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Juliet left the room, her breath held deep in her chest.
Something was seriously wrong here at Whetland and she meant to find out exactly what it was. Evan hadn’t told her anything of value where his brother was concerned. And the earl had kept his mouth closed on the topic of his grandsons.
It was time to push for answers.
{ Chapter 17 }
“Evan—here you are.” Juliet stepped into the billiards room that was directly across from the great hall, closing the door behind her. It was the last place she’d thought to look for him.
If he hadn’t been with her, he’d been working, his head deep in stacks of papers in the study during the last five days.
Tightening the sash on her wrapper covering her night rail,she walked into the room, looking at the papers strewn over the green cloth of the billiard table, several balls set on top of stacks of paper. For the late hour, the room was well lit by a multitude of sconces, lamps, and the chandelier above the table.
In a waistcoat and a lawn shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Evan was hunched over, both hands gripping the edge of the table, his brow furrowed as he stared at a sheet of what looked like numbers.
An instant smile crossed his face as he looked up at her interruption. “I am here. It was the only place I could find that didn’t have a barrage of cousins coming and going and asking me a thousand questions.”
“Am I interrupting?”
He shook his head, standing straight, and he pulled his shoulders back, cracking in place his spine. “You are not an interruption—you are a welcome diversion.”
She walked around the length of the table, taking in the red rimming his grey eyes. He must have been staring at papers and ledgers since their ride in the morning.
That was good. The day had already made him weary, so getting answers out of him should be easier. Though she wasn’t about to tell him what Ness had said about Gilroy. Not yet. The one time she had even broached a hint of speaking ill of Gilroy, Evan had snapped at her, slamming closed that vein of conversation.
She would have to try different tactics, since forthrightness where Gilroy was concerned wasn’t the best option.
He turned toward her, his hands running along his lower back as he stretched. “If you were looking for me, I hope that means you missed me sneaking into your room?”
“I did, actually.” She stopped in front of him, her fingertips playing along the smooth of the table’s green felt. “I sat with Ness for a while, and then your grandfather, but I left him an hour ago as he was getting sleepy.”
“I’m sorry, I lost track of all time going through these papers and correspondence after dinner.”
She glanced across the multitude of stacks of papers on the table. “Gilroy doesn’t help you handle the tasks of the estate?”
“He is supposed to.” Evan sighed. “But I find sometimes the more work I leave him with, the more work I have to do when I return.”
“He is not good with managing the estate?”
Evan shrugged. “He is good at carousing with our associates. Getting soused and making ill-gotten deals. When it comes to the actual terms of agreements, details oftentimes fall through the cracks with him.”
Her fingers tapped onto one of the sheets of vellum closest to her. “That must be frustrating. It’s all about the details when dealing with numbers.”
“Aye.” He waved his hand in the air, dismissing the mess in front of him and then motioned to her. “Come, let me look at your arm to make sure it has started healing.”
She stepped closer to him, untying her wrapper and letting it slip down her bare shoulder before lifting her right upper arm toward him.
He unknotted the tie of the bandage and started to unwrap the strip of linen. “How does it feel?”
“Itchy, but I can move my arm now without stabs of pain.”
He nodded, his stare centered on the flesh he uncovered. The last of the linen free of her arm, the tips of his fingers ran along the long gash in her skin. “It’s not overly scabbed and it doesn’t seem to be building any pus. Always a good sign.”
Juliet fixed her gaze across the room on the wide rounded stone that curved under the window to make a sill. She didn’t care to even look at the bloody scab across her arm.
“Whatever will you tell your future husband?”
Her look swung to him, his face only inches from hers. “What?”
