“You cannot handle me thusly as we make our way through the Cambreys’ house. We shall both be ruined.”
Honestly, Owen didn’t give a damn about ruination, not for either one of them.
“Then walk swiftly by my side, or by God, I shall carry you,” he ground out between his clenched teeth, “but either way, we’re going to find him.”
Chapter Sixteen
This was absoluteinsanity! Adelia didn’t know where Thomas had got the blasted perfume, but certainly not from the deceased Sophia Burnley. Taking a breath, she nodded, and they proceeded in a stately, dignified fashion back along the carpeted hallway, not pausing at the open drawing room from which the strains of the popular Mendelssohn were emanating.
Down the stairs they went in silence and into the entry foyer. While waiting for her mantle and her street shoes, she realized her hands were shaking. She did not doubt her brother for a second, but this was a frightening situation. And Owen was a formidable man who, at that moment, was not thinking clearly. Although she felt entirely safe with him, she knew he might attack Thomas before giving him the chance to defend himself.
She had to calm him down. Utterly against propriety, she let him assist her into his carriage without any chaperone either inside or on top with his driver, who set a lit lamp in the holder and closed the door. They’d abandoned Penny entirely, and the poor girl wouldn’t know it for hours. When it was discovered they’d left without her maid, tongues would wag indeed.
Frankly, she didn’t care what thetonthought. She wasofthem but not included among them, and it shouldn’t bother her what they said or believed.
It never had in the past. Except recently, as Owen’s companion, she’d started to feel she belonged. She’d started to care how people viewed her. Tonight, at dinner, the people had been welcoming, and their hosts, the Cambreys, were Owen’s peers.Did they see her as worthy of the dashing viscount who could have any woman at whom he crooked his finger?
That evening, she’d been included by the cream of society until it had all fallen apart. They remained silent in his clarence, seated on opposite sides.
Finally, she asked, “Where did you tell your driver to go?”
“We’ll start with your home, in case Smythe is there,” Owen said, staring out the window.
Relieved they were not going willy-nilly into the night, she leaned back upon the squabs.Could she get through to this furious Owen Burnley?He’d always listened to her words so carefully. She had to try.
“I must tell you about my brother, and you will understand the folly of your accusation.”
“While you reek of my dead sister’s perfume, do not attempt to convince me of your brother’s innocence,” he said, his tone scathing, while he still did not do her the courtesy of looking at her.
Gracious!The hostility frightened her, but Owen, himself, did not. She must make him understand this was a mistake before they encountered Thomas.
“My father was not a kind and patient man,” she began.
Owen held up his hand. “If you are going to tell me how difficult was your brother’s childhood, thereby excusing violence toward others, save your breath.”
“On the contrary, he is not violent at all. Despite having occasionally fought with our father, Thomas is a gentle soul.”
“Smythe likes to box. I’ve experienced it at our pugilist’s club.”
“So do you,” she reminded him. “That doesn’t make you a violent man.”
At those words, he finally turned to look at her. “Oh, but I am. At this very instant, I could gladly wrap my fingers around your brother’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.”
Adelia’s mouth snapped shut, and she looked away from the fury burning in Owen’s eyes. It was exceedingly difficult to be in close quarters with such hostility, especially directed at her kin.
“For my sake, will you please let him answer questions? If you immediately start pummeling each other, you will not get your answers.”
“For your sake?” His usually kind tone had become a cynical sneer. “You mean for the sake of ourfeelingsfor one another?”
The way he said it made her shudder. He was deliberately mocking her and belittling what they were starting to mean to one another. If her brother were the killer, she supposed she could understand his sudden change. But Thomas was not.So how were they to fix this?
“We could help you find all the users of the paper with the John Dickinson watermark,” she offered.
His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Oh, yes, the second bit of evidence. Why should I look any further when I already know you keep the paper in your home? Your brother undoubtedly had easy access to it. I will be sure to tell the detective.”
Adelia decided to keep quiet in case Owen brought up the handkerchief next. If he questioned her about it, he would see the guilt plainly upon her face. She groaned. This was impossible, unthinkable. It simply could not be happening.
“You groan with dismay for your brother. Only think how many groans of anguish I have made over Sophia.”
