“I have my reasons,” Mark ground out. His father’s face flashed through his mind.
“Yes, and I’m certain they make perfect sense… to you.”
“I asked about the others,” Mark reminded him, growing impatient.
Oakleaf continued to grin at him. “And you wonder why they call you the ‘stone man’?” He laughed, but before Mark could bark out a reply, Oakleaf added, “I found no indication that Anthony and John had had any sort of falling-out. Seems the two of them were thick as thieves. I fail to see what either of the ladies or their mothers would gain in killing Lord Coleford.”
“Understood.” Mark leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest. “Anything else?”
“Just that we examined all the food and wine. The only glass that was poisoned was Lord Coleford’s.”
“I see. And the others? They all intend to arrive tomorrow as well?”
“Yes, from what I understand.” Oakleaf stretched and waggled his eyebrows. “Now where is that wife of yours, Grim? I haven’t seen her in an age and I daresay she’ll be a sight for sore eyes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Nicole sat in the brightly lit sunroom with Regina, sharing a cup of tea. It was lovely to discover that while Regina had grown more beautiful with age, she hadn’t lost any of her biting wit and wisdom. They’d already talked about Nicole’s mother, the latest fashions in both London and Paris, and Regina’s steadfast refusal to take a husband.
“Why did you never visit?” Regina asked Nicole, pouring herself a second cup of tea.
Nicole took a deep breath and traced her finger along the edge of her half-filled cup. “At first it was because I was needed in France. I was working… for the War Office while I was there.”
Regina nodded. “Yes, I remember hearing something about that. And after the wars ended?”
“I don’t know.” Nicole hesitated. She looked down and bit her lip. “I suppose I stayed out of habit. I wasused to it there. I’d made a few friends. I moved out to the country to live in the lavender fields.”
“And to avoid Mark,” Regina finished quietly, setting the delicate china teapot back down on the silver serving tray that rested on the table between them.
Nicole calmly lifted her cup and took a sip of tea. “He was in France dozens of times over the last ten years. He could have looked for me. He never did.”
“He almost died there, you know.” Regina’s words were barely a whisper.
Nicole sucked in her breath and stared at her companion, the teacup frozen in her hands. “Pardon?”
Regina didn’t look at her. She busied herself adding two lumps of sugar to her tea. “He was in a French prison camp for months. They nearly beat him to death. Broke his nose three times.”
Nicole’s stomach clenched. She lowered her teacup with a shaking hand and set it on the table. She felt as if she might retch. “I… didn’t know.” She pressed suddenly freezing fingers to her middle. Horror and the urge to cry burned her eyes as she lifted them to meet Regina’s. “Oh, Regina.”
Regina reached out and squeezed Nicole’s numb hand. “It’s all right. He’s back, he’s alive.”
But Regina’s words didn’t help. Bile rose in Nicole’s throat. She didn’t want to contemplate it, but all she could do was picture Mark’s fine features bruised and bloodied, his strong body broken under the enemy’s brutal hands. The image tore a hole through her heart. To imagine him abused and helpless when he’d always been such a strong, unyielding force. Yes, he was the stone man, but he did bleed.
Where had she been when he’d been so close to death? She bloody well would have hunted him down and tried to help with everything in her, if only she’d known. He’d nearly died. Herhusbandhad nearly died.
***
Their wedding had been a small, private affair. Surprisingly, her mother and Grandmama hadn’t been against the match. Nicole had expected them to put up a fight. She’d expected them to argue with her, tell her she should marry the marquess. Instead they helped her plan the ceremony and even agreed to Mark’s demand that it be a tiny affair. There were no invitations sent to members of theton.The banns were read and posted in the newspaper of course, indicating that Corporal Mark Grimaldi was to wed Lady Nicole Huntington. If anyone thought anything of it, they didn’t mention it to the happy couple.
It wasn’t until a few nights before the wedding that Nicole learned the truth about who she was marrying. She’d been trying to track down any member of Mark’s family to invite to the wedding. She knew his parents were dead and he had no siblings, but surely he had an aunt or uncle or some cousins to share such an important event in his life. She meant to surprise him with his family, but she’d only been able to locate the part of his family that lived in Italy. She’d written to them and they had wished the new couple well but told her it was too far to travel. She couldn’t blame them. She’d saved their letters to share with Mark after the wedding.
A few nights before the wedding, she made the fateful decision to ask Daffin for help. She sat across from the Bow Street Runner in his office as she had a hundredtimes before. “I only want to find one person on his mother’s side,” Nicole explained. “Just one person. Surely, there is someone still in England he’s related to.”
Daffin barely glanced up from his paperwork. “Of course there is.”
“What?” Nicole blinked. She leaned across the desk, folding her arms in front of her. “Who?”
“He’s got an uncle, two aunts, and two cousins.”
