Page 73 of A Scandalous Bargain
“It certainly seems an ordeal,” Dearborn said, frowning. He looked at Thomas. “You mentioned a penknife. We didn’t find that in our search. Would you mind if I look again?”
“You won’t find it. I’ve searched everywhere.”
Dearborn grimaced. He opened his mouth but hesitated before asking, tentatively, “Does this penknife actually exist?”
Aunt Charity drew a sharp breath, and Thomas wiped his hand over his face. “Yes. It was a gift from her father years ago. The handle was ivory with her initials—DC—carved into a design. Her mother knows of its existence, but I can’t produce it for you. I’ve searched everywhere, including her chamber.”
The lines crossing Dearborn’s brow deepened. “Why would you search her chamber if she attacked you with it?”
“Because I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going mad, if you must know. When you live with someone like her for years, you sometimes begin to doubt your own sanity.”
Dearborn blanched and tipped his head down as he scribbled a series of notes in his book. Aunt Charity gave Thomas’s arm a squeeze before letting him go.
At length, Dearborn closed his little book. His features tight, he replaced the book and the pencil in his coat. “After I conduct my search, I’ll be on my way. It may be that we return to search the entire house. I’ll send word if that’s the case.”
“Why are you continuing to pester him?” Aunt Charity demanded. “Can’t you see he’s been through hell?”
Dearborn turned a frosty stare toward her. “Lord Rockbourne hasn’t been truthful, and we’ve found ample motive for him to have pushed his wife. Her death seems to have been a convenient and welcome happenstance. It is my duty to investigate how it occurred. That it causes unpleasantness is unfortunate, but I’m sure you’ll agree that a woman’s death is even more so.”
Aunt Charity glowered at him but didn’t respond.
The constable inclined his head toward Thomas. “Forgive me, my lord. I will be as quick as possible in my search.”
“Baines will supervise and provide any assistance you require.” Thomas moved to the door and saw the butler lingering just outside. He gave Thomas a look of sympathy. “You heard?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. You continue to have my unfailing support, my lord.”
“Thank you, Baines. Please accompany Mr. Dearborn to our private sitting room as well as to Lady Rockbourne’s chamber and the balcony. The garden too, I imagine.”
Dearborn joined them outside the drawing room. “I’d also like to search your chamber.”
“Fine.” Thomas waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve nothing to hide from you.”
“Except what you already hid—and the name of the woman who visits you. I wonder, should I reinterview the household to see if any of them recall her name?”
Bloody fucking hell!He tried to remember if Regan knew Beatrix’s name. She had to. Had she shared it with her nurse? He wasn’t going to ask. It didn’t matter. He never should have expected her not to say anything. She was a child. No, the truth was that he shouldn’t have exposed her to Beatrix at all. It was unseemly. Even if Beatrix was the kindest, most charming woman he could hope for his daughter to meet, particularly after the horror that was her mother.
“Do what you must,” Thomas said through clenched teeth.
Dearborn turned and departed with Baines.
Stalking back into the drawing room, Thomas went straight to the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. He wished for something more potent—gin would be perfect. His hand shook as he tossed half the contents down his throat.
“I’ll take one,” Aunt Charity said from behind him.
He set his glass down and poured another for her. Turning, he handed her the brandy, then picked his up to finish it. Now he wanted to go hit another tree.
Aunt Charity sipped her drink. “I’m worried. Who is this woman? You said you didn’t have a mistress.”
“I don’t. It’s as I said—she’s a friend.”
“Who visits you late at night? Why on earth does the nurse know about her?”
Thomas clapped his empty glass down on the sideboard. “Because Regan has met her. Only Regan.”
“How long as this been going on?”
“It doesn’t matter. It isn’t ‘going on’ anymore.” He didn’t realize how much that devastated him until that moment. Beatrix had been a beacon, a tether holding him to earth, from the very moment Thea had fallen.
“I’m sorry to hear it. We can use all the friends we can get.” She lifted her glass in a silent toast.
Thomas could drink to that. So he poured another glass of brandy and did just that.
