Page 34 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

L ady Rowley dragged James through the ballroom to reach the gardens.

He heard all the guests atwitter, speculating about what had just transpired.

Once they exited the home, she banished him outdoors to guard the dead body until the magistrate arrived.

Lady Rowley stationed footmen at the balcony doors to keep curious guests away, which added to the drama.

James thought this was an unnecessary precaution.

The ton may gawk at a murdered body from a distance and gossip endlessly, but they would never sully their pristine reputations by getting too close to such a gruesome sight.

However, his hostess had no qualms about sending James to this sort of scene.

After the authorities arrived and James recounted the night’s events with painstaking detail, including the parts he fabricated to protect Lottie, he was finally allowed back inside.

James rushed to the room where she lay. The brown head of Arthur was bent over his sister, and he rubbed her hand lovingly.

It did not matter that the man was Lottie’s brother.

James wanted to be the one comforting her.

It took every ounce of self-control to not throw him aside to make room for himself next to Lottie.

But he could not.

He had to keep up the ruse that he barely knew Lottie, in order to protect her.

The Duke of Westcliffe marched into the room, no doubt after ordering more people around.

“You’ve finally returned,” he said, and eyed James warily.

“It was deemed necessary by Lady Rowley that I guard a corpse,” James replied. “ Your Grace ,” he added as an afterthought. He still did not care that he was a duke. He was the man she was to wed. James wanted to be that man.

The Duke’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to James. His intimidation tactic did not work, because they were of a similar height. James stared back into the Duke’s hazel eyes unflinchingly.

“How do you really know Lady Charlotte?” the Duke demanded.

“I told you, Your Grace, I was introduced by the Earl of Carrington.”

“A brief introduction, as you call it, would not warrant you to rush after a young lady who was distressed. You could have compromised her.”

“And what bothers you more? The fact that Lady Charlotte would have been ruined by me, or that she might have liked it?” James had just drawn a line in the sand. He was not intimidated by Westcliffe.

The only sign of agitation in the Duke was the pulsation of his jaw muscle. “Captain Hughes, I’m normally a pleasant man who tends to avoid conflict. But you have pushed me beyond my limits. One more insufferable comment out of your mouth, and you’ll be naming your seconds.”

“Very well then. I’ll stick to the facts. Does the name Simon Roberts mean anything to you?”

The Duke’s brow furrowed. “No, it does not.”

“How about Martin Nott?”

The Duke’s lips pursed for a moment before returning to his judgmental facade. “Are you trying to insinuate something? I warned you, Captain?—”

“Stop!” Arthur wedged himself between the two men. “I cannot take this any longer.”

“Explain yourself,” the Duke said to Arthur.

Arthur pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and let out a breath. “You both know my sister Charlie, I mean, Lady Charlotte.” He glanced at the fuming men. “And I believe you both care for her.”

The Duke and James glared at each other, then turned their heads back to Arthur, who looked back and forth between the men who stood identically with their legs braced and their hands behind their backs.

He cleared his throat. “I believe Captain Hughes is referring to Roberts because of an incident that occurred several weeks ago. He recently became my family’s man of business in Shrewsbury.

His predecessor, who had managed our affairs for years, died unexpectedly. Roberts took over all of his accounts.”

The Duke interjected, “How does this involve me?”

Arthur adjusted his glasses once again. “You’ll see, Westcliffe.

As I was saying, Charlotte lives at our country seat in Shropshire with our mother, and manages the household ledgers of High Crest Hall.

She realized Roberts was skimming money from our family.

You may have noticed that my sister is not one to back down.

She wrote Roberts a letter under my name, demanding we meet. ”

Both men watched him intently. “Roberts denied the request, so she traveled to Shrewsbury incognito as a woman in mourning named Mrs. Gibson. When Roberts learned she was a Tipton, he pulled a gun, threatening to kill her. Charlotte had her pistol with her as a precaution and shot Roberts in self-defense. She fled the scene, and then soon came to London to escape Shropshire and Shrewsbury.” Arthur appeared as if he was about to cast up his accounts.

The Duke’s scowl had fallen, and sincere worry etched his face. “That poor girl.” He shook his head. “Now I understand why she wrote me that she was so eager to marry.”

