The sound of a chair being pushed back told Sophie that at least one of them was standing. No doubt Hugh. “This is not over yet, Sir Roger,” Hugh declared. “I’m leaving now, but I implore you to give me a few days.”
Sophie turned and quickly rushed back down the corridor to the servants’ staircase. She didn’t stop until she was in her bedchamber with the door closed behind her. She hadn’t wanted them to see her skulking about in the hall. She pressed her back against the door and expelled her breath. She’d had quite enough of this. Everyone was acting strangely lately. Phillip was snatching her out of the park, Papa and Valentina were refusing to call off her engagement to a man who was not only no longer a duke, but who might be a murderer. And Hugh, that dolt, was acting as if he still might have some claim to a title that clearly belonged to his cousin. It was madness.
Sophie refused to sit around quietly and allow everyone else to make important decisions about her future. She was in a unique position to help Phillip get the answers he sought. If her own fiancé was a killer, she intended to find out.
What had Hugh said again? This is not over yet? Give me a few days? Sophie had a sinking feeling she might know precisely what that was supposed to mean. And she needed to warn Phillip.
Chapter Eleven
As expected, Bell was knocking on Clayton’s door before dinner that evening. Phillip strolled casually into the salon to meet with the marquess, with what he hoped was a suitably recalcitrant look on his face.
Bell’s arms were tightly crossed over his chest while he glared at Phillip. True to his character, the man wasted no time.
“Why did you do it, Harlowe? You know we’re following you day and night…for your own safety.”
Of course, Bell was asking about Phillip’s meeting with Sophie in the carriage earlier.
Phillip nodded. “Yes, which is how I knew I’d be perfectly safe,” Phillip replied. “Besides, I seriously doubted that a debutante out for a walk in the park would harm me in some manner.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why?” Bell insisted, his arms still crossed, his glare still firmly in place.
Phillip took a deep breath. “I had to talk to her, Bell. Alone. I had to ask her something.”
Bell paced over to the fireplace and expelled his breath. “I understand, but be careful, Harlowe. This isn’t a game we’re playing.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Phillip ground out. He shook his head. He understood why Bell didn’t want him to see Sophie, but he’d had to look into her eyes and know for certain if she loved Hugh. She didn’t. Thank God. And Phillip refused to stop and examine precisely why that revelation meant so much to him.
Humbolt knocked on the door to the salon, interrupting Phillip from his thoughts. “The Duke of, er…” The butler’s face turned the red of a ripe apple. “Mr. Hugh Grayson is here to see you, Your Grace.”
Phillip nodded. He had sent Hugh a note earlier indicating that he expected the man to appear at Clayton’s doorstep at his first opportunity. It had been a demand, not a request.
Bell snapped his fingers. “Hugh is here. This is perfect. I’ll just pop into the next room and listen if you don’t mind. Give us five minutes, Humbolt.”
“I’m surprised it’s taken Hugh this long to show up.” Phillip nodded to the butler as approval of the five-minute directive, and Humbolt retreated.
Precisely five minutes later, Phillip was sitting in a winged-back chair facing the fireplace, pretending to be reading a book when the butler returned with Hugh directly on his heels. Phillip barely glanced up, and he purposely didn’t stand.
The look on Hugh’s face was…disappointment. His cousin was wearing fine clothing the likes of which Phillip had never seen him in. But there was something odd about them. He looked like a boy playing dress up. The clothing was ill fitting if you asked him. “It is you,” Hugh breathed, his shoulders drooping.
Phillip quirked up the side of his mouth in a half-smile. “Did you think I was an imposter?” he replied, waving to the chair across from him to offer his cousin a seat.
Hugh lowered himself into the chair, looking like a man defeated. “I couldn’t be entirely certain until I saw for myself, of course.”
Phillip tipped his head to the side and regarded his cousin. The man was older, for certain. Blond hair receding. A bit more jowly. A few wrinkles on his forehead. But the beadiness of his dark eyes remained. And the same sour expression Phillip remembered from their childhood sat heavily on Hugh’s face. Hugh had been the type to cry, throw fits, and blame others. Always arguing and wanting his way. Always insisting nothing was his fault. No doubt about it. This was the same Hugh. “I still have the scar on my leg that you gave me when we were children, if you care to see it,” Phillip finally offered, reminding Hugh of the time his cousin had purposely tripped him during a hike through the forest near Graystone Manor. The action had caused Phillip to fall against a large branch that has ripped his breeches and tore a gash in his calf.
Hugh’s nostrils flared. “That won’t be necessary.”
Phillip gave him a tight smile. “Glad to hear it. I suppose you being pleased to see me alive was too much to hope for.”
Hugh ignored that remark, instead saying, “I suppose you’ll be going to Whitehall immediately to handle the matter.” There was a hint of apprehension in his voice.
Phillip narrowed his eyes at his cousin. Did the man honestly think he would waste any time restoring his title now that he was back? Phillip clenched his jaw. Hugh had ungodly nerve. He had taken over the title, the households, and his would-be fiancée, of course Phillip would waste no time restoring them. The first two, at least. “If by ‘the matter’ you mean restoring the title that is rightly mine, then yes. I do intend to handle it. Immediately. I’ve already sent letters to the Chancellor of Parliament and the Prince.”
“Lord Hillsdale handles such matters.”
“I’ve already spoken with Hillsdale, as well,” Phillip replied, giving his cousin a tight smile. “In fact, he’s due to pay me a visit any time now.”
Thwarted anger flashed across Hugh’s dull features. “The obvious question is, if you’ve been alive all these months, why are you just now coming forward?” He nearly barked the question.
