“It was in her chamber, yes, but that’s not everything. It was Adelia Eamont who showed me where her mother had hidden the brooch. And she divulged a lot of information, too, about her mama. Suffice it to say that both sisters despise Lady Eamont. She’s been cruel and controlling of them all their lives.” Bridget then related all that AdeliaEamont had told her.
“Good Lord!” Nate said. “I always thought of the Eamont twins as strange but harmless. Do you suppose one of the sisters—or both—pushed their father’s mistress down the stairs in order to frame their mother for the murder and end her controlling ways?”
“No. Lady Eamont taught her daughters to compete with one another, not work together. Lydia could have done it, but I doubt Adelia did. Until today, Lady Eamont was Adelia’s biggest advocate. As her eldest daughter, she was actively trying to see Adelia married to you. But that all changed when Lydia outwitted them.”
“So perhaps Adelia pushed Madam Bouffant to protect her mother, and has now decided to try and use the murder against her?”
“That’s possible. She never came out and accused her mother, but that would make things a little too obvious. Much better if she accuses her mother of cruelty and stealing and allows people to assume the worst.”
“I don’t know,” Nate said. “It seems a little far-fetched.”
“I would have thought so too, but if you’d witnessed what I did today, you’d see that Adelia’s behavior pointed toward madness.”
“That, at least, puts Dodsworth in the clear.”
“Not exactly,” Bridget shifted in the saddle. “We have no proof Adelia did anything wrong. She may have found the brooch in her mother’s room as she claimed.”
“In which case, suspicion would have to fall on Lady Eamont, not Dodsworth,” Nate said.
“You’re forgetting that Lydia has proof that Dodsworth committed a hanging offense. And when she accused him, he did not deny it.”
Nate ran a hand across his jaw. He refused to believe Dodsworth was guilty of murder—or any heinous offense, for that matter. Something else was afoot, and he’d have to tread carefully so as not to expose or endanger his friend while trying to uncover the truth.
Chapter Nineteen
“Do sit down,Lord and Lady Eamont.” Nate invited the viscount and viscountess to sit on one of the buttoned-leather chairs in what had been Mr. De Lacey’s study. He’d been reluctant to take it over, not having the heart to ask Bridget to pack away her father’s things. He sensed the study meant a lot to her. It was no doubt filled with precious memories.
“What can I get you to drink? Brandy for you, my lord, and a port for her ladyship?” Nate asked.
“Yes,” they both answered simultaneously.
Nate poured two brandies and a glass of port, served his guests, and then sat behind his desk.
Lord Eamont took a sip of his brandy. “I imagine you’ve asked us here because you want to tell us that you’ve come to your senses and are now ready to commit to our daughter, Adelia.”
“It’s too late for that,” Lady Eamont trilled. “We already have one wedding to plan. I can’t possibly think abouttwoweddings.”
“What are you talking about?” Lord Eamont’s thick eyebrows came together in a frown. “They can have a double wedding. That way, I need only pay for one. Lord knows Westerly will be expecting a substantial dowry.”
Nate’s chest burned at the reference to his brother’s demand for a dowry. How dare Edward humiliate him thus?
“Don’t they all.” Lady Eamont sniffed her port and then placed her glass on the desk.
Nate frowned, wondering if there was something wrong with the drink.
“Well, Squires, I have discussed the matter of a rather large dowry with your brother, but—”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but I have not brought you here to ask for your daughter’s hand. My position on marriage hasn’t changed. As I told my brother, I plan on remaining a bachelor indefinitely.”
“You told Lord Westerlywhat?” Lord Eamont’s face reddened.
“He wants to remain a bachelor,” Lady Eamont repeated. “That’s what I heard him say.”
“That’s not what Lord Westerly told me.” Eamont scowled at Nate. “You have a duty to follow your brother’s orders. No wonder your father put him in charge of your well-being.”
Nate’s jaw tightened. Who was Lord Eamont to judge him? He’d just been cavorting openly with his mistress in front of his family. All sympathy he’d had for the man after Madam Bouffant’s death flew out the window. “Insulting me won’t change my mind,” Nate said.
“Now, look here, sir”—Lord Eamont wagged a finger at Nate—“Lord Westerly and I have an agreement, and you need to adhere to it.”
