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“No.”
“Have you shared this with Crewood?”
Lewis shook his head. “I need to record it in our files first and have it copied for the magistrate Lord Crewood has been badgering to pursue it. I’ll only show it to Crewood if he asks.”
“But you would not give him the original.”
“Absolutely not.” He reached for the letter, and Matthew passed it to him. “I would give him a copy. And you as well, if you wish.”
“I do.”
Lewis tucked the letter away. “Y’know, there is no real proof this is from Havers. Anybody could have written it. They will never accept this as proof of her innocence.”
“That is because they do not truly believe she is guilty.”
Lewis paused. “You think this is merely a scheme to get her money.”
“Do you not think that?”
The runner looked from Matthew to Mark and back. “If you will pardon me for saying so, I think the nobility ain’t much better than the cutpurses in the rookeries when it comes to money. Their methods differ, but most wouldn’t give a tinker’s damn about who they hurt, as long as they get theirs.”
“Astute,” muttered Mark.
Matthew leaned back in his chair, his anger tempered but his determination building. “Then we are agreed. Their goal is to get their hands on the lady’s trust. If she stayed in the dowager house, they could have tried to control the funds through coercion once she received it at thirty.”
“Not bloody likely,” Mark said. “Have you met the woman?”
Lewis shook his head as Matthew went on. “Apparently, she recognized this and fled back to London. Once she left, they resorted to finding a way to kill her through legal justice. Although the magistrates would probably not imprison or convict an earl or a countess, the risk to kill her outright was too great. They thought they had another year to convince the magistrates she was guilty, thus the ruse with the arsenic. If she hangs, Lord Crewood inherits the trust as next of kin.”
“But if she marries, her new husband becomes next of kin.” Mark crossed his arms. “All of a sudden they had a new time frame.”
Lewis stilled. “Is that whyyou’remarrying her? The money?”
Mark sniffed. “He does not need the money. My brother merely misses the war.”
Lewis blinked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “But we are at peace.”
Matthew gave a low growl, glaring at Mark. “As long as Napoleon remains in exile. But my brother is trying to make another point entirely, and not one of your concern.” He stood. “Thank you, Mr. Lewis. I would appreciate another report on Thursday night at the same time, unless something urgent arises. My brother will see you to the door.”
Mark glanced at Matthew before leading the man out. Matthew took a long breath and walked to the window, staring out at the street, the pavement still damp from an afternoon shower. The gas flames danced in the street lamps, casting wild and shifting shadows over the quiet circle bordered by some of the finest homes in the city.
His mind tumbled through a dozen thoughts, all of them annoying him. His anger at Crewood and his unexpected care for Sarah had blended with his enticement to the puzzle of the elder earl’s death. He knew why he had chosen her from among the three Mrs. Dove-Lyon had offered him, but he had intended this to be no more than yet another business arrangement. They would marry and go on with their lives as before. She would manage his household and he would join Wellington in France.
Instead he had found his mind engaged by the woman’s situation, and he had begun—after only four days!—to look forward to their meetings. Her laughter—sweet, soft, and expressive—pleased him, and he found he wanted to make her laugh more often.
When did I start looking forward to a woman’s laughter?
Annoying. It was all too annoying.
The study door closed. The creak of leather and the rustle of a newspaper told him Mark had settled into a wingback by the fire. He kept his voice low, calm. “Did you mean what you said? You think I miss the war?”
More rustling paper. “There are calmer, easier ways to attain a wife. Either of the other two prospects would have dovetailed into this family in a much smoother, less dramatic way. You purposefully chose the most challenging. And if you had given it two thoughts yourself, you would have seen it.”
“So I am making a mistake in choosing Lady Crewood?”
A concentrated rustling was followed by a whoof and the sound of burning paper. “I have watched you. In four days, your entire demeanor around her has changed. I have seldom seen two people more well-suited. I would suggest getting a special license and marrying her by the weekend. I think if you do not marry her, you will regret it the rest of your life.”
Matthew turned. “I hoped to avoid all the drama. Instead I’m going to Almack’s, where drama is a higher form of currency than the pound.”
