Page 63 of A Slight Problem with the Wedding
One would think they had been gone a month and traveled to far off lands, but they had been gone no more than a few days and only to Oxford. But Ambrose was a devoted husband and father now, so traveling with Adela – since she would never leave their baby at home – required a nanny and a wagonload of infant supplies.
Now all of them were back and the house was a lively din.
Julius shut the study door behind them to avoid the noise, and then crossed to the sideboard to pour his brother a glass of port. “Here you go, Ambrose.”
He needed one, as well.
“Thanks, little brother.”
Julius chuckled as he poured his own drink. “I’ll be eighty and you’ll still be calling me that just to irk me.”
“Probably, assuming I am around that long to irk you.”
“Oh, you will be. Vexing me shall keep you thriving,” he teased.
“Well, I would not want to depart this life too early and miss all the excitement. Adela and I leave you to watch over Gory for a few days and look what happens.” They settled in matching leather chairs beside the hearth and Ambrose began to pepper him with questions.
Julius gave him a full account.
“That’s everything up to now, Ambrose. We’re hoping Havers and Barrow will have more answers for us tomorrow.”
His brother, always too astute, regarded him closely. “Is it really everything? I think you have left out something quite important.”
“Such as what?” Julius studied the remains of the port in his glass, noting how the firelight from hearth’s blaze caught the delicate crystal and enhanced the deep crimson of the wine. It brought to mind the caked blood he had washed off Gory that first night which was more of a brownish-red because it had dried on her skin.
“Does Gory know you are in love with her?”
Julius laughed. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes, to me,” his brother said with a nod. “You haven’t let her out of your sight for a moment since the murder occurred. Nor have you allowed Mrs. Quinn to move her out of your bedchamber. You do understand the consequences of her spending these nights in your bed, the two of you together without a chaperone.”
“I was guarding her. Nothing untoward happened between us.”
Ambrose arched an eyebrow. “But you would like it to happen.”
“Desperately,” he said with a bitter laugh. “However, she is betrothed.”
Ambrose drained the last of his wine and set the glass down on the small table beside his chair. “Betrothed to the very man who might have killed her uncle. It doesn’t count. You are going to do all you can to prevent that wedding from ever happening, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, but only because she does not love him. I would never interfere with her happiness if she truly cared for Allendale. Of course, this assumes he isn’t the killer.”
Ambrose shrugged. “I don’t suppose it matters now. After all that has happened, you know she is going to call off the wedding without need of prompting from you.”
“Yes, but she has not done it yet.”
“But she wants to.”
Julius nodded. “However, Havers does not want her inciting any suspects just yet. Gory, on the other hand, wants to hurl those cannonballs and lure the killer straight to her.”
Ambrose frowned. “Sounds like something she would do.”
“She is fearless. Usually. However, she saw something on the night of the murder that scared her. She wants to remember what it was, but at the same time, she is fighting to suppress it.”
“Understandable,” his brother said, pursing his lips in thought, “especially if it was Allendale she saw committing the crime. Well, she will end it with him whether he turns out to be innocent or not. What are you going to do once she breaks free of the betrothal?”
“Propose to her, of course.” He began to shift uncomfortably. “I told her last night how I felt about her, but she did not remember any of our conversation.”
Ambrose frowned. “Has she suppressed that, too?”
