His brows drew together. “Who is the gentleman who threatened you?”
Mr. Winthrop moved some papers around, finding a small slip tucked in between several others. “This gentleman here, in fact,” he said as he slid the paper over the surface of the smooth mahogany over to Perry and chuckled. “I remember him because he later came to inquire about your family. I suspected he may have cared about your late wife more than he let on. The man seemed desperate. I would say he was quite down in the chops. Especially when the creditors began calling in the family’s debts because of the rumors. They would be ruined if they had to pay everyone all at once. Who wouldn’t?”
Stroking his chin, Perry considered his solicitor’s words. The older man loved a good story; that much was clear, but perhaps there were some insights that could be derived from his tale. He glanced at the scribbled note from the other family’s lawyer and was surprised at the name on the paper.
The man worked for the family of Viscount Thomas Newbridge.
He had never suspected there could be a connection between the man and Perry’s wife. She never spoke of him fondly or mentioned him at all during their discussions.
Would such a person still hold a grudge that he hadn’t been the prime candidate for Eliza’s hand? It seemed unlikely. So much time had passed.
“You say he was desperate to get his hands on the earldom? To keep me from marrying Eliza?” Perry studied the older man.
Mr. Winthrop nodded, his jowls wobbly as he moved. “Oh, yes, in fact, I believe Viscount Newbridge was quite taken with the young lady. That was the impression he gave me. Though thatplum prize would tempt any man.” The man raised his brows suggestively.
Perry chewed on his bottom lip, his thoughts in a jumble as he put the pieces together. He chaffed at the thought of Eliza as merely a prize. He may not have loved his wife, but they had both been pawns. They were both trapped in a loveless relationship, regardless of how luxurious their life together was.
Viscount Newbridge harbored feelings for Eliza?
The old duke had forced him into a marriage with a woman who was possibly romantically involved with someone else? That would explain his first wife’s reluctance to ever build a relationship more than just passing acquaintances. Perhaps her heart, like his, was otherwise occupied. Perry hummed. Enough woolgathering.
He needed more information.
His pulse quickened as this new discovery illuminated his list of possible suspects. If this information was accurate, the killer might be closer than he thought.
Chapter Forty-Eight
There was not a moment to be lost. They had mere moments to strategize before they dug for more information to reveal the truth about Viscount Thomas Newbridge. If Newbridge wasn’t the blackguard who was tormenting him, then the true culprit was being given more time to sharpen his knives and plan his strategy. There was no doubt his attacker wanted him dead, regardless of his identity.
Perry objected greatly to this prospect.
The carriage stopped at Beauregard’s home in Mayfair, Spencer House, a sumptuous Georgian-style townhouse with a brick façade and sandstone quoins in a very desirable location overlooking Grosvenor Square. While he was in town, Perry decided to take advantage of his brother’s proximity to hatch a plan. Some strategy to help ferret out the truth about whether Newbridge was holding some longtime grudge against Perry. The Spencer butler, Cooper, informed him that his brother had already left for the day and was most likely at the club. Perry decided to pursue his quarry there.
White’s was located close by, on St. James’s Street, and the carriage brought Perry quickly around to the Georgiantownhouse. Casting his gaze up to the bow window that loomed above him on the façade of the building, he noted a few club members gazing down upon the street with drinks in hand. Some members were known to watch passersby and place ridiculous bets in White’s betting book. Perry breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of being able to have a stiff drink. Knowing someone had a long-standing grudge against him and was attempting to take his life gave one the need to swallow a few measures of Dutch courage to absorb the shock. One would never imagine from observing Viscount Newbridge that his heart could harbor such hatred. He was a quiet, unassuming man of average good looks. The man had even danced with Charlotte at the ball, and she found him quite friendly. It seemed preposterous to even consider it. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely. Once Perry married, he hadn’t paid any attention to gossips or attending all the social events, so his knowledge of the Newbridge family was limited.
The sound of his boots on the wet cobblestones was reassuring after a long rain. The streets appeared cleaner after the brief shower, and water dripped from the awnings as he strode into the club. The doorman recognized Perry immediately and sent him to follow a footman, who brought him to where his brother was sitting with Viscount Witney.
Casting his gaze upward, Beau’s eyes flared momentarily as he spotted him. Perry sat in a black leather club chair next to him and Michael.
“Welcome,” his brother said. “What are you drinking? Do you have any news for us?”
Releasing a breath, Perry let the silence stretch between them. Did he even believe what he was about to say? Could Newbridge truly be such a vile criminal? “I have come into some new information. I believe I have…a new suspect.” He winced at the use of the word.
Beau and Michael leaned in closer.
“Well, do not keep us waiting,” Michael affirmed with a stern look. “Who is the blackguard?”
Huffing, Perry glanced at both men, who were waiting with bated breath. “Viscount Thomas Newbridge.”
Both men burst into laughter at the mention of Perry’s suspect.
Perry scowled, his brows contracting on his forehead. “I fail to see the humor.”
“That poor honey is hardly a threat. He’s as good-natured as he is harmless,” Beau said, trying to catch his breath between chuckles.
Scowling at the two other men, Perry absently pointed to the waiter to request a drink, indicating whatever ruby liquid his brother had been drinking.
“He’s hardly a poor honey if he’s been plotting against me all this time. Apparently, he had designs on Eliza and the earldom before I came into the picture and stole them from him.”
