Chapter 25

25

WILLIAM

E ach day, William saw Anthony and Charlotte, Frederick, and Aunt Eugenia in the regular course of events as the guests gathered for meals and various activities and excursions. In order to see Silas, however, he adopted the habit of returning with his family to the lodge at the end of each evening.

It made for late nights, but William could sense Silas's growing impatience with his solitude. It was an improvement over how things had been before the family had arrived, of course, but now that he had adapted to having people at the lodge with him, the dissatisfaction of being left behind each day was beginning to take its inevitable toll.

William was grateful too for the opportunity to relax amongst people he needn't work to impress—and ones who didn't set him on edge with their mere presence.

Lord Redgrave was precisely one such aggravating person. William could not be near him without thinking on what he had done to Clara. Almost all of her struggles could be traced back to the man's despicable behavior. It boiled William's blood.

Redgrave was charming enough, but there was a flimsiness to his amiability and an arrogance about him which told William that Clara had been right to assume he would not receive the watch and let bygones be bygones.

The question was how William could help Clara resolve things without losing his temper with Redgrave—and without the man calling into question the relationship between them.

William put a hand to his pocket, feeling for the pocket watch. He had kept it on his person for its security and in the event an idea or opportunity struck. So far, neither had. He had to do something , though.

He had not seen Clara since their interaction in the vestibule two nights ago. She was undoubtedly keeping out of sight as he had instructed her to do, but he found himself feeling less patient and less amiable as a result, as though she was a prerequisite for his good humor.

Lady Cassandra came up beside him in the drawing room, wearing a smile. "I believe you promised me a round of cards, Your Grace."

A musical evening two nights ago and then an impromptu performance put together by the guests last night had prevented them from playing before now—and William hadn't minded the delay.

"I promised more than that," he said. "I promised redemption." Over the past two days, he had begun to wonder how much Lady Cassandra knew of the scandal with Silas—and whether she would be willing to help with his redemption. It was a difficult topic to broach, however.

"And what are you waiting for?" Lady Cassandra challenged him.

"I am ready if you are, my lady. "

She led the way to the table in the corner, a perfect place for more private conversation—if William could only decide how to introduce the topic.

His preoccupation meant his promise to redeem himself was put in jeopardy—a fact apparent by the way Lady Cassandra glanced at him again and again, as though trying to understand his strategy.

"A redemption at this point will be nothing short of miraculous, Your Grace," she said as she took another trick.

"Forgive me," he said. "I am distracted tonight."

"We need not play if you would rather not." The words were gracious, but there was a slight edge to her voice. Perhaps he had offended her by admitting she did not have his attention yet again.

This was as good an opportunity as any, he supposed.

He rested his cards on the table and met her gaze. "I assume you are aware of my brother Silas's troubles?"

She collapsed her cards in her hand and met his eye. "I am. Is it his situation which preoccupies you?"

"Yes, and I apologize for it. I wish I could say it was abnormal, but it is something which occupies my thoughts frequently."

"I quite understand. You must worry for him."

He nodded, grateful to find her sympathetic rather than dismissive. That at least boded well for Silas.

"Can nothing be done for him?" she asked.

He grimaced ruefully. "That, my lady, is the question I have been asking myself for many months now."

"Well"—she unfurled her cards again—"I am certain we can hit upon something."

We . How could that word be so full of simultaneous hope and despair ?

"We can save this game for another time if you wish," she offered.

"No, no. Let us finish. I promise to give my undivided attention."

William managed to win, but only just. In fact, he suspected Lady Cassandra might have let him do so. But he hadn't the energy to care.

It was midnight when he and his family made the short carriage journey to the lodge. Silas was waiting in the sitting room just inside the entry hall, seated in a wingback chair. He held a shuttlecock in his right hand and quickly tossed it toward an empty glass on the table a dozen feet away.

He hurried to his feet when they entered and smiled broadly. "I thought you might have decided to sleep at the main house. Come, see if any of you can beat me." He forced the shuttlecock into Aunt Eugenia's hand.

"What nonsense is this?" she said, but she allowed herself to be guided into the wingback chair.

Within minutes, they were all lined up, impatiently awaiting their turns. Frederick had the most consistent aim, but Aunt Eugenia was surprisingly skilled.

William took the seat when his third turn arrived, focusing intently on the glass, which was only just large enough to hold the shuttlecock. It made it difficult indeed to succeed.

The room went silent as he prepared his throw. The other two attempts had both gone wide and to the right. He gave a firm but gentle toss of his hand, and the shuttlecock went sailing into the air and then the glass.

Cheers erupted, and William shot to his feet, arms raised in victory as he faced his audience—which now included Edmund, who stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and silent.

William's smile evaporated, for Edmund's gaze was trained on Silas .

William elbowed his way through his family, who seemed to sense that something was amiss and turned to see what had captured his attention.

"What are you doing here?" William asked Edmund.

"Is that…Silas?" he asked.

William glanced at his brother, whose enthusiasm at the game he had invented had given way to a somber expression.

William grimaced and returned his focus to Edmund. "Yes." The answer was unnecessary. Edmund and Silas had met before.

Edmund's mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"Come," William said, taking him gently by the arm. "We can speak in the hall."

He led the way out, and Edmund followed, staring at the tiled floor as William shut the door behind them.

"I do not understand," Edmund said.

"He returned a few weeks ago," William said, "hoping I would have the influence now to clear his name. He has been here since."

Edmund's brows pulled together, and a look of hurt entered his eyes. "A few weeks?"

William sighed. "I knew telling you would only serve to add to your considerable stress, Edmund. And keeping his presence a secret has been of paramount importance."

"And you thought I would betray it?"

"No, I merely…" William pressed his lips together, struggling to explain his choice to keep his friend and advisor in the dark. "Silas's future is uncertain, Edmund. He is accused of murder. If it becomes known he is in England, he faces the gallows. Anyone involved in hiding him would be complicit. The less you knew, the better for you . "

Edmund's jaw shifted as he met William's eye. "And what do you intend to do?"

William lifted his shoulders. "Whatever I must to clear his name."

"Is this why you have been willing to entertain the notion of a match with Lady Cassandra?"

William nodded. "And she seems sympathetic enough to his plight."

" She knows?"

"That he is here? Of course not. But the subject of his situation came up this evening, and she made it clear she wished to be of help."

Edmund ran a hand through his hair.

"You see? I didn't wish to saddle you with any of this."

"That is my purpose, Your Grace. To help you. How can I help if I am unaware of what is happening in your life?"

"Fair enough." He watched his friend, who tapped a fist against his mouth. "Do you think a marriage to Lady Cassandra will be enough to give Silas a chance?"

"If it happens in a timely manner, I would imagine so."

William kept still, staring at Edmund. "How timely?"

Edmund shrugged. "The longer you wait, the greater the chance Silas's presence becomes known, and if that happens…"

"Drayton will have the upper hand."

Edmund nodded, but they both knew what that meant. Silas's life would be in grave danger.

William's stomach swirled with discomfort even as a sense of relief that Edmund finally knew settled over him.

"I need time to think through things," Edmund said. "I will give you my opinion as soon as I have done so."

"Thank you, Edmund." He put out his hand, and Edmund took it with a grimacing smile.

"I should go." He turned to leave .

"What brought you here in the first place?" William asked, struck with curiosity. Edmund had never come to the lodge before. What had changed?

"Oh." Edmund stopped and faced him again. "I was in the village and heard some news."

"What sort of news?"

"You remember the housemaid Clara?"

William's pulse quickened. "Yes. What of her?"

"Her husband was found on a road outside the village. Dead."