“Shall I fill in Mr. Foxworth and his investigators?” Marvell asked.
“Do that,” Conrad said. “Any developments concerning Trowbridge or Smedley?”
“I do have some news,” Redgrave said. “According to my source, Trowbridge had a fit of apoplexy last month. He’s been keeping a lid on the matter because he doesn’t want his competitors to know he’s in a weakened state. While he’s been spreading rumors that he’s been traveling and looking for new projects, he has, in fact, been recuperating at his country manor. Apparently, he’s in a bad way and can barely fend for himself.”
“Which makes it unlikely that he is the mastermind behind these attacks,” Conrad said pensively. “Good work, Redgrave.”
His chief manager nodded. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see to the guards.”
After Redgrave’s exit, Marvell said, “I have news about Smedley.”
“Oh?”
“Last year, he was involved in a project with several other investors, one of whom was Harold Stockton.”
Interesting. A connection between Smedley, my competitor, and Stockton, the man I will be usurping in the line of inheritance.
However, Robert had covered his tracks well. Conrad doubted Stockton knew that Robert had a half-brother with a claim on the duchy. Without that knowledge, Stockton would have no reason to want Conrad dead. But if Stockton—or, indeed, Robert—knew that Conrad was alive, then both men had ample motivation for murder. After his escape from Creavey Hall at age seventeen, Conrad had covered his tracks well and taken on a new identity. Robert had never come knocking, and Conrad assumed that his brother believed he was dead.
“Is there any indication that the Duke of Grantley knows I’m alive?” Conrad asked.
“Not to my knowledge, sir. As you requested, I’ve had his activities monitored for the past year, and he hasn’t hired investigators or the like. His illness has kept him confined to his bedchamber, and his mental state has deteriorated significantly. Reports have described him as ‘childlike.’ To be frank, I am not sure how much he remembers of his past. I doubt he has the wherewithal to find you and organize an attack.”
“Noted,” Conrad said. “Did you secure the invitation to the Grantley ball?”
“Yes, sir. From what I understand, His Grace’s physicians are advising him not to attend. He is insisting upon it, however, saying that he will make this appearance even if it is his last.”
Anticipation swirled in Conrad like a wintry wind. He would give Robert a proper send-off. His brother would go to hell knowing that Conrad had brought about his destruction.
Chapter Twenty-Six
After Conrad’s departure, Gigi’s parents went to visit with James and Evie at Grove Hall for a few days. Xenia and Ethan decided to accompany them, but Gigi had begged to stay in Chuddums under the pretense of helping Miss Letty. Surprisingly, her family had agreed…probably because Conrad was gone. In addition, with Owen also staying behind, they probably thought it would kill two birds to have her and her brother looking out for each other.
Gigi had an ulterior motive for staying. While Mr. Rawlins was investigating the attacks and Conrad had hired professionals in London, she wanted to do her part. As both incidents had occurred in Chuddums, someone in the village might have noticed something. People had a natural wariness when it came to authorities, and perhaps they would find it easier to talk to her than the constable. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to try, and Gigi was determined to assist Conrad however she could.
Thus, she dragged Owen to the village. They did the usual rounds, and she shopped, chatted, and visited with friends. During the conversations, Gigi made it known that she was interested in information regarding the opening gala. Anything people had seen or heard, no detail was too small. By week’s end, she’d listened to various theories about what had caused the statue to fall—including Wally’s far-fetched proposition that Fenwyck, a neighborhood feline known for mischief, had cut the wires with his claws. She was giving up hope on discovering anything useful when she received a note from Mrs. Sommers.
Arriving at the dress shop, Owen took one look at the neat but crowded interior and announced that he would wait outside. Gigi hurried in and found Mrs. Sommers waiting for her.
“You said you might have some information?” Gigi asked breathlessly.
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Sommers’s expression was somber. “It’s best you hear it from the source. We’ll talk in the back.”
Gigi followed the dressmaker to the workroom, where Mattie was waiting. The young brunette was twisting her skirts, looking unaccountably nervous.
“Mattie, you must tell Lady Gigi what you told me,” Mrs. Sommers said.
“Oh, but it’s shameful, Aunt Henrietta.” Mattie’s bottom lip quivered. “I can’t speak of it.”
Concerned, Gigi said, “You can talk to me, dear. I shan’t judge.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“All right.” Mattie took a deep breath. “Do you remember I mentioned my new follower, milady?”
Gigi nodded.
