He led the constable down the corridor and into the richly paneled study. Once inside, Prentice closed the door with a decisive click.
“I suggest we keep this conversation confidential,” Prentice said. “Some matters are best not overheard.”
Dominic’s interest was piqued. “Is everything quite all right?”
“In a manner of speaking,” the constable replied. “Lady Sarah has signed a full confession.”
“That is a good thing, is it not?”
“It is, but in doing so, she implicated Mr. Haverleigh.” Prentice’s voice was grim. “She claims he was the one who supplied her with the poison.”
Dominic’s heart dropped. “Are you saying he was involved in poisoning Dorothea?”
The constable nodded slowly. “I am afraid so, my lord. Lady Sarah overheard a conversation regarding the second will and confronted Mr. Haverleigh. He threatened her—said he would do to her what he had done to Mr. Poole if she didn’t comply.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. “I always suspected Poole’s death came far too conveniently.”
“It did,” Prentice agreed. “Mr. Haverleigh acquired the poison from an apothecary in the rookeries and passed it along to Lady Sarah, instructing her to use it on Lady Warwicke.”
Dominic’s hands clenched into fists. He strode towards the sideboard and poured a measure of brandy into a glass. “Have you arrested him?”
“We have,” Prentice confirmed. “He’s denying everything, of course, but Lady Sarah’s confession should be sufficient for a conviction.”
Dominic took a slow sip as he tried to steady his thoughts. “How am I to tell Dorothea that her own brother orchestrated her murder?”
Prentice didn’t respond at once. He seemed to consider his words before saying, “Lady Sarah’s age may spare her from being transported, but not the misery of prison. Regardless, it will likely be a death sentence.”
“I feel no pity for her. She chose her side.”
“As you should. I only mention it as fact.”
Dominic let out a quiet breath, then asked, “And Mr. Wells? Have you spoken to him?”
“I have,” Prentice replied. “Turns out he’s not much more than a pawn. Haverleigh threatened his family to ensure he pushed for the lesser settlement. That’s the only reason he acted on his behalf.”
Dominic’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “That is... oddly reassuring. At least his betrayal had a motive beyond greed.”
Prentice adjusted the lapels of his worn brown jacket. “One last thing. If Haverleigh’s case goes to trial, Lady Warwicke will likely be called to testify against him. I fear the scandal could be considerable.”
“I understand.”
“If I can be of any further service, don’t hesitate to send for me.” With that, Prentice moved to the door and let himself out.
Left alone in the silence, Dominic walked slowly to his desk, the brandy glass still in his hand. He set it down with care, then sank into the chair behind the desk, his thoughts reeling. It was nothing short of a miracle that Dorothea had managed to survive not only her brother’s cruelty but his murderous intentions.
Wright stepped into the study and cleared his throat. “Lord Wilton requests a moment of your time, my lord.”
Dominic looked up from his desk. Frankly, he could use the interruption—anything to stave off the storm of thoughts swirling in his head since the constable’s visit. “Show him in.”
Moments later, Wilton entered, his stride deliberate, and his expression unusually solemn. He paused just inside the room, his eyes shadowed with something that felt heavier than mere formality. “I saw you at Vauxhall Gardens last night,” he began.
Dominic’s brow arched with surprise. “You did? Why didn’t you join us?”
Wilton offered a tight smile as he settled into the chair across from the desk. “Because I caught the look on your face when you gazed at your wife. You wore the expression of a man utterly smitten.”
Dominic chuckled faintly but didn’t deny it.
Wilton leaned back slightly and asked, “May I presume that your absurd talk of pursuing an annulment has been thoroughly discarded?”
