Chapter 25
“Don’t forget the medicinal tea,” Dominic reminded his under butler on his way out of the house the following morning. “Make sure the duchess has warm water and toast at her disposal when she arises.”
The young man nodded with a sober expression. “Certainly, yes, Your Grace. Anything else?”
“No.” He took a step to the door and paused. “Actually, please keep note of the duchess should she leave the house today.”
The under butler never blinked. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Making his way across Mayfair, Dominic knew he was needlessly leaving early that morning. But he didn’t want to risk talking to Verity yet should she think to join him for breakfast again.
I have to say something to her. It cannot wait forever. And yet…
He had meant to last night, thinking it was time. Thinking he would make sure she spoke up and told him the truth about her secrets.
Their short conversation last night had included an invitation for her should she be ready to confess. He had asked the open questions, wishing she would simply be honest with him for once.
We’re simply two strangers trapped together in a union not of our own planning. What could I have expected?
It didn’t matter. Verity hadn’t confessed. She had closed off her expression and furrowed her brow. Clearly not feeling well, his wife had sought refuge in her bed chamber.
And he had to give it to her. There would be no chain about the duchess ordering her about. He had promised himself that much. Promised her, though she hardly knew the truth of the matter. If something was to happen, if she had a secret, she would need to tell him.
In the meantime, it felt like a special sort of torment just for Dominic.
He took a longer ride than intended before taking himself to his solicitor’s office, a stop at his preferred bookshop, and then back to the club.
For all the grumbling gentlemen made about the habit of ladies to gossip, the males were no better. He settled in the corner of the library as hushed voices spread across the room with intrigue and suspicion.
“Someone is saying it’s about Qintby.”
“You don’t say! Prone to push their luck, that family.”
“But whatever was said about people losing their lives over such serious matters? It certainly didn’t sound like suicide. And I cannot imagine it would be murder.”
“Why not? Men die every day; that is the way of life.”
“Hear, read this line again. ‘Where a soul is wont to dip their fingertips in gold and myrrh on the busy streets of London’s wealthy, we must be mindful of the underlying threats hovering over their heads. We bow our heads too easily when it comes to laws made of fool’s gold and quiet funerals where the body already lies hidden and cold.
’ It makes me shudder. That is surely about death. ”
“Yes, but if they really mean someone in particular… See? There, it notes October. Who died last October?”
“Who is to say it was last October?”
Dominic felt as though he were going to be driven mad.
He forced himself to remain seated, sipping his brandy slowly while keeping an eye on the open windows leading out onto the street.
It wasn’t long before the lane was filled with travelers and merchants.
Some always stopped to pause and study this building before moving on with their errands and lives.
Sometimes I wish I were among them. It would surely keep my life simpler than this. Yes, the gossip rag spoke in riddles. But so long as one has the right key, they know how to turn the lock. What is hidden behind the walls is another subject to discuss…
“Wycliffe! You’ve been quiet.”
He forced himself to look over at Lord Dunn. “It is a library, is it not?”
Chortling, the older baron waved a hand dismissively in the air. “It hardly matters when the affairs warrant a loud rumor and noisier truth. What say you of this matter? The ladies all insist it to be real and the lords prefer their secrecy and false idols.”
“It’s hardly necessary to make guesses or gamble on matters that we don’t know, let alone those we don’t understand,” he said at after a pause.
Lord Dunn frowned at him before glancing back at the men at his side. “I’m only aiming to make conversation. Surely you must have some idea of what is being discussed in this journal. Why, even the London Times has written a piece on it now.”
“Every paper in London to Wales has written about it,” added another lord.
That made Dominic pause. He’d eaten too quickly to read more than the London Times. The blurb was on the fourth page, so he hadn’t been too worried about people paying it any mind. But now? Every paper? Unease settled low and heavy in his stomach.
As a bitter taste sat on his tongue, he gave a short nod. “The papers do enjoy sensationalist topics.”
“Don’t you want to make a bet?” One of Dunn’s companions asked with a light chortle. He was already deep in his cups at this early hour. “I’ve got ten pounds that it’s part of a blackmail scheme against the House of the Lords.”
