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Chapter Twenty-One
Gerard seemed taken aback by the question, and swallowed whatever comeback he’d been preparing. Thomas was grateful. Yelling at one another over who-should-have-done-what would get them nowhere in the long run.
“The footman who vanished after the attack?” Gerard asked. “Why?”
“Was he the same footman present when Father was attacked? Whether he was or not, why would he flee the scene and then fail to return to give a statement over what happened?”
“Perhaps he was frightened, or more injured than he originally appeared,” Gerard offered. “It has also only been a day; he may very well make himself known tomorrow.”
“If he does, I shall be grateful. I have more than a few questions for him.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one, was he simply taking the same route back to Elvington Manor that father took by chance, where that group of thugs regularly lies in wait for unsuspecting targets?” Thomas’ voice darkened. “Or, did he know the bandits were waiting there, and he was paid off by someone else to take the carriage in that direction?”
“Paid off by someone else, as in, the Duke of Alderleaf?”
“I don’t know!” Thomas said. “Perhaps! Why are you so convinced it is the Duke of Alderleaf? Honestly, Gerard, this fixation of yours on one suspect will be what allows the true culprit to slip right through our fingers.”
Gerard’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he nodded. “All right, Thomas. Suppose you are right, and I have become unnecessarily fixated on the Duke of Alderleaf. I shall make every effort to keep a more open mind. However, I must ask that you not become so blinded with infatuation over Lady Evelina that you refuse to see the situation objectively.”
Thomas was about to bite back, but another wave of sudden dizziness came over him, and he instead put a hand to his head. His skull throbbed, and nausea rolled in his stomach. “Oh…”
Gerard was at his side in an instant. “Thomas? Are you all right?”
“I…yes…I suppose I should be taking care not to get myself so worked up. The physician who tended to me after the attack said I ought to go right to bed upon my return home.”
“Then, why didn’t you?”
Thomas gave him a dubious look. “You would have rather I kept this to myself, when an assassin may very well burst into our home this very evening and kill you in your sleep?”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “That is a little dramatic, even for you, don’t you think?”
“The way things have been going for the two of us recently, I fear it is not.”
Gerard hummed at that. Both brothers slumped slightly in exhaustion, out of words. A breeze blew outside, knocking against the window. It was difficult to see out in the dark, but with what little moonlight was available, Thomas took note that the vines creeping up the side of the manor had begun to wither with the cooling weather. Winter would be upon them before they knew it.
“It’s late,” Gerard said at last.
Thomas attempted to shake off his exhaustion. All it did was make him see stars. Even so, Gerard did not need to know that. “We never went over the books, Gerard. I want to at least have a look before taking my leave.”
Gerard was already shaking his head and pulling Thomas up from Father’s chair. “No, Thomas.”
“But—”
“You were just beaten within an inch of your life. The books will be there when you recover. For now, you must rest.”
Thomas wanted to protest, but as soon as he was on his feet, it took all of his focus not to sink against Gerard’s side in exhaustion. He nodded, though his head felt heavy and wobbly on his neck. “Tomorrow, then. We must go over the books in detail.” Another thought came to him. “And the footman. I want to know when he began working for us. What his background is, as well as any connections he may have to those who would do us harm. We get to the footman and we may very well get to the killer.”
“Yes, but that’s enough for now, Thomas.” Gerard hoisted Thomas’ arm over his shoulder, so that he could support Thomas as he dragged him out of the office. There was an odd edge to his voice, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “That’s enough.”
