Instead of answering the question, Dominic had one of his own. “What sort of bets?”
The light-hearted expression on Lucien faded into something sterner. “Something I certainly won’t be repeating within hearing distance of any of my sisters. I don’t even believe Cassian could stand to hear it.”
He sensed the dread settling heavy on his shoulders.
“It’s about your uncle.”
“Yes,” Lucien enunciated slowly. “It is about our dear Uncle William Ashbourne, a modest banker who was a second father to all of us. I’m awfully glad to hear you say it, because that means you do know more than you’re attempting to reveal on that regal, regal face of yours.”
Dominic set aside his annoyance to frown. “Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m irritated. It’s early, I’m drinking to cure my hangover, and my brother-in-law is evading everything I am wondering about. Are you drunk?”
“Not at all.”
Nodding, Lucien set his glass down on the bookshelf and took Dominic’s glass from him. “Great. So, while I continue drinking, please enlighten me as to whatever is going and why everyone thinks my uncle was stealing money from half of London.”
“It isn’t as simple as that,” Dominic started before realizing the last line from what Lucien said. He stilled. “Wait. Who said he stole money?”
“I don’t know. People. They’re everywhere.”
As he slowly turned to look around the room, Dominic studied the faces one by one. He recognized most of them. Had spoken with quite a few of them at one time or another. No one looked particularly suspicious.
But that doesn’t necessary mean it wasn’t one of them.
He focused on Lucien. “Someone said it, didn’t they? That wasn’t in the journal.”
“Do you mean the gossip rag? I only skimmed it.”
Trying another tactic, Dominic inquired, “Who have you talked to today?”
“Only a few people. Lord Hamhearst. Henry Williams.” Lucien screwed up his face a moment before draining the brandy. “And Lord Roberts, who said my family was never to step foot under his roof again. What is a multiple for roof?”
Roberts could have been one of the notable victims of Will Ashbourne’s schemes. I’ll need to see what else Cassian knows about the others. There must be some accounts or documents.
“Roofs. Lord Roberts? The Earl?” Dominic looked away again, trying to focus. The fear was set aside for anger. “What else did he mention?”
“Something about having enough information to take someone to court.” Lucien paused from fiddling with the glass. “I say, he couldn’t have been talking about me, could he? That would be most irritating. Foul, even.”
None of this is going as I anticipated. Verity and I were so certain… Why is it Society is always determined to make the wrong choice? They cannot make anything easy.
There was a fire growing under his skin that he had to put out before it overwhelmed him. He couldn’t stay here any longer. He had to find Verity, see if she had learned all this as well, and find a better strategy to work with her.
As Lucien was mumbling to himself, Dominic was about to quietly send him away. But he paused. The young man was bleary-eyed and clearly tired. What Lucien was up to was not any of his business. They hardly knew each other.
But he helped the man all the same.
Leading Lucien to a chair, he instructed a waiter to start helping him sober up and to have a carriage prepared for him to return safely and quietly afterward. Only then did he take his leave for home.
Verity had beat him to his study.
“What is going on?” She demanded when he entered the room, her expression strained as she clutched a sheaf of papers. Already she paced about with her chest rising and falling.
Dominic closed the door quickly behind him. “How long have you been here?”
She scoffed and threw her papers on an empty chair. “For the last hour. When I arrived at the Elmherst House for their afternoon recital, I was no longer on the guest list. It was humiliating. I didn’t even care to attend. I had almost said no. But they wouldn’t let me in the door even with my invitation.”
A fierce need to protect swept over Dominic. He moved forward to comfort her, putting a hand on her upper arm. “Lord Elmherst did it?”
