“Who is now telling everyone that it is my red hair that attracted the gentleman to my side? Last year she was telling her acquaintances in private that my red hair was a curse, and the reason I would never wed.”
“Huh! Not so private, from what I hear.”
Gwen twisted her coverlet between her fingers, reluctant to admit the secret in her heart, but needing to state it aloud. “I … like him, Octavia. I really do. I want this to work out. He is handsome and kind and clever, but I never dreamed of finding such a match.”
A bony hand came out to tap her on the thigh. Gwen moved farther into the bed so that Octavia could sit on the mattress.
“Those girls at school muddled your head. You were always destined to make a great match with a wonderful man, but they convinced you that you are ugly. Do you know why they did it?”
Gwen shook her head, stricken by the thought it might be true.
“They envied you. You sailed through your lessons. No matter what you put your mind to, you do it well. Whether it be Ancient Greek, or needlework and music lessons. Your ability to learn intimidated them, and they bandied together to make nothing of you. It was cruel and meaningless because you’re a nice girl who would have helped them to succeed, too, if they’d only asked.”
“But, Octavia, Mama was a revered beauty while I have been mocked for nearly ten years.”
“And now a gentleman has seen what I see. A true original.”
In her heart of hearts, Gwen wanted to believe in moonlight and magic. That a decent, intelligent gentleman had noticed her. That she did not have to choose between an inferior marriage or being a childless spinster.
Gwen heaved a deep sigh. “I have to make this work. This is my chance to build a family.”
“That’s the spirit, Gwendolyn Smythe!”
Aidan staredat the note in his hand with a feeling of hope and dread. The cryptic contents revealed not which emotion he should pursue.
There has been a development - Filminster
Damn his brother-in-law. Why could he not state what the development was? Something that vindicated Frederick Smythe, or something that implicated him? Or, was the development completely unrelated?
Stretching his neck from side to side, Aidan decided to finish his breakfast while the servants prepared his mount. He had not slept well, and eating would assist him with his flagging energy.
Gesturing to their head footman, Thomas, Aidan made his request before returning to his eggs and ham. There had been much interruption to his routine of late because of the investigations they were doing into the other suspects. Ensuring he ate while he had the opportunity seemed well-advised, and the note had not indicated urgency.
Soon, he departed from the Abbott townhouse and headed to Ridley House. The butler, Michaels, who had savedhis sister’s life from a desperate servant, answered the door. Aidan had thanked the man for his service the day of the attack, but the upper servant was known to have a cantankerous temperament, so Aidan had not been able to read the older man’s reaction. This meant Aidan had been having some difficulty trying to decide how to behave toward the man since the incident earlier in August.
Members of the upper class were meant to mostly ignore the servants, but the Abbott family had developed a relationship with some of theirs over time—a natural consequence of being a rather personable family that appreciated their retainers. Out of politeness, Aidan did not presume that servants in other households would expect or welcome undue attention from guests.
But what if the servant in question has saved a valued sister?
“Michaels.” Aidan settled for acknowledging the butler with a brief bow of the head. Michaels stared back at him, unblinking.
Aidan gritted his teeth. “Is Lord Filminster home?”
Michaels nodded curtly. Standing aside, he allowed Aidan entry into the hall. Shutting the door, he proceeded to lead the way to Filminster’s study, his heavy tread smacking the floor as if a troop of soldiers were encamping.
Aidan followed behind, shaking his head at the enigmatic servant. Lily had mentioned that Michaels had been offered retirement in gratitude, but had chosen to remain on, so Aidan supposed he must enjoy his role in some manner that was unclear from his sullen demeanor. He found the man odd, but considering what Michaels had done for Lily, Aidan understood it was his lot to tolerate the awkwardness of their interactions for as long as Michaels saw fit to continue in his role.
Mayhap Michaels remaining in his post was fortuitous,considering the killer was still on the loose and the butler had proved to be a man of action when it counted.
Being shown into Filminster’s study, Aidan discovered Trafford was there, lounging in an armchair. He still thought the other heir was something of a pontificating fool with his elaborate coats, waistcoats, and collection of breeches, pantaloons, and trousers. However, it was certainly to the man’s merit that he had been consistently contributing to their murder investigation. Aidan conceded that Trafford had demonstrated persistence and loyalty these past two weeks, which meant Aidan had to begrudgingly acknowledge that there were hidden depths to the clownish friend.
Taking a seat in a faded armchair, Aidan stretched out his legs and turned to his brother-in-law who was seated behind his mahogany desk.
“Well, Ridley, are you going to brief Little Breeches here or not?”
Aidan squashed his irritation at Trafford’s languid demand. Despite his resolve to maintain his composure, he heard himself say, “It is Filminster, not Ridley.”
Trafford narrowed his eyes and tilted his head toward Aidan. “Is he not Brendan Ridley, my old chum from around Town?”
