Abby rose at the conclusion of the meal. “Ellen, would you join me on the back terrace for a cup of tea?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Ellen smiled, meaning it. The day had had a few dips and bumps, but the afternoon and evening had been lovely. A cup of tea with good company would finish it pleasantly indeed. The gentlemen rose and repaired to the library, leaving the ladies whispering, arm in arm as they left the house.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner,” Ellen observed. “Is it the baby?”

“I get a little queasy.” Abby linked her arm with Ellen’s. “It passes, and then an hour later, I am stalking through the kitchen like a hungry wolf.”

“Peppermint tea sometimes helps, or it did me.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d carried. Will it offend you if I order peppermint tea for us now?”

“Of course not.” Ellen sank onto a wicker rocking chair. “After such a rich meal, I could use some too.”

Abby took a second rocker and smoothed a hand over her skirts. “So you lost your baby?”

Ellen did not meet Abby’s eyes in the silence that followed. She could mutter some polite inanity—she had on many occasions: It was a long time ago. It wasn’t meant to be. The Lord makes these decisions.

Except the Lord hadn’t made the decisions.

“Three,” Ellen said in low, bitter tones. “I lost three babies, all in the first half of my terms. I was miserable with the pregnancies—couldn’t keep much of anything down, and I survived on mint tea.” On what she’d thought was mint tea, God help her.

“Oh, my dear.” Abby reached over and took Ellen’s hand. “I am so, so sorry.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you such things. Your disposition cannot benefit from such a tale.”

“But it’s part of life,” Abby countered. “Axel’s first wife lost two babies, and he said that, more than anything else they faced, daunted her spirit. He did not know how to comfort her, but it’s why in seven years of marriage they only had the two boys. Axel would have loved a daughter, though.”

Ellen met her gaze in the waning light. “And all you want is a healthy child who grows into some kind of happy adulthood.”

“Desperately,” Abby said, and they shared a silent moment of absolute female communion. “I pray without ceasing for it, and I know Axel does too. But let me order our tea, and we can watch the moonrise while we discuss more pleasant things.”

A deft signal the topic was to shift, and Ellen was relieved. She hadn’t spoken of the babies to anyone, but Abby was becoming a friend, and five years was long enough to live in silence without a single friend.

* * *

“You’ll need it.” Axel held out a snifter of brandy to his guest.

“I’ll not refuse it,” Val said. “Nick has vouched for your kitchen, your cellars, and your hospitality.”

“We are going to have an uncomfortable discussion.” Axel poured himself a drink as he spoke. “I will impugn, or possibly impugn, a lady’s honor.”

“We’re not going to discuss Abby, are we?” Val said, slowly lowering his drink.

“Move over.” Axel settled beside him on the couch facing the hearth and bent to take off his boots. “Feel free to do likewise. You had a bath today, and I have sons.” He fell silent for a moment, staring at his drink. “Abby and Ellen shared a bottle of wine earlier today and certain confidences were parted with. Abby brought them to me.”

“I happened to overhear some of the same conversation, since the ladies were on the balcony adjoining my room,” Val said, watching as Axel set his boots aside. “It gets worse. Ellen has the local solicitor collect the rents then puts every penny into a London account. As the holder of the life estate, she is the landlord and liable for all improvements, and she has made none.”

“What is she doing with the money?” Axel asked, settling in with a sigh. “Hoarding it for eventual flight to the Continent?”

“Could be, or it could be she’s being blackmailed.”

Axel nodded, obviously more than willing to consider this possibility. “For her terrible crime, worse than killing her own husband, whom she professed to love.”

“She did love him, and he loved her, and they should have lived happily ever after. I simply cannot see Ellen as a murderer.”

“Neither can I.” Axel took a sip of his drink. “I still think you should make some inquiries. Find out if the money remains in that London account, for starters. That will tell you whether somebody’s bleeding her or she’s hoarding it. Either way, her behavior points to guilt over something, though I can’t see her as a murderer, either.”

“Why not?” Val let the slow burn of the whiskey take the edge off the need to get away from this conversation and play fast, complicated music far into the night.

“She’s a gardener,” Axel said, contemplating his feet. “She makes things grow; she isn’t a destroyer of life. Every time I see them, her gardens have that look of exuberance. They don’t simply grow, they thrive and glory in her care. Everything I’ve heard of her marriage to Lord Francis suggests he was thriving in her care, as well.”

