“Paltry, considering,” Millie replied. “He was your son. Yourheir.”
“I have another. My brother’s boy. Excellent man.” Eltenham’s inhale narrowed his nostrils. “I do not blame the boy for his nature. I do, however, find fault with his appalling lack of discretion. Indulgence is one thing. Indulgence without heed to family and position…” He shook his head. “That is something a civilized society cannot tolerate.”
Millie let out a sound akin to a growl, and Neville judged he had only so much time before she told Lord Eltenham exactly what she thought of him. He caught Millie’s hand in an even tighter grip and guided her outside.
“He’s a monster, too,” she whispered.
“Yes. A different kind, however.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m glad you kept that part to yourself until we were out of the barn.”
“Well,of course. The man had just killed hisson.”
“Keep walking.” He released her hand. “I would hold you if I could, but as you are…”
“I understand,” she said.
“I see Asquith heading this way. We’ll find out what’s being done up at the house, but I would like to leave the details to Dixon. I won’t feel entirely easy until you are off this property.”
She sent him a sidelong glance. “Haven’t I proven I can take care of myself?”
“You’ve proven that and more.” He gentled his expression. “I owe you my life…in more ways than one.”
She smiled softly. “And when you thought me a murderer, you would have taken the blame.”
“I’d lay down my life,” he whispered sincerely.
“I know,” she said, voice cracking. “As would I.”
Not the words of love he desperately needed to hear, but close. And all, at present, they could manage.
“Ho!” Asquith called out as he approached. “Is Willard dead?” His voice held almost no emotion.
“Very much so,” Millie answered.
Asquith stared blankly at the barn door. Neville knew, however, just beneath Asquith’s surface, emotions ran rampant, sentiments Neville couldn’t hope to understand. Neville’s heart panged for his friend. His nemesis was dead, and by someone else’s hand.
Whether or not that would heal or further hurt Asquith was anyone’s guess.
Asquith’s gaze moved to Millie. “How are you?”
“Well enough. I would have shot him. I almost wish I did. How do I live with that?”
“Painfully.” Asquith snorted—galgenhumor, as the Germans might say. The grim wit of someone facing a hopeless situation. “I almost beat him to death, and I’ve had to live with those consequences for a lifetime. Don’t carry guilt, Mil. Not for him.”
“If I promise to absolve myself, will you absolve yourself, too?”
Asquith lifted his brows. “There’s an idea.”
Neville rested a hand on Asquith’s shoulder and squeezed.
Asquith acknowledged the gesture by briefly pursing his lips. “I understand Eltenham has already ordered you a post chaise?”
“Yes,” Neville replied. “Unless you need us here, I’m inclined to get myself to a place where I can wash and change.”
“I’ll hire a postillion to get my second horse back to London.” He glanced back at the house. “A woman up there told Dixon she wishes to speak with you. Wheelwright?”
“Cartwright,” Neville corrected. He turned to Millie. “Do you mind?”
“Go on,” Millie said.