“If we’re asking frank questions, Phillip, I have one. When did it become your place to question my movements?”
“When you told Clarion that you intended to search for Gideon and your brother gave me permission to follow. You told me Gideon was dead.” He stabbed at a piece of game hen, glared at Brynn, and didn’t try to keep the hurt from his voice.
“I did not tell you that. Not precisely. Your father told us both he was dead. After your visit—and some time to think—it struck me as important to be certain.”
“Why Wales?” Phillip couldn’t keep from shooting another hostile glance at Brynn.
She raised her brows at the colonel, but he again refused to speak up. “We—I knew your father had holdings there.” There seemed no point in mentioning Morgan’s investigations.
“I still do. I don’t know much about them.” Phillip waved the thought away with a careless hand, drawing a growl from deep in Brynn Morgan’s throat. “I leave management to others,” Phillip concluded with full ducal hauteur.
“I wondered where he had been sent when he’d left Woodglen. Wales seemed a place to start. It is Colonel Morgan’s home. He knows it well, and I asked for his assistance.”
“You think Father sent Gideon to the mines?” Only the faintest drop in volume told Maddy the idea horrified him.
He had cared for Gideon, and he knew what their father was capable of. She seized on that, leaning across the table to touch his arm. “I regret not investigating long ago. It’s important to know.”
“Because he is oldest?” He didn’t voice his deepest fear, the cause of his obvious anguish, that his title might be taken from him or at very least tainted. Phillip was no fool.
“Because he is Gideon and we cared about him. I failed both of you after your father died.”
“So you planned to simply barge into my mining offices and demand information?”
“That would be one approach. However, Colonel Morgan’s brother is a mine owner and well acquainted with operations across Wales. We plan to begin there.”Do we?She wasn’t quite certain they had ever actually decided.
Phillip glanced from one of them to the other. “You might have asked me to help. I could have investigated my own operation.”
“From London?” Brynn demanded.
Red blotches crept up Phillip’s neck, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “My man of business—”
“You can’t know a business—know what really goes on—from a distance, Your Grace.” His pronunciation of the title gave it none of the respect due it. “You may find a visit enlightening.”
The duke swallowed hard and took a moment to control his emotions. “It is irrelevant now. I’m here. It will be easier if I ask the questions.”
“Perhaps,” Morgan said.
“What do you mean by that? Are you implying my people lie?”
“I’m implying underlings often tell lofty, titled gentleman what they wish to hear and as little of the truth as possible. Actual truth—all of it—may be in short supply.”
“But you trust your brother.”
Maddy caught the moment of hesitation before Morgan said, “Of course.” She wondered how long it had been since he’d communicated with the man.
Phillip sighed. “That’s it, then. We’ll visit your brother first.” He glanced from one to the other again. “Where you go, I go.” He plunged his fork into the potatoes.
Maddy felt tension seep away only to surge back up when Morgan spoke.
“Excellent plan, Your Grace. It will give you an opportunity to learn how your wealth is really made.”
Phillip, to Maddy’s everlasting gratitude, did not take the bait. Instead, he gazed at her, his open, earnest expression tearing at her heart. “Before we proceed, Madelyn, is there anything else I should know?”
She felt Morgan’s scrutiny, she was certain of it, but she refused to look at him. Now was the time to warn Phillip about the letter, to come clean, to warn him. She forced a smile to her face and lied. “Information you need? No. There is none.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Glenmoor carriage,newer than Clarion’s, had every comfort. A well-sprung frame, plush seats, clever pockets filled with every convenience for privileged passengers—it was all a woman could want. Except privacy. Except speed. Misery mounted mile after mile as the massive vehicle’s stately pace shattered Maddy’s nerves. Hills rising to Wales didn’t help. She longed to climb into the box and demand the coachman jump them—or get out and push if needed.
