Page 42 of The Trouble With Titles
It had not seemed too difficult as someone accustomed to carving stone. Perhaps he could show her how to do it. In turn, she could tutor Molly. She hoped the other woman was as handy as she was and that there was some method of relocking it when they were done.
If the contents proved to be benign, she and Molly could stop invading the Scotts’ privacy and, at the appropriate time, she could confess to Simon what they had done. Her stomach protested that inevitable moment, but she was determined to proceed.
Their solicitors had sentword that a renowned barrister would be calling in the afternoon to discuss the investigation into the late Lord Filminster’s death. The news had been a relief to receive, Simon impatient to call on the duke and offer his assistance so he might do something—anything—to beginmaking plans for his new life. Everything was stalled until he could settle this thing.
MacNaby’s announcement from the door that their visitors had returned was met with a feeling of dread spreading through the pit of his stomach. He wondered if he could send them away until after his meeting with the barrister.
“Have you informed his lordship?”
“Yes, sir. Duncan has gone upstairs to collect him.”
With an air of resignation—best to know what fresh and damning information had come to light—he bade the butler to show them in. Recalling Madeline’s advice to utilize his skills in communication, he requested that coffee be brought in to combat the brisk chill of autumn.
The five gentlemen entered with their usual somber air. Halmesbury, Saunton, Filminster, the coxcomb Trafford, along with the odd youth Gideon, filed into the room to take up their usual positions.
Simon bowed to each in turn, attempting to conduct himself with the usual etiquette of meeting with such men, but the tension was palpable. Silence fell, Simon struggling for anything to say when outnumbered by five hostile opponents and not coming up with anything. It might have been different if they would speak so he could respond, but this was an unprecedented situation.
Minutes ticked by, the coffee tray brought in by Roderick, who informed him that his mother had requested that John drink his tea that the doctor had recommended, which was in a separate pot. Simon nodded without registering what he had said, as he considered the possibility that he might be arrested for a crime he had not committed.
Could he hang, despite his innocence?
Now that he could wed Madeline, should he allow her to step forward as his alibi? Would them taking vows mitigate the scandal?
And would Mrs. Bigsby testify that Madeline did visit with him in the garden on a regular basis? Even Henri, perhaps, if he was betrothed to Madeline?
The notion of putting Madeline or her family’s business at risk was not something he wished to contemplate. Surely there was another resolution to be found?
He was caught in a nightmare. So close to the life he had always dreamed of, only to be thwarted at the final hour. Had he done something to anger their creator so that he would be the butt of some cosmic jest?
The barrister cannot arrive soon enough!
John entered, his appearance bleary and his posture stooped as he walked over to take a seat in Simon’s chair. Simon offered coffee around, but the men refused, so he prepared a cup of tea for his brother and passed it to John, who twisted his face when he saw what it was, but accepted it to take a sip.
Halmesbury cleared his throat, straightening from the window. “We regret to inform you that the movements of two of the servants could not be confirmed.”
Simon bit his retort back, remaining silent so John could take the lead as the senior man on their side of this dispute.
John coughed into his handkerchief before responding. “Which two?”
The duke glanced to Gideon standing in the corner with his hat and gloves still on, before addressing the baron. “Duncan Campbell and Roderick MacGregor. As you know, Duncan was upstairs, but no one saw him the entire morning. We traced the route to Covent Garden and spoke with the flower seller who could not recollect whether he sold violets to the footman, Roderick, that morning. We also calculated the time, and itshould not have taken him more than one to two hours to make the purchase, but he was absent for a minimum of three to four hours.”
“What are you saying? That Roderick tried to kill Lord Trafford? That our second footman is willing to commit murder on behalf of Simon?” John sounded weak, taking another sip of tea, and Simon realized his brother was attempting to fortify himself. Shame washed over him to somehow have caused this blight on the Scott household while his brother was ill. Was it not enough that his brother must face the fact that people he did not know were to inherit the family title, while dealing with questions of his own mortality? A surge of anger that these men be so callous of his brother’s health followed, as he clenched his fists to glare at the duke.
“Runners have been employed to observe your home and servants. We deem this necessary for the safety of our families. They will be stationed in the street outside. The Home Office has been apprised of the information we have gathered, and a new coroner is being appointed to the case. It is expected that an inquest will be called, and Simon shall be named a suspect. We felt it proper to inform you directly, as a courtesy.”
Silence followed, John placing his teacup down on the saucer with a clink while Simon attempted to digest the news that he was to be publicly accused of murder. Seconds later, he noticed that their visitors had riveted their attention to his brother with varying degrees of alarm, and turning about, he found John was panting with a hand to his chest—over his heart!
In a panic, Simon burst forward to catch his brother as he tumbled from the chair, when a band of steel wrapped around his own abdomen to hold him back. The towering duke of nearly seven feet had caught him in an uncompromising embrace while the youth, Gideon, raced forward to kneel by John’s side.
“What is this?” His shout broke the eerie silence of the study, but the duke held him back still, despite his struggle to break free. The man was a monster! Simon was a large man himself, but no one could fight off such a giant!
The fop followed Gideon over, standing aside as the youth began to examine the baron. “Calm yourself, Scott. Gideon is a skilled physician. We brought him in the event of a medical incident.”
Relief swept over him as Gideon undid John’s cravat to pull it loose, before unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat to pull it open. It was hard to believe that such a young lad could be a doctor, but he relaxed, the duke slowly releasing him until he was standing free.
“I need assistance lifting him.” The sound of a woman’s voice had Simon tensing up again, racing forward to kneel at John’s side as, before his eyes, Gideon pulled off his gloves and tossed his hat aside. Time slowed down as Simon watched a heavy coil of plaited blonde hair unravel down his—her—back!
“What the living hell?”
