The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(49)

Edward snapped a sheet of newsprint out flat and held it up. “Do you recognize this?”

“Of course. That’s my sister’s paper. The edition that came out a few days past.”

“No,” Edward told him. “That’s the advance proof she sent to you. The precise page, mind you—there’s a note you scrawled in the corner, right there. Now, did you give this to Delacey yourself?”

“Delacey? That ass? Why would I give him this? Why would he…ah.” Free’s elder brother stopped talking and frowned, reaching for the paper. “Ah,” he repeated. His eyes grew darker. “Someone in my household is passing things on.” He shut his eyes and grimaced. “That’s extremely unfortunate.”

It was almost sweet how good-natured the man was. That all he could see was inconvenience in such a thing, instead of opportunity.

Edward smiled. “No. It’s going to be extremely useful, as soon as we can figure out who it is. If it isn’t you—and Miss Marshall believes it is not—then the number of people it could be is small. And we can use them.”

Mr. Marshall nodded. And then he frowned. “I still don’t understand. Why did my sister send you to tell me all this? Who are you?”

“She’s busy,” Edward said shortly. “As for me? I’m the one who is going to figure everything out. Let me tell you how.”

MISS MARSHALL’S BROTHER had the most comfortable wardrobe that Edward had ever hidden inside. It was spacious enough to fit two people, and, as it was apparently used as extra storage space for Mrs. Marshall’s gowns, was filled with colors so bright that the space seemed welcoming even in the dim light filtering in through the doors.

Not so the man who crouched next to him. He’d known her brother was a Member of Parliament, which was already one strike against him. From what Free had said, he’d expected a stodgy stickin-the-mud who constantly frowned at his exuberant sister.

Instead, he’d seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. He’d absorbed the details of the fire, and Edward’s role in it, with a darkening expression. When Edward had told him about Delacey, he’d growled and offered to beat the man into a pulp.

No; he wasn’t feigning that deep protectiveness for his sister. It was all the more obvious because he clearly treated Edward with suspicion. Which meant he was in possession of a working mind, something Edward could hardly begrudge him. He had volunteered to watch the study in secret with Edward when they’d left it empty—tantalizingly empty. They’d left the next advance proof that Free had sent along from Cambridge resting on his desk as bait.

That was how Edward found himself in a small, enclosed space with Oliver Marshall. Small, enclosed spaces still made him uneasy, but this one didn’t smell of smoke, and no choking plaster dust hung in the air. The door to the wardrobe was cracked open, letting in fresh air and light.

For the first few minutes, they sat in silence.

Then Marshall leaned forward and whispered. “If you hurt my sister, you’ll know pain like you’ve never known pain before.”

Edward glanced back at the man, amused. Marshall was soft. He probably thought that a few cross words and a fist in the face were the worst that humanity had to offer.

“I sincerely doubt that,” he answered in a low voice. “I’ve known a lot of pain.”

And yet he suspected that what the other man had said was true on some level. He wasn’t sure when all of this rigmarole had stopped being about revenge and started being about her. Hurting Free would be its own peculiar sort of pain.

Marshall growled.

“Really,” Edward responded, “you ought to save your breath. There’s no point threatening me. You’ll never be as good at it as your sister, and threats only work on men who fear. I don’t.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of doing.”

Edward smiled, and reached over and patted Mr. Marshall on the knee, being sure to turn his face so that the light caught the condescending edge of his smile. “There, there,” he said comfortingly. “You’re very frightening, I’m sure. But I’ve met your sister, and trust me, if Free doesn’t scare me, you can’t.”

He deliberately used her pet name to provoke the other man. He wasn’t sure why. He could have charmed the other man, smoothed his ruffled, outraged feathers. Instead, he was doing his best to avoid any sense of camaraderie. The last thing he needed was to earn the approval of Free’s brother. Once he had that, well… It was a short road to thinking that he could be a part of the family. Best to keep things at arm’s length.

Edward looked off through the crack in the wardrobe. “Free does many things well.”

There was a long pause. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

Edward didn’t answer.

“You are. I swear to God, I will never understand my sister.”

“Hardly surprising, as her understanding is superior to yours.”

Instead of taking offense at that blatant insult, Mr. Marshall looked greatly amused. He shook his head and looked away. “Of course. I should have realized what was happening the first time you attempted to insult me by complimenting my sister. She got to you.” It was Marshall’s turn to give Edward a condescending clap on the shoulder. “Don’t feel badly; she does that often.”