Page 60 of Honor Unbound

“I say.” Mr. Platt jerked his head at his niece. “Little ears and all that.”

Lady Mary darted a glance at the girl but pressed on. “When was the last time you spoke with your manager?”

“A couple days past.” Mrs. Trent unwound the end of her shawl from around her daughter’s arm. She dug into her reticule and pulled out a tin of chocolate drops and gave it to the girl. “He harangued me about getting the factory up and running again. I told him I would attend to it when I could.”

“And what about you?” Lady Mary asked, turning to Platt. “When did you last see the man?”

“Me?” Platt flinched, the soft skin at his throat forming a double chin. “What have I to do with it?”

Randall snickered. “Titles are grand things, Georgie, but they can’t protect you from suspicion. The lady thinks you might have killed that Hicks.”

Platt’s face went red. “How dare you…you…right sot.”

Brett clenched his hands. He wasn’t certain the word sot was rude enough to qualify Platt for a thrashing, but he wanted to be ready just in case Lady Mary indicated it was.

Instead, she shushed the man. Lady Mary pointed at the child who seemed wholly absorbed in her sweets. “Little ears, remember.”

Brett feared for Platt’s health as mottled as his face became.

“Lady Mary, your impertinent questions are bordering on harassing.” Mrs. Trent’s mouth pinched. “I must insist—”

“And I will, as soon as the ki….” She spared the child a glance. “The malefactor has been apprehended. I would think you would be eager for that to happen, for your daughter’s sake if nothing else. Unless you have some reason for not wanting the person responsible for your husband’s death caught?”

“Of course, I want that,” Mrs. Trent said, eyes narrow. “But you are looking in the wrong place.”

Lady Mary rested her weight on her stick. “Then that is easily resolved. Tell me where you were last night and I will leave you alone.”

Brett struggled to keep his face straight. The more outraged Platt and his sister became, the more humorous he found the situation.

“In bed.” Mrs. Trent exhaled loudly. “Alone.”

“And you Mr. Platt?” Lady Mary asked.

Platt flexed his fingers.

Brett edged closer just in case the man forgot himself.

“Also home in bed,” he bit out.

“Not that anyone has asked me, but I was in bed with a charming—” Platt’s elbow into Mr. Randall’s side stopped thatsentence. He rubbed his side theatrically. “A charming bottle of port, I was going to say. Though I didn’t enjoy it alone.” His roguish smile landed on Marie.

She met his gaze, an admirably disinterested expression on her face. Only Brett could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Do stop toying with servants.” Mr. Platt scowled. “They’re not worth the trouble you get into.”

Heat rushed up the back of Brett’s neck. Marie was worth any trouble. He squared up on Platt. “I hear you are having financial difficulties, Platt. Had your brother-in-law decidedyouwere no longer worth the trouble and refused assistance?”

Marie must have recognized the expression on Brett’s face. She stepped close to him, resting a calming hand on his arm. “Brett,” she said, low enough for only him to hear.

“Your man should take better care,” Platt said to Lady Mary. A vein pulsed in his neck. “There are consequences for ill-spoken words. And for slander. I won’t have you fouling my reputation.”

“It’s only slander if it’s false.” Brett patted Marie’s hand. He really wanted to test how soft Platt’s chin truly was, but for Marie’s sake, and Lady Mary’s, he would control himself.

Randall adjusted the knot of his cravat. “‘What people believe prevails over the truth.’”

Lady Mary held up a hand. “I think we have all become too agitated if we’ve been reduced to quoting Sophocles again. A rather shallow philosopher if you ask me.”

Randall glared at her.