At least someone among them believed in her father’s innocence. Blythe hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in her shoulders until it ebbed. She looked to Charlotte then, offering the smallest nod to signal that she was relieved to have her friend return.
Eliza didn’t need to explain her attendance—the duke had overseen her, and now Everett had filled the role. As busy as he was with his new role and taking over the estate, Eliza could very likely get away with anything these days. And that was if Everett even cared that Eliza was at Thorn Grove at all.
As for Diana, she’d still not said a word and had just taken her first sip. It was tentative, testing it. She kept glancing behind each of the girls as well, as though expecting a ghost to pop out and frighten them.
Blythe had no doubt her family had forbade her from coming, and that Diana likely had to wriggle her way to tea. She would have clawed a path to Thorn Grove if it meant being at the very source of the town’s latest scandal.
“Will Miss Farrow be joining us?” Eliza asked, scanning the place settings in search of a fifth.
“She will not,” Blythe answered with every bit of composure she had. “Signa had to return to her own home rather unexpectedly.”
Charlotte flashed her a curious look, smart enough to understand that after their discussion, this could be no coincidence.
“And what of Percy?” Eliza pressed. “Has there been any word from him?”
“I’m afraid not—”
“Not even a location?” Eliza seemed a touch strained, her grip tight on her teacup. “Certainly someone must know something.”
Blythe left no room for rebuttal when she spoke again, “No one knows anything about Percy.” She forged ahead, unwilling to linger on the topic. “Regarding my father, however, his trial will take place at the week’s end.” Saying the words aloud was like picking up a dagger and slamming it between her ribs. She wasn’t above letting some desperation into her voice, nor was she above looking pathetically helpless as she set her teacup down and wrung her hands in her lap.
“I need to figure out who truly killed the duke, and my father will be released. Has”—she paused, her leg restless under the table—“has Everett mentioned any suspicions?”
Blythe hadn’t anticipated being quite so bold, but there was no going back. Eliza’s already fair skin paled until it was almost gray, purple shadows like bruises beneath her eyes.
“Heavens, Miss Hawthorne. If any of us had a suspicion, don’t you think we’d have shared it?” Eliza’s drew out her fan, fluttering it at herself until the pallor began to slip away from her skin. “No one has tried to reach out about money or the title. Everett has claimed everything without issue.”
“And no one has tried to come after him,” Blythe pressed, this time looking at Charlotte. “Right? You were there for him those first few weeks. Did you see anything odd?”
Blythe had been careful with her words, but even so, Charlotte nearly choked on her tea, splashing a drop on the collar of her dress.
Diana leaned toward Charlotte. “You’re not still circling around Lord Wakefield, are you?” Blythe cared little for Diana’s voice in general, though there was a knowing edge to it that made Blythe despise it more than ever. “I never thought you brave enough to try that again.”
Again?
Charlotte’s eyes flashed darker than Blythe had ever known them. “That is quite enough.”
To her surprise, it wasn’t Diana that Charlotte glared at but Eliza, whose expression was flat as she sipped from her porcelain cup. “This is hardly a conversation for tea.”
On the contrary, it was exactly the sort of conversation that Blythe had hoped to have. Yet while Blythe wanted nothing more than to tear into the topic, Charlotte’s fast, shallow breathing kept her from pushing.
“Forgive me,” Blythe said for the sake of modesty. “It’s just that I’ve been so concerned for him these days that I’ve hardly been sleeping.”
“I’ve been feeling similarly.” Charlotte reached out to clasp Blythe’s hand and squeeze it gently. Blythe squeezed back, a silent apology that Charlotte answered with a smile. “Have the cook bring you some warm milk before bed. I’ll bring you some dried lavender to put in it. It’s not much, but it’s helped me.”
The thought of mixing anything into her drinks these days was something that Blythe wasn’t able to stomach. Especially something purple. She didn’t say as much aloud, however, not with Diana watching them from over the rim of her cup with skeptical eyes.