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Castor did not say anything. Instead, he sat there drinking from his flagon in silence, just eyeballing her over the rim. Ivy decided to press him a little more, not knowing exactly what she was thinking yet, but wanting to see what he might say.
“I heard you were in the gardens,” she said.
“Who told you that?”
She smirked. “Castle gossip. You know how quickly it spreads.”
His grunt was non-committal, and he said nothing more about it. Her curiosity piqued, Ivy leaned forward and clasped her hands together.
“So, were you in the garden last night?”
“No, I was not in the garden last night,” he growled.
“Then, where were you?”
“It is not your business.”
Ivy scoffed. “It is as much my business as what I spoke with Fin about is yours.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “If you really must know, I met a young lady who works in the kitchens, and I spent the evening entertaining her,” he said. “Really, Sister, you should not listen to castle gossip. It is beneath you.”
She looked at him closely, a strange sensation starting to course through her. And she did not like that it was a feeling she had never known before. At least, not when it came to her brother. Doubt. Sure, he had plenty of faults and foibles, but she had never doubted him at his word before. But the inescapable fact was that her brother had just lied to her.
The next thought through her mind, though, was that she was taking Fin’s word over her own brother’s, almost by default, and she was not sure what she thought about that. But then, she did not know what cause Fin would have to lie to her. Why would he make up a story like that if it were not the truth? What would he stand to gain from creating a fiction such as that?
The other side of that coin was that her brother would stand to gain much by lying to her if he was, in fact, in the garden last night. Especially if Fin’s suspicions were correct and Castor had something to do with the assassination attempt. If he had indeed been meeting with the assassin, then he would obviously need to lie to cover that up.
That cannot be though. I cannot force myself to believe that is true. Castor could not have had anything to do with it. He would not do murder upon another person. Especially the Duke.
But he lied. She knew her brother well enough to know when he was truthful with her, and at that moment, he was not. She could see it in his eyes. But what could she do about it? And what was he lying about? She had to admit to the possibility that he wasn’t lying to cover up his role in the attempted assassination, but for something far more mundane than that.
There was just so much she did not know, and she could not make unfounded accusations. Nor could she completely force herself to believe that her brother was an assassin. Or at least, somebody who would hire an assassin, anyway.
“Now, I told you what I was up to. It is your turn, Sister,” Castor said. “What did you talk to the Scotsman about?”
“If you must know, I was asking after Gillian. I wanted to know if he had any news,” she said. “I was also asking him to deliver a message of well wishes and a fast recovery to her for me.”
The lie came so easily to her lips that she was almost ashamed. But she was impressed with her cleverness as well. She had to fight to keep from giving herself a pat on the back as Castor eyed her closely. He scrutinized her, seeking the small hint of deception. But then his eye slid away from her, and she knew that he had accepted her answer as factual, and she let out a silent sigh of relief.
His insistence in knowing what she said to Fin, though, was another potential red flag for her to pay attention to. Why was he so interested? Why did he want to know what she said? Was he worried about something? Was he concerned that she had let something slip about him to Fin? Why was he pressing her so hard about it?
“That is fine. Thank you,” Castor said as he turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him. “You’re dismissed.”
Wanting to get out of the office and away from Castor, Ivy bit back the scathing reply that sat on the tip of her tongue. It was not worth having an argument about him thinking he could dismiss her like common staff members. Instead, she got to her feet and walked out of Castor’s office, slamming the door behind her, just to irritate her brother.
As she strode back to her chambers, her mind was buzzing with a million different thoughts about her brother and whether he was or was not involved with the Duke’s attempted assassination. He had lied to her, that much she knew to be true. But was it a benign lie? The sort of white lie people told to avoid admitting something far more embarrassing? Or was it a lie that was more sinister and one he told to avoid admitting something far more appalling?
She hated to think that her brother could possibly be involved with these ghastly deeds. But in light of the information she had in hand right now, she did not know what to think. Nor could she definitively say that Castor had not played a role in the entire episode.
And that bothered her more than anything.
