Sadness crept upon Trevor as his whole body relaxed. He hadn’t realized until now how tense he’d been. “I’m very sorry to hear this, Wellesley. I thought one of my brothers had died a few years back, but thankfully he was found alive.” Trevor clapped his hand on Wellesley’s shoulder. “I do understand your loss.”
“I thank you, Your Grace. I must admit, when I heard about Tristan being alive, a part of me wanted something like that for Bessie. Not only was she my cousin, but we were betrothed at a young age. I had prayed that somewhere—someone would find her alive and bring her back home. However, after six years, I know that can never happen.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Nic interrupted, “but am I to presume your cousin’s body was never found? Is that why you had hoped she would still be alive?”
Wellesley nodded. “You assume correctly, Hawthorne. She was at school when it happened. Her body was never found.”
“Perhaps there is still hope—”
“Hawthorne,” Trevor barked. “Do not give the man false hopes. I do know how that feels, as well.”
“Quite right, Your Grace.” Nic looked at Wellesley. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.”
“Not to worry, my good man.” Wellesley smiled. “As I mentioned before, we are all past the stage of hoping. We have come to accept her death.”
Before long, Nic and Wellesley started a new topic. However, Trevor couldn’t stop thinking about Louisa. A part of him had hoped she would be Wellesley’s cousin. That would explain so much. If the girl had been raised by noble parents, Trevor would definitely consider courting her. He already adored her unpredictable sense of humor, and she made him laugh too many times to count. He thoroughly enjoyed being with her and talking and dancing.
He smiled wide. How could he not after what they’d shared in her bedroom? It had been so long since he’d been that comfortable in a woman’s presence. He couldn’t even remember being that way with his wife. Yet being with Louisa seemed so natural.
So perfect.
Unfortunately, everything wasnotperfect. He was a duke, for goodness’ sake, and there were certain rules he had to follow when courting a woman. Servants were not included in those rules.
Dominic’s belt of laughter brought Trevor out of his thoughts. Nic and Wellesley were still talking about something mundane, and Trevor needed to be alone with his thoughts.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me.” Trevor bowed before turning and leaving, heading straight out of the room to find the butler. Leaving posthaste was necessary, since he couldn’t possibly be good company with his turbulent thoughts.
Before making his departure, he apologized to the hosts, then hurried out to his awaiting buggy. Just as he reached his vehicle, two gentlemen standing by the stairs broke away and cametoward him. Trevor didn’t know them personally, but had been introduced years ago—and of course knew them by reputation.
“Hold up there, Kenbridge,” the Earl of Langston called out.
Out of politeness, Trevor stopped and waited for Langston and Sir Johnstone to join him on the bottom step. “Good evening,” Trevor said and bowed. The other two men returned the gesture.
“I’m glad to have caught you before you left,” Langston said. “Johnstone and I were just discussing the sudden and tragic death of Lord Hollingsworth.”
Confusion washed over Trevor. “And why did you need to talk to me about it?”
“Because of the rumors.”
“What rumors?” Trevor shrugged. “I fear I have not heard anything besides his servant found him dead in the stables.”
The other two men traded nervous glances. Sir Johnstone rubbed his chin. “You have not heard about your brother?”
Fear crawled up Trevor’s spine. “Which one?” he asked, but pretty much knew the answer already.
“Tristan, of course.”
Trevor knew what the men were trying to get out, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of gossiping. “What about him?”
“I have heard rumors that the police are suspecting your brother.”
“Suspecting my brother? Of what, may I ask?”
Once again, the other two men exchanged glances, but this time their expressions were almost perplexed—as if they thought Trevor was the one who’d gone daft.
“Killing Hollingsworth, of course,” Johnstone replied.
Trevor rolled his eyes. “You cannot be serious. Have the police nothing better to do than suspect Tristan of murder?”
