A Dangerous Fortune(138)

“I didn’t think you’d believe me. I’m only telling you now out of desperation, to try to dissuade you from this latest Cordovan investment.” He studied Edward’s expression, and went on: “But you do believe me, don’t you?”

Edward nodded.

“Why?”

“Because I know why he did it.”

“Why?” said Hugh. He was inflamed by curiosity. He had wondered about this for years. “Why did Micky kill Peter?”

Edward took a long swallow of his Madeira, then he went silent. Hugh was afraid he would refuse to say any more. But eventually he spoke. “In Cordova the Mirandas are a wealthy family, but their dollars don’t buy much over here. When Micky came to Windfield he spent his entire year’s allowance in a few weeks. But he had boasted of his family’s riches, and he was much too proud to admit the truth. So, when he ran out of money … he stole.”

Hugh remembered the scandal that had rocked the school in June of 1866. “The six gold sovereigns that were stolen from Mr. Offerton,” he said wonderingly. “Micky was the thief?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m damned.”

“And Peter knew.”

“How?”

“He saw Micky coming out of Offerton’s study. When the theft was reported he guessed the truth. He said he would tell unless Micky owned up. We thought it was a piece of luck to catch him at the pool. When I ducked him I was trying to frighten him into silence. But I never thought …”

“That Micky would kill him.”

“And all these years he’s let me think it was my fault, and he was covering up for me,” Edward said. “The swine.”

Hugh realized that, against the odds, he had succeeded in shaking Edward’s faith in Micky. He was tempted to say Now that you know what he’s like, forget about the Santamaria harbor. But he had to be careful not to overplay his hand. He decided he had said enough: Edward should be left to draw his own conclusions. Hugh stood up to go. “I’m sorry to have given you such a blow,” he said.

Edward was deep in thought, rubbing his neck where the rash itched. “Yes,” he said vaguely.

“I must go.”

Edward said nothing. He seemed to have forgotten Hugh’s existence. He was staring into his glass. Hugh looked hard at him and saw, with a jolt, that he was crying.

He went out quietly and closed the door.

4

AUGUSTA LIKED being a widow. For one thing, black suited her. With her dark eyes, silver hair and black eyebrows she was quite striking in mourning clothes.

Joseph had been dead for four weeks and it was remarkable how little she missed him. She found it a little odd that he was not there to complain if the beef was underdone or the library was dusty. She dined alone once or twice a week but she had always been able to enjoy her own company. She no longer had the status of wife of the Senior Partner, but she was the mother of the new Senior Partner. And she was the dowager countess of Whitehaven. She had everything Joseph had ever given her, without the nuisance of having Joseph himself.

And she might marry again. She was fifty-eight, and no longer capable of bearing children; but she still had the desires that she thought of as girlish feelings. In fact they had got worse since Joseph’s death. When Micky Miranda touched her arm, or looked into her eyes, or let his hand rest on her hip as he ushered her into a room, she felt more strongly than ever that sensation of pleasure combined with weakness that made her head spin.

Looking at herself in the drawing room mirror, she thought: We are so alike, Micky and I, even in our coloring. We would have had such pretty dark-eyed babies.

As she was thinking it, her blue-eyed, fair-haired baby came in. He was not looking well. He had gone from being stout to positively fat, and he had some kind of skin problem. He was often bad-tempered around tea-time, as the effects of the wine he had drunk at lunch wore off.

But she had something important to say to him and was in no mood to go easy on him. “What’s this I hear about Emily’s asking you for an annulment?” she said.

“She wants to marry someone else,” Edward said dully.

“She can’t—she’s married to you!”

“Not really,” Edward said.

What on earth was he talking about? Much as she loved him, he could be deeply irritating. “Don’t be silly,” she snapped. “Of course she’s married to you.”

“I only married her because you wanted me to. And she only agreed because her parents made her. We never loved each other, and …” He hesitated, then blurted: “We never consummated the marriage.”

So that was what he was getting at. Augusta was astonished that he had the nerve to refer directly to the sexual act: such things were not said in front of women. However, she was not surprised to learn that the marriage was a sham: she had guessed it for years. All the same she was not going to let Emily get away with this. “We can’t have a scandal,” she said firmly,

“It wouldn’t be a scandal—”

“Of course it would,” she barked, exasperated by his shortsightedness. “It would be the talk of London for a year, and it would be in all the cheap newspapers, too.” Edward was Lord Whitehaven now, and a sexual sensation involving a peer was just the kind of thing featured in the weekly newspapers that servants bought.