Page 6 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“There wasn’t much,” Wilkes said, still hugging his bag. “I was there to take measurements and to show Conroy styles and fabrics. I thought it unusual that he would ask me to attend him at the palace instead of his own lodgings.”

“He and the Duchess of Kent are as thick as thieves,” Cecil said. “More than that, if you believe the rumors.”

“Everything surrounding the king and the young princess is rumors at the moment,” Derrek said, twisting to face Wilkes more fully. “What about this other man? The one who mentioned poison?”

“I do not know what to tell you,” Wilkes said. “He must have been a nobleman, though he was not one that I’ve transacted business with or even seen. He was dressed well, and though he was young, he seemed a bit debauched.”

“Does that sound like anyone we know?” Cecil asked.

“Hard to say,” Derrek grumbled. “Did this man and Conroy discuss any concrete plans to poison the king? Times when they might attempt it? Contacts within the royal palace? Did they mention Windsor at all?”

“They did not,” Wilkes said with a sigh, sagging. “The accomplice simply said he had the poison, and they discussed how the murder must be done slowly to make it look like illness.”

“The king is ill at any rate,” Cecil said.

“He is,” Derrek said, his frown deepening.

That was the trouble. The kingwasill. Oddsmakers did not think he would last until summer, let alone make it until the end of the year. Rumors abounded about Sir John Conroy’s attachment to the Duchess of Kent and that woman’s conspiracy to establish herself at the head of a regency that would give her power instead of Princess Victoria.

That was all the talk was at the moment, though. Rumors and whispers.

“You don’t believe me, do you,” Wilkes said, looking deeply disappointed.

“I haven’t said that yet,” Derrek said.

“But you do not think my story is credible.”

“It is absolutely credible,” Derrek insisted, his eyebrows going up. “I do not in any way think of you as a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Wilkes insisted. He drooped a little, then stared aimlessly in front of himself and said, “I cannot be certain what I saw, though. The moment was fraught and I…I was frightened for my life.”

“Perhaps time will help you sort things,” Cecil said carefully. “Maybe your memory will become clearer when you are safe at home?” He glanced at Derrek.

Derrek knew when a friend was trying to throw him at a man. In the case of Wilkes, he didn’t mind at all.

“Would you like to stay at the club and have a spot of lunch?” Derrek asked. “Or would you rather me walk you home right now.”

Wilkes snapped straighter and focused on Derrek. “You’ve no need to walk me home,” he said, his cheeks pinking again. “I…I can find my way there on my own.”

If he hadn’t already been certain what he wanted to do, Wilkes’s obvious anxiety and timid appearance would have sealed it.

Derrek stood and offered his hand. “Come,” he said. “Walking you home will give me the chance to assess whether your abode is safe, should this threat be real.”

“I live in rooms above my tailoring shop,” Wilkes said, standing slowly. Derrek took his bag to carry. “It’s on Jermyn Street.”

“Then we shall enjoy a lovely walk to Jermyn Street,” Derrek said with what he hoped was a kind smile. Knowing him, he looked ghastly.

He had half a mind to offer his arm, as if Wilkes were a lady. That would have been ridiculous, though. Wilkes was certainly not a lady. He wouldn’t have been so interested in the man if he had been.

They said their goodbyes to Cecil, who said he would carry Wilkes’s best wishes to Austen and the others. Once those formalities were accomplished, Derrek and Wilkes set out into London, heading east.

“This is all rather embarrassing, now that I think of it,” Wilkes said as they walked. “For all I know, I misheard what was being said.”

“Is that what you think?” Derrek asked. “That you misheard the conversation?”

Wilkes was silent for a moment, holding his breath. Then he blew it out and shook his head. “No. I know what I heard. It was quite clear.” He glanced to Derrek. “I have no idea what to do about it, though.”

“Fortunately, you have me for that,” Derrek said, managing to smile. “Your very own Metropolitan Police officer.”

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