The Marquess Who Loved Me (33 page)

Nick kissed her head. “Norbury could be innocent of all of this. My evidence is mostly circumstantial — all related to his investments, and his friendship with you.”

She hoped Norbury was innocent. But she understood Nick’s suspicions. “He asked whether you were a good man yesterday — almost like he needed to know. He must know something.”

“I will find out,” Nick said, squeezing her shoulders. “Now, eat your breakfast.”

She pulled away from him. “What are you going to do to Norbury?”

“Wait for him in the breakfast room. I don’t want to arouse his suspicions by summoning him. But once he’s in the breakfast room, I’ll make sure he answers my questions.”

“You said you needed my help. What do you want me to do?”

He nodded at her tray. “I want you to eat, and then enjoy a leisurely morning as far from the breakfast room as possible. I’ve asked my batman to loiter in this wing of the house to make sure you’re safe.”

Ellie frowned. “But I know Norbury better than anyone. Surely he will talk to me.”

“I thought of that. But then I thought of him injuring you, or taking you as a hostage, and it made me so angry that I nearly cut my own throat while shaving.”

“If only I’d known I could make you angry enough to do that — I could have escaped days ago.”

He stroked her thigh through the coverlet. “No escape, my love. Just promise you will stay safely upstairs until I tell you we are done.”

She could escape — Nick had made that possible the previous night, even though she hadn’t wanted him to. But she nodded. “I will stay away. But you will tell me every detail of what happens. And if you aren’t forthcoming, I shall ‘worship’ you again until you break.”

His lips quirked, giving the lie to his attempt at severity. “You won’t break me, but you are welcome to try. Now, my lady, if you will excuse me, I must go set my trap.”

He sounded formal. But the way he pulled her toward him, the way he claimed her mouth, was more feudal than civilized. His lips seared against hers. He pulled away too soon, but she tugged him back and kissed him again, slower, melting for him. When she finally let him go, her lips were swollen and his eyes were fierce.

“I’m not going to die, Ellie,” he said.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think of that possibility, but she recognized the way it hummed nervously beneath her other thoughts. She tried, transparently, to lighten the mood. “If you do die, I hope Marcus knows I’m clear of my debt to you.”

Nick grinned. “I will tell Marcus. If he tries to collect from you the same way I did, you have my permission to gut him.”

“Two Claibornes dead on the same day? Dreams do come true, don’t they?”

He tweaked her nose. “Do not worry. I order you not to.”

She made a show of turning back to her breakfast as though he was already dismissed. When he didn’t move off the bed, she turned back to him. “Is there anything else, my lord?”

He focused on her face as though memorizing it. Then he pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and stood up. “Enjoy your toast. Perhaps, when this is all done, we can see whether we can be real for each other.”

He was gone before she could speak again.

When Nick left Ellie, he laid his plans. He started with a few terse orders to the servants, followed by a long discussion with Marcus. His brother was still angry about Lucia’s injury — if it wasn’t for Nick’s desire to keep everything quiet for Ellie’s sake, Marcus might have already shot Norbury in retaliation. Instead, he went off to verify Norbury’s whereabouts while Nick went to the breakfast room to put their plan into motion.

He would resolve this today, no matter the outcome. In a perfect world, Norbury would confess. In a less-perfect world, Nick might need to force it out of him.

But at least Nick had a plan and allies for this confrontation. What came after, when the business that had brought him back to England was finished and all that remained was the future…

He couldn’t consider it until he could guarantee Ellie’s safety. When he reached the breakfast room, a footman stationed outside confirmed that Nick’s preferred guests were waiting for him. All others, in the unlikely event that they descended early after the previous evening’s display, would be steered toward the saloon instead.

He opened the door. Ferguson and Salford looked up from their papers. “What is your scheme, Folkestone?” Ferguson asked without preamble. “Shall we bait a trap? Perhaps dress Salford up as one of your maids and see whether the culprit accidentally shoots him instead of you?”