Val really did not want to hear that. “For example?”

“When I ran into the man at my club, he never tarried in Town but professed to be eager to get home to his wife. He did not vote his seat when she was in anticipation of an interesting event. The birth would have been months away, and he remained in the country with her.”

“Blazes.” Ellen had carried a child?

“They never entertained over the holidays,” Axel recalled, “and the explanation Roxbury offered was he wanted the time to enjoy being with his wife. He was smitten, and one gets the sense she was pleased to be married to him as well. You know the lady better than I.” Axel saluted a little with his drink. “If she loved him, she likely didn’t kill him.”

“She might have inadvertently caused his death, provided a second dose of laudanum when a first had already been given, something like that.”

“A mistake.” Axel nodded agreement. “You are hoping it was a mistake, and so am I. The only reason I am telling you this is because I think Ellen could use a friend.”

“I am her friend. Maybe her only friend.”

“As her friend, you should make those inquiries. Find out what’s to do with that money; maybe dig a little regarding the late baron’s death.”

“I see your point.” Though he hated the idea of rummaging around in Ellen’s past without her knowledge or consent. “How does one dig past loyal solicitors?”

Axel snorted. “Loyal to whom? Not to the widowed baroness, certainly. But if the solicitors do hold the purse strings, they’ve likely held on to the late baron’s staff, as well. You might talk to them, see what they recall.”

“Or send somebody off to talk to them,” Val agreed, a certain someone coming to mind. “Before I go tearing around, violating the woman’s privacy, hadn’t I better stop to ask why I’m going to such an effort?”

“Because you’re smitten.” Axel slouched down, his drink cradled in his lap. “Even if you weren’t smitten, you’re constitutionally unable to ignore a damsel in distress.”

“I can ignore them. I have five sisters.”

“Distress is not a missing hair ribbon. St. Just has told me how careful you were with Winnie last winter, how much time you spent with her. Nicholas reports you dote on little Rose, as well.”

Nicholas and his damned reporting. “I will concede I have a weakness for the underdog, but ask any man with four older brothers and he’ll tell you the same.”

“You have honor,” Axel said simply. “You do not tolerate injustice, and that is a fine quality in any man—or any man’s son.”

“Tell that to Moreland,” Val muttered before taking a hefty swallow of his drink.

“I think he already knows.” Axel yawned. “You’ll see what you can do to help Ellen?”

“I will. Have you somebody to take a message to London tonight?”

Axel glanced out the window. “Moon’s up. Wheeler will likely be game. You can afford this?”

Val smiled at him, knowing the question wasn’t intended as an insult. “You are a good friend, Axel Belmont, and a brave man. Compared to what I’ve put into the estate, this little investigation will be a pittance, and I can well afford it. I haven’t just produced a few pianos for the occasional schoolroom; I’ve also imported a lot of rare and antique instruments from the Continent. The Corsican left many an old family with little enough coin, so I can buy very, very cheaply and sell very, very dearly.”

“Trade.” Axel smiled. “One doesn’t want to admit it, but it can be fun.”

“Fun and profitable. I am seeing to it priceless instruments find a home where they’ll be taken care of, appreciated, and even played.”

“Shrewd of you,” Axel said, his gaze appraising. “St. Just claims your business sense is every bit as astute as Westhaven’s.”

“Maybe, but only in my very limited field.”

“I don’t buy that,” Axel countered, rising, going to the desk, and rummaging for paper, ink, pen, and sand. “I’ll leave you to your correspondence and warn Wheeler somebody had better be saddling up.”

“My thanks.” Val took the seat behind the desk.

“And Val?” Axel paused by the door. “I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a connection we’re missing.”

“Connecting what?”

“Your estate has been beset with hidden traps, and it’s as if Ellen’s future has been sabotaged, as well. I can’t see the common thread, but I sense there is one.”

“As do I. I’ll see what I can find out.”

But after he jotted off a note to Benjamin Hazlit in London and had it delivered to the stables, Val sat for a long time, pondering Axel’s parting words. He knew what it felt like to have one’s future sabotaged, and it wasn’t a feeling easily tolerated.