A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,122
report to the Admiralty from time to time when in port throughout the duration of the war with France. Whether it was merely a brief fling or an affaire de coeur didn’t matter. Either way, Lord Gage had still been unfaithful to the woman he professed to love, and I knew my husband well enough to know that he would see it as a betrayal of the worst kind. All the good that had been done during our most recent visit to London, all the strides that had been made to heal the rift between father and son, and reconcile my father-in-law to my place as his son’s wife, would be undone.
“I told Mother you would notice,” Henry stated, his lips curling in a self-deprecating smirk. “I suppose I can’t blame you for being unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy,” I protested, swiveling to press my left hand to his arm. “Not with you, in any case,” I added for the sake of honesty. “If ever I should have dreamed of choosing a brother-in-law, well, I don’t think I could find one I like better.” I offered him a tentative smile. “But as for my father-in-law . . .” I scowled. “I can’t say I’m best pleased with him. Or your mother, for that matter.” I sighed, my shoulders drooping. “But I suppose wishing away their dalliance would also wish you out of existence.” I glanced up at him. “And I don’t wish that.”
His eyes glinted with gratitude, and I realized why it had taken me so long to perceive the resemblance to Lord Gage. While my father-in-law’s gray eyes were so often sharp and critical like cold granite, his mouth twisted with scorn, Henry’s features were softer, his eyes kindled like graphite warmed in my hand, ready to sweep across the page.
“How long have you known who your father is?” I asked, suddenly conscious of what a burden this must be for Henry.
He tipped his head back to look at the sky. “Since I turned twenty. Mother doesn’t believe in keeping secrets from the people whom they affect, so she told each of the younger four of us who our real fathers were when we reached that age. Not that we didn’t already know we were conceived on the other side of the blanket, or have our own suspicions about our parentage, but she explained it to us once we were of sufficient age that she believed we could accept it.”
“Does Lord Gage know?”
“Oh yes.”
“Have you met him?”
His jaw tightened. “Once. He didn’t seem much interested in repeating the experience.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. “I often think he feels the same about me, and he’s not much more welcoming of Gage either.”
He turned to meet my gaze, his own hurt tempered by whatever he saw reflected in my eyes, and I wondered if perhaps I’d revealed too much.
I dipped my head. “Then, considering your mother’s policy about secrets, I must presume it’s Lord Gage who refuses to tell Gage about your connection to him.”
His brow furrowed in displeasure. “He made me promise not to say anything, and I agreed. Though I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could recant that promise. In truth, I don’t know why I even abide by it,” he muttered almost under his breath.
“Because you have a streak of honorability running through you as wide as the English Channel. The same as your brother.” I tipped my head coyly. “I did observe that similarity between you earlier, even if I didn’t note the rest.”
He grimaced. “Which recalls me to my strife.” Leaning forward, he balanced his elbows on his knees, contemplating the ground.
I waited as he argued with himself, recognizing that whatever he knew that he didn’t want to confess must be serious indeed. And it must pertain to someone he loved.
Exhaling harshly, he raked a hand back through his auburn hair as he sat upright—a mannerism so like Gage that I couldn’t help but smile. But his words wiped any trace of amusement from my face.
“You suspect the body from the crypt belongs to Renton, don’t you?”
“Why do you say that?” I countered, wondering how he’d come to this conclusion.
“Because I spoke to Tait, and I know Renton had sandy brown hair and a chip in his tooth. It stands to reason that if the body isn’t Helmswick, then it’s probably this other fellow.”
His gaze was direct and deathly earnest, and I decided that if I could trust him enough to be alone