Conversation during dinner was civil, if not warm. Except for Eleanor's fawning over her son, that is. Never close, in adulthood Rhys had come to despise Alistair for his recklessness and irresponsibility. His cousin gambled with an appetite that could only result in ruin. He whored in the same fashion. Rhys knew of several brothels where his cousin had been banned, in some cases for nonpayment, and in others for his less than gentle treatment of the women serving him. In light of these recent discoveries, Rhys had decided it was best to have his potential enemy where he could keep an eye on him.
When the dessert course had been finished Phyllis, Eleanor and Emme rose to retreat to the drawing room. He, Michael, and Alistair retreated to the library for a glass of port before joining them, while Pommeroy retired to his room and a less than discreet maid. As he watched Emme walk from the room, he felt his protective instincts rearing their ugly head. He would not allow her to be harmed, no matter the cost.
As they crossed the hall to the library Michael leveled him with a stare that said, patently, he was being an idiot. He knew that. He had managed the entirety of dinner without actually speaking to Alistair. At some point or other, he would have to.
He turned his attention to his cousin and said, “Alistair, how are things at Arden Hall?"
Alistair's lip curled as he responded. “They are impoverished, Your Grace. As it was you who cut me off, I am sure you are well aware of it."
He hadn't cut him off. He'd simply rerouted the payment of Alistair's inheritance to his creditors rather than directly into his greedy hands.
Rhys casually poured a glass of port for all of them, and seated himself behind his desk before answering. “You are not cut off, cousin, as you know. Once your creditors are paid, the full amount of your jointure will be reinstated to you and then you may choose any path to hell that is of your liking."
"My creditors grow impatient. They were willing to wait when it appeared I would be your heir, but as you are recently wed, and according to gossip, fornicating like a rabbit, they are less inclined to wait for their money."
Rhys’ jaw tightened, but it was Michael who spoke, effectively defusing the situation. “I believe you misspoke, Lord Arden. It cannot be fornication for they are married. Fornication only applies to sexual congress without benefit of marriage. It would be copulation. Or perhaps I have it wrong. We could call on the vicar tomorrow for clarification."
Alistair turned a cold stare on Michael but said with a civility that was somewhat surprising, considering that Michael had just made a fool of him, “I concede to your greater knowledge of both fornication and copulation, Lord Ellersleigh. I doubt there could be a more expert opinion in all of Britain.” Alistair excused himself and left the room.
"That was enlightening,” Michael said. “He'll certainly cooperate and answer any questions you might have about your late wife now."
Rhys glared at him. “I didn't do anything. I simply asked after his estate. Most gentlemen find that to be a compliment."
Michael shook his head. “How did you survive the army? Good God, man. Next time, just ask him straight out. Leave off with the social niceties. You were never particularly adept at them anyway."
Nonplussed, Rhys sipped his brandy and considered his cousin's illustrious history of misadventure. Alistair was a year older than Jeremy had been and it was no secret that he had always felt it grossly unfair that he had been denied the opportunity to be the Duke of Briarleigh.
Could Alistair have murdered Melisande? He had been a boy at the time, a lad just turned sixteen. He supposed it was possible, but it seemed unlikely. What motive could there have been for it?
He considered carefully, before broaching a subject that was tender for the both. “When you discovered Melisande, she was still alive, wasn't she?"
Michael's expression became shuttered and his voice was curiously flat when he responded. “Her heart still beat, and she spoke a few words, but she was so grievously wounded. There was nothing I could do for her."
"You were just a boy, of course, you couldn't save her. Is that why you defied convention and became a physician? You couldn't save her, so you committed yourself to saving others?"
"I never gave it a thought."
Rhys chose not to prod him on that note, and asked instead, “What did she say to you?"
It was time for the truth to come out, Michael realized. He had protected his friend for as long as he could, and it was time to open the festering wound and let the poison out. “There are many things about that day that I did not tell you but it's time, I fear, for the ugliness and brutality to be revealed."