of a young lordling’s education?”
“The duke wished for me to remain even tempered andcalm. I was allowed to learn the minuet but not the livelier country dances for fear they would be too full of vigor.” Eoin spoke as if these bizarre rules were commonplace, and sadly, they must have been for him.
“Alexander said that you were familiar with handling a pistol when you helped to rescue Lord Percy,” Hannah said in confusion as she desperately tried to make sense of the odd set of rules that Eoin had lived under.
Eoin jerked his head in assent. If this conversation upset him, he betrayed nothing. “My grandfather regarded shooting as a more scholarly activity that demanded concentration rather than spirit. Moreover, the perfect courtier must have some means to protect his king.”
“I—I am struggling to understand the old Foxglen’s rationale.” Hannah knew she was screwing up her face as she tried to unravel the idiot nob’s reasoning, but she couldn’t stop herself. It just beggared belief, and she couldn’t imagine having to grow up navigating such convoluted and conflicting dictates. It had to have been disorienting to Eoin. Perhaps he showed so little emotion because he never knew what his grandfather wanted him to convey. Hannah’s heart constricted, and pain shot through her.
“His Grace was… an eccentric man driven by fear that the family name would descend into ruin.” The butler spoke haltingly, and it was clear that he was carefully weighing each word.
Eoin appeared unperturbed by his butler’s less-than-shining assessment of the man who’d raised him. Instead of directly responding to Smythe’s observations, he simply continued his previous line of inquiry. “I know the coachmen were told not to take me to certain establishments where I could face temptation. Do you recall any in particular?”
“Only that they generally involved bloodsport,” Smythe answered promptly. “There was a list of businesses known for their Jacobite sympathies. I cannot recall each one, but I can give you a copy.”
“Was the Horse and Hen on it?” Hannah asked, watching the butler closely.
Smythe turned to Eoin. “Are you aware, then, of the tavern’s connection to you, your Grace?” the butler asked cautiously.
“We know that my mother worked there, yes,” Eoin confirmed.
“The former duke arranged for the establishment to be closed,” Smythe continued at a tentative pace. “But a few years later, I overheard your uncles discussing its reopening as a gin house. I do not believe your grandfather ever learned about the new iteration. He would have been furious. I suspect Lord Hugh and Lord Francis only frequented the reconstituted Horse and Hen as an act of secret rebellion.”
A rather pathetic revolt but also an interesting one. Is that when the brothers began to drink gin? More importantly, was the juniper-tinged elixir the reason for the secrecy at the current Horse and Hen? The Gin Act of ’51 and the rise of grain prices had been the death knell for the popularity of the drink, and it was no longer profitable enough to sustain clandestine establishments.
“Did Lords Hugh and Francis gossip about other illegal happenings there?” Hannah asked.
“No.” Smythe shook his head. “I can inquire if the other servants have heard otherwise, but many have left the household’s employ. This occurred fifteen years or so ago.”
“Thank you for all that you’ve told us,” Eoin said. “If you think of anything more, please let me know.”
“That I will, Your Grace.” Smythe clambered to his feet anddelivered a very stiff and formal bow—a return to the normal social gap between duke and servant. He strode from the room, the perfect example of a proper English butler.
After Smythe shut the door, Hannah waited a few beats until his footsteps faded away. “I plan to return to the Horse and Hen. I will take Dr. Talbot with me—he’s more formidable than he appears.”
Eoin shook his head. “No. I will go. This is my search and my danger to face, not yours and your friends’.”
