Page 103 of One Wicked Secret
He led them to an elegant drawing room where gilt-framed landscapes lined the walls, and French windows overlooked a manicured garden. The scent of roses and beeswax mingled with the smell of wet dogs.
Denby stood tall before the fireplace, his expression as stern as a king’s guard and dismissed the butler before he announced them.
“You have some nerve, Dalton.” He gestured to his mother, who sat perched on the edge of a gold brocade sofa, clutching her white Pomeranian. “Mother is still in shock.”
Lady Denby kissed her darling dog and tried to feed it chicken from a silver plate. “Poor Foofoo hasn’t stopped shaking. He won’t settle. He won’t eat. I’ve not seen him in such a state since the fireworks at Lady Montclair’s garden party.”
“Have you tried mackerel?” Rothley suggested. “I hear it works wonders for a nervous constitution.”
“Fish? Fish!” the lady cried, recoiling. “Jonah ended up in the belly of one, and look what good it did him.”
“That was agreat fish, not a mackerel,” Rothley said drily. “Though I doubt Jonah made distinctions.”
“Forget about fish,” Daniel snapped, tearing the letter from his pocket and flinging it at the pompous lord. “You’ve no grounds to issue a challenge. Miss Tyler was not betrothed to you when I married her. Your quarrel is with her brother.” He jabbed a finger at Magnus. “But if you want me to shoot you between the brows, name the time and place.”
Foofoo whimpered.
“Mr Dalton! Must you use that dreadful tone?” LadyDenby covered the tiny dog’s ears. “We’ll find a way to see this marriage undone, or I’ll pray the Lord delivers you into the path of a wayward carriage.”
He glared at Denby. “Is that the reason for dragging me here? You want me dead so you can marry my wife?”
Denby frowned. “Seeing you six feet under would bring immense satisfaction, but you’re the one who demanded pistols at dawn. I’m gentleman enough to insist on seconds.”
The situation was unfolding like a tragic comedy, each moment more ridiculous than the last. Either Denby was as barmy as his mother, or someone else was writing the script.
“I received your challenge an hour ago.” Daniel grabbed the note he’d flung at Denby and thrust it into the man’s palm. “Read it. It bears your signature.”
Denby grumbled as he peeled back the folds, then frowned like he’d read a complex riddle. “I didn’t write this and certainly didn’t have it delivered to you. What sort of game are you playing? You demand no seconds, then arrive with two men.” He turned to the mantel and retrieved the letter tucked behind the clock. “I received this an hour ago.”
The sting of deception burned behind Daniel’s ribs as he studied the note: a challenge that bore his name. “I didn’t send this, but by God, I’ll answer it. Pistols, swords, name your weapon and I’ll see you at dawn.”
Lady Denby gasped. “That’s enough! All this talk of fighting will give Foofoo the vapours.”
“It’s nowhere near enough, madam.” Daniel doubted he would have another opportunity to confront Denby so hit him with a barrage of questions. “Why did you want to ruin Jacob Tyler? Why hire his man of business to spy?” That was an educated guess.
With an arrogant curl of the lips, Denby said, “JacobTyler was his own worst enemy. He was clueless when it came to business. As for Carver, why would I hire an incompetent man who lost his employer a small fortune?”
Magnus shot forward. “Father said you secretly lured him into schemes, then offered loans with extortionate rates of interest.”
Denby looked smug. “I gave him money to settle large debts but didn’t charge interest. In return, he signed the marriage contract. Whatever else he told you was a lie to hide his shame.”
“Carver said you forced my father to pay fifteen per cent.”
“Then Carver is a liar and a thief,” Denby countered. “Doubtless he’s bleeding his new employer dry.”
Daniel studied the lord. Did he believe Carver was still alive? Or was he as skilled as a cardsharp when hiding his hand?
“If Tyler was a fool, why were you desperate to marry his daughter?” Desperatewas hardly the right word. When a man loved a woman, he didn’t wait years to announce his betrothal.
Denby shrugged. “She has spirit.”
“Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact she’s your second cousin, and you wish to right a past wrong.” He watched the blood drain from Denby’s face. “A way of atoning for what happened to your great-uncle Clarence.”
Lady Denby shot to her feet, sending poor Foofoo skittering beneath the settee in fright. “Clarence Denby drowned in Switzerland over fifty years ago. It was a dreadful tragedy. A matter that should not be used as a pawn in your devious game, sir.”
Before Daniel could reply, Denby said, “I suggest you leave. You’ve caused enough upset this evening.”
Daniel chuckled to himself. Avoidance was a clear sign of guilt. “Are you denying Clarence and Cynthia had a child? A daughter who survived and was raised in Oxford by Josephine and Terence Parkes?”
