Page 64 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
“He’s been known to label the institution the devil’s own invention.”
She huffed. “Even so”—she glanced at Denton—“I think we should at least speak with Warley.”
Denton was nodding. “Even if only to rule him out, just as you did with me.”
Faced with two belligerently determined faces, Drago held up his hands. “All right. But”—he reached for the nearest platter—“after we’ve lunched.”
* * *
Warley lived in Baker Street,in an apartment in a house apparently given over to bachelor gentlemen’s residences.
Meg, Drago, and Denton arrived a little before four o’clock. Warley’s man admitted them. Plainly recognizing Drago and Denton and no doubt guessing who Meg was, the man immediately showed them into a rather luxurious sitting room, all leather-upholstered furniture and highly polished dark wood.
After Meg denied any wish for tea—she was far too tense for such pleasantries—Drago dismissed Warley’s man and, with Denton, joined Meg in the large, well-padded armchairs angled before a neat fire.
“He’ll be here soon.” Denton relaxed into the dark-green leather. To Meg, he explained, “Warley always returns home at four o’clock to get ready before heading out for the evening. He’s rarely in otherwise. He tends to live at his clubs.”
Meg nodded. She was starting to have second thoughts about Warley being the one behind the attacks. As Denton had pointed out, to step into the duke’s shoes, Warley would have to make the attacks look to be the work of Denton, and she couldn’t see how anyone would connect Denton—relatively innocuous sprig of a noble family that he was, one who, as far as she had ever heard, led a blameless existence compared to his notorious older brother—to the men who had carried out the attacks thus far. The three simply hadn’t been the sort of men one could imagine Denton consorting with, not even to hire to commit murder.
The same caveat applied even more definitely to Warley.
She drummed her fingers on the chair’s arm and frowned at the fire.
Theclickof a latch was followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in the front hall.
“Jeffries! Where the devil are you, man?” After shrugging off his heavy coat, Warley walked into the sitting room and, seeing them, came to an abrupt halt. “Ah!” His eyes lit, and a smile wreathed his face. “I have visitors! Excellent!”
Drago and Denton had risen, and Warley shook hands and thumped their shoulders. “What-ho, nephews!”
Meg rose, too, and when Warley turned to her, somewhat weakly offered her hand.
He took it and bowed with extravagant gallantry. “My dear Miss Cynster. Welcome to my humble abode.” He released Meg and glanced at Drago and Denton, then at her. “Drinks, anyone?”
When they all shook their heads, still smiling genially, Warley looked from one to the other. “Well, then. What’s this all about, heh?”
Drago waved them all to take seats, and Meg was cravenly grateful when, as soon as they’d all settled, Denton seized the baton and told Warley about the attacks on Drago and Meg.
The utter horror that overtook Warley’s countenance was impossible to question. He was sincerely, indeed quite alarmingly, shocked. His expression beyond serious and edging into panic, he looked at Drago. “What precautions are you putting in place, m’boy? You’ll at least take a guard with you from now on, I hope?”
Drago studied his uncle’s face, then looked at Meg and arched a brow.
She sighed and, defeated, shook her head. “It’s not him, either.”
Warley goggled at her. “What?”
It took a little time and considerable verbal ingenuity to explain Meg and Denton’s thinking, but when Warley finally understood what, exactly, they’d wondered, he stared at them as if they’d run mad. “What?Mewanting to be the duke? No, no!” He waved his hands. “You have that entirely wrong. Why, it was me who ensured that Ryland put that clause in his will to make sure Drago married. Why would I do that if I wanted the title?” Before they could answer, as if struck, Warley added, “If I’d wanted to be the duke, I would have bumped you both off when you were little. Always running headfirst into danger, the pair of you. Easy enough to engineer an accident or two.”
“Uncle!” Denton exclaimed.
“Well, I didn’t, did I?” Warley waved at him and Drago. “You’re both still here, which is my point.”
Drago waved both hands, urging Warley and Denton to calm down. “I hope”—he looked at Warley—“that you understand that, in the circumstances, we needed to check, as Denton put it earlier, to at least eliminate you from the list of suspects.”
Warley huffed, but allowed, “I suppose that’s true enough.”
Drago leaned back. “Now, what’s this about you being behind that clause in the pater’s will?”
Warley looked at Drago warily.
