Calan motioned with his head and moved through the crowded ballroom. Margaret followed, still in disbelief.
Cressida was standing with Mary and Belinda, facing two black-haired ladies, as Margaret walked past. Calan Haverston's wife gave her a reassuring smile before she turned her attention back on Belinda who was saying something to who Margaret guessed were the Prewitt sisters.
Her mentor swiftly escaped the ballroom. Margaret saw him turn to the right and quickly followed. The corridor was not empty, but after another turn, she found herself entering a small garden devoid of guests. It was poorly situated between a wall of rocks and the side of the house, allowing lesser air for breathing.
Calan's voice was mild and emotionless as he spoke. "The League is aware of your history with Cole Devitt."
Her eyes widened with surprise. She tried to ignore the feeling of betrayal that rose inside her but found it hard to do so.
"We always make certain that we know the story of everyone who joins the League before anything else."
"I gave you no right to—"
"You gave us privilege into your affairs when you joined us. You knew that from the very start."
Margaret glared at him, the bitter taste of perfidy still in her tongue. "I am starting to not like you, my lord."
A small smile quirked his lips. "It is also part of the work."
Margaret's jaw tightened. He was right.
She knew that there were gossips about her having her heart broken by a man, but that person had always remained a mystery to many. Her courtship with Cole was too private to begin with, and their engagement short-lived. Any chance sighting of them was merely perceived as friendship, considering Cole's closeness with her brother, Benedict. To many, it was just like seeing Samuel Theobald with Ysabella or Emma. They never even graced the gossip column. Not once.
"If the League is so excellent in digging pasts, should you not have found something on Cole Devitt's as well?"
"Unlike you and many others in the League, Lady Margaret, Cole Devitt seems to be a man who knows how to keep his secrets." Calan moved out of the shadows and fixed her a look. "Use your history with the man and find out what he's up to." His eyes did not waver as he added, "Or what he did."
Margaret scoffed in disbelief. "Cole Devitt is capable of many things, my lord, but I doubt murder is amongst them." She paced before him. "And if you truly know my history with the man, then surely you are aware how it's impossible for me to do my task."
"You have a different understanding of the man. You can read his thoughts in ways no other Leaguers cannot."
"And how certain are you that I still can? He left me, my lord. It never crossed my mind that he would leave me, but he did. It merely proves that I did not know him well enough then, and most certainly not now." Her voice began to waver as she talked, her heart getting heavier by each word.
She had joined the League not only to serve the Town, but also to forget Cole Devitt. And now, they wanted her to infiltrate his life. Famous!
Margaret sighed. "We do not even have enough evidence to link him to the murder. You found his brooch in Osmond Trilby's room, but you are not certain how long it had been there. Anyone could have planted the brooch in the room, Edmund Trilby included." When Calan looked away, Margaret frowned. "Or is there more that you're not telling me?"
Calan's emotionless face did not change as he addressed her question. "The very fact that Devitt managed to get close to Edmund Trilby, a young man one can easily fool, tells us more. We have managed to collect very little connection between Devitt and Osmond Trilby but the one we gathered provides us a clue that Trilby's connection with Devitt may root from the past."
Her brows knitted to a frown. "Whatever do you mean?"
Her mentor craned his neck to see if they were still alone. Satisfied, he said, "Records we found in Osmond Trilby's house tell us that the man had ventures with the late Lord Ashmore."
Margaret frowned. "Who happens to not be the current Lord Ashmore. His father's affairs are separate from his."
Calan nodded. "The man died under questionable circumstances."
"He killed himself," Margaret provided, her throat tight at the reminder of how Leah's death had affected so many people, including her father. But the look on her mentor's face told her more. "You believe otherwise."
"The man sent calling cards to associates the same day of the alleged suicide. He was making plans for the days to follow. He was not planning to kill himself. We need to investigate the late Lord Ashmore's connection to the Trilbys, but to do that, we need access to his effects."
"Surely, the League can access Ashmore as easily as they accessed my past," she said with derision.
"That's why you are handed this mission, Margaret."
Margaret slowly shook her head, imagining herself rummaging Cole's library. If she could not even spend a minute with him without him pushing her away, how could she make him invite her to Ashmore where his sister and father died?