Salford sighed as he set aside his paper. “I wager you’re more suitable than I am for that. Your features are more delicate than mine.”

Ferguson inclined his head as though “delicate” was a compliment rather than a barb. “Thank you, Salford. I hadn’t thought you had noticed.”

Salford rolled his eyes and appealed to Nick for intervention. “Why have you called us here, Folkestone? And is the duke’s august presence necessary?”

Nick already regretted involving them. But Ferguson wouldn’t be put off.
 
They hadn’t made enough progress the night before to satisfy either of them. Norbury had supposedly retired before they had returned from the fireworks, and they couldn’t drag him out of bed without alerting the rest of the house party. Instead, they had spent a profitable hour questioning some of the servants about Norbury’s movements. Everything the servants said had damned him further.

Still, even though Nick would rather take care of Norbury alone, Ferguson wouldn’t settle for Nick conducting the investigation himself. And if Nick was stuck with Ferguson, then the Earl of Salford’s sobering influence was one Nick thought he might need during the upcoming confrontation.

“I would gladly let his grace cry off, but it seems we’re stuck with him,” Nick said to Alex. “What has he told you?”

“The usual nonsense. Ferguson is rarely capable of serious conversation.”

“I am always serious,” Ferguson protested. “Particularly when mayhem is involved.”

“Mayhem?” Alex turned to Nick. “So the discussion of traps wasn’t entirely nonsense. What trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

Before retiring the previous night, he had asked Alex to join them in the breakfast room — with a vague warning to be prepared for a matter of some delicacy, since he couldn’t tell Alex the entire story in front of their other guests. Now, Nick laid it all out for both of them — the attempts on his life in Madras, the highwaymen who had attacked Ellie’s carriage, the fire that had destroyed the dead villain’s body, and the injury Lucia had suffered during the fireworks display.

Salford seemed calm, as though he heard such calamitous tales every day. When Nick finished, the earl stood and went to the sideboard. “I never took you for such a fool,” he said over his shoulder as he began to fill a plate with shirred eggs. “Ruthless, and rich as Croesus, but not a fool.”

“Don’t say we agree about something, Salford,” Ferguson said, joining him at the sideboard.

“Stranger things have happened,” Salford responded.

Nick took a breath and tried not to sound irritated. “I’m not a fool. If you won’t help, you may leave.”

“Touchy, isn’t he?” Ferguson observed.

Salford selected a few sausages from one of the chafing dishes. “I suppose I would be equally touchy if I had been fool enough to risk the lives of forty guests, not to mention scores of servants, just for the chance to bed Lady Folkestone.”

“Leave Lady Folkestone out of this,” Nick said through gritted teeth. “She’s no concern of yours.”

Alex returned to the table with his plate. “Is she a concern of yours?” he asked slyly.

Ferguson tsked as he rejoined them. “Stop gossiping like a meddlesome spinster, Salford. I agree with Folkestone on this one. My esteemed sister is no concern of yours.”

Salford shrugged and dug a fork into his eggs. “It’s not a judgment on her character. I think she is one of the finest women in England. But why tell me all this now? I’m not the highwayman, if that’s what you think.”

Nick barely suppressed a snort. Salford had a refreshing streak of humor that Nick hadn’t expected, but Nick couldn’t imagine the earl indulging in any sort of adventure beyond overbidding for an ancient vase. “You’re not the highwayman. But I believe I know who hired him.”

Ferguson stole the moment. “He thinks it’s Norbury. What do you think, Salford?”

Alex frowned. “Norbury? I’ve never met a more strait-laced peer.”

“More strait-laced than you?” Nick asked.

“Assuredly so. He absolutely dotes on his wife. No hint of scandal there.”

Nick ignored the buffet and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot in front of his place at the table. “Still, he has investments in India that would be far more profitable if my company retired from the field. Like most peers, his estates aren’t thriving — he could be desperate for money. I found a groom last night who swears he went riding alone for several hours on the same day that the highwayman attacked Ellie. And he didn’t attend the fireworks display. It would have been trivially easy to sneak over to the village, shoot someone, and leave again.”

