Page 68 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
“Lady Emmeline Grant,” George said tightly, “I was told by a trusted source that you were the one Lady Fitzroy contacted to have the deed done.”
“And which lady are you talking about?” Porter asked innocently.
George had had enough; he released his pistol and aimed it with deadly accuracy at the sitting man, “You know damn well whom I’m talking about, the Dowager Duchess of Newberry–the shrew! Answer me, now!”
“Ah, calm down.” The man returned stiffly, “Can’t you take some harmless jesting?”
“This is no jest,” George said stonily, “Did you take the job or not?”
“Aye,” The man replied with a grumble, “I took it but I didn’t get far. Someone got there before me. I didn’t get the woman but the money was good–twenty-five pounds.”
Newberry did say that he overheard the man speaking with his mother to say that there was an exchange but nothing much came of it.
“When and where?” The Duke pressed with his gun not wavering.
“Um,” the man considered, then shrugged, “Something about catching her on her way to the Alford lady’s house a couple weeks ago.”
George frowned–Emmeline had not been at her aunt’s house for over a month before the accident at the Benwicks. So how did this man have acouple weeksagoas the date to kill his sister? What was wrong here?
“A couple of weeks ago?” the Duke pressed. “Are you sure?”
The man shrugged again, “Couple weeks, couple months–it’s all the same to me. When I realized that the woman couldn’t be taken, I gambled with the money. Lost a good amount of it, too.”
A couple of months was more realistic but George was getting to realize this man was nothing but a distraction, “If you didn’t kill her, who did?”
“Cannot tell you, Your Grace,” Porter shrugged, “But I had nothing to do with it.”
Seeing as there was nothing more to be done with this man, George holstered his pistol and looked at his men. “Turn him over to the authorities. Even if he hasn’t killed my sister, he has killed others–let him pay for his crimes.”
Spinning on his heel George was about to duck under the awning when the man shouted at his back, “The Fitzroy witch has many more men like me, Your Grace. I’m sure if you followed the money, you’ll find who killed her.”
George stilled at the first sensible thing the blackguard had uttered. It was a good suggestion, as elite assassins charge a lot of money, not the pittance this man was given.
Looking over his shoulder, George nodded to his men, “My word stands–hand him over to the authorities.”
“Understood, Your Grace,” one of the guards said with a leering grin, “But not before we have a little fun first.”
Shaking his head, George remounted his horse and with his agent beside him, rode back to the London townhouse.
If he didn’t kill Emmeline, then who did? And how do I get into Newberry’s bank accounts since he can’t do it himself? That is if money from a bank account was used. God help me.
Chapter 25
On Edge
The sky had angry, raging dark rain clouds hovering over the Newberry estate like lingering doom. The summer rain was still threatening but the torrent had still not broken. Noah felt the suppressed energy from the latent lightning strikes running over his skin.
Every day, he woke up to remember that his duchy was still struggling and the love of his life was dead, Noah felt his disposition grow sour. He tried his best to keep a level head but the days were being drawn out just as his soul was being dragged out.
He felt as bleak as the sky above–his health was waning and so was his faith. No leads were being found on Emmeline and it felt as though he was standing still while the world was turning and people were running. The investigation about St. Maur was also dragging on and he didn’t see a solution in sight.
“Your Grace,” Cole said, “Good afternoon, three letters have arrived for you.”
Waving his manservant inside, Noah greeted him calmly and took the letters. Settling in his chair, Noah flicked through them; there was one from the Duke of Kenton, one from the Earl of Berklingshire–probably the trade agreement–and the last from Leverton.
Bypassing the first two, Noah anxiously opened the one from Leverton first. It was more of a note than anything else but he read it slowly, line by line, and when he was done, he sat back and considered his options.
Newberry,
