Page 19 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
Besides wanting to swive Blythe, what was the fellow up to? He was Diddenton’s son, and Diddenton had unearthed a draft of a new will, one very favorable to the Falfield family.
“It’s sweltering in here,” he said. “I’m heading for those open balcony doors.”
Though it wasn’t raining, the brisk night air was dense with dampness. He was a bit surprised to find that Lord Vernon had followed him.
“Cheroot?” Lord Vernon pulled a silver case from his pocket.
He waved it away. “Thank you, no, but don’t let me stop you.”
Lord Vernon lit the tobacco from a nearby torch and blew a big cloud of smoke. “Unfortunate thing, that new will,” he said.
So, they were to have that conversation. Graeme rested a hand on the balustrade and waited. He sensed that the fellow wanted to pick him over for information. He didn’t intend to give any, but he’d learn something from the dastard’s line of questioning.
That was the other thing he sensed: Lord Vernon was up to no good and not a man to be trusted. “How is that?” he asked.
Lord Vernon raised his brows in feigned surprise. “You haven’t heard? Why I suppose not if you’ve just arrived in town, though I’m surprised your solicitor didn’t inform you.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it.”
Lord Vernon’s oily chuckle crawled over his skin before the man quickly sobered. “I suppose it’s no laughing matter, not where Lady Chilcombe is concerned. Left out of the will, she was.”
“Left out?” He watched the fellow carefully. “And just how would you know that?”
“Don’t you know? My father is the one who challenged the old will and submitted the fair copy of the correct one. He and Archie discussed it and agreed on it as a resolution to that property dispute.”
“Hmm. How did Diddenton obtain a copy of the new will?”
Lord Vernon blinked and pressed his lips together. He hadn’t prepared an answer for that question.
“How do I know? I suppose Archie’s man sent the copy along to Diddenton.”
“His man being…?”
The not so wily fellow blinked again then shrugged. “A messenger? A groom? Who knows?” He frowned. “Sir Morris Pierpont was meant to be carrying the signed copy to London.”
Graeme raised an eyebrow. Lord Vernon was leaving out bits and pieces here. Why did Diddenton need a copy of the will? Why was Sir Morris rushing to London with a signed copy of the will? Despite his addictions, Archie was neither dead nor dying at the time the new will was supposedly signed.
Which prompted another thought—was Archie’s death a month later truly due to natural causes?
“He was supposed to deliver it to Archie’s solicitor, settling the business of Bluebell Lodge. Fleming was squawking about title searches and new surveys.”
Well, there was one answer.
Lord Vernon puffed on his cheroot and shook his head. “Morris turned over his phaeton and cracked his head just outside of Risley Manor. No will in his bag. Diddenton was fit to be tied.”
In the room behind them, a young gentleman and lady appeared at the door, looked out, and moved on. “Who witnessed the signing of the will?” Graeme asked.
Lord Vernon huffed. “Morris was meant to do it, along with whomever else they could find, the steward or Archie’s valet. The steward was not around that day. Morris is dead, and the valet took off a day later for parts unknown.”
“Maybe the countess persuaded the late earl to change his mind about the new will.”
“Blythe wasn’t there at the signing.”
Graeme’s temper spiked at the lout’s familiar use of Blythe’s name. Had they been intimate? She’d given Lord Vernon the cold shoulder tonight but perhaps there’d been a lover’s quarrel.
The thought of her with this fellow made his hands curl into fists.
“Archie’s nurse passed through the room and said she saw Morris and the valet bent over a document on the table. Heard Morris promise to deliver it when he left after lunch.”
