“Every last one.”
“They were from Belgium,” he protested, “and far superior to the scratchy ones you replaced them with.”
“I was scared, Thomas. For you.”
He reached across the table. “You believe me, don’t you, Dilly?”
His green eyes, so similar to her own and their mother’s, gazed at her, unwavering. This was the same man who, at his own peril, when far younger, protected her from their father. He’d taken his share, and hers, of slaps and cuffs round the head to keep her safe. Without a shadow of doubt, he was not a murderer.
“Of course I do! You must continue about your normal life and not tell anyone that Lady Sophia was murdered. The family has managed to keep it from the papers. Apart from that, we must hope Lord Burnley never learns you are the true owner of that cursed handkerchief. We may never know how Lady Sophia ended up with it.”
Jumping up, she grabbed the brandy bottle so she could pour her brother another glass. Feeling ill inside, she wondered how she would look Owen in the eyes the following night. It went utterly against her nature to be involved in this terrible deception, especially knowing how obsessed the viscount was with finding the answer to his sister’s murder.
Unfortunately, the answer was quite plainly incorrect.
“You don’t look settled,” Thomas said.
She bit her lower lip. “As I said, Lord Burnley is escorting me to the ballet. And I rather enjoy his company. But this,” she gestured at nothing and everything with a wave of her hand, “this makes me feel…oh, dear. Perhaps I shouldn’t see him after all.”
“Nonsense. There must be some reasonable explanation, but even if we never find it, you mustn’t let this deter you from seeing Burnley. That is, if he makes you happy.”
Made her happy?Adelia had, for so long, simply wanted to withdraw from society and not be bothered with facing people anymore. Yet, against all her prior inclinations, she now looked forward to going out with a man.
“Lord Burnley does make me happy,” she admitted.So, how could she lie to him in return?
She supposed she could continue to help him solve the murder, except not by gathering handkerchiefs, which was now a pointless task, and certainly not by turning over her brother.
“I intend to go with Lord Burnley tomorrow night,” she decided. “I don’t suppose you are free to chaperone.”
“I am afraid not.” He sipped his brandy and didn’t enlighten her on his plans.
She sighed. Her brother’s secrets unsettled her. Then, she remembered the play.
“Are we treating our miners fairly?” she asked, changing the subject abruptly. She’d been meaning to ask him for days.
He started. “Strange you should ask that. I met with Victor on the very subject recently. He is urging a few measures I’m not positive are right.”
“You trust Mr. Beaumont, don’t you?” Adelia asked.
“Father did, so, yes, I do. But he sees things differently, from an expediency point of view, I suppose. He wants the mines to work like clockwork, but people—miners, in particular—are not cogs in a clock.”
She nodded, wishing she knew something about the business so she could help. Suddenly, it occurred to her.
“Perhaps you could speak with one of the Lords Burnley, senior or junior. The viscount said they maintain safe mines and happy workers, or words to those effect, in spite of the cost.”
Her brother nodded. “The elder Lord Burnley may not be receiving visitors.”
Thomas was right to be hesitant. Lady Sophia’s father might not wish to talk about mining when his daughter had so recently passed away, especially now she knew it was due to murder most foul.
Besides, Thomas ought to stay away from the Burnleys for the time being. She stared into the amber liquid in the bottom of her glass and hoped Owen never discovered her duplicity.
Chapter Twelve
Owen awaited thehour before it was time to pick up Adelia with a mixture of anticipation and guilt. Again, he was going out while his sister’s killer roamed free. Moreover, he was going out for the pure pleasure of being with the delightfully beguiling, utterly unassuming lady, who made him feel less as if he was going to punch a wall at any moment. Something about her demanded his civility.
Something else about her commanded his body’s attention, too. He still could not believe she had stood unnoticed through the past four Seasons with her lovely face, her intelligence which he had discovered with each conversation, and her shapely figure like a goddess. He was half-desperate to cup her breasts, which were as plump peaches, and rub his thumbs over her nipples to watch them pearl.
And as he’d told everyone at the previous ball to lure them to her dance card, Lady Adelia had a favorably large dowry. It meant nothing to him, but Owen couldn’t fathom why others weren’t lined up to pluck this low-hanging fruit.
