“I beg your pardon?” Lord Luca asked, his eyes widening.
“You heard me,” Warwicke said. “I don’t know how to make the question any simpler.”
“I am not aligned with reformers,” Lord Luca insisted.
Warwicke crossed his arms. “Yet you attend their meetings.”
Lord Luca’s composure slipped a fraction. “How would you know that?”
“I have my ways.”
Standing, Lord Luca replied, “The only way you’d know that is if you were there yourself.”
Warwicke smirked. “Correct. I’m assisting Westmere in investigating the threats against his family.”
Lord Luca turned to Evander again. “So it wasn’t only your father—youwere threatened as well?”
Evander held his stare. “Yes. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I swear I didn’t,” Lord Luca replied, lifting his hands. “I had no part in it. Nor in Lady Westmere’s abduction.”
“I don’t believe you,” Evander said flatly.
“You’re welcome not to,” Lord Luca remarked. “But I’ve been here all morning. Ask my staff. I couldn’t have orchestrated anything.”
“You could have hired someone.”
“I could have,” Lord Luca agreed, “but I didn’t. I’ve been investigating the truth behind the plantation dealings. I’ve found some troubling things.”
Warwicke stepped forward, skeptical. “Such as?”
Lord Luca lifted a stack of papers from his desk. “You’re not the only one who’s been pressured to sell. Two others were also threatened and all their plantations were bought by the same company. Walter Textiles.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Evander remarked.
“They now control the majority of British-held indigo plantations in India,” Lord Luca said. “And no one noticed. It was done quietly.”
Warwicke grew solemn. “Who owns Walter Textiles?”
“No one really knows,” Lord Luca admitted. “Although it’s a business that exists on paper, it doesn’t actually do any real work. I suspect it is a dummy corporation to disguise ownership or shift funds around. I’ve been attending the reformers’ meetings hoping to get a lead, but they’re just as in the dark.”
Evander took a step back, his pulse pounding. If Lord Luca was telling the truth, they were no closer to unmasking the one responsible.
He turned to Warwicke. “What do you think?”
But inwardly, the question twisted: Was Luca telling the truth? Or was he simply a better liar than Evander had given him credit for?
Warwicke stared at Lord Luca for a long moment, his mouth drawn into a tight line. At last, he spoke. “I believe him,” he said. “But I don’t trust him. Not entirely.”
Lord Luca gave a faint shrug, utterly unruffled. “I can live with that,” he responded before shifting his attention to Evander. “What do you intend to do with your indigo plantation?”
The question struck like a blow to the chest.
Evander exhaled hard and dragged a hand through his hair, still trying to collect the pieces of everything that had been said. “It isn’t my decision to make,” he muttered. “My father owns the plantation.”
But Lord Luca’s expression sharpened. His brows lifted as if Evander had said something naïve. “You don’t know, do you?”
Evander’s gut tensed. “Don’t know what?”
