Daffin bowed to the older man. “Your Grace.”
“So, you’re claiming me now?” the duke asked Mark with the hint of a smile in his voice. Then the older man turned his attention to Daffin. “Good to meet you, Mr. Oakleaf.”
Mark nodded. “Daffin knows the details about our family, but Lord Tottenham does not and I’d ask you to keep it that way.”
“As you wish, Mark, as you wish,” the duke replied. He turned his attention back to Oakleaf. “Thank you for helping us discover who killed John.”
“I’ll do everything in my power, Your Grace,” Oakleaf replied. “Speaking of Lord Tottenham, he intends to arrive tomorrow morning.”
“Ah, good to know,” the duke croaked.
“Have you learned anything else, about any of the diners?” Mark asked.
“I have.” Oakleaf pulled open his coat and slid a small notepad from his inner pocket. He flipped it open and scanned it as he spoke. “About Mr. Cartwright, the man who believes himself next in line to the dukedom. No word on why John invited him to dinner that night. From all accounts, they were not close.”
“That’s true. They barely knew each other,” the duke replied.
“Miss Lester and Lady Arabelle are friends. Both made their debuts last Season. They were accompanied by their mothers,” Daffin continued.
“Yes?” Mark prodded.
“Lord Anthony was John’s closest mate,” Daffin said.
“I cannot imagine how Anthony is holding up. It’ll be good to see him,” the duke said, his eyes misting.
“And the last person? Lord Hillenbrand?” Mark asked.
Oakleaf flipped the notebook shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Apparently, Lord Hillenbrand had asked for Lady Arabelle’s hand earlier this Season. She turned him down before accepting John’s suit.”
Mark rubbed his jaw. “That’s interesting. Hillenbrand is a viscount, is he not?”
“Yes, but is he a jealous one?” Oakleaf quirked his brow. “Jealous enough to kill?”
“I don’t know him,” the duke replied. “I’ve met him once or twice, but I cannot remember anything specific John had to say about him.” The old man tapped his forehead as if it might help him recall.
“Is there anything else, Your Grace?” Oakleaf’s astute gaze turned to the duke. “Anything John said about any of these people that might help us with our investigation?”
The duke stared unseeing at his lap for a moment or two before sadly shaking his head. “No. Nothing. If I do remember something, I’ll send for you posthaste.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Oakleaf bowed his head.
“I’m going to rest now,” the duke said in a weary voice. He rang a bell that sat upon his desk and two footmen arrived to push his wheeled chair out of the room.
Mark and Oakleaf watched him go in melancholy silence. Mark waited for the door to close behind his uncle before he turned back to Oakleaf. “Who do you think did it?” he asked in a clipped voice.
Oakleaf shook his head. “We’ve got at least two good suspects. Cartwright and Hillenbrand both had a reason to want John dead.”
Mark rubbed his chin. “Cartwright stood to inherit a dukedom.”
“Or so he thought,” Oakleaf replied with a wry smile.
“And Hillenbrand may have been angry about losing his potential betrothed to a marquess,” Mark said.
Oakleaf nodded once. “Precisely.”
“What about the others? Anything?”
Oakleaf walked to one of the windows, and stared out across the meadow. “This place isn’t too bad, Grim. Don’t have a clue why you’d renounce all of this.” He turned and waved a hand around the study, grinning at Mark.
