Winchester lost his composure. “Nonsense.”
“How afraid you must have been.” George lowered his voice. “When you discovered that your daughter was at the station. Did you imagine her body torn apart by the bomb?”
“George!” he said as Effie gasped.
Instead, the earl went awfully silent.
“What a torture for you to think that your daughter was dead because of you.”
“Enough.” Tristan seized George’s arm and yanked. “You’re crossing a line.”
“You must leave.” Winchester’s voice lacked the anger it should have. He shivered, but Tristan doubted it was rage.
George didn’t move. “Have you already forgiven yourself? Do you blame yourself for the casualties? Tristan’s brother almost lost a leg because of you. And for what? So you could earn a few pounds? Was it worth?—”
“The bomb wasn’t supposed to kill or hurt anyone!” Winchester shouted.
Silence dropped. Only the sound of the grandfather clock chiming loudly in the room.
“Papa?” Effie put a hand on her chest. “What did you say?”
Surprise caused Tristan to stand still. He kept his hand around George’s arm.
Winchester ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I didn’t order anything, and I swear, I’m not involved with the anarchists. I only…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I heard about the possible plan of planting a bomb on one of Montcrest’s locomotives to blow it up when no one was around, but it was supposed to be a rumour.”
“You didn’t think to warn the police?” Tristan released George’s arm; anger spread within him like fire on dry grass.
“It was a rumour, nothing more.” Winchester’s voice quivered. “And the attack wasn’t supposed to be aimed at people. No one should have been hurt.”
“My brother could have died.” He could barely control the intense twitch in his muscles. Had he been in The Octagon, he would have found a partner and boxed until he collapsed. “Effie was there.”
“I know!” Winchester shook with rage. “That proves I didn’t take the rumour seriously.”
“But you didn’t know I was at the station,” Effie said in a shaky voice. “You thought I was somewhere else.”
“Effie.” Winchester took her shoulders. “Trust me. I didn’t think the anarchists were seriously planning a bombing.”
“You didn’t think!” His breath came out in quick pants. “Your duty was to warn the police, or me. You should have told me.” Darkness spilt in his vision, and his pulse drummed in his ears. “All those people…you could have avoided the tragedy.”
“I regret not having taken the threat seriously.” Winchester regained some of his composure. “But what happened isn’t my fault.”
George shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I think you heard about the rumour and understood Tristan’s company would be damaged and decided to stay quiet for that reason, not because you didn’t think the threat was real.”
“No, dammit!” Winchester closed his fists. “I would never do anything like that.”
“I don’t believe you.” Tristan was shaking with rage, too. “I’ve been kind to you so far. You refused to talk to me. You rejected my offer, and I made a new one. Not anymore. My brother might not be able to walk without a limp for the rest of his life. You put my brother’s life at risk. You almost killed Effie. I won’t forgive that.” Pulse drumming in his ears, he strode out of the room and didn’t wait for a footman to pull the door open. He ignored his carriage as well and walked along the pavement. If he didn’t go to The Octagon now, he would have a fit.
He ignored George calling him. Even Effie called him, but he kept walking.
