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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Once the carriage door was shut after them, Lord Dunsmore pulled the ledger out of his coat pocket. The carriage began to move, and Dunsmore began perusing the contents, flipping the pages, slowly.
Charles leaned forward to see. They were all written in Lord Dansbury’s distinctive handwriting.
“There are many payments to other Lords here,” he remarked, perusing the contents. “If I had to make a guess, they are the results of bets. There are also several brothels, as well as payments to a Mr. Bones…”
“Do you know anyone by that name?” Lord Dunsmore asked, wrinkling his nose and furrowing his brow.
Charles shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like a real name.”
“That may be our killer,” Lord Dunsmore remarked. “Under an alias. These are quite large payoffs. I wonder what they were for.”
He closed the ledger with a decisive snap. “Today has been quite productive for us, Mr. Conolly.”
“Are you going to go to the other’s homes?” Charles asked.
“Yes. I plan to. It’s best if I go alone,” he replied. “It’s easiest. I’m rarely caught. I have to pay my respects, anyway. Missing funerals is considered very gauche, as you know.”
“I see.”
“Once I do, I’ll call you to my office. We can look at all of the evidence together.”
“All right,” Charles replied.
“Never fear, Mr. Conolly! We’ll figure this out.” Lord Dunsmore peered out of the carriage window. “Here we are! Right at your office.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Charles said.
“You’re very welcome, Sir.”
Charles was left, standing in the street. He didn’t know what to make of Lord Dunsmore. He was one of the most colorful figures he’d ever met. It was good to have him on his side, however.
* * *
Arabella was dressed for battle, in a lemon-yellow satin with black ribbons. The Duke of Longmire was invited to dinner, for the second time that week. She sat in the drawing room, with her parents, awaiting the Duke’s arrival.
“Please behave yourself,” her father begged. “At the very least, give him a chance.”
“I’ll do my best,” she replied. “But I won’t marry him.”
“That remains to be seen,” her father stated sternly.
“The Duke of Longmire,” Mr. Blankley announced from the doorway. The Duke entered as they all stood up. He was dressed in a black coat. His hair was neatly coiffed. His eyes went immediately to Arabella.
Greetings were made and they all made their way into the dining room. Arabella sat, eating her food while her father flattered the Duke.
This romancing the Duke of Longmire is nearly enough to put me off of my food.
“Your Grace,” her father said, smiling at him. “You’ll have to come and visit us at Tiverwell Manor during the summer.”
“I would be honored, Your Grace,” the Duke replied.
“It’s decided then,” her father said. Meanwhile, Arabella could only picture the Duke, attempting to woo her among Tiverwell Manor’s many gardens. It was a place which had been a respite for her. Ruined. There would be no escaping him. She would have to ensconce herself in her rooms.
“Do you fence, Your Grace?” she asked. She was relieved that he had not mentioned Isis. No doubt, he was waiting until they could talk without her parents overhearing.
“Naturally, I do,” he replied. “All young gentlemen are given lessons.”
