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Alex peered over to see what was so interesting. “When’s it date from?”
“According to the notes, 1821, but look at the names of who was married in the hall’s chapel.”
“Charles and Timothy,” Alex read where Dara was pointing. “Bloody hell—I know the Redbourns have always been a bit of daring side, but marrying two men here is something else.”
“Says here that it was Samuel who officiated.” Dara chewed the inside of his cheek. “I wonder why they didn’t include the surnames.”
“I imagine if that book got into the wrong hands it would be damning enough without further identifying the grooms.”
Dara’s expression suggested he thought it was more than that. “There’s been a few things crop up around a Charles and a Timothy from this period, I can’t help but think there’s more behind it.”
“Such as?”
“Charles was the 8th Earl, and he was said to have fled overseas after shooting Captain Timothy Thorne in a duel. Then he was lost at sea on his way home.”
“And here you have two men of the same first names getting married,” Alex said, wondering where Dara was going with this. “I suppose it could be coincidence.”
“I’m not a fan of coincidences, not when comes to the Redbourns. That goes doubly when it involves the eight and nineth earls as that pair were a special breed even when compared to the others.”
“Trouble, were they?”
“Samuel’s reputation was as a Hellcat, and he took it so far that the local church refused to intern him or any of his descendants in the church crypt.”
Alex laughed. “Sounds like they were fun. Were they really so bad or was it just the society of the time frowned on their activities that wouldn’t be seen as so bad today?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure if Ben started summoning demons today the average member of Joe Public might think it a bit much. And that’s the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Samuel.”
“Ben had his own reputation as a bit of a modern-day rake in his younger years, but if he was capable of spiriting up a demon, his agenda wouldn’t be the hot mess it is.”
Dara took back the journal. “Very true. But I think this Charles and the Timothy are the same ones who were duelling five years before on a foggy common.”
Alex hadn’t rubbed shoulders with many historians but as a group he wouldn’t have thought they were the type to make such bold statements. “So you think Charles Redbourn faked his own death, handed the earldom to his Hellcat son and came back later to get married? It seems a bit… far-fetched.”
“I stopped worrying about things being far-fetched once I started working here. Samuel didn’t strike out as a Hellcat until five years after he became the earl, in the interim there’s no evidence of him being anything but the usual member of the Ton. But in 1821 he starts with the wild parties, and I don’t think it is a coincidence that a Charles Bentley takes up residence at the hall alongside his good friend Timothy Hope.”
The evidence was circumstantial, but Alex could see why Dara might be thinking the way he was. “Would you stake your professional reputation on it?”
“I wouldn’t go that far just yet, but the last time I had a hunch like this we ended up with aSecret Historiesspecial with the 1st Earl of Crofton having married a man pretending to be his sister.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I reckon with a bit more digging I could find more evidence.”
“It’s not as if Crofton Hall is a stranger to notoriety.”
“That’s still the case. Now we’ve a Hollywood A-lister hiding out here—it seems very in keeping with the rest of the history.”
Dorian had been plaguing his thoughts all morning, and while it wasn’t a surprise Alex would be preoccupied with the agreement he’d made, he was usually able to put up a block, but now he was beginning to wonder if he should doubt his sanity. He’d transferred the money and had moved his parents into a hotel and had a structural engineer and builder on site with a plan on how to put things right. He couldn’t back out now, but he could do with talking to someone who might help him survive the next three months without going crazy.
“Actually, Dara, I wondered if I could talk to you about the Dorian situation.”
Dara closed the journal and placed it on his desk. “Is there something bothering you? You’re helping him as well, aren’t you?”
“Not bothering me as such, more I think I might have got myself into a bit of a pickle, and I could do with a friendly ear.”
Dara motioned him to sit. “Take a load off and I’ll break out the emergency caramel brownies.”
“You have emergency brownies?”
Dara chuckled. “You’ve met Chris… lovely bloke but gets a bit dippy when low on blood sugar. Not that it’s easy to tell the difference.”
Alex sat and accepted a small plate onto which Dara placed one Mrs Weather’s finest creations. “Compared to what I’ve got myself into I think Chris is going to look a paragon of stability.”
