“Again, however, many titled families are approaching dun territory, and if Herbert had sold off his stable, his art, or even his damned coal mine, he could probably have come ’round in time. Then too, what man kills himself, leaving behind a wife such as Astrid?”
What man could dally with her and then saunter on his way as if she hadn’t taken complete possession of his heart years ago?
“The third possibility,” Andrew said, “is that somebody who stood to gain from Herbert’s death murdered him and spread the tale of suicide brought on by the man’s mismanagement of funds. In addition to gaining from Herbert’s death, this person would also need intimate knowledge of the family’s finances. The suicide is unlikely to cost the family its title, and dear Herbert apparently had no wealth to forfeit to the Crown in any case.”
“What you are implying,” Gareth said, disbelief in every word, “is that we could be turning Astrid, and her child, over to the keeping of a man who would, with cold-blooded premeditation, murder his own brother for the sake of a title.”
“That,” Andrew spat as he hurled his glass straight into the fire, “is exactly what we might be doing.”
“Hence,” Fairly said quietly as the fire momentarily roared higher, “the need for precautions. I would remind you both that so far, all we have are rumors and depleted accounts. Herbert was the one who would have had access to Astrid’s money, and Douglas Allen could simply be a conscientious second son who inherited under unfortunate circumstances.”
“It does happen,” Gareth conceded, his expression reminding Andrew that some second sons could have two titles foisted upon them, regardless that it likely took enormous influence, coin, and conniving.
“It happens rarely,” Andrew growled.
“So what do we do?” Gareth used the hearth broom to sweep shards of broken glass onto a dustpan, then deposited the shrapnel in the ash bucket. “We have no solid evidence against Douglas, but it strikes me as peculiar that Herbert Allen has been gone almost three months, and we’re hearing the rumor of suicide only now. That kind of speculation usually flies around before the grave is dug.”
“You raise a good question,” Fairly said, “and I don’t have an answer. Worse, if we confront Douglas with our accusations, he could easily have Astrid shut up at the family seat, miles from help and in mortal peril. He could have her declared insane, or simply make her disappear before the child is even born.”
Fairly spoke Andrew’s worst fears, and probably Fairly’s as well.
“We have one means of keeping Astrid safe that would also very likely protect her child.” Andrew heard the words coming from his own mouth and knew they presaged something beyond a worst fear.
“Yes,” Fairly said, his mismatched eyes narrowing, “we can find her someone to marry, preferably somebody whose title outranks Douglas’s, and tuck her away in that person’s secure keeping. We could effect this scheme before Douglas even knows she’s expecting.”
Damn Fairly and his nimble mind. “So we marry her to such a one. What will you have left Astrid with if it turns out Douglas bears her no ill will and her husband’s death was an accident?”
Andrew posed a question that in hours of pondering had admitted of no good answer.
Gareth set the little hearth broom aside and lifted the wrought iron poker. “We will have left her in the keeping of a man who cares enough to protect her life with his own.” Again, was left unspoken.
“I won’t inflict myself on her for the sake of rumor and speculation,” Andrew retorted. Not after her fierce declarations that morning. Hopefully, not ever. “She has to be told what we know, and I suspect you will want Felicity told as well.”
“All we know now,” Fairly said, “is that her money is missing, and since it has been missing, Douglas has offered repeatedly to manage it for her. That is what we know, no more, no less. The rumors I picked up were not being circulated anywhere near polite ears, and not loudly.”
Fairly of the endless self-containment was offering Andrew a reprieve. “Saints above, man, you can be scary.”
“And you’ve seen me only when the moon isn’t full.”
“As a matter of fact,” Andrew said, heading for the French doors, “it’s full tonight, so I’ll take myself out for a gallop, gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me?” He bowed and let himself out into the night rather than traverse the house.
A thoughtful silence followed the soft click of the door latch. Gareth considered following his brother and concluded Felicity would be vexed with him if he did.