“For God’s sake, I need not let him know of your accusations in order to question him.” Although since Beatrice knew everything, that might be a bit difficult.
“But if he’s guilty,” Sheridan said, “any questions on the matter will spook him. I know you have a soft spot for Beatrice, but I cannot let Joshua’s actions stand.”
“I realize that. Just let me talk to him before you run off for the constable. I’m heading over there now, anyway.” He stared Sheridan down. “I suppose I should let you know. I don’t merely have a soft spot for Beatrice: I mean to marry her.”
Sheridan gaped at him. “You realize she has no dowry and no prospects beyond what small portion I might provide for her one day as her relation. She’ll bring little to the marriage beyond herself. Given how hard you work to increase your wealth, I would have thought you, of all people—”
“Beatrice ‘herself’ is plenty enough for me,” he snapped, annoyed that his brother saw him as so mercenary. “I work to increase my wealth so my children and grandchildren won’t be saddled with crippling debt the way you now are, but I don’t need a rich wife for that. I’m only telling you of our impending marriage so you’ll know that if this irrational obsession of yours with blaming her brother harms her in any way—”
“I would never intentionally harm Bea.”
“Good. Because if you do, I will stand with her. Even if it means standing against you.”
Sheridan rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I see. Then I suppose I’d best get to the bottom of this quickly.”
“Be sure that you do. Because Iwillmake Beatrice my wife. And I’m hoping not to make an enemy of my brother in the process.”
“That will never happen, Grey,” his brother said softly.
But as Sheridan swept past him on his way out, Grey wasn’t so sure. Then again, Grey had been bereft of his brothers and sister for many years. He could live without them again if he must. Because if it came to choosing Beatrice or his family, he would choose Beatrice, no matter what her brother had or hadn’t done.
That much he knew.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Beatrice was at home, trying not to worry about Grey, when Joshua glanced out the window and cursed under his breath. He then grabbed his pistol, loaded it, and limped through the door.
She followed him out. “Grey!” she cried, seeing him coming up the walkway. “You’re here!”
The smile he flashed her was positively beatific. “I told you I’d come back for you.” Then he saw Joshua’s pistol, and his smile vanished.
Joshua cocked the pistol. “I was too blind to see what Uncle Armie was trying to force my sister into. But Iknowwhat you’re about, and I damned well won’t stand for it.”
“Joshua, put that pistol down before it goes off!” she cried. “He has come back to marry me!”
“I have indeed,” Grey said, his eyes never leaving the pistol.
“Damn it, Beatrice,” Joshua grumbled. “He’s betrothed to another woman.”
“Not anymore.” Grey lifted his gaze to meet her brother’s. “And I don’t blame you for killing your uncle Armie. If the man were here right now, I’d kill him myself.”
When that seemed to take Joshua aback, Beatrice slipped around him to stand between her brother and Grey. “He didn’t kill Uncle Armie. He was away in Leicester.”
“Or so he says.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “He can prove it, actually.” Glancing back at her brother, she said, “Tell him. Tell him where you were and why.”
“I don’t have to tell him a bloody thing!” Joshua growled. “It’s none of his concern.”
Grey glared at him over her head. “It is if you expect me to help you escape the hangman’s noose. Because Sheridan is hell-bent on bringing you to justice. And I damned well do not wish to have to tell him about your uncle’s behavior toward Beatrice unless I must. Your waving that gun at me every chance you get isn’t exactly convincing me of your innocence, either.”
Her heart hammering, Beatrice pivoted to face her brother. “Put the blasted pistol down, and tell him the truth!”
Thankfully, Joshua uncocked the pistol and lowered it. “I don’t understand why Sheridan is all riled up. Uncle Armie’s death was an accident.”
“It may very well have been,” Grey said, “but he thinks you have motive for it. That you killed the man to keep him from selling this place.”
“Joshua?” Beatrice prompted him.
