A Wicked Conceit (Lady Darby Mysteries #9) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,49

and frustration that had been festering inside me for weeks. “You mean, whether it would be better to know if I had honored the promise you extracted from me, never dreaming I would be forced to keep such a secret from the man I love for over eight weeks?” I bit out in a low voice.

Henry seemed to grasp how furious I was, for he edged back a step. “You haven’t told him yet, then?”

I was perilously close to swatting him like I might have done to my brother, Trevor. I supposed in that regard he was already acting like a proper brother-in-law. “No.”

“I know I put you in an untenable situation, and I’m sorry for that. Had I known I would be escorting my brother to . . .” He broke off, correcting himself before continuing. Though I didn’t know why he was so hesitant to share Lord John’s location. It wasn’t as if we were going to chase after him or that he’d be charged with anything if we were able to drag him back to Scotland. “Abroad, I never would have asked it of you.” The genuine contrition softening his features, and the marked similarities to my husband that I could now see because I was looking for them, were all that kept me from raking him over the coals.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You need to tell him. Tonight,” I insisted, though my stomach twisted in knots at the prospect. “Then we’ll simply have to face whatever the repercussions are.”

I was referring to Lord Gage’s subsequent reaction when he learned that Henry and his mother, the Duchess of Bowmont, had deliberately defied his wishes by telling his legitimate son, for Gage was certain to confront him about it. Lord Gage had threatened to reveal certain sensitive secrets he possessed about the duchess and her family if they ever told Gage, and I knew from experience how ruthless my father-in-law could be.

However, I was thinking about the repercussions to my own marriage. I turned my head to the side, staring unseeing at the flow of guests moving along the corridor between the ballroom and the dining room. Whether they glanced our way in interest I didn’t note, being too absorbed in my own concerns over what my husband’s response would be.

“He’s going to be angry, isn’t he?”

I nodded. “Lord Gage has not been the best of fathers. But Gage always believed that, at the very least, he was faithful to his mother. Whom Gage adored.”

But Henry seemed to realize that wasn’t the only thing making me so tense. “I’ll do what I can to shield you. He need never know you know.”

I smiled sadly at him. “I can’t lie to him. If even I could. One look at my face, and he will realize I already knew.”

“Then I’ll make sure he apprehends the pressure I exerted on you to keep my secret. I don’t want you to be held accountable for my unthinking actions.”

Except I was accountable. My allegiance should be to my husband above all, especially when it came to something as important as the knowledge that he had a half brother. However, I’d allowed my empathy for Henry and my own fear over Gage’s reaction to override my good sense, and for eight long weeks! Gage had a very good reason to be angry with me. A very, very good reason.

But I said none of this to Henry. First and foremost, because my concealing information from my husband was a matter to be dealt with strictly between us. And second, because I strongly suspected Henry was already going to overplay his hand in trying to shelter me. I didn’t need him defending me any more strenuously and making matters even worse.

As if conjured by my own worries, I saw Gage striding down the hall toward us. He’d been aiming toward the dining room, but upon catching sight of me, he changed course. Even from such a distance, I could see that his brow was furrowed, and the normally graceful movements of his form were sharp and hurried. Either his interview with Sir Phineas had not gone as planned, or someone had made some sort of spiteful remark about the implications hinted at in The King of Grassmarket.

Unless he already knew about Henry. Though how, I couldn’t fathom. Few enough people knew the truth.

Regardless, I must have tensed, for Henry peered over his shoulder at what had so unsettled me. He turned to face