The Season(62)

“Which part? When Blackmoor told me that kissing me was a mistake? Or when he told me that he knew someone was trying to kill him? Or perhaps when I told him that the someone in question was his uncle Lucian and he didn’t believe me?”

“What?!” The word came out on Ella’s surprised exhale. Her wide eyes looked as though they would pop from their sockets.

Vivi sat up, eyeing Alex very closely. Slowly, she suggested, “Why don’t we start from the beginning? You seem to have had quite a busy evening.”

And so Alex started from the beginning, trying not to leave anything out—not that Ella would have allowed that. As she told her tale, Vivi and Ella listened intently, hanging on every word while she traced the events of the evening from Blackmoor’s dance with Penelope to their argument and her ungraceful exit from his study.

As soon as she finished, they pounced, firing questions to obtain more details. “So you think the man who killed the earl was Lucian? Not the other?” Ella asked.

“I can’t know for sure, as I couldn’t make out the voices—but he certainly had a hand in it.”

Vivi was next. “And Blackmoor knows someone is out to kill him?”

“Yes. Apparently he’s known for a fortnight.”

“And our fathers as well?”

“It seems that way,” Alex said without emotion.

“But no one knows what information the former earl had?” Ella pressed.

“No.” Alex shook her head before shrugging her shoulders. “At least, not that he told me. It seems they’re waiting for the villain to lead them to whatever information the earl had.”

“But couldn’t Lucian have already found the information and all this be—a red herring?” Vivi spoke, searching for clarity.

“That wouldn’t explain Montgrave’s skulking about,” Ella said to the room at large.

“Or the fact that the two men I overheard were clearly anxious about others beating them to the hiding place,” Alex pointed out.

“You mean Lucian and Montgrave,” Ella said firmly.

“I don’t know it was Montgrave in the room. I didn’t see him. And…if Gavin is to be believed—”

“Blackmoor is a dunderhead,” Ella interrupted.

Vivi nodded in support. “Precisely.”

Alex pushed on. “All the same—if he is to be believed—”

“He’s not,” Vivi pointed out.

“Quite,” Ella agreed, adding, “Dunderhead.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Looking carefully at them, she continued, “You both believe me? You believe it was Lucian?”

“Absolutely!” Ella exclaimed.

“Without doubt,” Vivi chimed in.

“Then why didn’t he believe me?” Alex asked, falling back into the pillows on her bed.

Ella opened her mouth to speak from her spot at the end of the bed, but before she could get a word out, Alex raised a finger in the air and spoke in warning, “Ella…don’t tell me he’s a dunderhead.”

Ella closed her mouth, then raised her head to look at Vivi for support.

“I rather think I understand,” Vivi said carefully.

“I beg your pardon!” Ella sat up, leveling Vivi with a glare. “That’s not exactly supportive, Vivian.”

“Well, I do. After all, Gavin’s uncle is almost all he has left of his father. Losing a parent is awful enough. I cannot imagine what it would be like to then, just as quickly, discover that a person you trust is behind all that pain.”

“Even so…it doesn’t excuse his complete stupidity in not believing Alex,” Ella pointed out.

“No, of course not,” Vivi allowed. “Although I imagine he’ll come around to realizing that she is right.”

“Of course he will,” Ella said imperiously, “because we’re going to prove her right.”

Alex lifted her head from her pillows. “We are?”

“Indeed.” Ella was in one of her moods—she was not taking no for an answer.

“I considered going to our fathers immediately,” Alex said, shaking her head. “I wanted to pull mine away from the ball and reveal everything that I had overheard. But Gavin didn’t believe me—what if my father doesn’t either?”

“That’s silly. Of course, your father will believe you,” Vivi declared with certainty.

“I suppose so.” Alex didn’t sound as if she really believed her own words.

And she didn’t. Gavin’s response had thrown her off—upsetting her more than she could have imagined it would. She was hurt and confused by his cold reaction, as though she were an errant child who had fabricated the tale to garner his attention. She was devastated by his lack of trust and faith—even if Vivi was right and this was all a part of a larger issue that had little, if anything, to do with her. It didn’t matter. She was desperate for someone to believe her; she had information that pointed to the murderer of the Earl of Blackmoor, for goodness sake! Wasn’t that enough?

“There’s only one way to be certain that everyone believes us,” Ella said thoughtfully, reading Alex’s mind. “We have to find the information before they do.”