The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(84)

“He shut himself in his study. That night, I couldn’t sleep, and I decided to check on him. He was still in the study and…well, a trifle disguised.”

“A trifle,” Polly murmured, “or more than that?”

“He’d finished an entire bottle of brandy.” Gabby shook her head in clear bewilderment. “My husband is not one to overindulge in anything. He is always in command of himself. Always.”

“And that night, he was not?” Brows drawn, Emma said, “Did he hurt you, Gabby?”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” Gabby sounded aghast, which Tessa took as a good sign. “Mr. Garrity would never harm me. Not intentionally anyway.” Her eyes filled again.

“Tell us the rest,” Tessa urged. Her nape tingled; her intuition told her that she was about to discover something important.

“I asked him again what was wrong. I think, because he was foxed, he told me. He said…someone important to him had died. In a workplace fire. When I tried to get more out of him, he…well, he didn’t want to talk.” Her color notably high, Gabby mumbled, “The next morning, I saw in the papers that a fiery explosion had burned down a place called The Gilded Pearl… a house of ill repute,” she said in a broken whisper. “The coincidence was too great. I had to ask Mr. Garrity, and, when I did, I saw the truth written on his face. I may not be clever, but I know my husband. The person he was so upset over, whom he got drunk over, was some prostitute at that bawdy house!”

Gabby dissolved into tears again. While Emma and Polly comforted her, Tessa tried to make sense of the revelation. Someone important to Garrity had worked at The Gilded Pearl? If so, that would most likely rule him out as a suspect in the brothel’s destruction. Why hadn’t he disclosed this to Grandpapa during their meeting at Nightingale’s?

“Did Mr. Garrity admit his infidelity?” Emma was saying quietly.

“He denied it. Told me to stop being silly.” Cheeks flushed, Gabby said with a flash of spirit, “But if my husband wasn’t being unfaithful, then why would he be so torn up over the loss of some woman who worked at a bawdy house?”

It was a good question. Tessa mulled it over.

“Perhaps she wasn’t a lover, merely a friend?” Polly suggested.

Gabby didn’t look convinced, and Tessa didn’t blame her. From what Tessa knew about brothels (which was quite a lot), visits were rarely platonic. And if Garrity had indeed been enamored of a wench at The Pearl, surely he would share that fact with Grandpapa? It was, after all, an alibi. Then it struck her.

“What if it wasn’t one of the prostitutes?” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” Gabby sniffled.

“A lot of people work in brothels…” Don’t give yourself away. “Or so I’ve heard. And according to the papers, prostitutes weren’t the only victims at The Pearl. There were kitchen staff, footmen, and maids.”

And perhaps Garrity had some secret connection to one of The Pearl’s employees. Some relationship he wanted to keep quiet…for whatever reason.

“Excellent deduction, Tessa,” Emma said.

“You think that’s possible?” Gabby whispered. “That Mr. Garrity didn’t have a paramour?”

“Someone important could mean many things,” Tessa reasoned.

“It could be someone to whom Mr. Garrity owes something. A friend…or even some distant relation,” Polly chimed in. “Perhaps there is a branch of his family you haven’t met?”

“I haven’t met any of Mr. Garrity’s family,” Gabby said slowly. “His mama is deceased, and he will not speak about the rest of his kin—if, indeed, he has any.”

“If anything is complicated, it is familial relations.” Emma gave a knowing nod. “Which might explain why your description of Mr. Garrity’s initial reaction wasn’t that he was heartbroken. I believe the term you used was agitated.”

“You’re…right. All of you are.”

Hope spread like sunrise over the redhead’s face, so dazzling that it was almost painful to see. To witness how desperately Gabby loved her husband. Recalling how she, herself, had felt, catching Celeste De Witt in Bennett’s arms, Tessa shivered because she understood.

In her case, however, she knew Bennett could be trusted.

Garrity was another story.

“When Mr. Garrity first came home, he seemed more angry than sad,” Gabby said in excited tones. “Then when I found him drunk in the study, he wasn’t grieving, exactly. He was more…um, agitated and rather…”

“Rather what, dear?” Polly said.

“Impassioned.” Gabby’s cheeks turned as red as her hair.

“And there’s been no other trouble between the two of you?” Emma said dryly.

Gabby shook her head sheepishly. “I think I may have jumped to conclusions.” She broke into a beatific smile. “Thanks to all of you, I feel ever so much better—”

The opening of the door cut her short. Tessa’s pulse sped up as a lean, dark-haired man strode toward them.

“Mr. Garrity!” Gabby said breathlessly. “You’re home early.”

“I hope I am not interrupting.” He made an elegant leg. “Your Graces.”