Page 37 of The Highland Heist
They’d kept the conversation light during breakfast for Zahra’s sake, though Grace suspected the child could have handled more of the truth than poor Miss Cox. In fairness, Miss Cox already seemed discombobulated from sharing a room with Zahra. The little girl’s nightmares were notorious—something Grace and Frederick only fully grasped after Zahra became a more permanent part of their lives.
And as Grace fully sympathized with such fits, especially after having occasional bouts of anxiety after almost dying in the sand trap of an undiscovered ancient Egyptian tomb, when she’d awakened to the little girl’s cries, a sweet word here and there quickly put the dear one back to sleep.
Miss Cox clearly didn’t have a gift for children, because, as Zahra explained after breakfast, Miss Cox began to cry too.
To be fair, some of Miss Cox’s distress might be attributed to the chaotic events of the day prior and the unexpected responsibility of caring for a newborn. At one point in the night, Grace had entered the room to find all three—Zahra, Miss Cox, and the baby—crying in chorus. Grace quieted Zahra and took baby Thomas from Miss Cox, only for Lillias to appear moments later, her expression taut with exhaustion, to whisk the infant back to her own room.
It was quite possible that Lillias’ anger stemmed from a mixture of not sleeping, the residual turmoil of her relationship with Tony, as well as the disappointments of life. And perhaps some jealousy brewed beneath too, only inciting an overall switch between unfriendly and despairing.
It hurt.
Not so much because of Lillias’ accusations. No, Grace had lain in bed, praying through some of those hurts and came to understand them, in part. But the pain came more so for the realization that her sister had always sought happiness outside herself. The dresses were never modern enough. The furnishings needed to be updated. Grace was never proper enough.
She sighed. When her sister’s affair with Anthony Dixon went against her own character as well as convention, Grace had thought it must be love, but had it been something else? Mere passion? Or rebellion? What else could explain the speed at which they fell out of each other’s good opinions so quickly—for Tony to turn to gambling and Lillias to resentment?
After encouraging Zahra to remain in Frederick and Grace’s room so that Miss Cox could attempt a nap after breakfast, Frederick and Grace asked to meet with Lillias in the study. She arrived resplendent in a dark blue gown adorned with their mother’s jewels, her elegance marred only by red-rimmed eyes and a thin, brittle smile.
But Grace was beginning to understand that the sister and father she’d thought she’d known, were not the same in retrospect. The glossy-eyed view of an imaginative and naive child gave way to a little more clarity in hindsight. And she had to sort out where she fit within this new definition of her family.
“Bringing the reinforcements, are we, Grace?” Lillias glanced over at Frederick before she took a seat across from Grace. “Did I not give sufficient answers to your little inquiry last evening?”
“We are here tohelpyou.” She kept her tone controlled, but unlike anyone else in the world, her sister had some sort of power over Grace’s emotions that Grace didn’t fully understand. “Not fight.”
“Detective Johnson will be here this afternoon.” Frederick moved to take a seat beside Grace. “And he already knows that you lied about accompanying Miss Steen on her walk yesterday morning, so it would be wise to share where you were so you can provide an alibi for the time of your husband’s death.”
Lillias’ golden brows rose as she stared at Frederick, her bottom lip dropping ever so slightly from its frown. “She’s tricked you into following along with her little fictional fantasies, I see.”
Grace blinked as if struck, another blow of awareness rifling through her. She’d always known Lillias didn’t appreciate reading the same way Grace did, but her words were laced with anger.
“I fail to comprehend, Mrs. Dixon.”
Grace noted the formal address. Frederick hadn’t called Lillias by her first name once since their arrival in Virginia. Was it deliberate? A protective boundary, perhaps? Why?
“As I see it, there is no fiction here,” Frederick continued, his tone calm but unyielding. “Your husband has been murdered, and you are a suspect. If only it were a fantasy.”
Grace straightened, a flicker of pride sparking through her frustration. Defending his wife while dismissing her supposed flights of fancy—a true hero, by any novel’s measure.
“I’m sorry to repeat myself, Lillias, but before we can move on to other conversations, it’s important that you share where you were yesterday morning when Tony died.”
Lillias’ gaze lingered on Frederick before shifting back to Grace, her expression wavering between defiance and resignation. Though her chin did not falter from its raised position. Grace suddenly became very aware of the position of her own chin. Did she raise hers with such stubbornness?
“I don’t have to tell you.” But something in her gaze weakened. “And perhaps I’d rather face the detective than admit anything to the two of you.”
Though Lillias’ gaze held both of them, Grace noted that Lillias’ attention fell on Grace much more than Frederick.
“But we’re the ones who care about you, Lillias. The detective and police won’t.” Grace sighed. “And if you won’t tell us, I’ll have no choice but to contact Father. He needs to know anywa—”
“No!” The word burst forth, quick and sharp. “He can’t know—not yet.”
“He’ll find out eventually.” Her sister’s resistance didn’t make sense.
“Not yet.” The fight seemed to have left her. “I don’t want him to know yet.” She sighed and looked away. “It will break his heart.”
Grace frowned. Their father had never been particularly fond of Tony. Why would his death—
“The reason I don’t want him involved,” Lillias began, her voice faltering. She looked away, her bottom lip trembling before she squared her shoulders. “I’ve sold so many of Mother and Father’s heirlooms—to collectors in Harrington and Richmond. It couldn’t be helped, you understand? Tony’s debts, and my …” She swallowed, her voice steeling again. “I couldn’t be seen in outdated clothes when our family is still of a certain standing.”
Grace released her held breath. She’d entertained far worse scenarios: Lillias as the true gambler, an underground jewel thief, or—even more sensational—a murderess with a lover. But this? As tragic as it was, it seemed almost mundane.