Calan's eyes softened. "You truly believe him to be innocent."
"I do. Despite our past, I do believe him to be innocent."
Her mentor looked at her, his face unreadable. "Then prove it."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he already turned away. "Osmond Trilby was Noah Trilby's brother."
Calan paused and faced her again. "Yes, he is."
"Belinda's sister, Julia, was married to Noah Trilby. The Trilbys have been keeping Julia's daughter from society. They have been a subject to many dark rumors. If they can do these things to their own, perhaps they can do worse. Has the League not investigated them?"
"We talked to most of them. The Trilbys are being investigated for many things, Osmond Trilby's death being one of them, but they have this uncanny ability to avoid trouble. They have more connections than anyone we know. They have people everywhere. We watch their every move, but thus far, we have noted nothing that connects to the Prime Minister's death, save for his son. Edmund Trilby has gone back to school, but we cannot sashay in there and interrogate simply because he attended the Theobald Ball. But the moment he sets foot out of Adam's, we shall try to talk to him again." He paused to look at her. "Did I answer your question?"
Margaret nodded and stared blankly at Calan Haverston's retreating form. She understood his unspoken words: Everyone else was doing their job. She had to do hers.
***
Margaret travelled back to Wickhurst, regretfully declining Belinda's invitation to prolong her stay with them.
As the carriage drove on, she could not help but think about Cole. If his father had a connection with Osmond Trilby, was it possible something went awry that led to Arnold Devitt's demise? If so, it might have driven Cole to murder. He had, after all, tried to kill Benedict in the past, didn't he?
He was amongst those who had much self-control. The only time he lost it was after Leah's death. And the very fact that he could should tell her he was capable of murder.
But would he really do it? Could he? Could he have killed Benedict if she did not stop him?
When no answers came, Margaret shook her head and ordered for the carriage driver to go straight to Wickhurst without a stop.
The answers were in his father's past. And perhaps, also in the years that they were apart. Something must have happened that landed him in Wickhurst and in the company of Edmund Trilby.
If there were any clues—effects that could prove he was innocent or not—they must be in his private study. Or in Ashmore.
But how could she get closer to Cole Devitt?
***
There were very little he gathered from the old records.
Anything that concerned servants and slavery claims were not as promising as the ones he found in Dartridge. Most of Wickhurst had been loyal to the law. At least, that's how it appeared to be on paper.
As he stared blankly at the old records before him, his thoughts drifted back to the past, on the day Margaret asked him why he wanted to be in the Men of Courts.
"To give justice."
"What pushes you to do it? You can be a Town Guard."
"Our laws are flawed, Maggie. Most favors only those with power and money, while those who don't have any stay at the bottom."
"You wish for equality."
"Fairness might be the right word."
His study door opened and his middle-aged butler, Hugh, stepped in with another piece of paper, pulling him back to the present.
"A missive arrived for you, my lord."
Cole took the letter from the man. "Is there anything from Ashmore?"
"No, my lord," replied the butler. "But there is one from Tiny Town. It's in...the box." The box was a wooden chest in his bedroom where all other missives that did not require his immediate attention were kept, letters he merely opened when he was holding a glass of brandy.
Whatever theatrics his mother wrote, Cole had no desire for them. He nodded and said, "You may take your leave. You may retire."
"Very well, my lord." Hugh bowed.
"By the by, Hugh," he said, staring at the man with curious eyes. "You have been in Wickhurst most of your service life, yes?"
Hugh nodded. "Yes, my lord, that is correct."
"Has there been rumors of illegal activities, one that concerns slavery?"
The man blinked, surprised by the question. "None that I have heard of, my lord."
"Would you care to ask some of the servants?" When the butler merely stared at him, he added, "It is for a paper I'm drafting," he lied.
Hugh nodded. "Very well, my lord, I shall ask around." He bowed and left Cole alone in his study to stare at the paper.
He sighed.
Edmund Trilby.
With both hands, he opened the letter.
I could not leave Adam's.
They know. I'm almost certain of it.
Keep keen eyes on her, my lord.
Whatever your plans, do them fast.
Cole closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Too many people were relying on him, yet he felt he was going nowhere.