“Look on the bright side,” Zeb suggested. “If you don’t inherit, she has no reason to stay married to you, and you can divorce one another like civilized people. What a rotten mess you have made of your life.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Bram snarled, and the pure childishness of it landed a punch that no amount of bluster could have achieved because it sounded like the big brother Zeb had loved when he was six.
“Ah, God,” he said. “Can we not do better than this? Can we just—”
He didn’t even know what to suggest. He wanted to sayI forgive you, but it wasn’t true and he didn’t know how to make it true. Maybe if Bram admitted he’d done wrong?
Pigs might fly.
“I’m sorry that what I said caused trouble for you,” he said. “It wasn’t my intent. But honestly, Bram, if you are unhappy with our estrangement or your marriage, you need to take a hard look at who is truly responsible and act accordingly.”
Bram considered him unblinkingly for a moment. “Well. Thank you, Zebedee. And…” He drew himself up. “I accept your apology.”
Zeb gave a moment’s consideration to beating his brother’s head in with a candlestick. On the whole, it didn’t seem worth the effort.
“Fine,” he said, and left.
He went back into the hall, wondering what to do now. Gideon and Jessamine had gone—
Gideon! Damn, damn, damn: he’d entirely forgotten, and he had no idea how much time had passed. He hurried to get his coat and slipped out of the house, heading for the stone circle.
Wynn’s refusal to take the motor out seemed a little more reasonable as he stepped outside. The mist was clammy and bitterly cold. It drifted over the grounds, making them ghostly. He didn’t feel entirely convinced it was a good idea to walk anywhere in this: the grounds were a circle two miles in diameter, which made for an area of—he attempted to remember what you did with pi—something over three square miles, probably. You could get dangerously lost in that if you couldn’t see your way, given the cold. And his reason for leaving the house was…well,tenuousdidn’t come close. He’d probably invented the whole thing, or was horrendously late, and would stand out here like a fool getting wet and freezing half to death. His shoes already felt damp again.
But he set off down the path all the same, through the trees. It was hard to judge time or distance in the mist, but he trudged on, mist tickling his cheeks and drenching his shoes, and after what felt like a very long time, he saw the stone circle come looming out of the dimness in a way which would gladden the heart of any Gothic novelist.
He marched up, more relieved than he’d have cared to admit to have found it, and called, “Hello?” His voice sounded oddlyflat and muffled, as though the mist cut off sound as well as sight. “You had better be here or I’m going to feel stupid.”
A shadow detached itself from one of the stones. “I am.”
Zeb felt a pulse of relief. “I did think you must mean the stone circle, but then I felt like some sort of secret agent. What the blazes are we doing out here in this stinking weather when Hawley is going to wake up at any moment?”
“Not being overheard,” Gideon said. “Did you speak to Wynn?”
“He said the mist is too thick to drive in, which I dare say, but surely we can’t all be trapped in the house. Can the chauffeur not go slowly? Or does he not have horses? I’m sure horses don’t wander off paths and fall into grimpen mires.”
“I couldn’t say, but it’s moot because Wynn’s instructed the grooms not to have the horses taken out. And I’ve been to the garage and the chauffeur isn’t budging either. Wynn has ordered that nobody goes onto the moor till the mist has lifted, and that’s all there is to it.”
Zeb stared at him. “But he can’t keep me here! Hawley will be up and about in an hour at most. Shit, shit, shit!”
Gideon’s arms closed round him. He was cold and damp, but so was Zeb, and the touch was at least an emotional comfort. He leaned in, pathetically grateful for this.
“Let’s not panic,” Gideon said into his hair. “How bad is this?”
Zeb attempted to think clearly. “Hawley will doubtless spill all the beans he can. I have no idea how Wynn will react. Bram will be awful.” He set his shoulders. “But, you know, it will onlybe awfulness. Unpleasant remarks and such. I suppose I can put up with that.”
Gideon’s grip tightened. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“But Hawley is a prick, so I will. The main thing is, it shouldn’t affect you. If Hawley knew you and I got sacked from Cubitt’s together, he would have mentioned it before now, so—”
“He may not know that,” Gideon said, voice hollow. “But Wynn does.”
“What? How?What?”
“It was how I got this job. He sought me out after he heard from Paul Ellison at Cubitt’s that I’d been caught up in a mess of your making. He said, specifically, that he was not going to ask what had happened, and that Ellison believed I deserved a second chance, so he wanted to offer me a fresh start.”
“Good Lord. Well, that was good of Ellison—a lot better than I’d have expected, actually—but why? Not why you deserve it, but why would Wynn clean up my messes?”
“I didn’t ask,” Gideon said. “I latched on to the offer with no questions and both hands. I’d been out of work for months, and with my brother-in-law—”
