Page 80 of Lies in Little Sutherland
I raised my hands.“Don’t look at me.I didn’t believe it.”
That single eyebrow rose.“Not even for the past few minutes, when you’ve been sitting here wondering whether I strangled Kit with a belt before you came in?”
“Perhaps then,” I admitted.“You have to admit you were acting sinister on purpose.”
He sniggered.“Perhaps just a bit.”
He turned to his cousin.“What’s going on in your head, Kit?Who am I supposed to have murdered this time?”
When Christopher didn’t answer—because he was sipping on his brandy, probably for the express purpose of avoiding having to answer—I said, “Everyone from your grandfather and your mother to Doctor Meadows and Alfie.”
His eyes widened.“My mother wasn’t murdered!”
“But all the others were.”
“Not by me!”Crispin said.“Why would I murder Alfie, for God’s sake?Or Doctor Meadows?The man’s never been anything but nice to me.”
“He was there when you were born,” I pointed out, and he looked at me in silence for a moment.I could almost see the thoughts clicking through his head, adding up, one on top of the other, and as usual—he’s always been smart—it didn’t take long for him to arrive at a conclusion.
“I see what this is about.How long have you known?”
“I only found out about an hour ago,” I said, while Christopher confessed, “I listened outside Father’s study window that weekend in July when the story about Wilkins came out.”
Crispin nodded.“I thought you looked at me rather queerly when Philippa and I turned up.”
“You mean—” I looked from one to the other of them.“The two of you haven’t discussed this?”
Neither of them said anything, and I turned to Christopher.“You discovered that your cousin was your brother four months ago, and the two of you didn’t talk about it?Then, or since then?”
“There was nothing to discuss,” Christopher defended himself.Which was rich, if you asked me, and also entirely false.There was quite a lot to discuss, in my opinion.
Crispin must have agreed, because he snorted.“If I had known what you overheard, I would have brought it up, Kit.Don’t you think it’s something we ought to talk about?”
“No,” Christopher said.“The walls have ears, and you never know who might be listening.Besides, you left a few hours later, and it’s not as if there weren’t plenty of other things to figure out at that point.”
That was true.Wilkins had been dead, and there had been the question of what to do with little Bess, not to mention Crispin’s obsession with talking his father into buying the Rolls Royce Phantom.But?—
“It was four months ago,” I pointed out again.“It’s not as if you haven’t spoken since.”
“But that was about other things.And there was always something else that took precedence.First you met Wolfgang, and then Crispin proposed to Laetitia, and I wasn’t about to bring it up during the engagement party at Marsden Manor?—”
No, certainly not.
“And then you got yourself engaged to the bastard—” Crispin supplied, and I turned to him.
“It wasn’t a real engagement.And he wasn’t a bastard then.”
“He was always a bastard,” Crispin said.“You just hadn’t realized it yet.”
Christopher gave him an approving nod.“Quite right.And he tried to kill you—” This was me again, “—and kidnapped me, and then he kidnapped you, too.When was I supposed to have a heart to heart with Crispin about anything else?”
“Between those happenings?”I suggested, and Christopher threw his hands up.Literally.Brandy splashed everywhere.
“Bloody hell.”He eyed the spots on his trousers ruefully.“Fine, Pippa.It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss, all right.That sort of thing is much better kept under wraps.Once you say it out loud?—”
“It becomes real,” Crispin finished.“And I don’t think anyone wants that.”
Christopher shook his head.“I certainly don’t.I have no designs on the title.I’d have to get married and produce an heir if I were Duke of Sutherland.And I know what you said, Pippa, but you’ll have to excuse me.I have no desire to wed you and bed you just to keep up the succession.”
