The Emperor's Conspiracy by Michelle Diener Page B

Frethers, but I took them away. I took away his only way out. Perhaps he realized there was no getting out of it, this time. Could he have … ?”
    There was silence in the room, and Edward watched as his sister curled in on herself. He wanted to shout that the worthless bastard did not deserve even one tear to be shed for him, but he kept his mouth clamped shut. As far as he was concerned, if Geoffrey had taken his own life, it was probably the most honorable thing he’d ever done.
    “What is wrong with me?” Emma looked at him with an aching uncertainty. “I can’t find it in me to grieve for him. I don’t want to forgive him. All I can feel is rage at what he was going to do, and relief I will never have to see him again.”
    Edward let out a long-held breath. Catherine looked up at him and shook her head.
    “He recently gave you no reason to feel otherwise. You may one day think back fondly on some of your moments, but that is in the future, if at all.” She rose to her feet and smoothed a hand over Emma’s head.
    The way she spoke, with a deep sense of knowing, made Edward wonder for the first time the circumstances of Catherine’sown marriage. Why she had never remarried, although she could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen years older than Charlotte herself.
    “He may have killed himself, but Geoffrey was never one for discomfort. He would have had to have been lower than I’ve ever seen him before for the idea to hold any appeal. And I have seen him very low.” Emma rocked in place, and Edward stared at her, trying to work out her meaning.
    “You think he may have shot himself accidentally, or been shot by one of his friends?”
    Emma shook her head. “No. I was thinking more along the lines of murder.”

    “W hat do you make of Emma’s suspicions?” Edward would not sit. Instead he prowled and paced, turning the large, simply furnished sitting room into a zoo cage. His constant movement was getting on her nerves, but Charlotte held on to her irritation.
    She could see Edward was simply unable to do anything else.
    The rain had stopped, and late afternoon sunshine poured through the windows, bringing his tense, drawn face into sharp relief.
    She recalled Emma’s reaction when Charlotte had first asked to speak to her about Frethers, back at her country estate. How Emma had assumed Charlotte was there to speak to her of something else. Something she was afraid of. Perhapsthat is what prompted her thoughts of murder. But that was not Charlotte’s secret to tell.
    When she raised her head, she saw Edward was finally still, but not the still of calm—rather, the still of the tiger before it pounces. “You know something.”
    She shrugged. “I know nothing. But I may have picked up a sense that something was wrong, that Geoffrey was involved in something that made Emma afraid, and I can only say you’ll have to ask Emma. I may not be right.”
    The look he sent her should have burned her where she sat. He turned away, furious.
    “I truly don’t know. But I would not tell you if I did; you’re quite right. It is for Emma to tell us both.” She paused. “Did you know your stepfather sent a spy to watch this house the day before yesterday?”
    Her swift change of subject was like a jolt of lightning in the room. He froze, then stared at her.
    “The little bugger tossed a brick at your matched set. Nearly made the one on the left lame.”
    “How do you know it was my stepfather?” Edward crossed his arms over his chest.
    “I caught the spy and bribed him.” She shrugged. “He didn’t know it was your stepfather but mentioned the carriage of the man who hired him had the same crest as yours. Emma says the only man with use of your carriages is your stepfather.”
    “She’s right.” Edward began to walk again. To the fireplace and back to the window. The atmosphere had gone from anger and hurt to genuine puzzlement, though, and Charlotte wasglad for the change. “What could my