The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(20)

“Look at what I’ve done with my life, Patrick, and tell me I don’t believe that.”

His friend glared at him.

And that’s when the door to the cottage opened. Edward didn’t know the man who stood there, looking at him, but he could guess his identity by the tight expression that crept over the man’s face.

“Oh,” the newcomer said. “Uh. Mr. Shaughnessy. I’m…interrupting something, then? I…had a question about the gray mare.”

Patrick’s nostrils flared. He set his besausaged fork on a table. “Hello, George,” he said. “This is Edward Clark.” He cast Edward an annoyed look. “I was so hoping to introduce you two. Might I do it properly?”

That emphasis on the last word left little question as to what he meant. It no doubt rankled Patrick to lie at all. To tell such a lie to Baron Lowery, of all people, must have burned him.

“I’m sorry,” Edward said. “There’s nothing proper about me.”

Baron Lowery was blinking at Edward, a quizzical look on his face. “So. The mythical friend is real.”

“Not at all,” Edward said lightly. “I’m like a unicorn: You’ll convince yourself in a few days that I was nothing but a horse, misapprehended in dim light. I must be leaving.”

“Edward.” Patrick sighed. “You just got here. You can’t—”

“I can. I must get back to my latest task, after all. We haven’t reached the end of it.”

“Yes, but—”

“You asked me to help. I can’t do anything else you asked for, but this…” Edward smiled sadly. “This task needs someone like me. Don’t worry about Stephen. I’ll make sure he’s safe.” Edward nodded. “Baron. Patrick.”

He slipped through the door before he could think better of it. Dark had come, a thick gloom that was broken only by faint, indistinct starlight. Edward stumbled down the path, making his way toward the main drive as best as he could in the dusk.

He heard footsteps behind him, coming after him. He didn’t look back, not until a hand grabbed his wrist and forcibly turned him around.

But it wasn’t Patrick. It was Baron Lowery, glowering at him.

“See here,” the man said. “I don’t understand a thing about your friendship with Patrick. I don’t know who you are. But if you hurt him, I will hunt you down and pulverize you.”

The man was shorter than Edward, and Edward had spent the last years at manual labor. He simply drew himself up to his full height and looked down at the baron.

“You’ll protect him?” Edward rumbled.

Even in the starlight, he could see the other man flush. Lowery had to know what he was revealing. A baron didn’t fight to save his stable master from a hint of insult. He certainly didn’t take on a big man like Edward.

“Yes,” Lowery said in a low voice. “I will.”

Edward couldn’t do any good, and thus far, his friendship hadn’t benefited Patrick much. The best thing he could do for his friend was to leave.

And so he reached out and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

Before Lowery could do more than blink, Edward turned and left.

THE FLOWERS WERE COMING UP cheerfully yellow in their boxes, the window was open a few inches, and the spring breeze that filtered in was sweet and refreshing. Tea and toast were laid out on the table, and Free was surrounded by her best friends. Two nights ago, she’d achieved a complete and total victory.

Despite all that, this morning felt rather less victorious.

“Another column was copied,” Alice said, laying her clipping out. “The Manchester Times. Here. It’s almost exactly your discussion of Reed’s bill. There are entire sentences duplicated.”

Free frowned. “How is that even possible? I didn’t let any of you see the column until it was proofed. I was careful this time.”

“Then it must be the proofs.” Alice shrugged. “If that’s the only option.”

Alice Halifax was Free’s cousin through her father. Her family had grown up mining coal until the mine’s production faltered. In the panic of ’73, she and her husband had fallen on even harder times. Free had known Alice only dimly at the time of the panic, but she’d needed someone to help out, and so she’d asked. It was the best decision she could have made. Alice was straightforward and direct, telling Free and Amanda when the paper went astray, when they were too theoretical. She also told them when they were condescending to women who knew the confines of their station better than they did. She grounded the entire paper. If Alice thought this would make trouble, this would undoubtedly make trouble.

Free sighed. “You are no doubt right, Alice. If you say it must be the proofs, it must be the proofs.” She put her head in her hands. “But I don’t want it to be the proofs.” If that was the case, secrets weren’t being sold by some stranger going through her rubbish.

Alice shrugged, unmoved. “You don’t get to be stubborn about this, Free. Reality is what it is.”

Amanda, who had been sitting at Free’s left, was more gentle. “It’s likely not what you’re imagining,” she said. “You’re supposing that Aunt Violet or one of the other people we send complimentary proofs to is chuckling evilly while she hands them off to your enemies. But just think rationally. It’s much more likely to be a servant filching the household papers.”