The note told him nothing—exceptfor what he already knew. Yet the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “My brother’s friend . . . CW. Where can I find him?”
The older man smirked slightly and touched the side of his glasses. “My middle name is Chase. Albert Chase Wortle. I frequently go by CW to my friends,” he said, his eyes opening meaningfully as if queuing them in on a secret.
“Ah.” Slade scratched his head. “Do you have anything that proves that? I am only curious, as this seems too pat if you will forgive me.”
“As I have said, appearances can be deceiving. I understand your frustration. My years with the Crown have not been as adventurous as have your brother’s. My roles vary, but they allow me to stay out of the public interest, working behind the scenes unless I am needed.”
“I agree that I had not put that together,” Slade said, arching his brow. “What did you need to tell me? I assume you needed me to read my brother’s words before I would believe you.”
The man grinned. “Yes. I can see that your brother knows you well. We plan to remove your brother from the house. The doctor that is taking care of him works with us. We want to flush out the assailant but need to protect Lord Hertford.”
“You are saying we cannot protect him in our home?” Slade’s temper rose at the insult.
“Not that. However, until we know more about your household, in terms of recent hires—that sort of thing, we need to increase protection. At first, we thought he would heal, but Doctor Fellows feels with the gravity of his lordship’s injuries, it could go bad for him. He needs round-the-clock care, which we will provide. However, for a short period, to the world, he will have died.”
Slade faltered. “This makes no sense. He is going to die?”
“To those looking on,” Wortle continued. “Hopefully, not in reality.” He cleared his throat.
“I see.” He tried to follow Wortle’s thinking.What had Graham been involved with that would necessitate faking his death?This was unbelievable. “That would make me the duke, something I do not wish.”
“But you must, my lord. It will only be temporary, we hope. Your father died. Technically, your brother is the duke now. If he dies, you are the duke. The Regent has agreed to this,” Wortle finished.
So, they had already convinced the Regent of the importance of this. Slade briefly wondered what he had stepped into by coming home. “And the service for him?” he prompted.
“Will be fast, private, and closed,” Wortle supplied.
“It will devastate my mother. She cannot know, I am assuming,” Slade murmured.
“No,she cannot. She must be convincing. If she knows, she may not persuade those attending the services. She just lost her husband. She will still grieve over the loss of the man she loved. Her grief is palpable. I believe she can be credible.”
“Wherewill my brother be? How does this work?” Slade found his irritation level climbing.
“Your brother has asked me to explain this to you. I deeply apologize for the cat-and-mouse game, but we feel Lord Hertford must convince you, or you will not be credible.” Wortle gave a benevolent smile. “I can only imagine how you must be feeling. But we are acting in the best interest of the country and that of your brother.”
Slade’s temper exploded. Perhaps it was his grief. He had had enough. “Sod off, Wortle. I will hear Graham out, but I am not in favor of this plan.” His tone turned sarcastic. “Let me know what you find of Lady Evers.” Slade turned on his heel, biting his lip in pain and fury. He was heartsick and wanted a drink. Every nerve in his body craved something to numb the pain, but he realized he needed a clear head when he saw Graham.
Leaving the building, he looked up and took in his bearings. Deciding to make one more stop, he crossed the street and stood in front of the bookstore. The door jingled as it closed behind him.
“Lord Drake. How nice to see you again,” Mr. Greene said, pushing to his feet. He laid the book he had been reading on the counter with a laugh. “I am caught. Sometimes, I find reading a delightful novel gives a peep at another world, and I enjoy it. How can I help you?”
“I came in earlier when Lady Bella and her maid were here. I wondered, do you have one of those novels she fancies . . . that perhaps, she has not purchased, yet?”
“Lord Drake. I was young once,” Mr. Greene offered, smiling. “This book just arrived.” The proprietor bent down and picked up a copy of a book from a small stack of books behind his counter and handed it to Slade.
Slade examined the small red leather book. “I’ll take it.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Mr. Greene said, wrapping the book in brown paper.
A few minutes later, Slade crossed the street and headed for the stable. It had been a long morning, and he had much to consider. He needed to speak to Graham.
Bella steppedfrom the carriage and tilted her face toward the sun, enjoying the sparkling sunshine. She turned back and helped Mary with their packages. The footman followed with the boxes. When they left the bookstore, they walked across to the milliner and purchased a few new hats and replaced the gloves she had misplaced. The pale pink kid gloves her mother had purchased had been lost and her mother would surely notice they were missing. Unwilling to hurt her mother’s feelings, Bella purchased another pair. The milliner had sold the original pair and knew the exact pair she needed.Mama will never know, Bella thought ruefully.
It had thrilled her to see the earl in the bookstore. He has agedwell, she thought with a sly smile. The last she had heard, he was plying his trade in India, building up a shipping and merchandising business. Her father made an offhand comment during breakfast on the success of the earl’s business just the other day. She remembered. “Young Lord Drake had better watch his back. He is becoming a thorn in the side of the East India Company, and they do not play nicely.” The earl hoped young Mason would be careful. It all seemed so exciting to her—a world she had only seen in pictures full of elaborate homes, silks, colorful fabrics, and gold-domed buildings.I hope I can travel one day. It would be wonderful to travel with Lord Drake, she thought to herself.
“Milady, will you be requiring anything else?”
Bella thought about dropping into the modiste’s shop and looking for fripperies, like ribbons and small silk adornments for her hair. “We had better return home. We have quite a few packages already,” she decided. She heard her maid sigh in relief. She covered her mouth with her gloved hand and smiled. Over the years, Bella had discovered that Mary was a homebody, never wanting to do anything outside beyond what was necessary. Perhaps it was memories of her past that caused that. She always seemed much more at ease when she was home.
