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“Why is Richard angry with me?” His voice came out hoarse, as though it had been scraped with sand.

Halmesbury hesitated, his features tightening. “It came to light why you would not name the woman you were with. We are both rather … appalled.”

Brendan blinked, frowning at the ceiling. His thoughts struggled to order themselves. Are my wits addled? He had expected judgment, but appalled? That word hit oddly. “About Lady Slight?”

“Nay, you blackguard! About Lily! She is my wife’s cousin. An innocent!”

Richard’s fury hit the air like a thunderclap. Brendan had never seen the earl so unhinged—his complexion blanched in fury, cheekbones stark, green eyes bright with rage.

“What about Lily?”

“You debauched her, you treacherous lech!”

Brendan turned his head slowly toward Halmesbury, wincing at the movement. “Who is Lily?”

That did it.

Richard surged forward, the air between them charged with violence.

“Hold off, Saunton!” The duke’s deep voice rang out as he blocked the earl’s advance, standing firm between the two men. “I think there is more to this.”

Brendan raised a hand to rub at his bruised jaw, his mind finally beginning to clear. “I was with Lady Slight that night. I knew if I named her without her consent, she would deny it. And truthfully … I did not want to admit it aloud. I was embarrassed.”

Halmesbury’s brows drew together, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “You are saying … Moreland’s daughter lied about being with you? Why would the young lady destroy her reputation to protect you?”

“I do not know.”

“What is this?” Richard’s voice cracked with disbelief. “Never say you believe this scoundrel?”

Brendan frowned. “Which one is Lily, exactly?”

Richard let out a growl of disbelief and stalked closer. Brendan tensed, grateful that the duke stood sentinel between them.

“She is my wife’s cousin, you deviant!”

Brendan furrowed his brow, trying to remember.

“My word, man! She was with us in this very room two days ago!” Richard gestured wildly toward a nearby chair.

Brendan closed his eyes and searched his memory. “The little one who looks like a fairy?”

The earl took a sharp step forward, rage tightening his features, but the duke’s hand shot up again.

“She is lovely,” Richard rebuked firmly, warning in his tone.

“The one who never stops talking?” Brendan said, still blinking in confusion.

“She is a lively optimist,” the earl snapped. “And she barely spoke the day of the murder. She was heartsick for Annabel.”

“I barely know her. I hardly recollect she was here, after all that happened that day.”

“You will have plenty of time to correct that—when you wed!”

Brendan’s mouth parted. “I cannot marry her!”

“You shall! The young woman has destroyed her reputation to save your neck!”

Brendan sat upright, his hand flying to his throat. A cold chill settled along his spine. He could have hanged. He would have hanged. Grimes had nearly arrested him, and without an alibi, there had been no defense. No hope.