“Precisely,” Oakleaf agreed.
“Who else was here last night?” Mark glanced up at the table to count the places.
“Eight diners total,” Oakleaf replied. “John, his intended, Lady Arabelle, and her mother, Lady Eloise. Mr. Matthew Cartwright. Miss Molly Lester and her mother, Tabitha. Lord Anthony Rawlins, John’s closest mate, and Lord Michael Hillenbrand, another of John’s friends.”
The name Matthew Cartwright seemed familiar, but Mark couldn’t quite place it. He’d never heard of the ladies, nor their mothers. Lord Rawlins and Lord Hillenbrand were peers. He’d met them both in passing a time or two. “We’ll want to speak to each of them.”
“Of course,” Oakleaf replied.
Mark stood and examined the wine bottle the glass had most certainly been poured from. It sat in front of John’s place at the table. Odd that one of the footmen hadn’t taken it away. In the course of a normal dinner party, the footmen would pour the wine for all of the guests and retreat with the bottle. Mark lifted the bottle and sniffed. It had a metallic odor, too. “Any idea who would want him dead?”
Oakleaf had moved to the sideboard to examine the contents of the covered dishes there. He shrugged. “The man’s father is gravely ill and he stands to inherit adukedom. I’d say we find the next in line and we have a good suspect.”
Mark cleared his throat, turning to face Oakleaf. “Normally I would agree with you, but there is only one problem with that theory.”
“What’s that?” Oakleaf replaced the lid on a silver tureen and met Mark’s gaze.
Mark scratched his cheek and expelled a deep breath. No use hiding the facts from the best of the Bow Street Runners. “Turns outIam the next in line.”
“What!” Oakleaf’s eyes looked as if they might bug from his skull. “How in the devil’s name?”
“It was a surprise to me as well. My uncle just informed me last night, shortly after he told me about John’s death.”
The runner’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’tknowyou were next in line to a dukedom?”
“My mother was the duke’s sister. These things are not normally passed down by female bloodlines. In our case it’s an exception.” Mark paced toward the dining table and ran a hand through his hair. “Again, I ask for your discretion with that news as well.” There was no use not telling Oakleaf. His investigation would turn it up eventually. By telling him now, Mark was staving off an awkward moment later and the risk of making Oakleaf think he was purposely hiding information.
“As you wish,” Oakleaf replied, his tone measured. “For the record, who did everyonethinkwas the next in line?”
Matthew Cartwright. That’s where he’d heard that name before. The detail snapped into place in Mark’s memory. “Mr. Cartwright, I believe. We’ll need toconfirm that, though. I gave little thought to my mother’s side of the family. None of these details were at the forefront of my mind until last night.”
“I see,” Oakleaf replied, still examining the contents of the sideboard. He bent to sniff another dish. “I must ask, did anyone else know you were next in line?”
“I don’t think so,” Mark replied.
Oakleaf straightened and stared at him for a moment as if turning everything over in his mind. “If your uncle suspected you, I daresay he wouldn’t have made you privy to the details.”
“He trusts me,” Mark replied. “And he doesn’t yet know John was murdered.”
Oakleaf’s eyes narrowed. “May I ask why he’s never claimed you as his nephew?”
“On my request,” Mark said. “He knows that the last thing I’ve ever wanted was the dukedom, or any ties to my family’s name on my mother’s side. We’ve never been close.”
“You don’t say.” Oakleaf shook his head. He raised a brow at Mark. “Anything else to declare before we continue this investigation, Grim?”
Mark scratched the back of his neck. Oakleaf was being damned reasonable, given the circumstances. Though having a flawless alibi didn’t hurt. “No, that’s it.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t allow someone with such close ties to the family to help investigate,” Oakleaf said, pursing his lips. “But Tottenham specifically asked for you and doesn’t know you’re related.”
“I promise to be impartial,” Mark replied soberly.“And I promise to inform Tottenham… when the time is right.”
“Fine.” Oakleaf gave him an efficient nod. “Meanwhile, we’ll have to study each of the people who were at the dinner party last night.”
“And the servants,” Mark added. “Are they still here? We need to ask them some questions.”
Oakleaf nodded and left the room to arrange for the servants to come speak to them. Not ten minutes later, a worried-looking butler and a stricken-looking housemaid were lined up in the dining room near the wall.
“Did anything unusual happen last night? When the guests were arriving?” Mark asked the butler.
