Page 37 of An Inconvenient Duke

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“Claudia found him in here, going through the boxes.” Marcus led Clayton Elliott inside Elise’s room. For once, he didn’t feel the pang of grief that always struck him whenever he stepped into her room. But tonight, he blamed that on worry and anger.

Nodding, Clayton went to the window and checked the sill and shutters, his brow frowning in concentration as he ran his hand along the sash, feeling for any unusual marks.

One of the best officers who had served under Wellington, Clayton had been a major in the Grenadier Guards and one of the many men who had gone through the fires of Waterloo. Unlike the others, though, he’d managed to avoid losing his way in civilian life by continuing his service to crown and country during the peace. Now fully ensconced in the Home Office as an undersecretary, he held responsibility for overseeing surveillance of half of England. Which half, though, he refused to say.

Clayton moved to the second window and began his inspection again.

He’d arrived here at Charlton Place only moments ago, after Marcus had sent a footman to find him and tell him they’d had an intruder. The man had tracked him down at his club, and Clayton came immediately, still in his evening clothes and smelling faintly of brandy and cigars. A better man to help with this Marcus could never have found.

“He was searching Elise’s belongings,” Marcus said quietly. Every inch of his home felt like it had been invaded and ransacked, although nothing seemed out of place.

Except for him. The surgeon had just finished with his medical treatments when Clayton arrived.Thank God, because the viscountess had insisted on being at his side while the man had sewn up the wound. He didn’t know which was worse—the pain of the needle sticking repeatedly into his flesh or her attempt to distract him with a story about swimming in the Thames with Benjamin Franklin.

But the wound was now clean and sewed up tight, even if the shirt he still wore was soiled with his blood, not yet having found the time to change into fresh clothes. He’d been too busy securing the house and giving orders for all the servants to check every room, cabinet, nook, and cranny to make certain no other intruders lurked anywhere in the shadows.

“He didn’t come in through these windows. There’s no sign of forced entry here.” Clayton straightened away from the casement, then turned and cast an assessing look around the room. “Most likely, he saw that you were having a dinner party and took advantage of the distraction to break his way inside through another window or door without being seen. This was probably the first room he came to where he thought he might find valuables worth taking.”

A niggling doubt at the back of his mind told Marcus it wasn’t as ordinary as Clayton made it sound.

Clayton stepped out into the hall to glance up and down its length. “With everyone in the dining room and kitchens, no one would have noticed if he’d slipped up here and searched the rooms. No one was up here to catch him.”

“Except for Pippa and Mrs. Davenport, sleeping just above in the nursery,” Marcus ground out, his jaw clenched. “And Claudia, who simply walked upstairs.”

“None of them were hurt, General,” Clayton reminded him.

Only by the grace of God. “To break into a house like this, when even more people than usual are here… This wasn’t a typical burglary. That’s why I sent for you.” Marcus lowered his voice even though they were alone in the hallway and solemnly revealed what he could. “Elise became involved with some dangerous people, right before her death.”

“Who?”

“Have you heard of an organization called Scepter?”

Clayton gave a slight nod. “Criminal activity in the rookeries and stews, smuggling and fencing, prostitution…” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Your sister was involved with them?”

“I think she stumbled across them by mistake.”

Disbelief flashed across Clayton’s face. “How would a society lady even come into contact with men like that?”

“It’s not as impossible as you would think,” Marcus muttered, thinking of Danielle and Nightingale. He sucked in a ragged lungful of air. “I can’t tell you how, but Elise strayed into their world. I believe she crossed them, and they killed her for it.”

His friend muttered a low curse, momentarily stunned. Then Clayton nodded his sympathy, knowing not to voice any more arguments or worthless condolences. He stepped back into the room and swept his gaze around it once more, this time taking in the boxes and trunks.

“It’s very unlikely that the man who broke into your house tonight is involved with Scepter or had anything to do with your sister’s death.” He opened one of the trunks and looked inside. “Why take that risk? And now, two years after her death? For what?”

Marcus rubbed the knot at the back of his neck. “Damned if I know.”

There was nothing left in the trunks and boxes except clothes and other whatnots that hadn’t yet been donated to the poor. Nothing at all that seemed important.

But then,hehadn’t known himself that anything important had been among her things until he stumbled across the letter. God only knew what else was hidden here that the men who had killed her would want to keep from coming to light.

“Whoever killed your sister,” Clayton said, closing the trunk, “she’s not a threat to them anymore.”

But Marcus was. He’d watch those men swing, no matter what it took.

“As a favor to an old brother in arms, can you call on your Home Office contacts to learn more about Scepter, what it’s been doing and who the men are behind it?” Marcus placed his hand on Clayton’s shoulder, the bandaged and blood-stained arm stretching out between them as a reminder of the gravity of the situation. “I’d be more at ease if I knew my family won’t be threatened by them again.”

Especially once he had their names and put them into their graves.