The Heart of a Duke(82)

Weasel shoved the coin into the pocket of the rumpled garrick redingote that swallowed his scarecrow frame.

“I have been investigating the fire at Lakeview Manor. Someone said you were in the vicinity, talked about witnessing the start of the blaze and seeing some men on the grounds.”

Weasel swiped at his hair again, eyeing Daniel, and the speculative gleam in his eyes belied his denial. “That’s bollocks. I don’t knows wot you is natterin’ on bouts. I ain’t seen nothin’. I ain’t no squealer.”

Daniel sighed and produced another coin. He tossed it to Weasel, who was quick to snap it from the air, clearly well practiced at his game.

Weasel furrowed his brow. “I mighten’ remember now. I was settin’ me traps, when I saw a few blokes ridin’ away from the blaze. An’ why wouldn’t they be, for it be a right inferno they set.”

“Are you certain that these men deliberately set the fire?” Daniel edged closer.

Weasel pressed his three-fingered hand to his temple, fingering the greasy strands flopping over his forehead.

Brett swore and rummaged in his pocket for a crown, which he tossed to Weasel and which vanished as quickly as the others.

“Spect that be wot their bleedin’ torches be for. Saw ’em toss ’em away as they scurried off. Tried to get ’em, for could ’ave used ’em against ’em to fleece ’em proper. Money lost there,” he murmured the last regretfully.

Daniel snorted. Weasel would forage for eyes to sell to a blind man.

“Fire was too hot, couldn’t get near ’em.”

“Final question, Weasel,” he pressed another coin into his hand. “Did you recognize any of these men?”

Weasel hesitated, and then gave a curt nod.

Daniel’s eyes shot to Brett’s, hardly daring to breathe.

“Ain’t no use to you now.” Weasel shrugged. “Long dead and gone. Not from natural causes, if you knows wot I means. Should ’ave come ’ome sooner.”

Daniel exhaled, the words a punch to the gut. Robbie came to his side, clamping a hand on his shoulder. Daniel only had one more question. “If you knew them, do you know who they worked for?”

When Weasel opened his mouth for his requisite fee, he paused. Robbie had withdrawn his gun, a beautiful Manton revolver, much coveted by the ton for dueling, and on loan from Taunton. He pulled out his handkerchief and leisurely ran it over the piece, polishing its silver finish so it gleamed in the candlelight.

Weasel swallowed, his face going a shade of gray. His eyes snapped to Daniel’s and he spat his response. “Cor, they be workin’ for yon bastard the duke, who else? Why’d ye think no one listened when I said so all them years ago? Thot’s why he done this to me and planned to do more, ’ad I not escaped.” He brandished his maimed hand. “But Weasel’s too smart to be trapped. Unlike the sad gits who set the blaze and were found hanged dead.” He snapped his mouth closed, his expression truculent.

Silence followed. Had anyone spoken, the roaring in Daniel’s ears would have swallowed it up. One word cut through it, shoving at him like a battering ram that nearly dropped him to his knees.

Fratricide.

His brother had attempted to kill him.

Daniel had fought the truth. Repeatedly. Because he could not believe it? Or because he could, but couldn’t grasp the magnitude of it? He had always known Edmund hated him. Now he understood just how much.

But why?

The question remained unanswered.

Edmund had the title, the estates, the money, even Julia at one point. What the devil did he care about him for? Before the night of the fire, his only interest in Daniel had been for vicious sport, and as they had grown, even that waned.

What had changed his mind? Turned him toward murder?

“You’ve earned your blunt.” Robbie nodded toward Weasel, his tone weary. “That will be all.”

Weasel’s fist swallowed another coin. Like his namesake, he darted to the door as fast as his short legs could carry him, and was gone.

Daniel could locate him again if needed—for a price—but there was no point. A duke would be tried before a jury of his peers. The word of a sordid village poacher who could be bought with a few coins would not stand up in the House of Lords against one of their own. No, Weasel had done all he could for them. And it was enough.

“Now do you see the danger you are in?” Brett cried. “We should make arrangements to leave on our next ship returning to Boston.”

Daniel raked an unsteady hand through his hair. “It makes no sense. To what end does my death help Edmund? For God’s sake, I have been gone ten years. As far as he is aware, I will be gone again soon.”