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He put his hands on her hips, holding her, and she didn’t know for sure if he steadied her or himself.
‘I could not go back,’ he continued. ‘But I could not leave her be, either. If I put her from me, she would have other men’s children. If I kept her near, I wanted her in my bed.’
He turned and seized a near-empty glass from the table and raised it as if making a toast to the memory. ‘At first I saw her in a halo of sunlight and the world bloomed with the hint of her rose perfume. Now I hate the stink of roses.’ He turned his back to Melina, took a drink, thumped the glass back on to the table and continued speaking. ‘I don’t believe my recollection of her appearance is tainted— because as I think of her compassion, I see nothing. Her heart beat for herself.’ He uttered something from deep within that she couldn’t decipher. ‘She had very little care for our son, I suspect. She only kept him with her because if my father and I died, then Jacob would inherit and, likely, Dane would oversee things. She thought Dane much more gentle of heart than I was. He’d never shown her his true distrust. And I assure you, when he saw her put to rest, he could not keep the smile from his face. I had him by the throat before I knew it. We both understood the other, though.’
Warrington touched a marred spot on the mantel, tracing where the stone no longer matched the rest of the leaves. ‘I’ve had long enough to mull over it. With me dead, Dane would not be near enough to scold her sweethearts. She could be in mourning, cloistered with a bevy of suitable friends to ease her grief.’
Melina saw him pour more amber liquid into his glass and the bobble of his throat when he took another sip. She could feel the brandy’s warmth in her own body while she watched him. No woman of sanity would poison a man who appealed to the eyes as Warrington did. Even in his stained shipboard clothing she had been aware of him. He had the form of a lean Hercules. No, much better. She tilted her head to the side. ‘Don’t soak your memories with brandy and make things worse.’
‘I’ve told you my wife could have poisoned me. You know she had another man’s child and you think I’m making things worse?’ His voice lowered. ‘If she had shot me while I slept—would you have told me I must have snored and disturbed her rest?’
‘You could think of it every day for the rest of your life. It will not punish her. You will only torture yourself.’
He moved back to the decanter and filled his glass, a challenge in his eyes. ‘At this point, if a valet nicks my face shaving, I’m certain he is thinking how lucky I was to lose such a wife and that caused his shaky hand, and I blame Cass for the cut.’
‘You admit it?’
He nodded and gave a slight shrug. ‘She did enough while she was alive that I can feel justified blaming her for every storm cloud in the sky for the rest of my life. I saw Ludgate and his shaking hands and his movements. He didn’t act like himself, nor did he once look me in the eyes. He knows I didn’t father the child.’
He drained his glass. ‘It just jabs at me she has the last word. I cannot see the little chit without remembering. Yet, the child is innocent. Unaware of her circumstances. Born to my wife in my marriage. My property. To care for. And I can hardly bear to be in the same house with it.’
His lips firmed and his fingers clenched on the glassware in his hand. He walked to the mantel and stared at the picture over the hearth. ‘I’ve grown so distrustful I did wonder if Daphne would truly tell me everything. Perhaps she is more like Cass than I imagined. So earlier I sent Broomer to watch outside their home. He has coins and instructions to be quite friendly to any servants who might be leaving or entering the house. True servants—not ones like Broomer. Ones paid to be invisible and often so good at it their masters and mistresses don’t realise they are watched. And the employers often don’t understand the hint of information given in front of one maid is often shared with another who might have heard something else until a whole story is pieced together.’
A clattering sounded at the entrance and Warrington turned, listening.
‘I know the way,’ a female voice carried up the stairs. ‘I lost a bracelet and I had it when I was...’ In moments, Daphne rushed into the hallway.
‘I considered what you asked. And I...’ Daphne spoke as she crossed the threshold in front of Warrington. Her gaze stopped on Melina, froze, and Daphne took a step back. Her shoulders dropped, and her voice came out dazed. ‘Perhaps we should talk privately.’
