“An actor?” he repeated, startled by the knowledge, for he may have dallied with his fair share of actresses and even an opera singer in recent memory, but he knew of no actors.
Why the devil would a man he’d never met attempt to murder him in his bed?
“Yes.” Tierney nodded. “I’ve spoken with the brother. He gave me a description of the missing man, and I believe it is your dead body. The age, hair color, and build he described his brother having all match.”
“His name is John Davenham,” Sutton said. “Do you recognize it?”
Trevor shook his head. “I’ve never heard the name.”
His temples throbbed as a headache threatened to descend. After the upheaval of the day, this latest development was as perplexing as it was unwanted.
Tierney took a puff from his cheroot. “You’re certain?”
He surrendered to the temptation to press his fingers into the ache in his head. “I’m thinking. But honestly, the name doesn’t sound familiar to me at all. I can’t say I’ve crossed paths with any actors, at least not that I am aware of.”
“What about at The Velvet Slipper?” Sutton asked. “Your first attack occurred there, correct? Is it possible that Davenham could be one of your patrons? Or perhaps a jilted lover from one of the ladies who frequent the establishment?”
Thump, thump, thumpwent his head.
Only he would manage to compromise his ward whilst some mysterious villain was attempting to murder him.
“Not that I am aware of, however there are many who come and go as they please at The Velvet Slipper,” he said. “For privacy reasons, patrons to the club don’t use their given names or titles. Members often wear masks to spare themselves any hint of scandal.”
And that anonymity meant, he realized now, that virtually anyone could be present there at any time. Including this Davenham fellow. When he had first begun The Velvet Slipper, Trevor had wanted it to be a haven for those who wished to seek diversions outside pleasure houses. The club members were mutual participants in everything that happened within its walls. He had been younger, wilder, more reckless then, difficult as it was to believe. He’d never imagined the club would have the potential to lead to his own demise.
“Damn,” Sutton muttered. “I was hoping you might have a record of members or visitors. It would have certainly made our work easier. What of Mrs. Woodward? Does she have information that might be of use, do you suppose?”
“I will ask Theodosia if she knows of Davenham,” he said, referring to the more-than-capable woman who managed the daily operations of the club on his behalf.
Mrs. Theodosia Woodward was clever and shrewd, with a business acumen that could easily eclipse that of any man he’d met. Except Archer Tierney.
“Perhaps she might make some discreet inquiries amongst the patrons,” Tierney suggested. “If the man who tried to kill you was indeed Davenham, we need to find out why he was motivated enough to commit such a crime. It’s damned unlikely that a man who is unknown to you would seek to murder you for no good reason.”
“Is there ever agoodreason for murder?” he drawled, but then recalled who he’d issued the question to. This was no drawing room chatter, and Archer Tierney was the furthest one could get from atongentleman.
Tierney raised a brow. “It all depends upon who is being murdered.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Sutton agreed with a wry grin. “You shouldn’t have.”
Trevor sighed. “I’ve been thinking the attempts on my life had to be related somehow to our work with the Guild. Quite ironic that we faced some vicious, dangerous men in our day, and yet the source of all my woes should be a pleasure club I started on a whim.”
“We aren’t ruling out the possibility of someone with a grudge against the Guild,” Tierney reassured him. “However, if that were the case, it stands to reason that you wouldn’t be the sole target. Myself, Sutton, and some of the others would likely have been attacked as well. Moreover, you’ve been out of the Guild for the longest of any of us.”
“Instinct tells me this ain’t related to the Guild,” Sutton said grimly. “As Tierney said, others would have faced danger by now, not just you. No, it looks as if you’ve somehow made an enemy of someone angry enough to try to send you off to Rothisbones.”
A way with words, Logan Sutton had.
“How fortunate for me,” Trevor said, and not without a trace of bitterness.
He had problems enough facing him at the moment, without fretting over would-be murderers he’d never bloody well met. He had Virtue to contend with, and now that she was furious with him over the sale of that blasted estate, only the Lord knew how he could bloody well convince her to marry him. Imagine that—the Duke of Ridgely, desperate to persuade a woman towedhim.
What had the world become?
“We need to be certain Davenham is the dead man,” Tierney interrupted Trevor’s thoughts then, all business. “If he is, we’ll make inquiries accordingly. We need to know who he is involved with and why he’d want you dead. If the bastard was acting on another’s behalf, we need to find out who that person is before they try again.”
“For now, you’ll be safe with Tierney’s men keeping watch,” Sutton added. “We are investigating everyone we can, including the cousin who is currently your heir. From the information we’ve gathered, it seems unlikely he is behind the attacks, but he certainly has the motive, given he’s next in line. If you can think of anyone with whom you’ve had conflict recently, that would certainly aid our cause.”
