Page 86 of Return of the Viscount
She straightened up, as if it were weak to lean against one’s own husband. “We must talk to the head groom and the stableboys.”
“I’m sure Talbot already is. But I imagine whoever did this took care not to be seen.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said, her chin jutting forward defensively. “And yes, Oliver could have done this, or had someone do it. But why? He certainly knows you don’t stand between him and control of his money, whereas someone else might believe you’re starting to influence Oliver too much.”
“True, but perhaps this person thinks I’m beginning to controlyou.” He held up both hands before she could speak. “But you could be right. Perhaps.”
The hope on her face was almost painful to him. He could only imagine how it would feel if people assumed something terrible about his own brother, Allen.
Michael certainly didn’t want Appertan to be a villain. Or was that his own guilt talking? Regardless of Cecilia’s forgiveness, Michael still felt responsible in some ways for Appertan’s plight. Consequently, was he trying to help the young man too much, just like Cecilia was?
“I know you’ve spoken to some of Oliver’s friends,” she was saying with animation. “There are so many others who might want to keep a hold on Oliver’s old free-spending ways.”
“I think you were right last night. We need to talk to your brother. And though you may wish otherwise, I plan to be with you. He’s intelligent, and certainly not a fool. If there’s manipulation involved, let’s see him try it on the two of us.”
Cecilia took a deep breath, then let it go. “Very well.”
“Good,” Michael said, leaning back on the sofa. “Shall we try to catch him before he leaves?”
She nodded, beginning to stand, but Michael didn’t release her hand.
“Send one of the footmen, my sweet.”
“I feel like such a prisoner,” she said in disgust. “I know it’s only been days, but I can’t remember what it feels like to walk my own home in freedom.”
“And now I have to be just as cautious,” he said. “Are you glad to have company?”
She frowned at him over her shoulder as she went to the drawing-room door. When she returned, he drew her into his arms and simply held her. Soon, he wouldn’t have this, only his memories. He understood everything about her now, the doubts she’d overcome because of her mother’s neglect, the trauma of her brother’s death, and her self-blame. Yet she’d risen above it all, becoming a wise, good woman who loved her brother regardless of what he’d done.
Michael wanted her to come with him to India, but was that fair?Hecould be the one to make the choice, to give up the career that gave him the most fulfillment and the pride of being an independent man. He could stay here as Cecilia’s husband, with little to do for his small family manor and no way to provide for his wife in the life she was used to except through her own dowry, however much supporting the estate had left of that.
Michael would be ... a shell of a man, dishonorable. He knew the truth of guilt now. He was not used to feeling like a failure, but he could no longer deny the mistakes he’d made. He had to support his wife and family, and the best way was in India. His estate simply did not yield enough revenue on its own.
He would never force her to follow the drum, after what she’d experienced as a child. So they’d live separately, except for a brief month or two each year.
And his own child, if she conceived? Michael would barely know him or her.
Cecilia spent an hour in the drawing room with her husband, awaiting Oliver. Her brother had been taking a bath in preparation for the evening and agreed to give them a half hour of his time with great reluctance, if the footman Tom’s hesitant explanation could be understood.
Cecilia had wanted to pace her frustrations away, still full of nervous energy that her plan had caused Michael injury. But he had drawn her into his arms until her head settled on his chest. They rested together for long minutes. She should not feel peaceful, but in that moment, she did, and looked up at him in wonder. He kissed her gently, over and over again, soothing her until she thought she could do this forever.
“You don’t look like you need to talk to me.”
Cecilia jumped and turned to see her brother standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, glowering at them.
“You made us wait,” Michael said simply. “We’re newly wed—what else should we do?”
Oliver grimaced and turned as if to go.
“No, Oliver, please come talk to us,” Cecilia called. “This is so very important.”
He trudged toward them like a martyr, taking the seat opposite their sofa, with a low table between them. He couldn’t seem to sit still, crossing his lower leg over his knee, then changing his mind, restlessly lacing his hands together over his stomach, then playing with the fringe that decorated the armrest. And through it all, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She studied him, feeling a sudden calm come over her. He was in trouble, and only she could help him. Something had changed for him these last few days, and this restless nervousness of his was only a symptom. “Oliver, you know someone has been trying to harm me.”
He sighed. “I didn’t want to believe you at first, but now ... the evidence is convincing.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
