The trip on the carriage was a frantic affair. Ernest couldn’t remain still and kept tapping his feet or shaking his fists. Hector jolted at every noise, and she wondered if panic would seize him again.
When they arrived, Ernest was the first to jump out of the carriage, singingThe Bonny Bunch of Roses. Maddie couldn’t help but smile at his great voice.
Ernest knocked on the door, still humming.
The door swung inwards, revealing the maid. “Wentworth residence—”
“We must see Lord Quentin immediately,” he said before the maid could even say good afternoon.
Their enthusiasm doused after they’d waited twenty minutes in the parlour. Apparently, Lord Quentin had to finish getting dressed and shaven, even though it was almost noon. In the parlour with Ernest’s nervous company, Hector’s silence, and the ugly painting, time slowed down to a crawl.
Finally, Lord Quentin sauntered into the sitting room with measured steps. The smile he flashed was strained and did nothing to ease the tension tightening his features.
“Hector, Miss Debenham, and Merriweather. What a charming trio.” He barely finished the sentence before Ernest slammed the documents on the low table with an air of triumph.
“Ha! It’s done. Lord Hector is the Duke of Blackburn,” Ernest said. “You may leave, thank you. Shut the door behind you.”
Maddie wasn’t an expert, but she didn’t believe that was the right procedure. Besides, Lord Quentin’s air of superiority didn’t falter. He cast a glance at the documents and skimmed them, nodding.
“I see. Lord Naylor. How generous of him to be Hector’s champion. Oh, and dear Dr. Smith had a change of heart. I’m not surprised. He’s such a coward.” He gestured at the armchairs and sofa. “Please take a seat.”
Ernest’s enthusiasm faded a little. Likely, he’d expected a more dramatic response from Lord Quentin. He sat on the armchair while Maddie took the sofa and Hector remained standing.
“It’s official, Lord Quentin.” Ernest tapped the documents. “If His Grace wishes so, you should leave the house immediately, resign your position at the House of Lords, and even return all the family’s belongings you have used in the past years.”
Hector tensed.
Lord Quentin slouched back in his armchair. “I admire your enthusiasm, Merriweather, but I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere.”
“The law is on our side.” Ernest gritted his teeth. “Soon, even the queen.”
Lord Quentin sighed. “This conversation won’t be an easy one.”
“What conversation?” Hector said. “Everything is done. I will finally restore my family’s factory to its former glory and take care of the labourers.”
“Bloody labourers.” Lord Quentin tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “The problem is that I have no intention of being cast aside so that a simpleton can play the good Samaritan with those workers. You scared Dr. Smith. See, I know Smith. I play cards with him regularly. I was afraid he might get scared. But I have, shall we call it, taken precautions.”
She pressed her lips and bit down a comment about them not caring about his precautions.
Ernest chuckled. “We can involve the police. You can leave quietly or noisily. Your choice.”
“But see…” Lord Quentin rummaged through his pockets and produced a brown envelope. He exhaled as if he were about to do something he didn’t want to. “I happen to know something that will change everything. Hector must forget about his title and leave me alone.”
“No.” Maddie’s voice rose. “Hector will be a better duke than you are because he knows how to be compassionate. Becoming the Duke of Blackburn is his birth right.”
“Indeed. I’m glad you mentioned his compassion because it’ll play a role in what I’m going to show you.” He handed her the envelope. “This is for your eyes only, Miss Debenham. I’m being a gentleman and let you see the content of this envelope first.”
Maddie hesitated before taking the envelope. When she opened it, she couldn’t understand what the matter was. The envelope contained a few pictures. Ernest craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the picture, but Lord Quentin chided him.
“Now, now, Mr. Merriweather. Give the lady a moment of privacy, will you? I’m talking inyourinterest as well.”
Maddie skimmed the pictures. Why would she care about the pictures of a scantily dressed lady? A lady who was in the company of two equally scantily dressed gentlemen and who pleasured her in different manners? Why would she—her throat clenched, and her pulse drummed in her ears when she studied the woman’s face, going past the wig and makeup. Good Lord. It was Verity with two men Maddie didn’t recognise. Not that it mattered. Verity lay on a plush bed surrounded by cushions, half-naked and a coquettish smile on her painted lips. In the pictures, her face was easily recognisable, even though she was in, er, different poses.
Maddie swallowed past the lump crawling in her throat. “How did you get these?”
“What arethese?” Ernest asked, impatience radiating from him in waves.
Hector didn’t say anything.
