“We have … nephews?”
Despite his need to focus on the answer, to ask discerning questions, and to ascertain if any of it was true, it was as if his thoughts were floating away. He listened to the revelation from a far distance while he sorted through a variety of reactions. Two nephews! That meant he was relegated to third in line to inherit! He was not the future Lord Blackwood, but rather it was some boy living in Italy. Which meant …
Am I free?
Heady elation followed this thought until a second intruded to bump him rudely back into reality.
He was betrothed to Olivia Boyle.
An act that could not be undone.
He was to wed Miss Boyle despite this turn of events. He might not be the heir, but his duty still bound him. She could not be deserted without ruining her, and he would never do that to a lady vulnerable to censure. He was in the seventh circle of hell, and there was not a solitary reason to be there if he had no obligation to the title.
“Misters Marco and Angelo Scott are making plans to travel to London to meet with you,” the duke responded, oblivious to the turmoil raging in Simon’s mind.
“I shall … expect confirmation of … this news.” John’s panting declaration drew Simon back to the present, his gaze returning to his brother, whose pallor had worsened.
The Earl of Saunton leaned in to speak to the duke in a low voice. The duke nodded, eventually responding to John’s request. “Perhaps we should finish this conversation tomorrow, Lord Blackwood? I had heard you were not well?—”
“Is there more to be discussed?” John’s voice was firm.
The duke’s eyes flickered back to Lord Saunton before he turned to look at Mr. Gideon, who was still standing apart in the corner of the room with those silver-gray eyes fixed on Simon’s brother. Mr. Gideon, noting the silence, shot a glance to where His Grace was waiting and gave a slight nod of authority.
“There is … more,” replied Halmesbury.
Simon was perplexed. It appeared that the duke had just deferred to a lad who could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, from the soft features and lack of stubble. The brother-in-law to an honorary viscount. Why the blazes would such a high-ranking peer obey the direction of such a green youth, whose gaze had focused on John once more?
“There is evidence to suggest that the late Baron of Filminster was murdered to conceal knowledge of your rightful heir.”
“What?” John straightened up in surprise, then an expression of horror crossed his pallid face. “Are you … accusing one of us?”
The duke looked at Simon. This meeting had ventured into territory that was wholly inappropriate.
“We would like to know where you were the night of the coronation, Mr. Scott? At around midnight?”
His jaw dropped in amazement. They were here to accuse him of a heinous crime! It was beyond the pale! He would set them to rights so they could take their condescension and barbed indictments to be on their way.
Smiling with smug satisfaction, he declared, “Of course. I was in the walled garden with?—”
Simon shut his mouth, realizing too late the trap he was in. Their families might be aware that he had been alone with Madeline on countless occasions, but he could not state such a fact to hostile opponents without them inferring the worst possible—they would conclude Madeline was his mistress!
He would ruin his dearest friend because the caper-witted denizens of the upper classes would never accept a public friendship between a common tradeswoman and the son of a baron. There was no possibility he would ever risk her reputation. Madeline might not be of the gentry, but the Bigsbys were a well-respected family who relied on business from polite society. Such scandal could destroy them.
Simon licked his lips. “I was with?—”
The night Nicholas had fallen from his window had been the worst experience of his life, but if he dragged Madeline into his muddle, it would rival that event, so he scrambled for an alternate alibi—and reached the awful conclusion that he would have to refuse to provide one. Which meant this accusation could expand into an official investigation. Had the duke not mentioned the Home Office?
“He was with me. We drank wine in the moonlight in our walled garden to celebrate the ceremony, although the moon was waning so visibility was compromised. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful night.”
All heads spun to the open door where his mother was framed, and Simon could have wept with relief at her intervention. Isla must have realized his conundrum after he had announced where he had been, guessing that Madeline was the alibi which had caused him to falter.
With deep gratitude, Simon agreed. “I was … with my mother, Lady Blackwood.”
CHAPTER 5
“In her dreams, Psyche still saw Eros, but the reality of their separation was a cold and lonely awakening.”
Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses
