The Unexpected Wife - Jess Michaels Page 0,78

was that. It had never happened to him on a case before. It was so very dangerous.

“Well, I do thank you again,” Owen said.

Gilmore arched a brow. “You want me to go, and I understand that. But we are not finished, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Owen asked, thoughts of Celeste fading a bit at the expression on Gilmore’s face. It remained calm, but there was a hint of something dark there. Angry.

“You suspect Abigail,” Gilmore said softly. “Now more than ever thanks to this mess about the book.”

Owen took a step closer. “Are we going to discuss how you are compromised, Your Grace?”

Gilmore’s jaw tightened. “I think that would not be wise. For either of us. But I know you count Abigail’s understanding of herbs and chemicals as a mark against her. Do you know why she does it?”

Owen shook his head. “I admit I don’t.”

Gilmore paced away. “Her sister died very young of a fever. She was bled, blistered and forced to vomit regularly. It was a terrible death and Abigail was scarred by witnessing her sister’s suffering.”

“How do you know that?” Owen asked. “I do not think you and Abigail have the kind of relationship where she would confide such a thing to you.”

“No, she would not,” Gilmore said. “But I have researched.”

Owen arched a brow. “All the wives?”

Gilmore said nothing, but his expression gave him away. Not all the wives. Just the one.

“The reason Abigail has an interest in herbal remedies and tonics is that she wanted to help. To keep anyone else she cared for from ever experiencing the horror her poor sister did. Her interest is admirable and should not be condemned.”

“Then what do you make of the note in her copy of the book?” Owen asked. “How do you suggest I explain that?”

Gilmore’s lips pursed as he went to the sideboard and flipped through Abigail’s copy of the book. He stared at the scrawled message in the margin. “The woman would never lower herself to write to me,” Gilmore said. “So I’ve never seen her handwriting. But I still have deep questions about whether or not she would write something like this. That is my explanation, I recognize it might not be yours.”

He set the book down and stood there, staring off into nothing for a moment. “Compromised. What a concept.” The duke shook his head. “And now I should go. I have kept you too long.”

Owen walked Gilmore to the door and they said their farewells then. He watched the duke ride away on his fine stallion and then returned to his office where he stared at the two books on the sideboard. His mind turned to Celeste. To what he could lose if he couldn’t resolve this and as swiftly as possible.

And he thought of what Gilmore had said about Abigail’s handwriting.

“He might not know what her handwriting normally looks like,” Owen muttered as he snatched up the book. “But I know one man who might.”

He could only hope that this new idea might get him closer to the truth. Closer to resolution for him…for Celeste. For all of them.

Chapter 21

Abigail was sitting in the parlor reading when Celeste and Pippa returned. When they entered the room, she looked up, smiling at them in greeting. “There you are! When Paisley said you rushed out, I was worried. Where have you been?”

“With Owen and the Duke of Gilmore,” Celeste said, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

Abigail set her book aside with a pinched expression. “Gilmore. I cannot understand why he would continue to involve himself in this mess. Has he not done enough?”

Celeste pondered for a moment telling Abigail that Gilmore had taken her side in the arguments with Owen, but decided against it. Their cantankerous relationship was not one she could take time to explore at present, and it would mean revealing Owen’s doubts about Abigail.

Right now she wanted to focus on something else.

“Have you ever heard of Rosie Stanton?” Celeste asked.

By the way Abigail’s cheeks paled and her gaze jerked away, the answer was clear.

Pippa caught Celeste’s hand and squeezed as Abigail pushed to her feet and walked across the parlor. As if putting distance between them could make this go away. “Where did you hear that name?” Abigail asked, her voice rough.

“Where did you?” Pippa whispered. “Because there is no surprise to you about it, no denial.”

Abigail was silent for what felt like a lifetime. Two lifetimes. Long enough that all of Celeste’s fears rose up in her chest