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Hunter moved to resume his seat behind the desk as he fully took in the fact that Harker’s confession completely exonerated Hutchings from killing Plymouth. All six of the Ruthless Dukes had broken their fast together on the morning of the battle at Waterloo, wellafterHarker admitted to having killed Hutchings.
His gaze returned to Harker. The other man was pale and clearly still under some considerable strain. “You have my sincere gratitude for telling me the truth.” He gave the older man an acknowledging nod of respect. “It can’t have been an easy thing for you to do.”
Harker sighed heavily. “Ya’ve bin more than fair wi’ me, I thought as tha should know tha truth.”
“How is Davie now?” The young man had seemed in good spirits that day in the woods, Hunter recalled, as he teased and smiled at Evie.
“Bounced back wi’ tha resilience of youth,” Harker drawled before sobering. “Will ye be callin’ tha magistrate now, sir?”
Calling the…? Ah.
“No,” Hunter assured firmly. “You acted out of defense of your nephew after he had been repeatedly beaten and physically molested. Nor, it seems, was he the first boy to be treated by Hutchings in that way.” He scowled. “It sounds to me as if Hutchings got exactly what he deserved.”
“I might be lyin’ about the beatings an’ such,” Harker pointed out.
Hunter considered the possibility for all of two seconds. “No.” He shook his head. “I believe Hutchings to be guilty of all that you’ve claimed he was.”
Hunter had never liked the other man, had always sensed something was off about him. He personally had nothing against two men being together sexually—he had attended boarding school, after all, where such friendships were rife. But those relationships had been by mutual consent, and Hunter certainly could not approve of one man using his power over another to beat and then rape him, lord of the realm or otherwise.
“I will not be calling the magistrate,” he reassured Harker when he saw the other man still looked worried. “Good God, man.” He stood to move around and stand in front of the desk. “I’ve only just finished training you in the manner in which I like my estates run.” He held out his hand. “I appreciate your confession because it frees me from carrying out any further investigation in that quarter, but I see absolutely no reason why the law need ever be involved in the death of a man who inflicted pain and suffering on others as if it were his right to do so.”
The tension drained from Harker’s demeanor. “Thank ’e, sir.” He grasped and shook Hunter’s hand tightly to emphasize that gratitude. “Thank ’e kindly.”
Hunter nodded as he released the work-roughened hand. “I can now report to the other dukes with certainty that Hutchings did not kill our friend the Duke of Plymouth.”
Which left only one officer to be investigated. A man who surely, by process of elimination, must be the murderer. Hunter did not envy his friend the Duke of Oxford in his endeavor to prove that accusation.
But Hunterwouldbe relieved to be in London again, where he hoped to be able to put an end to the misunderstandings between Evie and himself, once and for all time.
* * *
“Hunt— The duke”—Evie blushed at her familiarity—“has been very quiet these past two days of traveling, do you not think?” she remarked to Lady Margaret once the two ladies had retired to their bedchamber at the inn on the second evening of their journey to London.
A long and arduous journey Evie knew she would have been very foolish to have attempted to travel alone four weeks ago, apart from a single coachman.
Since leaving Yorkshire, they had seen beggars aplenty either walking or sitting on the side of the roads, whole families, some of them. Many of the men had looked as if they were more than capable of attacking the carriage, and they might have done so were it not for the coachman and driver at the front of the vehicle and the two grooms traveling on the back, pistols on display.
Hunter also rode alongside the ducal carriage on his magnificent black horse as an added deterrent.
Two carriages had set out from Lincoln Grange two days ago, but Hunter had not been in either of them.
The first of the carriages, with a driver and two more grooms riding at the back, was occupied by the duke’s secretary, valet, and the maid who was to attend Evie and Lady Margaret. It had set out a good half day ahead of the ducal carriage, in which Evie and Lady Margaret traveled. This was so that they could secure and prepare accommodation at an inn for their employers each evening.
Hunter had chosen to ride his horse on both those days, only joining the ladies when they stopped for lunch, and then again for dinner in the evening. Tonight, as had occurred yesterday evening, the three of them had dined together in the inn’s private dining room, attended by Hunter’s valet. On both occasions, the ladies had excused themselves after the meal, leaving Hunter to enjoy a brandy and cigar.
Evie suspected, from Hunter’s pallor and the dark circles beneath his eyes this morning, that he had indulged a little too much in the former yesterday evening. No doubt he intended doing so again this evening now that the two ladies had retired to the bedchamber they were to share. His valet had certainly been delivering a full decanter of mellow brown brandy as the ladies were leaving.
“I do think so, yes,” Lady Margaret answered Evie’s question regarding Hunter’s quietness of manner as she sat in front of the dressing table pinning her hair into curls in readiness for retiring to one of the two single beds.
“Perhaps… Do you think I should go back to the dining room and enquire if he is quite well?”
Lady Margaret turned to look at her knowingly, causing Evie’s cheeks to warm. “I think,” the older woman answered slowly, “that you are determined to go to him, in which case there is little point in my objecting to the idea.”
Evie’s cheeks burned hotter. “He seems so…remote and alone this evening. I do not quite know how to explain it.” She frowned. “But I sense some sort of turmoil roiling inside him.”
Lady Margaret arched a mocking brow. “Do you not think you might be the reason for that turmoil?”
“Because I have become a burden to him, you mean?”
