Page 83 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
Riley followed up. “They’ve protected him thus far. And they have the example of what happened to Amos Howe to dissuade them.”
“Demming is angry,” Ben told them. “He may still be in M’s pocket, but he wants vengeance for his brother. A single detail dropped in a drunken rant could be the key we need.”
“Understood.” Riley tapped a pencil on the table. “Maybe the best strategy is getting Demming drunk and talkative.”
“Agreed.” Ben nodded. “Or one of his allies.”
Ben was on the verge of closing the meeting when a knock sounded at his office door. “Come in.”
Ransome stuck his head in, his eyes widening at the sight of the assembled detectives. “Haverstock wants to see you, Duke.”
Ben didn’t have to ask when he was expected. When Haverstock summoned you, an immediate response was required.
“On my way.”
Once Ransome withdrew, Ben confirmed with each detective that they knew their next steps. “I want a report at the end of each day on your progress. This case is confidential and urgent.”
Both men offered a nod of understanding, and Ben left them to proceed.
Two minutes later, he was outside Haverstock’s office and rapped twice before the chief bid him to enter.
Haverstock didn’t make him wait to be addressed this time.
He stood behind his desk, arms crossed, and stared Ben down. His white brows were drawn so tight, they formed a single bushy line, and the skin above his whiskers had taken on a ruddy hue.
The last time he’d seen Haverstock so unsettled had been in Wellingdon’s drawing room when Alexandra wouldn’t be cowed by him.
“Sir?”
“Brief me on your recent...” He hissed the last word and seemed to take a moment to collect himself. “Activities.”
“I’ve assembled a small team to continue the investigation into M’s whereabouts and identity.”
“Those men have not been cleared to attend to Special Branch matters, and you know that.”
“I have not given them access to any delicate case files, but I’d like to.”
“I’m sure you would.” Haverstock attempted a semblance of a smile. “If this case is too much for you—”
“It is not, sir.”
“But suddenly you’ve called in reinforcements.” Haverstock tipped his chin up as if attempting to look down his nose at Ben. Of course, it failed entirely since the man was several inches shorter. “I hope this has nothing to do with a break-in at an antique shop in Mayfair and your dalliance with its proprietor.”
Ben held his breath a moment. It was the only way to stifle the urge to offer a scathing reply.
“The cases are connected,” he finally bit out. “And it’s an escalation in—”
“An escalation because your mistress has been inconvenienced?”
“She’s not my mistress.” Now Ben was the one hissing, and he was certain his own cheeks were flushed. His blood was boiling in his veins, and he wasn’t far from the compulsion to toss the man out his own window.
“Then you’ve proposed to the girl, have you? Does she know your history?” Haverstock’s brows arched, one after the other, as if he was relishing these questions most of all. Questions that had nothing to do with his professional abilities and everything to do with what Haverstock thought was his trump card—his knowledge of Ben’s father.
“That, sir, is none of your business.”
“Ah.” He uncrossed his arms and strode the two steps to his desk, lifting an envelope from the top. “Someone has decided to make it my business.”
Ben noted that there was no return address on the envelope and no address for Haverstock either, as if it had been hand delivered.