“I would find it unwise to dabble in something without proof. There are more important matters at hand, such as helping our farmers with the new tax codes,” Dominic added with a pointed look. “We have a vote to take place at the end of this week and we should be preparing ourselves.”
“It’s not a test, it’s only a vote,” Dunn grumbled. He shook his never. “Never mind, Your Grace. You seem content to sit in your corner. The rest of us will see what we can do to impact our future, never you mind.”
As the lord moved away with his companions, Dominic balled his hands into fists on the armchair. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He breathed in deeply and shook his head, telling himself it would all be over soon. Eventually. He hoped.
“Good morning, old chap.” Peter Starling came around from out of nowhere to slide into the seat beside him. “You’re here early today. Brandy?”
“Hardly.” He’d only had two sips thus far. “What are you doing here? I thought you were surely on your way out of London once more.”
Peter nodded, slouching in his chair. While he might not carry a title, money still spoke in the gentleman clubs around London.
He had a glass of his own hanging loose in his hand.
“That was my goal, but my brother seems to need my time and attention lately; I won’t ship out until next week. In the meantime… Do tell.”
“Do tell what?”
His friend gestured around the room. “What is going on here?”
The man had a knack for ignoring everything in the world that didn’t pertain to ships, family, or friendships.
Dominic sighed and leaned forward. Without directing any of the information to his wife, he carefully explained the gossip journal and what was currently taking place based on the last published piece.
When he was done, Peter was wide-eyed. The man let out a shocked whistle and shook his head. “That’s certainly a bold move. It makes sense why it has everyone up in a tizzy. We are sure to go mad.”
“I fear we already are,” Dominic replied with a grimace.
“Perhaps the gentlemen are right: the writer should reveal themselves, provide further proof of what they know. Isn’t that the problem, we don’t know anything?”
He hesitated before nodding. “There’s no proof to be had when it comes to a gossip rag. I believe that is what makes this so unique. Everyone has the choice to take the writer at their word. For this one…”
After he finished off his brandy, Dominic shook his head. “Then all the attention will fall to the writer.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“Yes, of course. It needs to fall…” he trailed off as the truth occurred to him.
Leaning forward, Peter raised an eyebrow. “Fall where? It’s going to fall somewhere, Dominic. You know the ton. Once they have their bite in, they don’t let go. They sink their claws in and steal up everything from a soul. What are you thinking?”
He rose to stand, knowing what he had to do. “I’m thinking that the rug is being pulled out from our feet one way or another. And when it is all over, I know what I want to see and do.”
Determination coursed through him; he didn’t know how he hadn’t considered this previously. Only it was time to act. He had been thinking about matters like this for a long enough time.
What if Verity never tells me? What if she further endangers herself? I don’t like it. I don’t want her doing it or putting her name on it. And I know she would argue no matter what I said. But if I can get the right person to talk…
“Oh?” Peter glanced about doubtfully. “Is that right? And erm, when is it over?”
“Now.”
Dominic gave his friend a nod of a farewell. That was all he needed to do at this time. Making his way out of the club, he rode his horse to the very house where everything had started.
When he arrived at the front door, there was a footman cautiously allowing him entry. The young man was clearly still in training as he fumbled over his words. “May I, erm, take your… hat?”
“Here.” Dominic didn’t care if he ever got it back. “The viscount. Where is he?”
“He is… busy.”
“Unavailable to guests, do you mean?”
The footman offered a sheepish smile. “Yes, that is what I mean.”
“Then it is a good thing I am not a guest,” Dominic announced decidedly. “I’m family, so I believe I’m free to go where I like here. I believe he will be in his study, yes?”
Wide-eyed, the footman glanced about warily and licked his lips. “Erm, I shouldn’t…”
“Don’t worry. You have my card.” He flung out the thick cardstock to the young man while letting it slip through his fingers in the next. The paper floated to the ground and the footman scrambled. It was a filthy trick, but he didn’t feel like fighting. “That’s surely all you need.”
Then he strode past the footman down the hall.
“Wait!”
But the young man was too slow on following to stop Dominic striding through the well-lit hall. While he might have only been here twice––once on that fateful afternoon whilst meeting Verity and secondly to sign the marriage contract––he recalled the two left turns.
He opened the door. “Cassian, we’ve been fools.”