consign his aunt to perdition, Alec offered her a chair and took one himself.
“You will find this hard to believe, I know, but she was the one who…”
Maddeningly, there was a knock at the door. One of the footmen looked in. “Mr. Edward Danforth is here, Sir Alexander. He says it’s very important that he see you.”
“Damned right it’s important.” Edward pushed in past the servant. “All right, man, you may go. No, wait, bring me some sandwiches. I’m perishing from hunger.”
The footman looked to Sir Alexander for permission, got an exasperated nod, and left.
Edward stalked in and dropped onto the sofa. “Have you got any brandy? There’s nothing at… at my house, and by God I need some.”
Could he throw his cousin out, Alec wondered? Just take him by the collar and the seat of his fine tailored breeches and… No. He went over to the sideboard and poured them both stiff brandies. “Charlotte?” She shook her head.
Edward drank deep and let out a sigh. “I’ve gotten most of it out of Martha,” he said heavily. “I think so anyway. But I wanted to hear your story. I can’t trust her not to have distorted things to her own advantage.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ve had to sort through my memories to be sure. They gave me something…”
“Laudanum,” supplied Edward. In answer to Alec’s horrified look, he added, “Yes, just as Martha used to give Grandmama. Mixed in wine or milk. It is what she knows.” His tone was dry as dust. “Keeps her charge quiet when she gets… hysterical. I blame the drug for much of what occurred.”
“And what is that?” Alec hated the feeling of being on the outside of knowledge that Charlotte and Edward obviously shared.
“I’m clear now on what I heard,” Charlotte continued. She swallowed. “Lady Isabella killed Henry.”
“What?” He couldn’t have heard correctly, Alec thought. But Edward was nodding. “How could she possibly…?”
“She was the thief at my house, too. She had Henry’s cabinet keys and thought to take something to sell.”
“But…” Alec’s mind whirled. He grasped at the tatters of reason. “Begin at the beginning and tell me everything that happened, in order.”
And so she did, talking for half an hour, with one interruption for the arrival of sandwiches and the occasional interjection from Edward. Alec listened with mounting horror, particularly when Charlotte revealed the danger she’d been in, but also at the revelation of more mental disturbance in his family. Aunt Bella’s aberration was far worse than his grandmother’s. She had sniped and railed and thrown china; she’d been devious and selfish, though he could remember, too, flashes of gaiety that captivated a small child. Aunt Bella had gone so far beyond that line it was mind-boggling.
When Charlotte finished, there was a long silence in the library.
Edward went over to refill his glass. When he offered the decanter to Alec, he snatched it away and sloshed brandy into his own. Charlotte had glossed over her reason for fleeing the carriage after the opera, but the gap was easy enough to fill. Alec wondered if punching his cousin in the face would relieve his feelings. Possibly. But it wouldn’t solve the far larger problem of Aunt Bella. He drank, then topped up his glass once again. The three of them stared at each other. “And so it was all about money?” Alec said at last.
“Money to keep up her social position,” Charlotte corrected. “Lady Isabella sold all her own things…”
“My things,” Edward interrupted gloomily.
She nodded. “To buy the latest fashions and keep a carriage and… everything. And when they were gone, she formed the scheme of producing ‘antiquities’ for Henry to buy. But then, that wasn’t enough. So she thought to get Henry’s legacy for Edward.”
His cousin winced, drained his second brandy.
“Why didn’t you notice how much she was spending?” Alec asked him.
“I can’t keep track of everything.”
“You don’t know the revenues from your own estate?” Alec’s contempt leaked into the words.
“Of course I do! I just… I needed an income myself.” He shrugged defensively. “I thought Mama practiced economies…”
“Aunt Bella?”
“Well, she didn’t want me asking, did she? She threw a fit if I tried to discover anything about her expenditures. I hate brangling.” He reached for the decanter again, and Alec gave it to him. “Was I supposed to question the word of my own mother?”
“Apparently, that would have been wise.”
“Oh, it’s easy for you with your income and your damned…”
“What is to be done?” asked Charlotte in a crisp voice that cut through the