The constable had a reputation within London for being an upright man and one who stuck fiercely to his habits. At six o’clock, Oliver knew that he would be in his study with a glass of his favorite brandy.
On any given day, he would not have been so adamant at disturbing Mr. Harrold but he could hardly sit idly and await justice.
By Jove, I will go out and see that justice is served not only for Claire and Suzanna but also for the men who lost their lives protecting my sister and my fiancée!
Mr. Harrold smiled grimly at him as he strode into the drawing room. “Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Oliver glanced at the man. Mr. Harrold was slightly over five decades old, with his hair graying at the temples. His neatly trimmed mustache also showed signs of aging but he carried himself rather well so that the years gave him a rather distinguished air.
“This afternoon, my sister and fiancée were on their way to Regent Street when their carriage was attacked,” he told the constable succinctly. “My men were killed and the ladies locked in before the carriage was set on fire.”
“Good God!” Mr. Harrold exclaimed in horror.
“No doubt you will hear of it tomorrow,” he continued in clipped tones. “If it was not for the efforts of a few good men who happened to be in the right place at the right time, I would have lost two of the most important ladies in my life tonight.”
The constable shook his head. “I shall do my best to get to the bottom of this, Your Grace. To act so boldly in the city and attack two young noblewomen…Of course, you can rest assured that I shall bring the criminals responsible to justice.”
“An investigation will not be necessary, Mr. Harrold. I already know the culprit behind this heinous act.”
Mr. Harrold looked at his grim features. “Pray tell, who, Your Grace?”
“The Marquess of Draydon,” Oliver bit out angrily. “Claire went to let him down earlier this afternoon and as soon as they turned their backs, their carriage was attacked.”
“Are you certain, Your Grace? These are heavy charges you are making.”
Oliver nodded. “I am certain he is the one behind this. There is no one else I know with the motive to do something so evil.”
“In that case, I shall accompany you to investigate the Marquess of Draydon.”
The Duke inclined his head graciously. “You have my gratitude and admiration for your prompt response, Mr. Harrold.”
“You do not need to thank me, Your Grace. Just let me grab my coat and I shall go with you to his residence.”
* * *
Oliver was barely hanging on to his restraint when his carriage finally came to a stop in front of the residence of Lord Draydon. He looked out of the window and frowned at his coach.
“Are you certain this is where he lives?” he asked.
The coachman nodded. “This is the address indicated in the card he gave Mr. Marley, Your Grace. I am quite certain this is the place.”
Oliver nodded briefly as he surveyed the place. It was in a respectable part of town but the townhouse where the Marquess was staying was showing signs of age and disrepair. He could not imagine the immaculately groomed Artemus Hunter dwelling in such a place.
Well, it is just one thing about him to be surprised about, he surmised.
The entire townhouse was dark and Oliver frowned at the scene before him, wondering if the Marquess had been alerted to his arrival with the constable and had taken off before he could be investigated for his involvement in the attack on the two young ladies.
Mr. Harrold fell into step beside Oliver. “We had best approach this carefully, Your Grace. If the Marquess is as you claim he is, there is the possibility that he could be armed.”
Oliver nodded. “In that case, I shall leave it to you, Mr. Harrold.”
The constable nodded before proceeding up to the door to knock. It was a knock that was very much like the man—polite but authoritative. It was a knock that compelled you to open the door before you even knew who was outside.
The Duke frowned when after a few minutes, there was still no answer. He had already expected as much when he first saw that the entire townhouse was plunged in total darkness.
“It seems there is no one home,” the constable muttered. “Let us take a look in the back.”
Oliver agreed with the constable and followed him to the back, where the Marquess kept the horses for his carriage. However, he was not prepared to find the scene before him.
