Chapter Thirty-Two
Oliver had seen more than his fair share of corpses. Uncle Algernon was one of the easier ones to look at; his body wasn’t mutilated, his face wasn’t twisted into a rictus of agony or despair. He looked sodden and bedraggled, but peaceful.
Lord Cheevers probably hadn’t seen many corpses. He turned his face away, as if the sight was too much for him.
Ninian didn’t look away.
Oliver gazed down at the body, remembering Uncle Algy’s laugh, remembering how he’d slipped him guineas all those years ago—remembering that he’d tried to kill him last night.
Uncle Algy looked smaller dead than he had alive. He also looked vacant, his big personality extinguished. The only clue to the man he’d been was the deep laughter lines around his eyes.
Oliver released his breath in a slo
