Page 59 of Captured By the Cold Duke
Seconds later, the carriage pulled up in front of Rochford House, and they dismounted from the carriage and made their way upto the house. Thomas walked surely but calmly as he approached the front door of his cousin’s house. There was no need to run. He wasn’t here to make a scene. Only to make sure that Lord Rochford was behind bars.
He knocked decisively on the door. When it opened, the butler blinked at him.
“Your Grace?” he said, clearly surprised by the late-night visit.
“Tell the earl that I am here to see him,” Thomas boomed. “And make sure he knows I am not alone.”
“Y-yes, Your Grace,” the butler stammered. “But you can tell him yourself. Despite the late hour, he is still awake in his study, having a?—”
“Good. Take us to him.”
They followed the butler into the house, then down the hall, until they reached the study. Thomas didn’t wait to knock or to be announced. He flung open the door and swept inside, his black coat billowing behind him.
Lord Rochford was sitting at his desk, drinking a whiskey and smoking a cheroot. When he saw Thomas, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly and deliberately stood up.
“Your Grace,” he began, bowing. “To what do I owe this—” He stopped mid-sentence as Aidan, Norton, and the four BowStreet Runners entered the study behind Thomas. “—pleasant surprise,” he finished, his cool gaze flickering over them all with interest and even a little concern.
“The cognac you gave me for my wedding to the duchess,” Thomas said, speaking loudly and clearly before anyone could say anything else. “The duchess drank it.”
Rochford’s gaze remained neutral. “As I expected her to,” he said. “It was a gift, after all.”
“Don’t play dumb,” Thomas snapped. “The bottle was poisoned. You know it, and we obviously know it, which is why we are here.”
“The bottle was poisoned?” Rochford tilted his head to one side. “What makes you say that?”
“Because Her Grace nearly died!” Aidan shouted. His temper was much closer to the edge than Thomas’s, and Thomas laid a steady hand on his friend’s shoulder. He was angry, too, but he also didn’t need to shout. He knew they had the man cornered.
“And because Mr. Norton here knows a clever trick for revealing the presence of cyanide in a substance,” Thomas said. “And he used it on the cognac. Norton, bring forth the bottle.”
Norton stepped forward and pulled the bottle out from under his cloak. It was still blue.
“And what does that prove?” Rochford asked, eyeing the bottle. “All I see is a blue liquid.”
“My lord, you gave this bottle to the duke and duchess,” the captain said, moving forward. “It remained sealed in the duke’s office until yesterday when Her Grace opened it and drunk it. She immediately fell ill and is now on death’s door. Meanwhile, both Mr. Norton here and the apothecary who claims he sold you the cyanide tested this bottle. There is no point in denying it. We have all the facts.”
Thomas smiled as the look of incredulity on Rochford’s face gave way to one of fear. “Did you hear that, Rochford? he murmured. We have all the facts. You are done for.”
His eyes met the earl’s, and in them, he saw the pure hatred that he had always come to expect from his cousin.
“The only question I can ask is: why?” Thomas shook his head. “You suspected I would not try to have an heir. You had only to wait to assume your place as the next Duke of Wheaton. Why would you poison me now with a bottle you gave me? Why take that risk?”
A long silence passed, during which the earl continued to glare at Thomas. Then his face broke into a furious, twisted look, and he spat, “Because it should have been mine! Itismine, by right! By law and by right!You were nothing but a disappointment to him, Wheaton! He hated you from the moment you were born because he always suspected what you were. I was his favorite; I was the one he picked; the one he wanted to follow in hisfootsteps. And if your mother hadn’t been the tramp that she was, it would have been me!”
“How dare you speak of the late duchess like that!” Aidan roared.
“No, it’s okay,” Thomas said, holding up a hand. “Let the earl make his accusations. There is no proof.”
“You are a bastard!” The earl shouted, spit flying from his mouth. “Your loose mother was desperate for an heir, so she allowed herself to be… sullied… I cannot even think of it! But your father knew! He always knew! And if he could have proved it, he would have had me as his rightful heir all along!”
A ringing silence followed this pronouncement, and Thomas felt himself grow cold. Even though he had allowed it to happen, he still felt a profound unease as he imagined what Aidan and Mr. Norton were thinking. Even the Bow Street Runners were staring in shock at him.
Shame crept up his spine and heated his face. But now was not the time for shame.
“So, my father told you, did he?” Thomas asked, as calmly as he could. “May I ask when?”
“He told me right before he died,” Rochford spat. “During the same conversation when he told me I should find any way possible to marry Lady Cherie, because she was the woman you had always secretly loved.”
Next to him, Thomas felt Aidan stiffen.
