“She and your sister were visiting a woman in the village who had just had a baby,” Wortle said, conspiratorially. “Your brother decided the time was best.”
The breath whooshed out of him. “So, this is the . . . this is as he planned,” he finished.
Wortle nodded.
“And Fellows knew?”
The man nodded again.
Emotions gripped his heart as he tried to reel them in—pain, grief, sorrow, and fear. Slade struggled to feel relief and then thought of his mother. He had to tell her. She and Tabetha should both know. It was too much to think they could handle the death of their son and brother on top of the death of Father. Wortle and his opinion could go to Hell. He would school his mother and sister to display their grief openly, as they would normally do.
“His Grace decided this was best. We will take him to London posthaste. Your brother wrote a letter to his betrothed and apologized for leaving her,” Wortle said without emotion, withdrawing a newly folded piece of vellum. It appeared hastily sealed. His brother’s seal was barely on the wax. “He has requested no viewing,” Wortle said, his voice tentative, “per his will.”
“Of course. We shall make sure the coffin weighs an appropriate amount,” Slade said.
“And secure it with a lock, just in case,” Wortle added.
“I am not sure this will work,” Slade mumbled to himself. “It is an oddity to see a locked coffin.”What if Graham wakes up and should find himself locked in a coffin?Slade shuddered violently at the thought.
“It will be a small lock placed where others cannot see. Your brother’s coffin will be watched when you have visitors, correct?”
“Yes. But I would suggest we proceed with no viewing and only the burial,” Slade said in a matter-of-fact toneless voice. He felt numb. This harebrained idea of his brother’s friend’s better work.What if his brother did not wake?His mother would think he agreed with this. He needed to find his mother and Tabetha. But first, he wanted to dispense with Wortle.
“This will be a shock to Mother and Tabetha, not to mention the servants, many of whom loved my brother. I think a burial two days hence will be fine. Do you plan to take the body today?” Slade asked.
“We will return in a few hours and take the body. I will offer to prepare it for your mother, and we will transport the duke,” Doctor Fellows interjected.
“You are part of this decision, as well?” Slade’s eyes opened wide.
The doctor looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes. “I met your brother after I returned from the fights on the peninsula. He felt that our acquaintance could be mutually beneficial, and I confess, I have seen an easier transition into the medical field,” Fellows admitted. “He is a good man.” His voice became hushed.
“You better hope that he wakes up, or I will hold the two of you responsible . . .” Slade stopped talking, suddenly unsure there were no servants nearby. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Mother and Tabetha must say goodbye. They will be in attendance in the family mausoleum for the burial service, if that is what they wish. It matters not what others think.”
“Your Grace, I will bring paperwork for you to sign, accepting the new title,” Wortle added. “Formally, it will be to Marquess, although to the world, you will be a duke—until your brother resumes his position. I was thinking we could hold off on the other paperwork for a short while if it pleases you.”
“I will sign the papers you had prepared following my father’s death,” Slade’s voice suddenly left him. He was still processing the death of his father and had not been ready to move forward with anything. Graham, with this need to flush out their father’s killer, was making him face his father’s demise all over. He felt sick inside. “I believe I will wait in my brother’s study for my mother. We will allow his valet to prepare his body for my mother and sister’s return. Once I speak with them, you can take him. I plan to follow shortly and will need the address of the safe house.”
“Your Grace, your visit could compromise . . .” Wortle began.
“I will compromise nothing, and Iwillcheck on my brother,” Slade replied, cutting the man off with a fury he had not realized he felt. He drew in a deep breath. “I apologize. I know you are doing the best you can under trying circumstances,” he rasped. “I will take steps to be careful.”
Fellows passed him a piece of paper with an address on Henrietta Street. “As you wish. This is the address, Your Grace.”
“Henrietta Street? Interesting. That makes it easier, especially if I am in a hackney,” he acknowledged to both. Slade tucked the address in his waistcoat pocket.
Fellows nodded. “We call ithiding in plain sight. It is a boarding house occupied by several agents.”
Graham’s apartments were on the front of the manor, allowing them to hear a carriage roll to a stop in the front.
“That sounds like it could be Mother and Tabetha. Perhaps you could leave us for a little while. I will ask Conners to do some preliminary preparations on Graham. We need to let people know my brother has . . . expired.” Slade’s voice was dry. His nerves were frayed, and he could scarce say the words. He wanted to cry on principle.
Small footsteps rushing up the stairs told him that his mother and sister were on their way to see his brother. Positioning himself in front of Graham’s body to hide his face, Slade stood there, waiting for the door to open and hating everything about this moment—except that his brother still lived, thankfully.
The door opened and his mother whished in. “Graham, I have a package for you . . .” Her voice died in her throat and the package dropped to the floor. “What has happened?” she breathed.
His sister stopped in her tracks.
“Please sit down, Mother, Sister. I need to tell you both about Graham.” He lowered his voice. “It is not as it seems, but we have precious little time. So please listen to me.”
