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“It’s been an interesting evening,” Alec said.
Baird could see the fatigue in Alec’s expression. Tonight clearly hadn’t been easy for him, either.
“You can’t just let him walk free,” Baird said quietly.
“It’s what my father would have wanted.”
“Alec, if you hadn’t caught on last week, he would have kept stealing. He didn’t stop because he felt guilty. He only stopped because you found out, and instead of coming clean then, he went into hiding.”
“If I press charges, it all becomes public knowledge. I’m trying to protect my clients and the company.”
“And who protects you, Alec?”
Alec smiled wearily at his childhood friend. “You do, Baird.” He drew a deep breath and straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Is it time for pudding?”
Baird and Alec retrieved the tray of bowls from the big refrigerator and carried the bowls of Eton mess to the dining table.
Everyone exclaimed over the scarlet berries, whipping cream, and meringue confection, and with the tiny mint leaf and sugared cranberry on top of each—the garnishes courtesy Mrs. Johnson—it was a most festive and delicious Christmas pudding.
After dinner, the first part of the evening was spent in the green drawing room playing cards, and then when Cara couldn’t stop yawning, Alec took her upstairs and stayed with her there. Ella, Frederick, and the aunts decided to watch a Christmas movie in the library. Uncle Frederick fell asleep right away, snoring softly in his armchair, only waking when the movie ended. Ella was aware that Baird had disappeared when Alec and Cara left, but she’d expected him to return for the movie. He never did.
Now at ten, the candles were being blown out and the house lights turned off. The aunts were upstairs. Frederick was in his bed. Ella went to the mudroom to get her jacket and discovered Baird was already there, getting the dogs ready for one last walk.
Baird looked at her and she looked at him, not knowing what to say. She was still upset at him, still in disbelief that he’d say such a thing—not just to her, but to anyone.
“Will an apology help?” Baird asked her stiffly, not looking or sounding the least remorseful.
“Do you dislike Cara so much?” Ella asked grimly.
“This isn’t about Cara. It’s about relationships and marriage. If you don’t yet know, I’m quite cynical about relationships and do my best to avoid attending weddings—I find them farcical.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Forty percent of marriages in the UK end in divorce. Even higher for second marriages.”
“But you were Alec’s best man.”
Baird made a rough sound. “Because he’s my best friend. I might be a cynical bastard, but he’s like a brother to me, and I’ll always be there for him, in good times and bad.”
“Marriage being bad for him.”
Baird opened the mudroom door. “Are you coming?”
She yanked her coat on. “Only because I need to end up at the cottage.”
His lips compressed. “And I wondered if your temper matched your red hair.”
“And now you know,” she flashed.
The dogs bounded out into the night and Ella shut the door behind her. “What is it like going through life so cynical?”
“Good. I generally win. In and out of the courtroom.”
“Lucky you.”
“But it’s why my clients come to me. It’s why I’m in demand. I fight for my clients, and I fight for my friends.”
“Does that include Cara?”
