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Chapter Forty-Five
Gerard’s face froze, briefly, upon seeing Thomas at the door. He offered a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Well, don’t you look a poor state.”
“Don’t,” said Thomas wearily. “May I come in?”
“Ah—yes. Yes, obviously. But do forgive the mess.”
Thomas didn’t care about messy apartments. His life was messy enough these days, it was hard to focus on minutia like that. He was about to say as much to Gerard as he stepped inside the bachelor pad…and saw that it looked as though it had been ransacked.
“Gerard,” Thomas said, throat going dry. “What happened? Did someone make an attempt on your life as well?”
Gerard, who had gone to pour them both drinks, looked briefly confused…then he laughed. “Oh, Thomas, you jest.”
“I don’t. It looks as though someone has come in and turned your apartment upside down. Did they take anything? Was there a fight? If there was not, what on earth has become of your staff, that they would allow things to reach this level of disarray?”
Thomas said all this as he surveyed the space, which had been so neat and tidy during his last visit, but now truly did look as though it had been destroyed by a gang of thieves…or assassins, as was more likely given their recent shared life events. Clothes were tossed all about the furniture. Books and papers were spread out in haphazard piles across the floor, like a heavy wind had come in and blown them right off the shelves. Every last dish and glass was out and stacked in toppling towers atop the table. There was glass on the ground, too, from what looked like a crystal goblet that had shattered.
He bent down and picked up one of the uneven, crumbling shards, careful to avoid cutting his fingers as he examined his distorted face in the reflective material.
“You really are serious, aren’t you?” Gerard said upon Thomas’ reaction. He sighed. “No, Thomas. But…perhaps you should have a seat.”
Thomas looked away from the piece of now-useless crystal, balanced precariously between his thumb and index finger. One little shift the wrong way, and he would draw blood. “What is all this, Gerard? This…this worries me.”
“As I said, Thomas, please, sit.”
Reluctantly, Thomas did so, retreating to the little sitting area to wait while Gerard finished pouring their drinks. He had to shove a stack of vests off the cushion and onto the arm of the settee to make room. Who knew Gerard owned so many clothes?
“Here,” said Gerard absently, returning with the drinks and passing one to Thomas. He accepted it without protest, and took a small sip.
Gerard did not sit down. Instead, he shifted his weight, seemingly as though he was debating between sitting or remaining upright and pacing his sanity away.
“Gerard,” said Thomas, setting the drink aside and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, “what is the matter?”
It seemed Gerard had decided not to sit after all. He looked down at Thomas, pain in his eyes, before looking away at the far wall, where a portrait of their parents hung over a decorative fire place. Thomas felt a spark of fear that Gerard had somehow learned the truth of his parentage, and that was why he was upset, and his apartment looked as if it had been turned inside out. But such was a groundless assumption—based more in Thomas’ own paranoia than any grounded facts.
“I’m leaving London,” Gerard announced after a long moment.
Thomas went very still. He hadn’t been expecting that. But… perhaps he should have. “Is this because of the attacks? What am I asking, of course it is, you’ve been relentless about pushing the idea at me, after all. But I thought you were not worried for yourself?”
“I’m…not,” said Gerard, shaking his head slowly, still not looking at Thomas. “It’s just all become rather overwhelming. I am in need of some time to clear my head.”
That, Thomas could understand. He had felt similarly upon his return to London following Father’s death. And now, with what had passed between himself and Lady Evelina that very evening…
“I will go with you,” Thomas heard himself say.
Gerard looked at him, finally, surprised. An intense frown followed. He looked like he was thinking of a lot of things all at once. “What has brought about this change of heart?”
Thomas swallowed. He did not really want to drudge up all that had gone wrong with Lady Evelina again, nor inform Gerard that he had once more barged over to Alderleaf Manor, all consequences disregarded.
But Thomashadcome here with the very intention of drowning his sorrows over Lady Evelina alongside Gerard. If he couldn’t talk about this to his brother, well, where else was he to turn?
“You will not like where I was this evening,” Thomas began, and relayed the whole encounter, from running into Lady Diana in the garden, to meeting Lady Evelina in the shed (with the scandalous details withheld, of course), to that odd encounter with the Constable on the street afterwards.
Gerard listened intently the whole way through, nodding every now and again, his face growing graver with each passing line.
Near the end of his retelling, Thomas asked, “Who precisely did you speak to confirming Edwin Martin’s employment, by the way? The Constable said they had traced him to a small town in the countryside.” A realization came over him, and he sat forward, suddenly excited. “In fact, if you are able to recall the name or the face of the individual who lied to you about Martin working for Alderleaf Manor before coming to work for us, that may very well be enough to point the Constable in the right direction!”
Gerard was already shaking his head. “I do not recall the name of the person I spoke with, Thomas.”
