Pressing onward, he queried, “Did you not commune with the spirit of Lord Cuthbertson, learning from his spirit that it was his mistress who hired the thugs that ended his miserable life?"
She placed her fork carefully on the plate, so that it made not even the slightest noise, when hurling it across the room would have been a more rewarding enterprise.
"I have never made such claims. I am merely observant and have been able to deduce answers to questions that others have missed,” Emme said, her tone dismissive and filled with much more disdain than was advisable when speaking to a duke.
That he had raised her hackles was a small victory for him. The fire in her was banked, but her anger was palpable. He continued on. “With an alarming rate of accuracy, from what I am told. What questions is my mother seeking answers to?"
Emme felt the room closing in on her, as if she could no longer breathe beneath the weight of his scrutiny. Could she tell him the truth? Could she utter the hateful words that would tell him his own mother, Lady Phyllis, needed proof that her son was not a murderer? She couldn't bring herself to give it voice, in spite of how angry she was.
Instead, she met his gaze over the rim of her cup. “That is a question you should ask your mother, Your Grace."
Rhys looked at her levelly. Quiet anger radiated from her and something else that felt remarkably like pity. He would get nothing from her, but he would have answers, one way or another.
"Rest assured, I will ask, Miss Walters. Enjoy your breakfast."
Emme watched him rise and walk from the room. The breakfast she had been eating now tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She washed it down with her tea before she too left the room.
She hated answering questions about her abilities, hated that anyone even knew about them. Of course, few really understood. For most, it was simply a guess, an assumption based on her unusual family history and her own sometimes unusual behavior. She would have to be more careful, to be certain that her behavior was above both reproach and suspicion. The reality of what she had witnessed, of what she had learned about death and about the atrocities that humans committed against one another was little to celebrate. Most viewed her as entertainment, never realizing the cost.
Rhys took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing outside the family wing, he strode down the corridor toward his mother's rooms. She never breakfasted below stairs, preferring to have her meal served in her small sitting room. After a perfunctory knock, to which he didn't await a response, he entered the room.
"Good morning, Mother."
"Good morning, Rhys,” she said, idly sipping her tea and eyeing him somewhat curiously.
His aunt, Lady Eleanor, was seated beside her, the two of them sharing their breakfast as they conferred about the preparations for the day's entertainments.
He didn't waste time with pleasantries or mince words. “What was your purpose in inviting Miss Walters here?"
Lady Phyllis was a handsome woman, sharing her son's dark coloring. Her dark brown hair was laced with silver and was swept back in a neat chignon. Her face was still quite beautiful, though there was a brittleness about her that dimmed the effect. She was dressed in black, as always. She cocked one eyebrow at him, a gesture that spoke volumes. When she spoke, her tone was cool and calm.
"She's a pleasant young woman whom I thought would benefit from having connections of a higher standing."
Rhys seated himself across from her in a delicate chair that creaked ominously beneath his weight.
When it appeared he would not be sprawled on the floor, he continued, “I am fully aware of the rumors that abound about Miss Walters and her rather unusual abilities. I will ask again, Mother, what was your purpose?” he demanded.
Eleanor rolled her eyes heavenward, as Phyllis stiffened beside her. “Just tell him, Phyllis, for goodness’ sake! It isn't as if her alleged abilities are a secret!"
Phyllis squared her shoulders and met his gaze levelly. “Very well, Rhys. I brought the girl here to find out the truth about Elise."
Rhys ran his hand through his hair in an exasperated manner. He had suspected as much. That his own family did not fully believe in his innocence was a fact that he had accepted, but that still stung him.
"The truth about Elise is that she was a very unhappy woman, given to fits of melancholy and wild behavior. She made the decision to end her life by jumping from the tower. It was a horrible tragedy. That is the only truth!"
"You have always said that is so, Rhys, and as your mother, I've chosen to trust your word, but the ton has no such duty to you. If you wish to marry again, even the hint of scandal will need to be eradicated. If Miss Walters can attest to your innocence, the gossips that have been invited here will know it as well, and your reputation shall be restored,” Phyllis said calmly.