The Heart of a Duke(77)

Julia’s eyes widened.

“Then we’ll just have to find it before he does. Do you think he will visit Shaw’s sons as well?” Brett said.

Daniel shrugged. “If he is, he is not a man for details, cannot keep dates and days straight, so we might have an advantage over him.”

Brett grinned. “There is that. Pity that word of his affliction might spread.”

A small revenge, considering the gossip that would trail him and Julia once their transgression became public.

Mr. Fuller returned, a piece of paper in hand. He passed it to Brett. “The addresses, as requested, sir. I am afraid his elder son’s address is not up to date. He does not remain in one place long, as he has a need to remain a step ahead of his creditors,” he added, looking pained. “I fear he has inherited his father’s penchant for cards. Shaw was never himself after leaving our offices. Always worried someone was after him, creditors catching up to him, no doubt. He had left papers we were to read if he came to an early demise, so it was a good thing he died of a ripe old age. At his passing, those papers were left with his family to determine their importance, or lack thereof.”

He always carried a deck of cards. Taught me to play vingt-et-un. The man was a cardsharp, probably marked the deck or hid cards up his sleeve, for while he had taught Daniel to play the game, Daniel had never won tuppence. Lost his allowance to the man every time. Were the papers to be read in the case of Shaw’s early demise related to his gambling habits? Or did Shaw’s last words provide their answers as to what Edmund sought?

“Thank you so much for this information. His Grace appreciates it.” Brett pulled Daniel from his reverie with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

“Yes, yes.” He waved his hand again. “So have you everything you need, then?”

Brett struggled to keep a straight face as Daniel looked at him with an expression of distracted boredom. “Yes, my lord,” he inclined his head. “Thanks to Mr. Fuller here.”

“Good, good, then we shall be off. Coming, love?” He smiled down at Julia, pleased to see she had kept her arm curled through his. As they made their exit, he admired the pink roses blooming on her cheeks. She had heard his endearment.

Good. It was time she got used to them.





Chapter Twenty





JULIA rolled over in her bed and punched her pillow. They were no further in their investigation. They had a series of addresses for Mr. Shaw’s three sons, all of which could lead nowhere. Mr. Shaw hadn’t practiced law in over a decade, thus the papers he had transferred to his sons could very well have been tossed. The man had had a gambling habit, so he could not be trusted. Once again, they could be chasing after windmills in a race against Edmund.

However, she now believed Edmund’s quest and Daniel’s attempted murder were related. On that matter, she sided with Brett. There was a desperation to the searches that rattled her.

More important, Edmund frightened her.

She recalled the look of venom that flashed in his eyes when he had pulled her to him, his fingers leaving bruises on her upper arms. And how quickly he had veiled it with an icy calm, like a curtain dropping over a revealing act.

Edmund had taken risks by tossing Daniel’s rooms himself rather than hiring someone. It was either ducal hubris, or that he wanted what he searched for to be kept a secret.

What could Daniel’s father have given Abel Shaw that Edmund wanted no one else to see and Daniel not to receive?

Something incriminating to Edmund?

Her clock struck the midnight hour. The witching time. She huffed out a breath and tossed her covers aside. There would be no sleep tonight. Even were she to set aside this maddening mystery, Daniel’s laughing green eyes, smiling, teasing, or seducing her would steal into her dreams. His haunting could rival any witch’s, for under his spell, she burned.

There must be a book on gardening or some such dry topic in the library. Something to bore her senseless and lull her to sleep. She slid on her robe and slippers, grabbed a light, and fled her room.

While she hoped to get her mind off of Daniel, she could not help but wonder where he had disappeared to after their midday repast. He and Brett had planned to meet up with Robbie and search for the elusive Weasel.

She did not like to think of Daniel visiting London’s infamous gambling hells. Despite his assurances that some were housed in respectable clubs around St. James and the Pall Mall area, it was not safe. Daniel had Robbie, but a menacing growl couldn’t deflect a knife, or God forbid a bullet.

And Daniel had not returned for supper.

The candle’s flame cast ominous shadows that did not alleviate her worries. She quickened her steps to the library, her favored sanctuary. Lost in a book, she had temporarily escaped her mother’s death, her father’s despair, or her sister’s vacant look. She needed an escape now.