He turned to face James. “But I know nothing of this Roberts fellow. Whatever possessed you, Captain, to accuse me of being involved with this?”

“You’re somehow connected to him though.

Roberts is, or was, the man of business in Shrewsbury for my shipping job.

A shipment of flax from Ireland was on a ship that sank, and I had to meet with Roberts to go over the ledgers.

When I reached his office, a veiled woman in mourning was waiting to see him before me.

I didn’t want to wait, so I went about the rest of my business in Shrewsbury.

When I returned, there was a huge commotion because Mrs. Gibson had just shot and killed Roberts. ”

This time, James focused on the Duke. “I came to London for the insurance money. The company refused to release it until they possessed the original copies of the ledgers, which were being held by the magistrate until Mrs. Gibson was found. I’ve had the Bow Street Runners working on the case, and they found old documents in Roberts’s office tying him to the Duke of Westcliffe.

Perhaps now you can explain the connection, Your Grace. ”

“I’m warning you?—”

“Did you know Nott?”

“I did not,” the Duke snapped.

“From what we found, he worked for your father until he left a decade ago and changed his name to Simon Roberts.”

His Grace remained tightlipped, so James continued, “Since his death, someone has attacked Lady Charlotte twice. You claim to know nothing? Who is trying to harm her?” James challenged.

“Fine. I knew Nott years ago. After my father died, he disappeared, and I never heard from him again. I have no idea who is after my future wife,” the Duke responded.

James didn’t believe him.

Arthur stood between them and said reasonably, “We have a sordid mystery to unravel, and my sister is caught in the middle.”

“The Runners I hired found a receipt Roberts had stashed away from 1805 for three paintings by George Heddon, purchased for your father. They think the name is fake and is being used to hide something.”

The Duke shook his head, a weariness overtaking him. “I’m unaware of any of this. My father and late wife shared a passion for art, but it was lost on me. They would rotate different paintings throughout our estate, but that is the extent of my knowledge. I didn’t pay the artwork much mind.”

Arthur stroked his chin, deep in thought. “The attacks on Lady Charlotte’s life must be linked to Roberts’s death. If Your Grace has not heard from him in a decade, Roberts must have become involved in something bad.”

The room fell silent as the three men replayed the recent events in their minds. Soon Arthur’s eyes once again darted between James and the Duke. He pushed up his spectacles, clearly a nervous gesture. “You have never met before?”

James and the Duke responded simultaneously with a resounding “no” and looks of disgust on their faces.

“There’s no relation?” Arthur asked, with an inflection at the end of the sentence.

“Absolutely not. It’s impossible. My father was an officer,” James said.

Arthur cleared his throat. “I see. I suppose Hughes is a common name. I know the Duke of Westcliffe’s family has long been established in Kent, but what about you, Captain Hughes?”

“Birmingham. Not even close to Kent. My mother insisted on keeping the name of the good-for-nothing officer who deserted her soon after they married. I’ve never met the knave, so I would never claim to be any distant relation of His Grace.”

The Duke stumbled backward, and his eyes swept up and down James’s body. All the color rushed from his face. “What’s your mother’s name?”

James’s emotions were roiling inside him from the day’s events, which had led him to disclose too much about his unsavory background. He could not comprehend why the Duke would care about his mother’s name, but at this point, he just wanted the conversation to end. “Rose Clarke.”

The Duke made a choking sound and looked at James as if he had seen a ghost.

“Why?” James barked.

His Grace let out an almost inaudible whisper, “When were you born?”

James crossed his arms. “1787.”

He did not think it was possible for the Duke’s face to become paler, but yet it did.

“No, no, no, no.” His Grace shook his head back and forth.

James’s patience finally snapped, and he threw up his hands. “What is it?”

“You’re my son.”

James stared at the Duke in disbelief. “Impossible.”

“No. Very possible. Is your mother alive?”

“Of course she is,” James retorted.

The Duke of Westcliffe ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “That can’t be.”

“Well, she is alive.” James tried to look at him objectively.

He was tall like James, yes, but he had light hair and hazel eyes, which was a stark contrast to James’s features.

Moreover, he looked like the epitome of an aristocrat with his square jaw, straight nose, and sharply delineated cheekbones.