A ghost of a smile creased his brother’s lips.
“After that…he was your best friend, Percy. You all believed she died of childbed fever. There was no reason for anyone to think otherwise.”
“You are my brother. Diana was my sister. That means more to me than any friendship.” He dropped the note onto his desk and ran the tip of one finger over the signature. “She signed her name Diana Whitcombe.”
“She never saw herself as a wife. I suspect the dowager countess made certain she knew her place and her duty.”
“Fucking bitch,” his brother muttered.
“Well done, Your Grace,” Daedalus said with a grin.
“Really, Day. I do remember how to curse. Vaguely.”
Daedalus heart turned over on hearing his childhood nickname from his brother’s lips. Where had it all gone wrong for them? What part of society dictated the formality of familial relationships where titles and moneys were involved?
“Why now? Why bring this to me now?”
“A friend suggested you deserved the truth. And I need your help with Breadmore. I suspect he is involved in something nefarious and I am uncertain how to approach him without causing a scandal. My friend has a spotless reputation and as she does charity work she would prefer to avoid scandal if at all possible.”
“A friend? You told a friend before you told me?” Chelmsford studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I see. I should like to thank yourfriend, but first sit. Tell me what you think Breadmore is up to and I shall endeavor to assist you. Right before I put a bullet in the man for killing our sister.”
“Beelzebub’s bollocks! What part ofno scandaldid you fail to comprehend? Not to mention if you murder a belted earl they will hang you and then I shall have to be duke and no one in England wants a duke who sells filthy books.”
“You, as the voice of reason? I really must meet thisfriend.”
“She will be singularly unimpressed with you, I give fair warning.”
“Good. That will be a refreshing change. Now, tell me of your suspicions of my old friend. If I cannot shoot him perhaps I can make him pay in some other less quick and more painful fashion.”
“Oh, you and Cordelia are going to get along very well.”
Daedalus told his brother the story of Cordelia’s charitable work, the missing girls, Breadmore’s hopes to marry Cordelia, and the work of Archer Colwyn to try and discover what it all meant. Colwyn had more information about Cordelia’s connection to the girls than Daedalus did, of that he was certain. That knowledge made Colwyn believe the women were being kidnapped to force Cordelia to do something she did not want to do. Daedalus could not tell his brother all of that. Cordelia’s secret identity was her secret to tell or to keep as she chose.
All the time Daedalus spoke Chelmsford appeared to write a series of notes. Once Daedalus finished his tale, the duke rang the bell on his desk. Aikers, thin as a rail and pale as a ghost stepped into the room. He acknowledged Daedalus with a curt bend at the neck. Chelmsford, of course, got the full bow. Once the notes were sealed, the duke handed them to Aikers and dismissed the man with a nod.
“Lady Camilla is having a card party this evening,” Chelmsford said. “See that you attend. And bring Miss Perriton with you, if you please.”
“Miss…You know.”
“I know enough,” the duke replied. “I have sent notes around to all the important players in this little misadventure. I will likely receive a summons from Lady Camilla within the half hour.”
“She summons you?” Daedalus stood and prepared to leave.
“She summons whomever she pleases up to and including His Majesty. You disregard a summons from that lady at your peril. Daedalus?”
“Yes?”
“I owe you an apology. I should have asked you why you hated Breadmore instead of always dismissing your concerns as the actions of a child.” He came around the desk and extended his hand.
“I have not been a child for a very long time, Percy. Neither of us have, but we will always be brothers.” He took the duke’s hand and shook it slowly.
“Always,” the duke said softly. Their hands were still clasped when the study door burst open and one of Carrington-Bowles’s boys stumbled into the room. “What is the meaning of—”
The boy, Dickie was his name, held up a staying hand and leaned over, hands on his knees breathing hard. “Mister Colwyn sent me to fetch you, Mister Whitcombe. Over to Lady Camilla’s at once. That girl, Bess, woke up. She knows who took the other girls.”
“What?”
“Who?”
