Page 64 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Turning to Braxton, his shadow, he asked, “Did you see her? The Wright girl?”

His henchman nodded.

“Go inside that orphanage. Find out why she was there,” he barked. “Whose coach she rode in. The name of her protector. I’ll be back at my office.”

Braxton strode toward the building as Julius walked the two blocks to a saloon he owned, a brothel on the floor above. He entered and went to the large room in the back that served as the core of his enterprises. He sat behind the desk and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a bottle of whisky. He poured three fingers into a glass and knocked it back then poured more. This time, he sipped.

And waited.

More than four hours later, Braxton returned. He took a seat in front of the desk.

“Well?” he demanded. “Why the bloody hell did it take you so long?”

“I had other stops to make after I left the orphanage. That was the tip of the iceberg. You won’t like it, Boss.”

“I don’t have to like it,” Julius snapped. “Give me what you learned.”

Braxton crossed one ankle over his knee. “She’s not Laurel Wright anymore.”

“I figured she had changed her name. That’s what made it harder to track her,” he complained.

“She changed her name because she got married.”

“What?” he exclaimed.

“She’s now the Duchess of Linfield,” Braxton revealed. “She’s also the half-sister of another duke.”

Julius looked at his underling, clenching his jaw.

“Apparently, she is a St. Clair.”

He knew the name. All of London did. Jeremy St. Clair, Duke of Everton, had inherited little more than a title, thanks to his father’s gambling most of the family fortune away. The new duke had, through cunning and outrageous investments, not only recouped the losses but increased the family’s coffers tenfold. Julius had seen the man once and suddenly realized that Laurel Wright had the same uncanny green eyes.

“She’s a bastard. We all knew that,” Braxton continued. “Her and her twin. Somehow, she made the connection that she was a St. Clair and the family took her in. She wed the Duke of Linfield a few weeks ago.”

“That was fast work.”

“Apparently, there was some hint of scandal and the duke had to marry her quickly by special license.”

Julius knew the truth. Laurel Wright had seen an opportunity and spread her legs to ensnare a man with a lofty title.

“Did you learn anything about him—the husband?”

“He’s a war hero. Served directly under Wellington. He’s wealthy. Very wealthy.”

An idea began forming in Julius’ mind. He raised his hand to keep Braxton quiet while he thought.

Laurel Wright was now a wealthy woman. He would have her snatched up and held for ransom. A duke would pay a fortune for the return of his wife, especially if Julius told him if he didn’t, she would be raped repeatedly before being left on Linfield’s doorstep—and that he’d make sure all of London knew she’d been sullied. This duke might not care much for a woman who’d forced him into marriage but Linfield would care for his reputation. No man of thetonwould want Polite Society to know about the atrocities that had happened to his wife.

Of course, Julius had no intentions of returning Laurel to her duke. He would collect the hefty ransom, enough so that he’d never have to work a day in his life again. He’d also use Laurel up and then sell her to a brothel. Or kill her. It didn’t matter. What was important was she would be at his mercy. He would collect the debt she owed him.

Julius smiled. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

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