“Obviously.” Giles’s wry smile earned him one back, and Carruthers finally began to relax.
“He was not as active; he took fewer walks and used the carriage more.” The butler took a tentative sip of his port, then frowned. “Now that I think upon it, he hadn’t walked for quite a while. Not for a few months at least, but I put that down to the bad weather. Still, he was out more than was usual. Especially in the last month.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Apart from Parliament and his club, no. I wasn’t privy to his comings and goings and knew better than to ask. Perhaps he was courting Miss Regis?”
It was Giles’s turn to be bemused. “Now, there’s an inconceivable thought.” And one that jarred with what Diana had told him. She said he had dined with Mr. Regis at White’s before he had dined at their house. That sounded more like the duke. He had never held women in any particular regard and would have preferred to deal with her father. “Did the Regises ever dine here?”
Carruthers shook his head. “We haven’t had a dinner guest here since Her Grace died. His Grace never had the patience with idle socializing and always turned down the few invitations that came. To be frank, I am not even sure he had any friends. Acquaintances, certainly, political associates mostly, but the only visitors he accepted were you, weekly, and his estate manager every few months. Occasionally his solicitor.” A man who might be of extremely great use. Especially if the duke had changed his will.
“When was the last time he saw Mr. Cribbage?”
“Here? Several months ago. If he met with anyone else outsidethese walls…” The butler shrugged. “Again, I wasn’t privy to it. Maybe the answers you seek will be in his papers?”
Giles glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was midnight already and he was exhausted. Certainly, in no fit state to wade through decades’ worth of documents searching for goodness knew what to solve a conundrum he couldn’t begin to understand. He would need all his wits about him for that gargantuan chore. “What about this last month? Did you notice anything different about his behavior or his demeanor?”
“Other than his constant bad mood?” The butler winced as his face paled. Fear instantly in his eyes. “My apologies… it is not my place to speak ill of your father.”
“Yes, it is, for I doubt anyone had to suffer the tyrant’s wrath more than you did, Carruthers.” He smiled at the man who had always been an ally to him on the high days and holidays when he came to London and had saved Giles from that wrath on more occasions than he could remember. “I have always wondered why you stayed with him?”
“Loyalty to the rest of the unfortunate staff who walked in and then out of the door.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Might I ask a question about the current staff? They are understandably worried about their futures, now that His Grace is gone—and I cannot imagine you wanting to take up residence here?”
He was right. Hell would have to freeze over before Giles ever called this place home. These dusty old walls held nothing but bad memories of the childhood and adolescence he had worked damn hard to forget. “You can tell them I will see them all right, Carruthers, whatever happens. Unlike the duke, I have never shirked my responsibilities and have always been a man of my word.”
The other man’s shoulders visibly eased. “Thank you—I told them as much but it is good to hear nevertheless.”
“In the meantime, we have a funeral to arrange and doubtless months ahead of us sorting out his affairs, so nothing much will change for everyone in the short term. Apart from the constant threat of tyranny, which ended the moment His Grace’s granite heart gave out, I suppose it will be business as usual. I shall certainly be here first thing to start the great sort.” Giles drained the last of his glass and unfolded himself from the chair. “But it has been the longest of days and I need my bed, and I suspect you do, too, my old friend.”
“I could make up a room.”
“Good heavens no!” He shuddered for effect. “Even if the duke’s corpse wasn’t across the landing, I wouldn’t do that!”
“Then I shall have your horse readied.” The butler stood, too, and walked him to the front door.
As Carruthers helped him on with his coat, Giles thought of another question. “When did you discover the duke was about to remarry?”
“Only a few days ago. I probably should have sent word to you about that but…”
Giles waved that away. “There is no reason to make excuses. I understand. You were reluctant to incur his wrath, and had you told me, we both know he would have dismissed you on the spot. But do you know what compelled him to want to remarry so fast?” Because that was the crux of the matter and the first mystery to be solved.
Carruthers shook his head. “We were all as shocked as you were about the news, and by the speed of it all. It was only Thursday, Ibelieve, that he told me to air out the duchess’s room, give it a dust, and change the sheets.”
“Air it out and give it a dust?” He shook his own head in disbelief, though bizarrely not surprised that the duke had such little regard for his future bride that he thought it appropriate to put her in the same scruffy room and expect her to sleep on the same mattress his first wife had died upon. Poor Dahlia had no idea what a lucky escape she had just had.
And on the subject of Dahlia…
“Has anyone sent word to Miss Regis to inform her of her fiancé’s sudden death?”
“Er…” The butler pulled a face. “I confess it never occurred to me.”
Giles sighed. Midnight. In less than six hoursThe Timeswould be delivered around the city announcing the engagement. A few hours later, and the rampant society rumor mill would inform everyone the engagement was now emphatically off because her prospective groom was dead. And because dukes didn’t die every day, and never without a huge fuss, that news would likely be common knowledge long beforeThe Timesever printed it. Especially ifThe Tribuneprinted it, as he knew it would. A dedicated Hunter of the Truth like Diana would have seen it as her duty to pass that news on.
Just thinking about Diana made the nerves in his hand tingle, so he fisted it again behind his back, wishing he did not wish with every fiber of his being that she were here to hold it tight for the rest of the hideous ordeals that lay ahead.
“I shall send a message to the Regis residence immediately.” Carruthers’s expression was pained.
“No.” Wearily, Giles trudged down the stone steps to the pavement and into the rain. “I shall tell the poor thing myself now.”
