“I-I was paid by Lord Preston to forge a false witness statement to frame Lord Samuel, and then Lord Samuel was paid to take the fall no matter what happened, no matter his fate.”
Gabriel cursed under his breath. He had wasted so much time,but at least his suspicions were proven correct. Lord Samuel had been afraid of the setup, of death, of Preston’s control.
But why?
Gabriel wrenched himself off Bailey before the other Runners dragged him up and arrested him.
“We are not done here,” he barked, then disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning, Gabriel received a written confession over breakfast with the assurance that the Bow Street Runners would be at Preston’s townhouse soon to further investigate.
He had bathed and made himself presentable, for he would not let Preston use his disheveled state against him.
Snatching the confession up, he stormed to Preston’s townhouse and slammed his fist against the door. When it swung open, he stormed past the butler.
“Preston!” he shouted. “Preston.”
“Heavens, whatareyou shouting about?” Preston walked out of his study, frowning. “Are you trying to rouse the whole neighbor—Gabriel?”
Gabriel shoved him back into the study, kicking the door shut behind him.
Preston frowned, his eyebrows twitching. “What is going?—”
“Why did you pay a Bow Street Runner to write a false statement about Sibyl’s accident? And more so,whydid you frame an innocent man?”
Preston laughed uneasily. “Gabriel, what are you talking about?”
“Do not play innocent,” Gabriel snarled. “You insult what little intelligence you have by doing so. I saw your signature on an invoice from Cain Bailey—he had confessed.”
“I do not know who that is, and Lord Samuel… it is terrible what happened to him, but I most certainly was not involved?—”
Gabriel was tired of the act. He slammed the written confession down onto his cousin’s desk. “Then explain this. It was written by Bailey himself after he was arrested last night.”
Preston’s face paled as he looked at the report, his eyes skimming over it. Then, slowly, his expression twisted into something harder,nastier.
Gabriel had never seen such a look on his cousin’s face.
“You, dear cousin, the renowned Duke who thinks he is untouchable,” Preston sneered, “have been so blinded by your little Duchess that you cannot see the danger she poses.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed, taken aback. “What does that mean?”
Preston’s lip curled, and he muttered under his breath. Gabriel only caughtduchyandtainted.
“Preston,” he snapped. “What are you talking about?”
Preston stared up at him, his eyes darkening with what Gabriel could only describe as madness.
“Iam deserving of the title of Duke of Stonehelm. Look at what you have done with it. You get into petty fights in your little tavern. You’ve turned our family name into a joke,the Helm.You are a weak, weak man, Gabriel. You could not control your whore of a sister, and could not turn away from a used woman.
“You have destroyed this family! So, yes, it was me who sabotaged the carriage, and your lovesick Duchess was supposed to suffer far, far worse than she did. Alas, she did not get what she deserved.”
Gabriel’s world stopped for three agonizing seconds as those words sank in—and then he exploded. The fighter in himraged.
He hauled Preston over the desk and swung at him, pouring his fury into his fists. Preston’s eyes rolled back, his head lolling as Gabriel released him. He crumpled to the floor in a heap.
Gabriel did not waste time, grabbing his cousin by the collar and dragging him outside. As promised, the Bow Street Runners were there, waiting for him. He dropped his cousin at their feet.
