Page 106 of One Wicked Secret
A cold, suffocating fear gripped him. Graves had already killed twice at Miss Denby’s behest. Elsa was next—and he had foolishly left her alone again, just when she needed him most.
Chapter Twenty
Elsa paced the study, wringing her hands, the pad of her footsteps failing to mask the frantic thud of her heartbeat. Lord Denby was as devious as the devil, his dullness a clever disguise. Did he know she held evidence of his family’s secret? Would the old letters be on his list of demands?
What if the men were to duel on the common?
In offering a challenge, Lord Denby must be confident he could beat a man of Daniel’s strength and skill. Or perhaps he had another trick up his sleeve, something just as sly and underhanded.
The slam of a carriage door outside stole her attention.
Elsa rushed to the window, hope flaring—then faltering. It wasn’t Daniel. It was Mr Daventry. She ran to the door, pulling it open before he could knock, afraid he was the bearer of bad news.
Signora Conti hurried down the hall, her face flushed and anxious. “No, no, Signora Dalton! The master said you mustn’t open the door, not for anyone.”
But Mr Daventry must have seen the panic in Elsa’s eyes.He stepped forward, addressing Signora Conti. “Tranquilla,Signora,” he said gently. “Sono un amico.Non c'è nulla da temere.” He spoke again in English. “Be calm. I’m a friend. There’s nothing to fear.”
The housekeeper didn’t move. Her gaze flicked between them, sharp and assessing. “Va bene,” she said at last, her tone cautious. “But if anything happens to her, you will answer to me.Avete capito?”
“I understand.”
Elsa ushered Mr Daventry into the study and updated him on recent events. “Clarence and Cynthia were murdered, probably by his father. They assumed they would be safe in Geneva.”
Mr Daventry rubbed his chin, mulling over the new information. “A father does not kill his heir. The aristocracy lives to preserve their lineage. This has the hallmarks of a jealous sibling. Lord Denby’s grandfather, most likely.”
Yes, that made perfect sense. Lord Denby wouldn’t want it known his grandfather had killed his kin to steal the barony.
“It’s shocking what some men will do for money,” she said, fear rising again because something about this duel seemed odd.
“Greed knows no rank and bears no conscience,” Mr Daventry said in his usual wise tone. “Still, Lord Denby could have weathered the storm had the truth come to light. The laws of primogeniture were upheld.”
“Yes, my brother would have no claim on the barony unless Lord Denby failed to sire an heir.” Her brother’s misguided actions had caused no end of trouble. If only he hadn’t read Father’s letter and gone on his own crusade. How different things might have been.
“But why challenge Dalton to a duel?” Mr Daventrymused aloud. “If Denby is trying to bury a secret, it invites precisely the wrong attention.”
“Something is wrong.” She felt it deep in her bones. “Lord Denby is a stickler for etiquette, yet tonight he ignored every rule.”
“The villain has us all caught in his web,” Mr Daventry said, his gaze darkening. “And Lord Denby, for all his airs and graces, must be spinning the threads.”
It all came back to that one wicked secret, a heinous act committed fifty years ago.
“Did you come with news of Mr Charmers?” she asked, trying not to picture Daniel marching ten paces across a misty common. She couldn’t lose him. This wasn’t the happy ending they’d planned.
“Only that he confessed to defrauding your father,” Mr Daventry replied. “He claimed he shared the money with Carver. That it was Carver’s idea all along.”
“But it had nothing to do with Magnus?” she clarified.
“No. He was told to name your brother if questioned.”
Good lord! The villain had thought of every scenario. “And the scarred man?”
“Paid by Carver to handle unsavoury matters.”
“Mr Carver died six months ago. Who’s been issuing the orders and paying his wages?” Certainly not a dead man buried on the grounds of Edenberry.
“It has to be Denby.” Mr Daventry’s words lacked conviction. “I’ll visit him at home. Perhaps I can prevent the duel and pressure him into confessing.”
A surge of gratitude had her clutching his arm. “Thank you. They left half an hour ago. You should go now. Perhaps I should come with you.”
