Page 87 of The Secret of Flirting
He stared at her. “I don’t trust your uncle.”
She shrugged. “I don’t trust him either. But he appears to like your mother a great deal. And I think those feelings are genuine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not all of us are trying to use our gender to gain something, you know. Sometimes we just desire certain people because we desire them.”
As he gaped at her, clearly skeptical about the idea of his mother desiring anyone, she left him to mount the stairs. If he couldn’t even accept that his mother might wish to find a companion, then what was the chance he would accept thatshedid?
Once the constable had finished questioning the duke, Gregory had packed the man off, promising to learn more about why Danworth was looking into the death of his father.
Gregory considered speaking to the count about this latest attempt on Monique’s life, but that would only make the man want to return to London right away, and Gregory wasn’t sure that was wise. He still needed to do some more investigation.
Dinner that night was interminable. The shooting was discussed at length, but thankfully everyone accepted his story thathe’dbeen the target. Except perhaps for the count, who looked thoughtful. But no one else gave away anything that could help him figure out who’d been behind the attempt on Monique’s life.
Gregory also couldn’t help noticing that Prince Leopold was enormously interested in Monique. And why wouldn’t he be? She was a vivacious and clever beauty who knew how to engage any man’s attention.
In truth, she would be wise to court the prince’s affections. If Aurore died and Monique eventually took her place, then Leopold would be well served by having her as his wife. Was that Monique’s aim?
Gregory watched her avidly, jealousy burning in his chest. But to be fair, she showed no true interest in the prince. It was Gregory she fixed upon. Gregory whom she deferred to.
Clearly, he was a fool, vacillating about what she wanted.Whomshe wanted. It was clear that he was the only man who had her affections.
Very well, then he would make sure that the way was paved for the two of them. Even if it meant changing his hopes for the future.
With that in mind, he asked Danworth to join him in his study after the ladies retired to the drawing room. It was time to figure out where the prime minister’s secretary stood in all this. And why Danworth had questioned the constable about Gregory’s father.
When Danworth entered his study, he seemed wary. Not surprising, given what Gregory had learned. Did the fellow realize that Gregory knew so much? Did he care?
“What is this about, Fulkham?” Danworth demanded, clearly on the defensive.
Gregory forced a smile. “You tellme. I understand that you’ve been asking in town about the circumstances surrounding my father’s death.”
Danworth fixed him with a dark glance. “I have, indeed.”
Surprising that the man was admitting it.
The fellow crossed his arms over his chest. “The constable told me that your father died as a result of a tumble down the stairs while he was drunk.”
“Yes,” Gregory said tersely. “My father was often drunk. What has that got to do with anything?”
“Well, I asked the constable why no one ever suspected your mother of causing your father’s death, and he said that they knew for certain that she’d had nothing to do with it. That if anyone had killed him, it was a male.” Danworth smirked at him. “Because when your father was found, he was clutching a button in his hand. And not the sort of button found on a woman’s attire. A boy’s button.”
Gregory’s blood ran cold. The night of his father’s murder, he’d lost a button off the school jacket he’d been wearing when he’d defended his mother. He’d looked for the button, but hadn’t been able to find it anywhere. So he’d assumed it had been lost somewhere in the depths beneath the staircase.
No one had ever told him it had been found on the body. But then, he’d been too young for anyone to consider making him privy to the investigation. “Aboy’sbutton? How in God’s name could anyone be sure of that?”
“Well, the constable wasn’t, because he didn’t recognize the design. He said it must have been from a servant who was trying to keep his lordship from falling. Fortunately, I knew better. I could see that it came from an Eton jacket.”
Oh, God, the constable had actually shown the arse the button. “I don’t see why that matters.” Gregory hoped he sounded far more bored and nonchalant than he felt.
“It matters,” Danworth said as he approached Gregory, “because since the constable still has the button, it could easily be called into evidence.”
“To prove what?” Gregory said. “That my father was tossed down the stairs by some anonymous Etonian?”
His sarcastic tone didn’t seem to faze Danworth. “I’m saying thatyouare the person who tossed your father down the stairs. I’m saying you killed your father.”
Gregory fought the sick feeling swelling in his belly. “Ah, I see. And why would I do that?”
Danworth shrugged. “I have no clue. But I do know one thing. If word got out about this, you’d be ruined.”
That was certainly true. “Assuming that anyone would believe it.” Gregory stared the man down. “And who would? Especially since I was away at Eton at the time.”
