“That will do,” Lucas cut in, scowling. “Go find her and spare me the torment. She is somewhere in the manor, I’m sure.”
“You’re in a foul mood.”
“You’re putting me in one,” Lucas replied, just as the maid arrived with the tray.
He poured himself coffee—his third cup that day—while Henry took tea.
“Mr Tremaine seems to hold you in high regard,” Henry remarked. “I assume your talk last night involved more than polite pleasantries?”
Lucas nodded. “He’s agreed to assist me with my investigation—into my father’s death and his family’s scandal.”
“What does he know?”
“Little as yet. I believe his investigation has only just begun. But I’m sure that, if we combine our resources, we shall make real progress.”
“Does the baron know?”
“Of our alliance?” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t think so, though William informed me that his father has been looking into things as well.”
Henry sipped his tea, watching Lucas over the rim of his cup. “With so many people poking into this matter, it is only a matter of time before someone notices.”
“I’m not afraid of that.”
“Perhaps not—but you should be cautious. This business involves the suspicious death of a duke. Whoever’s behind it has already shown what they’re capable of.”
“I’ll be ready for whatever comes.”
Henry nodded. “Then allow me to assist where I can.”
Lucas frowned. “That glint in your eye… Are you about something?”
Henry set down his cup before replying. “You said Lord Redley has appeared in your inquiries. He often frequents a gentlemen’s club I attend. After a few bottles of claret, he grows rather talkative. It might be worth paying him a visit there one evening. He may let something slip.”
Lucas straightened, fatigue forgotten. “That’s an excellent thought. We could go tonight—and bring William.”
“I was thinking the same. If fortune’s on our side, we might learn more than we expect.”
Lucas doubted fortune would be so kind, yet the spark of purpose was enough. He sank back into the sofa, coffee in hand, his mind already turning over possibilities.
At least he had a plan—and enough caffeine to see it through. He would rest later. For now, he would prepare. Tonight, he would need every ounce of strength.
***
Richard’s Gentleman’s Club wavered somewhere between an establishment for the lavish elite and a refuge for the disreputable. Its dim lighting and thick haze of tobacco smoke suggested the latter, yet the wine list rivalled that of any ducal cellar.
Had Lucas not been here on business, he might have indulged more freely. As it was, he kept to a single glass, taking measured sips—enough to blend in, but not enough to dull his mind. Henry and William, seated across from him, seemed to have adopted the same strategy.
“It has been scarcely an hour since his arrival, and he is already in his cups,” William observed, shaking his head in disbelief. He stared unabashedly at Lord Redley, who sat at a hazard table, dice in hand.
It was one thing to hear rumours of a gentleman’s vices; another entirely to witness them firsthand. The rate at which Lord Redley descended into drunkenness was almost impressive. He laughed the loudest, lamented the fiercest, his moods shifting with every toss of the dice.
“How much do you suppose he’s lost already?” William asked.
Lucas reached for his wine. He knew that William had gone off to Oxford at a young age, so he couldn’t quite tell if this was the young man’s first time in a gentleman’s club. Especially a club like this one.
“Likely a couple hundred pounds,” Henry mused, his gaze steady.
“Hundred?” William exclaimed. “Surely he hasn’t that much to lose?”
