you have to Harry, I want to be sure I’m doing it with my whole heart and that he is doing the same.”
“That is very wise. And you deserve nothing less.” Selina linked her arm through Beatrix’s. “Come, let us pretend we are members of Society for a while.”
Beatrix laughed. “We don’t have to pretend. Not anymore.”
At least not about that.
Though Thomas never took naps, he was tempted to lie down with Regan that afternoon. Staying up so late with Beatrix the night before followed by the wedding breakfast had combined to make him exhausted.
It was, however, a good sort of exhausted. For the first time in ages, he felt energized instead of drained.
As she did most days, Aunt Charity arrived in the late afternoon. Thomas met her in the drawing room for tea.
“Good afternoon, Aunt,” he said as he sat down with her at the small oval table that overlooked Grosvenor Square.
She poured the tea and added a touch of sugar, just as he liked. “How has your day been, dear?”
“You’ll be delighted to know I went to a wedding breakfast this morning.”
“Aylesbury’s son?” she asked in surprise. A smile brightened her features. “I’m so glad. How was it?”
“Lovely.” He was still thinking of the flirtatious conversation he’d had with Beatrix. “I didn’t stay very long.”
She nodded. “Wise of you. How did people react to your presence?”
He’d noted some looks of surprise, but then he’d mostly ignored everyone but Beatrix. “I only spoke with a handful of people, and they were kind.” To a person, they’d asked how he was faring and commented that he’d looked well.
“Brace yourself for the inevitable gossip that you’re looking for a new viscountess.” She sipped her tea.
“If there is anything you could do to quash such rumors, I’d be most grateful.”
“I can try.” She set her cup down, her brow pinching in apparent distress. “Speaking of rumors, I’m afraid I must broach a difficult subject. I visited with a friend earlier, and she heard that Bow Street is investigating Thea’s death, that it may not have been an accident.”
“Goddammit,” he breathed, his heart starting to race as his anger stoked. “How in the hell would she know?” His fury reached a boil. “Never mind. It’s her bloody mother.”
“Agnes Chamberlain?” Aunt Charity’s lip curled. “One of her children is to be transported for the crime of extortion and the other was a nasty person—a loathsome wife and mother. Why would anyone believe her?”
“She gave Bow Street ‘evidence.’” Thomas vaulted out of the chair and stalked to the hearth and then back again.
Aunt Charity stared at him in alarm. “What sort of evidence?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all horseshit.” His voice rose, and he had to suppress the urge to throw something as he’d done the other day. The entire situation was a disaster.
“My lord?” Baines asked from the doorway. “Mr. Dearborn is here for the remaining interviews.”
Hell, he’d apparently been too tired, or too distracted, to remember. “Summon Osbert and Miss Addy to the sitting room downstairs. Make sure Mrs. Henley is attending to Regan.” The housekeeper often supported the nurse when it was necessary and if she was available. She insisted on doing so because she adored Regan.
“Yes, sir,” Baines said.
“Oh, and Baines, I’d like you to sit in on the interviews. If Dearborn objects, I want to know.”
“Very good.” Baines inclined his head and departed.
“Is Mr. Dearborn from Bow Street?” Aunt Charity asked, her features etched in concern.
“Yes.” Thomas gritted his teeth and went to the window. He stared at the lawn in the middle of the square. “He interviewed the entire household except for a footman and the nurse. He’s come back today to finish the job.”
“Did he talk to Regan?” She lifted her hand to her chest, aghast at the prospect.
“Absolutely not, and he never will.”
“You poor boy. That horrid woman is torturing you from beyond.”
Thomas massaged his temple and pivoted from the window back toward his aunt. “That was my precise sentiment. I would dearly love to just move on.”
“Yes, of course. Can I pour you something stronger than tea?”
“No, thank you. You can talk to me of something other than this investigation or Thea or the mess that is currently my life.”
Aunt Charity did just that, and while Thomas didn’t completely relax, he did cease thinking about Dearborn and whatever might be going on during his interviews. But when Baines brought him back to the drawing room, all of Thomas’s agitation returned.
“Pardon me, my lord,” Dearborn said, holding his