“We discussed his daughter, Lady Amelia. We were going over the details of a betrothal contract.” Much of theton, including Malum, had been aware of those negotiations at the time, how Foxbourne had dangled Lady Amelia’s dowry as bait, and how the lady herself had ultimately thwarted her father’s plans. “What does the Marquess of Foxbourne have to do with my membership?”
“What else did you discuss?” Malum asked.
“Isn’t that enough?” Lord Northwoods’ eyes flicked toward the door once again before shifting back to stare at the top button of Malum’s jacket.
Leaning back, Malum crossed one leg over the other and sighed.
“That dowry may have covered your debts, Northwoods, but it wouldn’t have funded your estates for more than a year.”
And Foxbourne had needed funds as well. Two nobles on the verge of poverty, working together in what appeared on the surface to be a zero-sum game.
Northwoods moved his hands off the armrests and clutched them in his lap now. But he proceeded cautiously. “We discussed… a business opportunity.”
“What kind of business opportunity?”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Now that he’s disappeared?”
Malum ignored the man’s reluctance. “Tell me about this opportunity.”
“It involved importing tea.” Northwoods rubbed a hand across his brown eyes. “If I invested half the proceeds of Lady Amelia’s dowry, he’d sign the betrothal contract.”
None of this had worked out, of course, seeing as Lady Amelia had just married one of Malum’s most trusted associates instead.
“And you found the terms amenable?” Malum asked.
At this point, Northwoods met Malum’s eyes from across the table. “You know how it is—rents are down, taxes are high. I didn’t have much choice.”
The earl rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced toward the door again.
“Did the marquess provide names of other investors?” Malum pressed.
“He told me I’d double my money, and that it could fund my estate for years to come.”
At this point, Malum opened the drawer and unceremoniously withdrew the tidy stack of vowels. “You mean your gambling?”
The earl’s mouth dropped open. “I… Where did you get those?”
“All over town.” Malum leaned back in his chair, eyeing the other man carefully. “Who else was involved?” He needed names. Even more importantly, he needed irrefutable evidence in order to strengthen the case against the Duke of Crossings. It would have been far easier just to kill the bastard, but Malum wanted to see the duke publicly humiliated—and then rot in jail—like any other criminal would. “I need names, Northwoods.”
The earl flinched and licked his dry lips, refusing now to look Malum in the eye. “He didn’t say,” he mumbled.
“Do you really expect me to believe that Foxbourne didn’t tell you the names of the people you would be in business with?” Sarcasm dripped off Malum’s tongue as he narrowed his eyes. Even Northwoods couldn’t be that stupid.
“He didn’t!” The milksop coward was lying. “I swear!”
The earl was willing to lose his membership to theDomusand also be blacklisted from every gentleman’s club in London, rather than turn against Crossings. Amongst the nobility, losing those memberships was social suicide. Apparently, Northwoods feared he would lose even more by telling the truth.
“Right, then,” Malum said.
As if on cue, the door to his office opened, and his head of security ducked his head as he entered.
“Will you kindly show Lord Northwoods out?” Malum was done with this meeting.
Boris dipped his chin. He was a man of few words.
“But what about…?” Northwoods began, looking confused. “My vowels?” The earl was obviously torn by his desire to escape, but also wanted some reassurance.
Reassurance Malum would not provide. “You’ll know in due time.”
