“Indeed. But you will find that is not all I discovered.” He handed him another sheet of paper. “This document states that his son, Francis Marcomb, was also interred in the same institution.”
At this, Dominic stilled. “What are you getting at?”
Mr. Martin folded his hand together “Rumor has it that the earl’s son was also afflicted, that he never spent time on the continent at all, that his condition was covered up from an early age to prevent gossip and conjecture that he wouldn’t be fit to inherit the title. He was granted the freedoms to do so, however, but that is not the most intriguing part. I happened to stumble across some information claiming that Francis Marcomb met his death shortly after he gained the title, after his father was dead.”
Dominic’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have proof of this?”
“A miniature.” He handed it over. “Apparently, Francis and one of the women in charge of the facility were having an affair and it was not known until after the scandal threatened to ensue.”
As Dominic inspected the image in the small frame, he frowned and then handed it to Lexie so that she might see what he was thinking. “This is not the same man who claims to be the current Earl of Lindley.”
“Precisely,” Mr. Martin concurred. “It appears we have an imposter in our midst.”
Dominic sat back in the chair, feeling as if some of the wind had been knocked out of him. “If he is not the true heir, then how could he make such a claim? Who is he really?”
Some more paper shuffling on the desk. “That was a bit more difficult to uncover. It took some time to ferret out what had actually happened to the earl’s son. Until I received the miniature from Francis’s lover, I did not know what to look for. But soon the pieces began to fall into place. There was an incident at the Lindley estate. It appeared that a footman had been set upon by thieves and murdered, but upon further review, it appears that the man who was found was the true heir and the assailant had smoothly stepped into the role of earl. Not many people could dispute the claim, since Francis had been sent away for several years and there were marked similarities between these two men, so no one thought to question the claim. But I have taken the liberty of doing so.” He glanced at Lexie before adding a bit delicately, “I took the liberty of having the body exhumed and positively identified as that of Francis Marcomb. It should be circulating through the papers this very afternoon, if not already. That, Your Grace, is why I wanted to meet with you so urgently. If this charlatan believes you are aware of his true identity, you could be in grave danger, indeed.”
CHAPTER 20
As they left the investigator’s office and entered the carriage, Lexie found herself quite speechless for the first time, possibly in her lifetime. “That was… unexpected,” she murmured.
“Quite,” Dominic returned with a hard line to his lips.
“But I suppose it does reveal why Lord Lindley might resort to violence to protect his secrets.” She winced. “Or rather, the man pretending to be the earl.” She sighed. “I should like to unravel this mystery.”
“As would I,” Dominic said firmly. “It would mean that I might have the chance to put all this nastiness behind us and start anew. Until then, there can be no hope of a union. It is much too dangerous. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”
Lexie’s heart stopped at the thought of not marrying Dominic. Her situation might very well be precarious because they had lain together. She supposed that being sent home in disgrace would certainly gain her father’s attention at long last. And until then, she had claimed not to care for her reputation. She still didn’t, but shedidcare about the duke.
“It would help if I knew the connection between this Lord Lindley and my aunt.”
“Regarding that,” Dominic said slowly, “I might have a bit of insight.”
Her eyes widened slightly, suddenly more intrigued than before. “Do tell.”
“I told you that I used to have a journal in my possession where several scandals were written. It was something I had gained from my predecessors but some weeks ago, it was stolen out of the safe in my house. I am still puzzling on how that might have occurred.”
“Someone who was skilled at the art of picking locks, I would imagine,” Lexie noted.
“It would appear so,” he returned dryly. “But the point is that while I didn’t study the journal at length, I made it a priority to write down a few things that I thought could be of note and secured a copy. While I’m not in possession of the original and would prefer to have it returned, I thought it would be a good idea to have a duplicate in case something happened to the first one.”
“A good foresight on your part,” she agreed. “Where is the copy?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is where it gets a bit complicated, I’m afraid.”
She didn’t like the sound of that.
“After the original was stolen, nearly out from underneath my nose, I decided it would be best if I didn’t keep it close at hand. But nor could I trust that it would be safe at the Crown & Sceptre.” He looked at her steadily. “I hid it beneath the interior of the mantel in the parlor at your aunt’s house.”
“Oh.” Her heart couldn’t have fallen further at her feet. But she was quick to rally. “We have to retrieve it, of course, so I will simply go to my aunt?—”
“Not a chance in hell.” She blinked at the vehemence in histone. “After what she put you through, I would not put it past her to lock you in your room and force the local vicar to wed you to the false earl.”
“But the union wouldn’t be valid without a legitimate bridegroom,” she pointed out. “We have to get it back because it sounds as if that is the only way we have any hope of solving this puzzle and ending this nightmare.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured. “But I will not have you entering that front door without me present. Forgive me, but I do not trust your aunt any more than I trust Lord Lindley.”
She shrugged. “Neither do I, to be honest. For years, I hardly spoke a handful of words to her. My father preferred his estate, and she remained in town. But when I became of age, she decided it was imperative that I have a season and make a suitable match. Had I known the choice was to be solely hers, I would have rusticated in the country.”
