Page 60 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“I—” she hesitated. “I am not sure where to go with Hillbrook, Eddie. He’s sweet and all but I…it still feels strange to have him court me.”
“I thought everything was going well,” Edward said, and his tone made her think that there was much more behind his words than her changing her mind about Hillbrook.
“It is…was, erm, is…” she said quietly but then eyed her brother. “What is wrong, Eddie?”
His jaw went tight and a muscle spasmed there. His shoulders lost the steel inside it and his body seemed to fold in on itself. “The magistrate’s office is investigating me for Viscount Shirlling’s murder.”
“What?” she almost screamed.
Edward winced, and she lowered her tone, “Why Edward? You had nothing to do with it. You were almost killed too! How can that make you a suspect?”
“There are some…” Edward sighed again. “Knowing who the Viscount was to the Crown and that I had a known Bonapartist in my home, they are…it’s just a suspicion, Penelope. There is no proof against me, and despite the connection, they had made with a bullet casing that they recovered from the Viscount’s body and the ones Father used to use—”
“Heaven forbid, Eddie!” Penelope exclaimed. “Father’s guns! They think he got shot by Fathers guns?”
“No,” Edward said, “No, no, no! They only made a connection with the casing, Penelope! There are many people who use the same bullets, so there is a high chance they will find someone else.”
Many people with the same unique casing as an air gun bullet…not likely.
Tension was running through her like a beating drum and she felt all the worries about Hillbrook and Heath being shoved to the back of her mind in light of her brother’s predicament.
“Eddie,” she said soberly. “Are you sure about this hunt? Don’t you think it best to lay off on such things until you’re clear of all this suspicion?”
Shaking his head, Edward’s face was resolute, “It would make me look more suspicious. I cannot do that, Penelope. I have to maintain my reputation.”
“I would rather think your reputation is one that the Crown would approve of more than your friends,” Penelope said, every word laced with logic. “Don’t you think this is the prime time to step back, assess your friends, and cut a few from your list, Eddie? Lord Swanville comes to mind.”
Edward’s gaze went heated, “That, I cannot do! Swanville might be…an individual but—”
“An individual?” Penelope’s was aghast. “That’s what you call it? An individual? The man supports Napoleon, Edward! He supports dissention!”
“Penelope,” Edward’s tone, though quiet had the steel of stubbornness. “Not everyone is as happily blind and deluded with the state of our country’s affairs as you are.”
The realization hit her like an avalanche, and she sat back with a shudder. “You! Edward! Are you leaning to that side? Are you becoming a…dissenter?”
“No, no I am not,” Edward said, but the conflicted look on his face told her otherwise.
Darting from her seat, Penelope shot him a disgusting look, “Yes, you do. You do, Eddie! I can see it! You’re eschewing everything moral good and values that Father stood for! I cannot even look at you now.”
Penelope was halfway through the house with anger spurring her heels and disbelief in her chest. Her brother’s thinking was skewed. Who in their right mind, that was under a criminal investigation, would throw themselves into the spotlight? Was there even a speck of logic in Edward’s mind, or was he so caught up in proving himself to his friends that he would forsake the basics of common sense?
She wanted to scream…or cry. Did Edward not see the danger he was putting them in? Heath was right. Heath was so right when he had told her Swanville and Hillbrook were swaying Edward to their side. Did her Oxford-educated brother not see that? What was it going to take to make Edward see sense? His being shot like the Viscount? Was that it?
She blindly turned a corner and nearly sent Mr. Gastrell into the wall with her collision. Throwing an apology over her shoulder she hastened off and out to the one place she felt could calm her—the stables. When she got to Bessie, she could feel aggravated tears brimming under her lids. She reached out to her horse and pressed her face to the mare’s side.
“And they say animals are hard to make heel,” she scoffed. “You have your ways, but you are not half a stubborn as Eddie. Heath was right.”
“Who?”
It was Edward. Drat. He had overheard her.
“Hm?” She tried to play ignorant, but Edward’s eyes were narrowed.
“Who is Heath?” Edward pressed.
“Heath who? Care to be more specific?”
“Penelope,” her brother said tightly, “Stop being obtuse. I know that you know what I said, but I don’t have the strength to press the issue. Penelope, you need to know that though it looks b…”
