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“As you say,” Hunter acknowledged, while omitting to call him anything this time.
“We met outside in the square and quickly learned we had the same destination.” Oxford tersely explained the younger man’s presence.
“Because I had heard you were back in town.” Robert Granger spoke directly to Hunter. “I wished to know what news, if any, you might have in regard to your investigation into my cousin’s murder.”
Hunter would give Granger his due, he was standing his ground when most men would have cowered in the face of the obvious displeasure of both the Dukes of Oxford and Lincoln.
Hunter saw no reason to deny the end result of his own findings, even if he chose to keep the details to himself. “Hutchings was not responsible.”
“How can you be so sure?” Granger demanded to know.
“Because during my visit to Yorkshire, I met several men working on my estate who were in the same regiment as us. They were able to confirm that Hutchings was nowhere near Plymouth that day and so could not have murdered him.”
“Damn it,” Granger murmured. “In that case, I take it I am still a suspect?” he added disgustedly.
The younger man had only recently learned that he was the sixth man they suspected of Plymouth’s murder. Oh, not directly, because Granger had not been at that decisive battle at Waterloo. But he might easily have paid someone to do the deed for him. The reward, of course, being that he had inherited both the Plymouth title and fortune.
Granger denied categorically that he had been involved. In fact, the last time they had spoken, he had been furious at the realization the five remaining Ruthless Dukes suspected him of having paid someone to murder his cousin.
“You and one other,” Oxford confirmed. “I am about to begin my investigations into him.”
The younger man nodded before turning a mocking glance toward Hunter. “Have you also returned from your inquiries betrothed and about to marry, as your three friends did previously?”
“I—” Hunter broke off to turn toward the door as it was thrown open and an obviously furious Evie burst into the room.
“You shall not force me to marryhim!” She glared her displeasure at Robert Granger. “Oh, he is handsome enough, but that is in spite of his ridiculous appearance, not because of it.” Her contemptuous gaze raked over the younger man, from his shiny boots to his fastidiously styled dark hair. “He looks as if a rainbow of paint has been thrown over both him and his clothes.”
There was such a look of outrage on Granger’s face that Hunter didn’t know whether to laugh or rebuke Evie for insulting a guest in his house.
As it was the first time he had seen her since they’d arrived in London yesterday, he instead chose to feast his eyes on her.
Her hair was soft and shiny and arranged in dark curls at her crown. Her fashionable gown was the same vibrant blue as her eyes, giving a lustrous sheen to the pallor of her skin. Her beautiful face was currently flushed with temper and all the more lovely because of it.
Although why she should think he would ever intend for her to marry Robert Granger was beyond his comprehension.
“Evie, I really think—”
“Allow me to handle this, Lincoln,” Oxford cut in firmly. “I believe it is my right to chastisemyward.” His cool gaze took in the fact that Evie was wearing no shoes and so stood before them all in her stockinged feet, nor was she wearing the lace gloves required in company. “You might have been allowed to do and say as you pleased while living in the wilds of Yorkshire, but I will not tolerate such behavior now you are in London—”
“Yourward?” Evie cut in incredulously before turning accusing eyes on Hunter. “You have given my guardianship away to another man?”
“No—”
“Yes,” Oxford contradicted. “And not before time, if this is the manner in which Lincoln has allowed you to behave till now.”
“I was not talking to you,” Evie dismissed him impatiently, her gaze still fixed on Hunter as he sat behind his desk. “You handed my guardianship over to another gentleman without so much as consulting or telling me?”
“I believe you will find he is not required to consult or tell you anything,” Oxford drawled. “Nor will you address me in such a disrespectful manner again,” he warned silkily.
Evie turned her narrowed gaze on him. “Or?”
Oxford flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his perfectly tailored superfine. “Or I shall consider administering the same punishment as your previous guardian was forced to do,” he informed her in a bored voice. “The first part of it, at least,” he added wryly.
Evie cheeks flamed with color as she glared at Hunter. “You told him?”
At any other time, Hunter would have found this whole encounter amusing, but he knew that at the heart of it, Evie was deeply upset and that Oxford, his sense of humor so dry as to be arid, was deliberately goading her into these responses. He also had no intention of allowing Oxford, or any other man, to ever spank Evie’s bottom.
Hunter stood. “If you two gentlemen will excuse us, I believe Evie and I need to have a private conversation.”
