He was already gone.
Beck started up the stairs to the next floor and the family quarters. He could knock on the marquess’s door and request an audience... and say what?Did you have my mother murdered? Did you steal my inheritance?
That last thought stopped him. He was halfway up the stairs. He stood, one foot on the next riser.
If what he suspected was true, at one time, all of this—the paneled walls, the gardens, the stables—was supposed to be his.
A footman walked down the stairs, giving a small bow toward him as he did. Lady Orpington’s voice drifted up to him as she chastised one of the cardplayers for dallying. “We are ready to play,” her ladyship declared, the tone strident.
This wasnothis world.
And yet it might have been.
But was it now? Did he wish it to be?
Beck didn’t know.
He was thankful that Gwendolyn was here. He needed her cool head as he tried to decipher the mysteries of the past. As he attempted to understand the challenges of the present.
He continued up the stairs, but then Ellisfield came down the stairs toward him. His eyes lit up. “Curran, just who I needed to see. I’m off to see Squire Miller about a gelding he has for sale. A hunter. If he is any good, I thought I’d try himtomorrow. Ride with me? I could use a second opinion.”
The invitation surprised Beck. His guard went up. “What of your friends?”
“They are still in their beds. Besides, they aren’t good judges of horseflesh. I like that bay you ride.”
He sounded friendly. Course, he was sober now. And Gwendolyn had also mentioned that Ellisfield had known him as a boy, as cousins would. He wondered what stories the lord could tell.
“I hoped to have a moment with the marquess,” Beck said, curious of Ellisfield’s response.
The man acted surprised. “My father? Whyever for? I keep my distance as much as possible.”
That was an interesting response but not a shattering one. The marquess’s family did not seem close. “I heard about his research on the flora and fauna of Colemore. I’m a bit of an amateur botanist.”
Ellisfield seemed to accept the excuse. “Well, you are three hours too early. He doesn’t like being interrupted before one. I’m a lark myself, obviously. Like you. I saw you riding with Miss Lanscarr earlier.”
“You should have joined us.” Beck was glad he hadn’t.
Ellisfield shook his head. “I was well in my cups last night. I needed a bit of time in my bed. However, I’m ready to ride now. So, will you come?”
Beck hesitated. Was Ellisfield tasked with keeping track of him?
His lordship noticed Beck’s uncertainty. “It isn’t a long ride. We shall return well before midday. However, you are free to stay here, if you wish.”
There was no guile in his tone or expression, and in that moment, Beck decided to go. Ellisfield was spoiled like many oldest sons, but he also wasn’t a bad sort. Beck had run into his type in the military. They were men searching for a purpose, and he found he wouldn’t mind a bit of time with Ellisfield. They were family. In spite of all that had transpired over the years, Beck discovered the yearning to belong was still there.
“I will,” Beck answered. Gwendolyn would be playing cards for most of the day, and Beck was curious to know what Ellisfield knew. “I hear there is a portrait of the last marquess and his family. Do you know where I may view it?” He wanted to see his father.
“Why?” Ellisfield asked.
Beck shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I heard a ghost story,” he offered.
“The singing marchioness.” Ellisfield shook his head. “Those deaths were a tragedy, but if she is haunting us, I’ve not heard her. The best portrait of her is upstairs in the small library.”
“I was told there is a portrait of all of the family.”
Ellisfield nodded. “In the main library. Come this way.” He continued down the stairs, and Beck fell in line behind him.
“This house has more than one library?” Beck asked conversationally.
