Anthony picked up his drink and tossed it back with a single swallow. “Our enemies were clever during the orchestrated disorder. My oldest brother, Nicolas and heir and had been captured and locked away on a Portuguese slaver bound for Brazil where he was meant to die enslaved in back-breaking labor beneath the hot tropical sun. His ship never reached Brazil.”
The duke spun a crystal paperweight on his desk, seeming absorbed with the activity. Light reflected from candles flashed from the sphere, and disappeared in the shadows. “I received a message today from the King,” he said. “One of His Majesty’s frigates discovered wreckage in the Caribbean Sea, confirming the ship Nicolas had been imprisoned on was destroyed by a hurricane, and all passengers and crew lost at sea. British Naval ships are scouring the West Indies, in case there may be survivors.” The duke paused, pulled in a deep breath, retaining his stoic demeanor. Yet, his voice quivered when he said, “I will not give up on my son until we have combed every corner of the Caribbean.”
The duke let go of the paperweight and leaned back in his chair. “Is there anything either of you could add? Some observation of suspicious people at the Chelmsfords? A conversation overheard of anyone who might have been involved with George’s murder? I need clues. Anything to stop the rogues who attack and endanger our family.”
“I was present the night Percy Devol attempted to kill Abby in Boston,” Rachel said. “Devol had admitted there were three more enemies of your family. I would start there. Who would have reason enough to hate and kill the Rutlands?”
The Duke raked his fingers through his hair. “How many times have I gone over that same scenario? How many investigators have I sent out only to return empty-handed?”
Rachel patted her lips with a napkin. “Abby and I concurred that for anyone to take on the Duke of Rutland was sheer insanity. So, the question remains, who has the resources to hire two ships to take both Nicolas and Abby? Not Devol. That alone took money and power.”
The Duke aimlessly flipped through a few scattered papers. “I am a member of Parliament. My support of the Duke of Richmond in ending the war with the Colonies has met with defiance and animosity. The war is breaking England’s economy sustaining pay for a half-million, soldiers, marines and seamen between the Americas, West Indies and the Mediterranean. As a result, I have cultivated enemiesthose who profit from the shameful public expenditure.”
Rachel took a sip of tea and placed her cup in the saucer. “Clearly the culprits were intent on making the last of the Rutland lineage suffer. That comes from hatred and that particular emotion comes from fear or a perceived injustice and, perhaps, from something personal.”
The Duke of Rutland’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Now our adversaries are emboldened and have moved from their dormancy over the past several months to regroup. Their next line of attack is Anthony, the subsequent heir.”
“Do you think it was Lord Robert Ward who pushed the urn on us? I didn’t want to bring his name up with the authorities since I’m a Colonial and he is a…Lord of the realm. He was so angry with you, Anthony. Just before the vase fell on us, I heard that same gravely laugh, like he had swallowed his lung.”
Anthony’s head snapped around, eyes intent on her. “I heard it too and had my suspicions, but there was an octave difference. Beneath Lord Ward’s bullish exterior, he is a coward, not a murderer.”
Rachel shuddered. “The flower pot was meant to kill you, Lord Anthony.”
Anthony returned to the settee, sat back, tension visible in his wide shoulders. “I don’t believe the urn was meant to kill me. There are two separate events that must be reviewed. I believe the urn falling on us was orchestrated to propel us into the bushes to discover George’s body.”
Rachel’s fingers fluttered to her chest. “You’re right. That means the killer knows you. How you’d react to protect me. The killer, or killers, wanted to show you how vulnerable you are…and that they are watching.”
“With certainty, the killer followed my movements. Waited until I was leaving Chelmsford’s and then had the audacity to plant George’s body there to make his sordid deed public.”
“The murderer wants attention. But why kill your assistant?”
“Perhaps George had seen or heard something that he shouldn’t have. I had a bad feeling this morning when I received a note from his brother that he had not been home for three days. Not the norm for George’s character.”
The Duke sighed. “I imagine his brother took the news badly.”
“Very badly. I promised I would get to the bottom of this atrocity.”
The duke steepled his fingers. “We are to assume that whatever George discovered happened three days ago. Perhaps he came face to face with the criminal set on killing you.”
“Ask around, Father. The servants, gardeners, stable boys, visitors? Someone must have seen something around the estate. George was a good-sized man and easily noticed.”
“They will strike again. To ferret them out will be another matter. I will hire extra guards to station around your laboratory and the house.”
Anthony scoffed, “We cannot live in fear.”
“We must be vigilant at all times. I cannot risk losing you, Anthony.”
Rachel heard the sad-sweet tone in the Duke’s voice, and his love for his son. To have lost his eldest must be crushing to him.
“On another note, I heard of your provocation with Lord Ward.” The Duke lifted a knowing brow. “So unlike you.”
Anthony stared at his father. “I was justified.”
The duke nodded. Rachel could see he would not interfere. The Rutlands were a tight family and loyal to one another.
Beyond the French doors the first fingers of dawn stretched in a brilliant display of lavenders, pinks and golds. When Anthony angled his head to the door, she wrinkled her brow, discerning his mysterious cue. She caught on, and standing, placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I will say good night.”
Anthony followed her into the hall. “Would you be willing to help me in the laboratory?”