Alex still frowned. “You said he shot Mrs. Grafton while aiming for Marcus. Why try to kill your brother if all he cares about is removing you from India?”

Nick shrugged. “Madmen make mad decisions. That’s a question only he knows the answer to.”

“Do madmen have the patience to plot death from half a world away? He must have set this into motion over a year ago, given how long it takes to sail between England and the subcontinent.”

Damn the earl for sounding so reasonable. “It’s unlikely, I know. But no one else fits the facts. And I want this business settled today, before anyone else hears about it.”

“You must want it settled badly enough,” Alex observed. “Rather bold of you to say you’ve kept me in the dark when Miss Etchingham or my mother could have been harmed because of your silence, then ask for my help to resolve it.”

The earl cut into one of his sausages. The force behind the gesture was the only hint that he was more perturbed than he seemed. Despite the accusation in his words, his voice was still utterly calm.

Even Ferguson frowned. “Never thought you’d take this so well, Salford. When Folkestone invited you to join us this morning, I expected the bloodbath to come now, not when Norbury arrived.”

Salford smiled. “I like Folkestone, despite his faults. At least it’s not my sister he’s trying to seduce.”

Ferguson’s face darkened. Nick held up his hands and appealed for calm. He didn’t know what had happened when Ferguson had married Alex’s cousin Madeleine, but even though the men were friendly with each other, there were still undercurrents between them that Nick couldn’t navigate.

And, frankly, he didn’t care. “Enough. I apologize for not warning either of you about the highwayman. I am not accustomed to taking other people into my plans, and I didn’t believe you to be in danger. Now, either say you’ll help me confront Norbury, or leave the room before he comes down. ”

Ferguson reached for the coffee pot. “You know I’ll help. Acting as a second is one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Salford?” Nick asked.

Alex leaned back in his chair. “Very well. But you owe me, Folkestone.”

Nick nodded. Marcus slipped into the room then, winded but pleased. “I checked the stables — Norbury did not leave overnight, at least not on horse. And the housekeeper confirmed he did not order a tray for breakfast. Since he retired early last night, he should be down at his usual time.”

Nick looked at the clock as Marcus drained the last bit of coffee from the pot. It was already a quarter past ten — Norbury should arrive soon.

With four men assembled against him, including three high-ranking peers, Norbury couldn’t do anything too rash. He might even decide that confessing, and accepting a quiet offer of transportation to a far-off colony, was better than risking his own neck.

It was unlikely at best. No peer would go to Australia willingly, and Nick couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t come back. Nick didn’t want to shoot him, or anyone else. But he would do what needed to be done — if not for his sake, then for Ellie and whatever future she might want.

By the time Norbury entered ten minutes later, Nick was deathly calm. Norbury didn’t seem concerned to see any of them. He gave a general greeting to the room and moved immediately to the sideboard. It wasn’t until Nick nodded and Marcus locked the door that Norbury made any gesture of discomfort.

He stiffened as the sound of the bolt being thrown in the lock echoed through the room. His hand froze over the kippers, the tongs dangling from fingers that had suddenly gone stiff. He set them down, slowly, and brought his half-filled plate to the table. “Is there a meaning to this of which I am unaware?” he asked.

“I thought we could have a friendly conversation among peers,” Nick said.

Then he pulled a pistol from his coat and set it on the table.

Norbury’s eyes darted to the pistol, then back to Nick’s face. “What do you wish to converse about, Folkestone?” he asked. His display of calm was admirable, but his voice was higher than it had been.

“To be clear, we all wish to converse with you,” Ferguson interjected, pulling his own pistol from his coat.

Nick rolled his eyes. “There’s no need for theatrics, your grace.”

“This isn’t theatrics. I just don’t want to be left out of the fun. And if Norbury won’t talk to you, perhaps he will talk to me.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “No one told me to bring a weapon.”

“Ah, Salford. You never get invited to participate in nefarious deeds, do you?” Ferguson said with mock sympathy.