Andrew Lord of Despair(82)

“Time was,” Fairly observed cheerfully, “one never knew what one might interrupt waltzing into this room unannounced. Part of the charm of the household.”

Gareth rose and scowled at his guest. “You are an unnatural brother.”

“There you would be wrong,” Fairly replied. “I am nothing if not a natural brother. I thought we had decided to be discreet about it.”

“Sit,” Andrew growled at him. “We were discussing Amery’s doings and the present state of his mischief toward the family.”

Fairly’s smile vanished, leaving in its place a coldly polite mask. He sat on the sofa, facing Andrew’s perch on the hearth.

“Amery has been a busy fellow,” Fairly said. “He conducts business with a dispatch that would impress even you, Heathgate. He has also, to my surprise, paid a call on the Pleasure House, though he remained below stairs for the duration.”

“So we must conclude he knows you own the place?” Andrew asked.

“We must. I’ve warned the women if he does ask one of them upstairs, to be very, very careful. We don’t know that he’s ever abused a woman outright, but there were rumors, and that reassures me little.”

That they were monitoring another man’s traffic with Fairly’s ladies did nothing to calm Andrew’s nerves. “He’s repaying Astrid, with interest.”

Gareth shoved back to sit on his desk, which on this occasion, sported no rattles. “He’s paying her back? With what money? The man was all but done up.”

“Not quite.” Andrew considered another drink and decided on a sharing of intelligence instead. “The family was all but done up. Herbert had the handling of the family finances, and those are in sad disrepair. Douglas’s personal wealth, however, has been growing steadily since he attained his majority.”

“Where did he get his start?” Fairly asked. “He’s only the spare, and he hasn’t married money.”

“His maternal grandmother left him her modest fortune when he was nineteen, and tied it up so his family could not relieve him of it. He has made steady progress restoring the sum taken from Astrid’s dower account. She is not aware of this, but she will be when the funds are repaid entirely.”

Or when Andrew quit England again, whichever should first occur.

“I take it,” Fairly said, “you are also not supposed to be aware of this, but rather, the account, whole and hearty, will be produced as evidence should we attempt to disparage Amery at trial?”

“I can think of another explanation, one that fits most of our facts.”

Gareth glanced pointedly at the clock. “Because luncheon and a resumption of the ladies’ charming company looms, I hope you will share that with us.”

“Douglas was a year behind me at university,” Andrew said. “He always struck me as a tediously upright fellow, but also rather his own man. He never rode to hounds with his brothers and father. He shoots well, but not for sport. He is, above all, pragmatic. When you, Gareth, were cutting such a wide swath as a newly minted marquess, Douglas did not join in the gossip or the teasing.”

“Luncheon,” Fairly reminded him, shooting a cuff.

“My point,” Andrew said with some exasperation, “is that it could be Douglas is not our man. Viewed objectively, if he is not the one out to harm Astrid, then his theory that she seeks to harm herself also fits the available facts. He simply has to ignore what he knows of Astrid’s personality, just as we are ignoring what we know of his. We know Herbert was a weak-kneed, self-indulgent nincompoop, but we have little evidence of that same character in Douglas.”

Fairly toyed with a gold sleeve button nearly the same shade as Astrid’s hair.

“Who else has all the right motives, Greymoor? Who else would want Astrid and her child disposed of? I’ve made the acquaintance of Herbert’s former mistress, and I can assure you Mrs. Banks is not a woman afflicted with jealousy toward her late protector’s wife.”

Respect for Fairly twined with something else. To follow up with the mistress was prudent, a loose end Andrew had not considered. That Fairly should take it on without saying anything to anybody else was… sad.

“We are not going to settle this by argument, gentlemen,” Gareth said, pushing to his feet. “You raise a good point, Andrew: Douglas is either not our man, or he is making a very careful case for not looking like our man. I vote the latter.”

“As do I,” Andrew said, “because I cannot afford to do otherwise.”

“Perhaps our malefactor is not a man at all,” Fairly said, his peculiar eyes focused on some aspect of the problem Andrew could not see.