“I know Miss Harper will be digging into the lives of the club members, but I think it is imperative we find—”
“The journal.” Hart grinned. “I was thinking the same.”
Lucy grinned back, but then another thought crossed her mind. Goodness, what would Trudy think of all they had discovered? Should they even tell her? Perhaps it was better to keep all these scandalous rumors to themselves. But little Robert, how would they explain him?
Hart took her hand and pulled her over to sit next to him. Using his teeth, he pulled off his glove. Then he brushed his thumb over her lip. “What are you worrying about?”
“Are you going to tell Trudy all this? What about the child?”
“I think we should wait to tell Trudy until we know the whole story. I’m not sure how she will feel about Miss Harper and little Robert. She is part of the old set where one didn’t acknowledge mistresses and illegitimate children.”
“But Robert planned to marry her; she wasn’t his mistress.”
“I know, and to me, family is family. I have so little left I cannot afford to be a snob.”
*
When Hart arrivedhome, he immediately called for Mr. Townson. The day had not turned out at all the way he’d thought. His stomach churned with unresolved rage at the events he had learned. He would find and punish every one of the men who had been party to his father and brother’s deaths. Dying on a field of honor was one thing, but his brother had been murdered. Shot by someone to hide what? What secrets did these men hold?
Hart rubbed hard at his head, the headache brewing between his eyes increasing in volume. First, he needed to find out who else knew about the duel. Starting with the servants. A knock sounded at the door.
Hart rose from his chair. “Come in.”
“You called for me, sir.” Townson entered the room and shut the door behind him.
Hart leaned his arm on the fireplace mantel. “Townson, I would like to ask you a few questions about the day that my father died.”
Townson straightened his shoulders. His bushy brows drew together. “Certainly, sir. I will do my best to remember every detail.”
Not wanting to give away what he had learned today, he purposefully kept his question open-ended. “Do you remember my father’s schedule that day?”
“He left the house early in the morning on horseback, and he did not return. He missed several appointments he had that day. I found it to be very out of character for him. Of course, later, we found out about his demise.”
“And my brother, did you see him that morning?”
“No, sir, your brother had his own lodgings. I was not apprised of his schedule.”
“And my father didn’t say where he was going? Didn’t bring anything with him?”
“No, sir. Wait, I do remember he had a leather satchel with him. But I am sorry, I do not know what the contents were.”
Apparently, his father had told no one of the duel. Which made sense; duels were illegal. But this was also frustrating because if no one knew of it, the possibility of convincing the authorities now, five years later, that it even happened at all was slim.
Hart ran a hand down over his face. “Thank you, Townson. I have been investigating the circumstances surrounding their deaths.”
Townson nodded. “Sir, I don’t want to overstep, but I have never believed the rumors that the duke’s death was part of a robbery.”
Interesting. “What makes you say that?”
“For one, your father would never take a rented hack anywhere. Even if he had private business to attend, he would have taken one of his own conveyances or simply rode his horse, just as he had that morning. What happened to his horse? He wouldn’t have left behind such an expensive piece of horseflesh to travel through London in ahack.” Townson sniffed.
“I feel the same way, Townson. And I suspect that whatever happened that day is connected to the attack on Lord Galey and I last year.”
Again, Townson nodded.
Hart studied his butler’s face as the realization hit him. “You kept everyone away this past year, not to spare my feelings, but because you didn’t know who we could trust.”
“It was a bit of both, my lord,” Townson replied.
