healing was to wrap his leg in an herbal poultice overnight, then remove it in the morning. He’s certain she will testify to his being there, too. She has no reason not to.”
“Why the hell didn’t he just tell you this?” Grey asked.
Beatrice sighed. “Because he’s Joshua, the proudest fellow this side of the Channel. God forbid anyone learn of his willingness to do almost anything to gain a wife . . . or that he’d turned to some questionable healer for his cure, even though the surgeons said they’d done all they could.”
“Damn it, Beatrice, why don’t you just tell all my secrets to His bloody Grace?” Joshua muttered.
“It’s better than seeing you hang,” Beatrice said.
“And understandable to a man as proud as you,” Grey said. “What about Maurice?”
“What about him?” Joshua stepped up to her to murmur, “What’s he talking about?”
She wanted to throttle Grey for that. “Sheridan thinks you might have killed his father,” she told her brother.
“You knew he suspected me of that, too?” Joshua shook his head. “Is that why you took Greycourt into your bed? Because you thought I was a double murderer?”
She rounded on him. “I have told you over and over that I seduced him. But you won’t believe me!”
“Because I know how men like him are.” He shoved the pistol into his coat pocket. “And you aren’t the type to do something so foolish on your own.”
“Stop painting me out to be a dissolute rogue!” Grey snapped. “Yes, she and I got carried away and went too far, but I mean to do right by her, whether you murdered my stepfather or not. She’ll be safe, I promise you.”
Joshua swore under his breath. “For God’s sake, what the devil do you chaps think I am—some sort of master criminal? I haven’t murdered anyone, and certainly not Uncle Maurice. Why would I? He was good to us.”
“But he was planning on selling the dower house,” Grey pointed out. “You could have decided to get rid of him once you learned that.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “This is absurd. I already told you Joshua and I were together all night.”
Grey looked uncomfortable. “What else are you going to say, sweetheart? He’s your brother.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you doubting my word?”
“I’m merely saying I wouldn’t blame you if you wished to protect him. It’s admirable, but you’re forgetting there are things he hasn’t accounted for. Like the matter of his having summoned Maurice here that evening.”
“I didn’t summon anyone,” Joshua protested. “Beatrice and I were here doing the books all night. I had no reason to call him here.”
“That’s not what my mother says,” Grey retorted.
“No surprise there.” Joshua leaned heavily on his cane. “Has it occurred to you she might have killed him? The woman has been widowed three times and managed to gain something out of it every time. Don’t you find that a tad suspicious?”
Grey’s eyes turned the color of arctic ice. “Now see here, you bloody arse, my mother would never—”
“That’s enough, both of you.” Beatrice stepped between them. It was time to put an end to this. As long as her brother kept provoking Grey, she couldn’t make Grey see reason. “Joshua, go inside. I need to speak to His Grace alone.”
“The devil you will!”
“You can watch from the window. It’s not as if he’s going to ravish me on the lawn in broad daylight.”
Joshua narrowed his gaze at Grey, who was still seething. “Make it quick,” he said, and went back in the house.
She pulled Grey far enough away to be sure her brother didn’t hear them through the open door. “Why are you doing this? You know he’s innocent. He might kill someone in defense of me—like Uncle Armie—but he’d never murder your stepfather for property. And even if you’re right and he was concerned about losing the dower house, your mother said Sheridan is considering selling it, so Joshua would have to kill him, too, without being caught. Then Heywood would inherit, and he’d want to sell it . . . The whole thing’s ludicrous.”
“Beatrice—” he began in that soothing voice that could be so condescending.
“I might be biased toward my brother, but I’d never cover up a murder for him if I thought he’d done it for money. I was the one to tell you I feared Joshua might be guilty of killing Uncle Armie. Why would I do that, then turn around and lie about his alibi for the second death? It makes no