Page 69 of Bad Duke

“Since you brought that information to me, I’ve put together a list of suspects.” She pulls up her list and there, right at the top of it, is Lewis Riverty’s name.

“You think that guy is capable of murder?” Despite all my frustration I manage to laugh when I recall the scrawny prick on his knees, begging me not to hurt him.

“I think love makes a person capable of anything, especially one with his background.” She shrugs. “I had him looked into after you told me what happened, and he’s had quite a few allegations made against him over the years.” Of course, I already know this from Winslow, but it proves that Marina’s been dedicated to helping me figure this out.

“Who else have you got?” I shake my head and take another look at the screen.

“Samuel Hamilton.” I read out the name of my father’s old advisor. It’s possible, I guess, he could have had connections to Nicolas and he wasn’t happy when I fired him, but like Lewis, he wouldn’t have had the physicality to take down Trent.

“Will, and fucking Beatrice?” I look at her as if she’s mad when I see them on the list too.

“The disgruntled gamekeeper whose father was murdered by yours, and your long-lost, bratty sister.” She makes it actually sound plausible. “They should be at the top of the list.”

“Leah? The fucking maid?” I look at her as if she’s crazy.

“We needed a wild card. And maybe, she didn’t invite me to that baby party thing for a reason.” She raises her eyebrows over her glasses cleverly.

“Jesus Christ, Marina.” I lean on the desk staring at the screen and realise it could be any one of them.

My phone rings and when I see Barnaby’s name, my hands fumble as I quickly answer it.

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“She’s safe, but in the words of Leah, she’s sobbing her heart out.” I grip my phone in my hand in frustration. Olivia shouldn't be going through this, she should be picking out names and practicing those breathing techniques I’ve researched.

“I’m calling because I’ve just received a call from Harriet Clark,” he informs me, sounding ominous. “I, of course, explained that the Duchess was unavailable and she was very insistent that I pass on this message to her.”

I listen to the message she gave and feel more rage spread through my veins and scorch my blood, at the same time, though I can’t help feeling relieved because now I know where to channel that rage.

“I haven't informed Mrs Stanley, I thought you’d like to handle the situation yourself.” Barnaby clears his throat.

“You thought right. Make sure Olivia has everything she needs.” I hang up the phone and tuck it back in my pocket then turn back to face Marina.

“Turns out you were right.” I let my shaky hand stroke over my mouth.

“I need you to go to Ruxleigh, and be with Olivia. Talk to her, keep her calm, and somehow convince her that I didn’t kill her brother.”

“Me?” She looks stunned.

“Yes, you. I’ve seen the way you work, you can talk someone into anything and Olivia likes you.”

“No one likes me.” She shakes her head and laughs.

“Trust me, if anyone can talk her round it’s you. I need you to do this.” I take her hand and let her see how desperate I am.

“And what about you, where are you going?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“I’m going to visit Lewis-fucking-Riverty.” I offer no further explanation as I storm out of the office and head for my car.

* * *

I park outside the townhouse that Lewis Riverty shares with his mother, gripping my steering wheel and trying my best to remain calm. I don’t want to rush this fucker’s death like I did Nicolas. I want him to feel every fucking second of it. Harriet called to get a warning to Olivia, and what she told Barnaby made my heart leap into my throat.

Apparently, Lewis has been stockpiling all the essentials needed for a newborn baby. Staff from the dance studio have shared their concern with her over how he’s been behaving. He even told one of them that he was about to become a father. I don’t know what the hell he’s planning to do but I’m here to ensure it doesn’t happen.

I take the gun from my glovebox and tuck it into the back of my trousers as I get out of the car and cross the street to the Riverty home. My fist pounds at the door, over and over, until I hear it unlock, and when Mrs. Riverty opens it and sees me, she turns white.

“I’m here for your son,” I tell her calmly, despite feeling like there's a fire blazing in my chest, and when she doesn’t move, I barge past her. I stop and do a double take when I pass a framed photograph of him and my wife that's positioned in pride of place on the side table.

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