Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(98)

“Actually, I do hope to get some useful information out of her,” Carr said, his tone more serious. “I think that Holt started seeing her after Leila disappeared. Maybe Jane could provide a clue about what he was doing, or what kind of enemies he might have had.” He sighed, his green eyes losing their mischievous sparkle. “Though it’s hard to believe he had any enemies. Everyone liked him.”

“No. Not everyone liked him.” Alec studied his young cousin, feeling a twinge of compassion… he had not realized before now just how much Carr had idealized Holt. “Holt wasn’t perfect. He was a good man, but you know just as well as anyone that he had his share of faults. He was a bastard sometimes, just like all the rest of us.” There was no reaction from Carr except for a quickly indrawn breath, but Alec knew how much the remark had angered him. “I’drather disabuse you of your idealism than have you make him into a damned martyr,” he continued quietly. “He wouldn’t have wanted that.” “I don’t want to talk about this.” “You’re not giving yourself a fair chance by trying to live up to his memory, especially when you seem to remember him as a saint instead of an ordinary—” “All right,” Carr snapped, his temper flaring. “Just as long as you understand—” “I understand,” Carr said savagely, and for several minutes there was nothing but silence between them. Eventually the closed carriage shuddered to a halt. Alec paused and looked at his cousin as the footman opened the door.

“Still want to take a hackney from here on?” “I couldn’t take this to the Rummer.” “Be careful. Hackney drivers are known for their ability to strip a Rum Ned like you clean in five minutes. Keep your wits sharp, and have a care for what you drink.”

“I’ve been to the Rummer before,” Carr said with affronted dignity. “And despite your opinion of me, I am occasionally capable of thinking with my head and not my thomas.”

Alec grinned reluctantly. “My confidence in you is greatly restored. Bonne chance, cousin.”

Both men got out of the carriage, and Alec waited until Carr procured a hackney of disreputable appearance, its floor covered with straw that did little to camouflage the vermin it was intended to conceal. Sighing, Alec walked to the nearby bakery and peered through the diamond-shaped panes of the window before going in.

A fine mist of flour hung in the air, coating the windows, the floors, the tables and walls. The scents of yeast and butter rose thickly to Alec’s nostrils, causing him to sniff appreciatively. The shop was well-lit, comfortable, and bustling with several towheaded children of varying sizes, all clearly members of the same family.

“Sir?” A round-faced, buxom woman approached him with a smile. Her appearance was warm and motherly; she had soft cheeks and twinkly brown eyes, and such a gentle manner that no one could help but be charmed by her. Alec mentally contrasted her to the sharp, iron-willed Juliana and smiled slightly.

“Are you Mrs. Holburn?”

“Falkner,” she said with a start, her hands going up to her throat, her eyes gleaming with fear. “I thought you were dead… I heard that you had been found in… Oh, dear God…”

“Mrs. Holburn, I’m not Holt,” Alec said swiftly, taking the liberty of holding her elbow as he saw how violently she was shaking. “I am his cousin, Lord Falkner. I did not mean to shock you. Would you like to sit—?”

“Mother?” a young voice interrupted. A flaxen-haired girl with round, pretty features ran up to them and brushed Alec’s hand away. She slid an arm around Mrs. Holburn’s waist and threw Alec a guarded look. Her skin lost its healthy pink color as she looked at him. “What’s happened to Leila?” she asked sharply.

“It’s not him,” Mrs. Holburn said, staring at Alec with a mixture of fear and grief. Twisting her hands in her apron, she made an effort to calm herself. “I knew Holt Falkner was dead… but for a second I hoped that I had been wrong… and then I thought you were his ghost.”

“No. He is gone. And I’m certainly not a ghost.” Alec made an attempt to smile reassuringly, but his effort was met with little success. “I have come here in the hope that you would help me with the answers to a few questions. Would it distress you unduly to talk about him?”She did not answer him directly, biting her lip at first, then asking a question with such hesitance that it seemed she was afraid of the answer.

“Lord Falkner… have you also come here to discuss my daughter? Do you know anything about Leila? Have you found out where she is? Do you know who might have… ?”

Alec shook his head, his expression gentling with pity. “I don’t know anything about her. I’m sorry.”

“There is a table in the back,” Mrs. Holburn said, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “My husband is away, but I will talk to you.” A large part of the family crowded around the table, leaving Alec a respectful distance of two feet on either side. The oldest girls attended to the customers that wandered into the front part of the shop, and took a few minutes here and there to run back and listen to the conversation.

Half an hour later Alec began to understand why Holt had kept this part of his life secret. It had been his private haven, untainted by the slick and sophisticated manners of the people he had usually associated with. Most of their friends would have jeered at the revelation that Holt had been in love with a baker’s daughter and had spent so many hours in the kitchen of a solidly middle-class family. Yet this family, this shop, this home, were filled with warmth and irresistible simplicity that were foreign to the Falkners. Alec could easily imagine Holt sitting here dandling a child on his knee and smiling crookedly at the girl who had caught his affections.