Page 60 of The Wayward Duke
“The bomber made contact expressing… let’s call it admiration of Hasting’s skills decrypting his codes at the train station.”
“How flattering,” Caroline said. “Murderous villains everywhere salute my husband’s intellect. Because, of course, he solved the missive all on his own, with no help whatsoever.”
Wentworth smiled at that. “Well, now he thinks the Duke of Hastings has accepted the gauntlet thrown down.”
Julian couldn’t stop himself from brushing his thumb over the back of Caroline’s hand in a tender caress. “The interrogation, Wentworth.”
“Got him to admit the identity of the man who hired him before he choked on his own blood. Beg pardon, duchess.” Wentworth flashed Caroline a wry smile before continuing. “He described the man who hired him as ‘a tall gent with dark hair and moustache, dressed in fine broadcloth and money to burn.’ Paid him three hundred quid up front to sabotage the train. Used the name William Bell.” Wentworth leaned forward, keen eyes fixed on Julian. “I know that look, Hastings. What are you keeping from me?”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “I don’t believe William Bell is real. You should investigate Edgar Kellerman.”
The other man’s expression remained neutral, but Julian glimpsed the sharpening of interest in his gaze. “The financier hosting lavish parties all over town? Popular fellow these days. What makes you suspect him?”
“A hunch. I’ve observed some inconsistencies that don’t sit well with me.”
The spymaster tapped out a rhythm against his chair. “A hunch and inconsistencies hardly constitute evidence worthy of the Queen’s Bench, duke.”
Julian forced himself to take a slow, steadying breath. “Then humour me. Discreetly look into his affairs here in London. I’m not asking you to arrest the man outright. Just apply that relentless tenacity of yours.”
“I’ll consider it.” Wentworth looked up at Caroline. “Duchess, your input?” He sipped his brandy, watching her with interest.
“Hastings and I attended one of Mr Kellerman’s parties, and it struck me that if an outsider wanted access to the movements of theton, being a financier is the perfect disguise. Not to mention the gossip he’d overhear. The ladies mentioned he’d appeared in society just last year after some time abroad. No one knows anything about his origins.”
“Cleverly reasoned,” Wentworth said with an approving nod.
“He wears a signet ring,” Julian said, plucking the drawing out of a drawer. He passed it to Wentworth. “Does that motif strike you as familiar?”
Wentworth examined the image. “This is incomplete?”
“I didn’t get the best look at it.”
“It’s familiar,” Wentworth said. “You think Edgar Kellerman is another alias, like William Bell?”
“Yes,” Julian said. “Look into the backgrounds of the noblemen targeted so far and see if they have any unusual connections in common.”
Wentworth gave a curt nod. “As you say. I’ll make some quiet inquiries.” With a hint of wryness, he added, “My talents do extend beyond shooting and skull cracking, believe it or not. On occasion.” He cleared his throat. “But I’ve another matter to discuss. You both should brace for rather intense public scrutiny in the coming days. Word came this morning that Her Majesty wishes to honour the pair of you for services after the theatre bombing. You ought to receive an invitation today.”
“You can’t be serious,” Julian bit out.
“Oh, she’s quite adamant. The queen loves a dramatic tale of courage and sacrifice.” Wentworth gave an apologetic grimace. “Saving your duchess from the blast, tending the wounded, tracking down the culprit – it has all the makings of high drama.”
Julian and Caroline exchanged a look. The gossipmongers at the theatre had been bad enough, but a royal ball was the equivalent of a wolf’s den – yet refusing the invitation was unthinkable. No matter how graciously worded, the queen’s requests were commands to be obeyed.
“Is that wise?” Caroline asked Wentworth. “After the bombing?”
The spymaster took another swallow of brandy. “No. But if you’ve a mind to tell Her Majesty so, I wish you the very best of luck. But it might be wise if you both pretended to go on as normal so Kellerman doesn’t catch the scent.”
“We’ll go,” Julian said with a sigh.
He escorted Wentworth out shortly after, then prowled back to the study doorway, where Caroline waited. Taking in his coiled frame as if she could read his thoughts.
Perhaps she could.
Julian tangled his hands into her hair, pressing his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. She moaned into his lips, “Are you worried about—”
“Not now.” His voice was rough as he backed her against his desk.
Caroline gasped as the edge of the desk dug into her lower back. “But—”
