Page 113 of Unseen

“Yes, we did.” Azriel scratched his cheek with his thumb, and sighed. “Fitzwilliam de la Croix was a very good friend of mine, once upon a time. Indeed, when we were boys, we were like brothers. I entrusted him with all of my deepest secrets. I even spent summers with his family at his house. I told him everything.”

“Everything?” I asked slowly.

Azriel tilted his head, frowning at me. “What has brought this on? De la Croix is dead. Why would it matter whether or not we were friends?”

“His wife was here.”

Azriel rolled his eyes to the ceiling, puffing on his pipe. “I see. And what did she have to say?”

“Aside from feeling that her husband was murdered, she is also of the opinion that you and I conspired to kill your father, and are responsible for his death.”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm? Is that all you have to say?” I leaned on the edge of the tub, and Azriel turned his head back to face me. “She has accused us of conspiring to murder, and she has said that she will not rest until we both hang.”

“Ignore her. She is angry.”

“She said de la Croix told her this before he went to the duel.” I watched Azriel’s face carefully, only the quick drawn down flicker of his brows betraying him. “You say you told de la Croix everything. Did you ever say anything to him that would make him think we would do such a thing?”

Azriel leaned back in the water, swirling a hand through it, exhaling heavily. “One night, not so many years ago, after a wedding at which I had seen the most beautiful woman I had ever beheld in my life…” His eyes raised to my face, and he gave me a sad smile. “I became roaringly drunk. Mad with envy, cursing my father and the world for not giving me such a bride. For forcing me to watch him bring you home, here into this cursed house.”

“You were angry.”

“Yes, I was angry. Angry and young and drunk, and consumed with jealousy. So I turned to my friends, who turned me to the bottle.” He huffed out a laugh. “I allowed myself one night, just one, to be unutterably angry at theinjustice of it all. To rage over it. And it was on this night, that I said something to de la Croix, with heated blood. That I would kill my father and take you for myself.” He sucked on his teeth, throwing the pipe into the bowl on the table beside the tub. “A ridiculous statement, delivered by a man who’d drunk enough whiskey to kill a horse. But of course, the devious scoundrel held on to that. Filed it away in his mind for further use. I suppose that was the first sign that our friendship was not what it once was.”

“When did your friendship change?”

“When he married the illustrious Lucy Ferrars.” Azriel’s face shifted into a look of disdain. “A situation one can sympathise with, I suppose, given the one we found ourselves in. De la Croix had the illustrious name, a dukedom, but he was penniless thanks to the men who had come before him and made terrible decisions. De la Croix had the name, but the Ferrars had the money. And so pretty little Lucy was married off to him. And I no longer recognised my friend.”

I reached out to put a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, and he curled his own over it. “I am sorry.”

“She’s a terrible woman. A harlot, and not the honourable kind. Not like Rebecca.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Rebecca is most certainly honourable.”

“That she is,” Azriel agreed with a nod. “But Lucy de la Croix, she is a woman with no morals. Whored herself around the high society of London the moment they returned from their honeymoon.”

“And he allowed it?”

“Yes, a pathetic cuckold. He was so dazzled by the riches, that he did not once think to see to his wife, to his family. It’s an outrage.” His eyes moved to mine, and he squeezed my hand. “Do not worry yourself. No one will believe her.”

“I think you would be surprised what people will believe. The more outrageous the better. And it is not as though it would be so hard to believe it.”

Azriel lifted an eyebrow. “If you think I will let anyone hurt you, I will not.”

“There is only so much we can escape, Azriel. Here, we shall always be looked at with suspicion. And you say that no one will believe Lucy de la Croix, but those very people believed me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened with shock. “Do not speak so.”

“But it is true, my darling. I got away with it.”

“Stop this.” Azriel clasped my hand. “Do not even say it.”

“We will forever be looking over our shoulders if we stay here.”

“And where should we go?”

I stroked my hand over his hair, smiling at the way his eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly at my touch. “America.”

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