As his adversary turned red, Adam told him, “Your brother took advantage of an innocent young woman who had no protection because of negligent parents. Then he gambled away all he had before he died. The only noble thing Richard Fairclough ever did was die young before he totally ruined her life with the French pox, or worse!”
“She was there. She killed him,” Fairclough managed to croak out the words. “I can prove it.”
“Liar.” Remarkably, Adam wasn’t shouting, simply stating what he knew in his heart to be true. He wouldn’t dignify the ridiculous accusation with a single request for proof.
Fairclough signaled he couldn’t breathe, and Adam finally eased up the pressure.
“I ask again, why are you here?”
Fairclough rubbed his neck before undoing the perfect knot of his cravat.
“My estate is bankrupt. Someone needs to pay my brother’s debtors. His widow should have done it sooner. Just because she has married you, it doesn’t excuse —”
“Get out,” Adam repeated. “Or I shall not be held responsible.”
“Very well.” Fairclough went to the door and yanked it open. “When you finally regret your marriage with that shrew, when you are wondering why you have no heir because her womb is as empty as her soul, then you won’t be able to say I didn’t warn you. Man to man. Regardless, I shall discuss this next with a magistrate. Either my brother’s debt is repaid, or his murder is avenged. You must choose.”
As soon as Alice enteredher home on Arlington Street, she sensed something was wrong. Mr. Lewis wore an odd look upon his face, and Adam came to greet her immediately after the butler told him she was home.
“Let’s have a cup of tea in the drawing room,” he suggested.
“I just had enough cups of tea with your mother to float the Royal Navy.” But she accompanied him anyway and took a seat. He sat opposite, rested his elbows on his knees and looked at her.
He didn’t immediately speak, so Alice told him something that had struck her that day.
“Your mother and I went for a stroll. We ended up in Regent’s Park. Have you seen the sheep there?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Have you noticed you can tell which ones have been in London for only a little while and which have been grazing for longer?”
He frowned, shaking his head.
“Their fleece changes color, from natural creamy-white to sooty black. Compared to how I feel at Stonely, I believe London’s soot and smoke — or rather, its society and some of its people — can color us as well, even taint us.”
“That’s a strange way to put it, my lady, but I take your meaning. Perhaps it is true.”
She thought he sounded melancholy. “Is something wrong?”
He nodded slowly. “Fairclough showed up today.”
Alice couldn’t help flinching “Every time you say his name, I think for a moment that you mean Richard. For a horrible instant, I imagine he is still my husband and has the legal right to reclaim me.” She shook off the nightmarish thoughts. “What did Lord Fairclough want?”
“Don’t you know?”
She glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean? I assume he wants what he always wants — money for his brother’s debts.”
“He did, but he also said you were with your husband when he died. Were you?”
She gripped the arms of the chair. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Adam’s tone was harsher than she’d ever heard directed at her. “I thought he was with his mistress.”
“He was. I followed him one afternoon.”
“Followed him?” Adam repeated. “That’s seems risky.”
“Does it?” She thought about that day. “It was not yet dark. I had a maid at the time who traveled in the cab with me. I knew on Thursdays Richard went to her home, if that’s the correct word for a place where light-skirts entertain men. Sometimes he stayed away until Monday. Anyway, I followed him.”
