Cuthbert spat. “You think so? There are more of us and you’ll never see them coming. We may have missed getting Lady Abigail but we did get Lord Nicolas. Too bad his ship went down.” Cuthbert started coughing with that coal dust laugh. The crowd buzzed.
The Duke held up his hand to silence everyone. “Who?” demanded the Duke.
The sea captain’s house exploded, and then collapsed, shooting flames to the sky as the last of the wood structure was consumed by flames. A shot rang out from the west side of the inferno. Anthony covered Rachel with his body, hitting the ground hard. Who the hell was shooting? Everyone scrambled.
“Guards, search the woods,” the duke demanded.
Cuthbert slumped. Blood poured from his chest, shot in the heart. Anthony felt Cuthbert’s pulse, his split lip curled with disgust. There were no more shots. Anthony rose, pulled Rachel up. The duke came up beside him. “Dead. Obviously who did this, did not want Cuthbert to reveal the scoundrel. Now we’ll never know.”
Chapter Eighteen
A fire blazed in the hearth, warming Rachel. They were all together in the library, Anthony’s father, Aunt Margaret, the constable, Anthony, the Duke of Westbrook, and Sebastian, who stood in front of the closed doors.
The Duke of Westbrook leaned against the mantle, indolent, savoring a sip of his brandy. He licked his lips like a cat fed a bowl of warm milk, surprising everyone with his presence. “It is too bad you were unable to confront Cuthbert Noot.”
Over the rim of her teacup, Rachel studied the Rutland’s close family friend. How odd his formal dress at this late hour. His clothing fit well, his wig faultlessly brushed and powdered, yet there was an expression of strained politeness in his manner.
“What a pack of rats,” said Anthony’s father. “We rounded up the rest of the criminals. Nothing was gleaned from them. Cuthbert had the only interface with the scoundrel who has schemed this wicked madness.”
“So clever of you to have escaped.” Cornelius Westbrook stared at Anthony, his manner almost accusing.
Stop overreacting.Hadn’t Cornelius availed himself at every disaster to help the Rutland’s in fighting their dreadful enemies? Didn’t he insist on rebuilding Anthony’s laboratory after it had exploded? Anthony and his father seemed unperturbed. Why should she be bothered?
“Terrible circumstances…to be burned alive.” Anthony’s father shook his head. “To think you outsmarted Cuthbertthe crossbow, the block and tackle, the flight over ground.”
Anthony sat next to her on the settee, the dog on his lap, his other arm perched behind, touched her shoulder. “All the credit goes to Rachel and Casey. Rachel’s ability with the crossbow and Casey’s loyalty.” The dog lifted her head at the sound of her name and Anthony rubbed behind the canine’s ears. “Casey will have fresh meat for her dinner until the end of time.”
“And to think you thought Casey was without wit,” Rachel reminded him.
“Never. This is the smartest dog this side of the Atlantic.” Casey rolled her head to have him scratch behind her other ear.
Did Cornelius’s glass eye turn blacker or was it a trick of the light? Shark black. Rachel stopped smiling.
The Duke of Westbrook tipped his glass and bottomed out his brandy. “I cannot think of the horror you both faced. To have the next Rutland heir destroyed.”
Rachel stiffened. Was that a veiled threat? Anthony leaned against the back of the settee with unstudied negligence, listening, saying no word but watching Cornelius. Was Anthony suspicious too?
“Providential you were able to keep your faculties,” said Anthony’s father to them still mystified at their survival.
“Very fortunate,” Cornelius smiled engagingly.
Anger. Definitely anger. A knot grew in her belly. What might have been spoken graciously was condemning.
The Constable clapped his hands on his knees and rose. “We must find out who shot Noot. We searched the woods. Disappointing, the rascal disappeared.”
“How timely, Noot was shot before he could speak,” said the duke.
“Fortunate for Mrs. Noot to not to have to live in terror of her husband resurfacing,” Rachel said unable to tear her eyes away from Cornelius.
The constable headed for the doors. “We’ve got enough for one evening. I will continue with the investigation to see what I can ferret out. As before, I’m sorry we’ve come up with dead ends, Your Grace.”
Cornelius set his glass on the mantle. “I must leave. I received a message to return home. I will use my resources to look into the matter as best I can.”
“Thank you.” Anthony’s father shook his old friend’s hand and the man departed.
“Remarkable Duke Cornelius’s visit so late at night, father.”
“Nothing unusual. He had sent word two weeks ago that he was planning to visit, arrived at the time of the commotion, insisting on joining us.”
