Page 76 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
My own thoughts had turned dark. Miss Travers didn’t strike me as particularly strong. Headaches. Remedies. Fragile in that way some women are—pretty, pampered, and utterly unprepared for life. What would happen to her once the Vales had what they wanted? Once her dowry was safely in their grasp?
The eldest brother already had a weak constitution. There would be no room for another frailty. No patience for imperfection.
The thought struck me cold.
What, in heaven’s name, would the Vale family do to her?
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
A BROTHER’S WORTH
Ioverslept.
Should’ve known. After the night I’d had—the alley, the fog, the filth of the Grinning Rat clinging to my coat like smoke—sleep had dragged me under and kept me there. I smelled like a dog’s breath and felt worse.
After a rushed bath and a hasty breakfast, I headed straight to Brook Street, arriving just before noon. At least, I could still claim it was morning.
Harrington let me in with a bow. He didn’t say a word. But then, he didn’t need to.
I found Phillip exactly where he’d been the night before—sprawled in a chair by the hearth, cravat askew, boots gone, one hand limp around a glass of brandy.
He looked up, blinking against the light. “Warwick?—?”
I shut the door behind me.
“Get up.”
He struggled upright, slowly. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No,” I said. “If you had, you might’ve bothered to act like a man instead of a wreck.”
He flinched, jaw tight, but didn’t argue.
“I went to The Grinning Rat last night.”
That snapped him to attention.
“You’re heavily in debt, Phillip. How much?”
He looked away.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s start simpler. How long?”
His voice was low. “A few months.”
“Who do you owe?”
Silence.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
He swallowed. “The debt was bought. I don’t know who holds it now.”
“I’ll tell you who it is.”
Phillip scowled. “If you know, then why bloody ask?”
