Knowles shrugged. “Perhaps my lady was willing to take the chance. She told me more than once that Lady Regina and her damned land were the only thing keeping them apart. She’d been sitting on the shelf for five seasons waiting for him to realize Lady Regina wouldn’t ever accept him. The earl was her best suitor, turns out, and apparently, the Duke of Colchester had recently given Dryden a reason to hope a marriage to Lady Regina might take place after all.”
“That’s insane.” Daffin wanted to choke Knowles to death after all. He wanted to kill both Knowles and Lady Rosalind. He forced himself to step back, while red-hot rage consumed him.
“When did she hire you?” Grimaldi demanded.
“Over a month ago. I decided to wait till after Christmastide to swipe Lady Regina. Thought I’d have some fun with you all in the meantime. You’re no better than I am, Portland. Don’t you forget it.”
“My name isn’t Portland,” Daffin ground out.
Knowles shook his head. “Never understood why you refused to claim such a rich and powerful father. Proves what an idiot you are.”
“Who’s the idiot?” Daffin kicked the bed hard enough to slam it against the wall. “I was never going to kill you, and you just confessed to everything. You’re going to gaol, and I’m going to personally ensure you never get out again. When you die, I’ll set a match to your bones myself.”
“You can burn in hell, Oakleaf.” Knowles spat at him.
Daffin grabbed him, spun him around, and slapped handcuffs on his wrists. “No. That’s your job. You’ll never hurt a woman I love again.”
Grimaldi grabbed Knowles and pushed him in front of him toward the door.
“Maybe not,” Knowles said, “but I still have some protection.”
“What sort of protection?” Daffin asked, narrowing his eyes.
“H. J. Hancock.” Knowles smirked over his shoulder.
Daffin narrowed his eyes on him. “The reporter? At the paper?”
“One and the same. He’s been asking around about you for months. Searching into your past. Looking for every bit of information he can find. One of my compatriots has a letter from me addressed to Hancock.”
It took every ounce of strength Daffin possessed not to punch Knowles so hard his neck snapped. “Why?”
“The letter contains all the details of who you really are, Portland,” Knowles replied. “Unless I contact my mate by sundown, he’s got instructions to send Hancock the letter. He’ll get it in time to make the paper tomorrow morning. Everyone will know what a whore your mother was and what a nameless bastard you are. Unless, of course, you’re willing to set me free.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The next morning, Daffin’s coach rolled to a stop in front of Lord Millingham’s town house in Mayfair. He and Grimaldi were shown into a beige salon where they waited the better part of an hour before Lady Rosalind’s father deigned to join them.
“Mr. Oakleaf,” Lord Millingham said as he entered the room. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was just reading about you in the paper.” He tossed the front page of the paper down on the table in front of Daffin.
The headline glared at him.FAMOUS RUNNER IS DUKE OF PORTLAND’S SON.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of having abastardin my home?” Millingham asked with a false smile.
“Careful,” Grimaldi growled.
Daffin grabbed the paper. He’d been prepared for this. Knowles hadn’t been bluffing. He scanned the article quickly. As predicted, it was written by H. J. Hancock himself. Itrevealed that Daffin Oakleaf, the dashing Bow Street Runner, was actually Daffin Portland, the Duke of Portland’s illegitimate son. The duke had sired him via his mistress. She was born Sally Oakleaf, but as a famous courtesan to members of theton,had changed her name to Marie Dubois. It was all there. And it was all true.
Daffin had made his choice. He would have to live with the consequences. He’d give up his reputation before negotiating with a piece of scum like Quinton Knowles.
“Lord Coleford,” Millingham said to Grimaldi, “perhaps you’d like to explain the reason for your visit.”
“We’re here to speak with your daughter, Lady Rosalind,” Grimaldi replied. “We have reason to believe she was involved with a recent attack on Lady Regina Haversham.”
“My Rosalind?” The viscount’s eyes widened. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Daffin and Grim exchanged a glance. As they suspected, Lord Millingham knew something.
“Yes, Millingham, and we wonder where she got the amount of money involved in paying the criminal who carried out the attack.”
