Oliver—”
He interrupted her. “Please, don’t say it. The worst thing is, I’ve been called as a witness for the prosecution.”
“That is most distressing, but I suppose if you can help bring to light what actually happened—”
“I know what happened,” he snapped. Rose was startled by the passion in his voice. “I know Oliver isn’t capable of murder, and I won’t go to court to have lawyers try to make me say he is.”
Rose looked at his furrowed brow, the weariness etched in every line of his face.
“You are really touched by this, aren’t you?” she said softly.
Sebastian nodded.
“Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head.
“At least—perhaps, yes,” he added a moment later. “So much about Oliver doesn’t make sense, Rose. There is more to his story than he’ll admit, and I think—I hope—there might be clues there that would help us save him.”
“He was certainly always very well-spoken for a servant,” said Rose, thinking back.
“There is so much about him that is more refined than one would expect. His accent, when he’s unguarded, is a long way above his class. And when I asked him about his family he became furious. He said he had none.”
“That’s dreadful,” Rose spoke from the heart, thinking of her own mother. There was not a night she did not go to bed thinking of her and wishing she were nearby.
“If only I could find out the truth about him, there might be something that would get him out of this jam.” Sebastian’s brows darkened again. “But Rose, if you could ask among the servants at Somerton, find out if anyone knows anything—what his place was before he came here. His references are fakes. I looked them up and challenged him, but he wouldn’t tell me a thing.”
Rose hesitated. It was not exactly insulting—but it made her color faintly to think that she was still considered a go-between to the downstairs world. It was not exactly tactful to remind her of her origins, and Sebastian seemed to realize that, because he turned on her a look of such pleading desperation that her hurt feelings melted away at once.
“Please, Rose, I don’t mean to insult you. If only you knew the state I’m in.” He spoke quietly, but she could see from the way he clenched his cane, his knuckles white, that he was not calm.
Rose moved toward him, lowering her voice as she feigned interest in the nearest painting. “Of course I will help. I know Oliver means a great deal to you. It is good of you to look out for him so well.”
Sebastian glanced at her, then replied even more quietly. “It is not ‘good of me.’ I have no choice.” His voice was tortured. “Please, may I tell you something? I don’t know—that is, it may be foolish of me—I don’t want you to despise me.”
“What do you mean?” Rose asked, startled. Sebastian’s manner was so strange that she almost wondered if she should call for the attendant, if he were perhaps mad, or even dangerous.
“I can’t keep silent. If I don’t tell someone, it will kill me.”
“Sebastian, what have you done?” Rose was frightened now.
“Nothing that a million haven’t done before me. Oliver and I—we—” He paused, struggling for words. “Have you ever met someone and felt at once that you understood each other perfectly? That you had such a deep connection it felt as if you were one soul in two bodies?” There were tears glittering in his eyes now. “I love him, Rose. And I can’t let him hang for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Rose stared at Sebastian. What did he mean? Were he and Oliver related somehow? What—and then she understood. She blushed and could not meet his eyes.
“I—I had no idea.” And yet it all made sense now.
“The truth is this. I was…entangled with Simon Croker. He was blackmailing me. Of course you know I would do anything to conceal it. Simon attacked me, and Oliver defended me. The fall was an awful accident. But Oliver wanted to protect me,