“Oh, God, no.” Nicole shook her head. Then she clenched her jaw and turned up her face to look him in the eye. “Do you have a list of suspects?”
A muscle ticked in Mark’s cheek. “Yes, and by God, I intend to find out who did this.”
“What do you need from me?” Surely he hadn’t come to ask for her assistance in the investigation, but a glimmer of hope remained. Did he want her help?
“I need to inform my uncle.” Mark cleared his throat. “I’d like you to come with me.”
The glimmer died a short death, replaced with the determination to help him share this awful news with his poor uncle in the kindest way possible. “Yes, of course.”
It was touching, actually, that Mark had stopped by to bring her with him. He hadsomefaith in her. Either that or he didn’t want to face his uncle alone. She discarded that thought. Mark was no coward. He’d asked her to accompany him for his uncle’s sake. He knew the man liked her and felt comforted by her presence.
She lifted her skirts and rushed toward the wardrobe. “I’ll get my pelisse and meet you downstairs.”
***
Half an hour later, Mark’s coach again pulled to a stop in front of the duke’s house. The same somber butler opened the door for them. “His Grace has been waiting for you, my lord.”
“No, not ‘my lord.’ I amnot‘my lord,’” Mark insisted, glowering at the servant.
The butler’s long face darkened into a frown. “There must be some mistake. His Grace specifically told me you are now the Marquess of Coleford.”
Mark brushed past him into the foyer. “Not yet. Not officially. I’m not a lord.”
Nicole watched the exchange with ill-concealed amusement. Strictly speaking, Mark was correct. He would notofficiallybe the Marquess of Coleford until the paperwork had been reviewed and approved by the House of Lords and signed off on by the Lord Chancellor. His uncle had obviously seen fit to begin using his title before all that happened, however, which was not uncommon.
In heavy silence, Nicole and Mark followed the butler up the stairs and down the corridor to the duke’s bedchamber. The butler rapped only once upon the thick wooden door before pushing it open and stepping inside.
“The Marquess of Coleford,” the man announced while Mark narrowed his eyes at him and growled under his breath.
Nicole swept in behind them. This time the sickroom held more light. The heavy dark curtains had been pulled back and the windows had been opened. The room still smelled of peppermint tea and turpentine, but there was also a lemony scent as if the furniture had been freshly waxed.
“Come in, my boy,” the duke said from the middle of the bed. He was sitting up, with pillows propped behind him, motioning for both Mark and Nicole to come closer.
A nurse, different from the one who’d been there last night, stood from a chair in the corner and marched toward them. “Nothing to upset him,” she whispered with a stern glare as she left the room. Mark and Nicole gave each other an uneasy glance.
“Come in, come in,” the duke repeated, waving for them to sit in the two chairs placed next to his bed.
Nicole took a seat closest to the duke, a knot tightening in her chest as she contemplated what the old man was about to hear. Mark remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Have you any news from the doctor? Do they know what caused John’s attack?” the duke asked eagerly before launching into a coughing fit. He feebly held a handkerchief to his lips.
Mark cleared his throat, waiting for his uncle’s fit to subside. “Yes,” he said simply. He was not one to sugarcoat such news. “I spoke with Bow Street this morning. There’s no easy way to tell you… they suspect foul play.” His voice was clipped and direct.
“Foul play?” The duke repeated the words in a confused whisper, his breath rasping from his lips.
Mark straightened his shoulders. “They believe John was poisoned, Your Grace.”
“No.” The old man’s craggy voice was broken. He screwed his eyes shut and tears dripped from the sides of them.
Nicole dug a fresh handkerchief from her reticule and held it out to the old man. She leaned forward and grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. So very sorry.”
“I intend to do everything in my power to find outwho is responsible,” Mark promised, his voice edged with anger.
The duke opened his eyes again and took three heaving breaths. Nicole waited on tenterhooks, worried he might have another attack himself. Finally, the old man’s eyes focused, a determined look in their blue depths. It was a look she’d seen many times in Mark’s eyes. “You must promise me you’ll avenge him,” the duke whispered.
Mark nodded curtly. “I promise I will find his killer and bring him to justice.”
“What can I do to help?” the duke asked, a faint blush tingeing his pale cheeks. He was old, but he was still a man. It had to be difficult for him to be so near the end of his life and confined to a bed during such a fraught time. Nicole lightly squeezed his frail hand.
