The urge to grab her by the hand and have it out once and for all shook him. The tug of a small hand in his brought him back to earth. Audrey placed him in the corner of the bench along the near side of the table. The chair on the end, she insisted, belonged to her papa. She climbed onto the bench beside him and shot her brothers a look of triumph for having co-opted the guest of honor.
What in God’s name am I going to say to these people?He needn’t have worried. The Corbins spoke to, over, and around each other in a steady stream of chatter that included their grandfather and, ultimately, drew Rob into it by some alchemy. He found himself describing parades on the Champs-Élysées, the chandeliers in the Tuileries Palace, and the gardens of Versailles. Ellis blessedly steered conversation away from the boys’ attempts to hear about battlefields, cannons, and gore.
Through it all, he never lost awareness of Emma’s father, studying him with a steady gaze and occasionally prompting for more information.
Emma’s savory stew and warm bread disappeared quickly, and her apple tarts brought moans of pleasure. Soon enough, Emma rose and began fussing at her children about dishes that needed clearing and schoolwork left undone.
Her father, still sitting with Roberta in his lap at the far end of the table, spoke over her. “Robbie, didn’t you want a quiet word with your sister? It’s a warm evening, good time for a walk.”
“But won’t you want your coffee?” Emma darted a nervous glance at Rob, who had risen to his feet.
“I’ll make it and see to these rowdies.” Ellis removed his wife’s apron and gave her a little push. “There’ll be coffee when you get back.”
Rob knew an opportunity when he saw one. He soon had his sister in her cloak and out the door, his hand firmly attached to her elbow.
“Pleasant evening. Shall we walk by the river?” Her smile wobbled a little.
“We need to talk. You avoided me last night.”
A sheepish expression made her shoulders droop. “I didn’t want to speak with Da hanging on our every word.”
He couldn’t make out her expression in the gloom. Needing to watch her face, he dragged her out of the narrow lane and up the Market Street.
“Where are you going?”
“To the Willow. Ellis will keep your father occupied so we can talk.”
They found the taproom full and a few stragglers in the dining room. After a quick look around, he pulled Emma down the corridor without acknowledging the stares of staff and customers.
He pulled open the door to Da’s—Emma’s father’s—office and stopped so suddenly Emma bumped into him. “It looks exactly the same,” he muttered. The ledgers lay in the upper-right corner of a battered desk. A cup full of pens sat next to them. Candle sconces with fresh candles still hung at the four corners of the room, adding beeswax to the odor of wood and ink. A round table with two chairs remained in its place by the window.
“Of course, it does. The man likes things tidy.” Emma followed him without complaining, took a seat at the table, and flashed a bright smile, one a bit too forced for Rob’s peace of mind.
“What a joy to see you sitting there where you belong, Robbie,” she chirped.
“Cut line, Emma. What are you up to?”
Chapter Four
Emma blinked andarranged her features in innocent surprise. “I can’t think what you mean.”
Rob reached in his coat and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, slapped it on the table, and recited from memory, “Remember brother, you promised to come if ever disaster struck, and I need you. The time is now.”
He glared at her. “Disaster, Emma? Death, destruction, fire, plague, famine, flood…”
She sank back into herself, smile gone, brow wrinkled. “Not all disasters come on suddenly. Some creep up on us,” she murmured. “Have you looked at Ashmead? It isn’t the same as you remember.”
He tried to think what she meant. Rob had seen only two horses in the livery, and no customer had knocked on the door while he spoke to Ellis. Time was Corbin’s Livery would have had half a dozen horses on hand and more hired out any given day. Something in Ellis’s expression kept him from commenting on it. Walking to their house, there had been some boarded-up shops, others in need of paint. The village might not be as prosperous as once it was, but it didn’t appear to be on its last legs either.
“I can see Ashmead has come on harder times, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.” He leaned across the table toward her. “Emma, if you wrote that letter to bring me back here with some deluded idea I would stay, you’re sadly mistaken. My life is elsewhere. What do you want from me?”
She breathed in deeply. “I thought—That is, things just keep getting worse, failures leading to more. Ellis says it started with the will. He says less business from the hall started a spiral and—”
“What will?”
“The old earl’s.”
Rob needed a minute to digest it. “The earl is dead?”That means David is the Earl of Clarion. “How long has it been?”
