The glass bottle rattled on the walnut stand as Templetondipped the nib. “I don’t know why you need this. You know these men are ne’er-do-wells, much like your—” He bowed his head and scribbled a list of names, pausing to steal a sly glance at her bodice.
“Keep your eyes on the paper,” Dominic snapped.
When finished, the lord pushed the foolscap away as if he’d signed his own death warrant. “They’re the only men I can recall.”
Dominic snatched it, his brow creasing as he scanned the page. “I see Harland tops the list. Yet you’ve omitted the name that should come the easiest to you.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
The lord blinked, his cheeks aflame, as though the burgundy upholstery had leeched into his skin. “Why include mine? I told you we gambled at the same tables.”
“You failed to mention my father owed you money.”
Like all good gamblers, the lord bluffed. “A few hundred pounds here and there. I can’t speak for others, but he settled promptly.”
“That’s not true,” she said, though the last thing she wanted was to draw his attention. “You hounded Mr Hawke’s mother. My father said you bled her dry and called it charity.” The lie came easily.
“Harland was merely looking for a scapegoat.” Templeton’s voice rose an octave. “Everyone knows he was the one obsessed. He used the debt to secure a place in her bed.”
Mr Ramsey moved like a striking viper, clasping Dominic’s arm as if he feared he’d lash out.
“I met with Eric Moseley. He knows of every debt and seedy transaction that happens in the city.” Dominic shrugged out of Mr Ramsey’s hold and approached the desk. “My mother wrote to him. I have the letter.”
Templeton leaned so far back the seat threatened to topple. “I don’t know what she said, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“But it does.” Dominic’s words carried a sinister edge. “You’re the lord who made her life so unbearable she wrote to a notorious moneylender. She’d rather deal with the devil than suffer you.”
“It’s not true.” He was on his feet, hands raised. “It was a mutual arrangement. I gave her a ruby parure when we parted. She sold it to a broker on Oxford Street. He may still have the receipt.”
Dominic’s mouth hardened. “You bought her.”
His eyes darkened to the heavy green of a hemlock grove. There would be no reasoning with him now.
“You were fifteen years her junior,” he barked, flexing his fists. “Not much older than I was then.”
Templeton lurched away and darted behind the throne chair where she sat, gripping the carved rail as if it might shield him. She could feel the warm panic of his breath against her neck.
While the men glared at one another, she slipped a hand beneath the desk and slowly raised her skirts, easing the blade from her garter and hiding it in the folds of her gown.
“It was a brief affair. I’ll not be hounded like a dog for it.”
Dominic must have seen something in the lord’s eyes. He stopped prowling. “Step away from the desk.”
“Don’t test his patience,” Mr Ramsey added.
“His patience? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Dominic drew a slow breath. “Step away. I won’t ask again. Touch her and it will be the last thing you do.”
Her palm grew clammy beneath the hilt.
This wouldn’t end well.
“Enough.” The word cut through the room as she roseslowly from the chair, gripping the blade against her skirts. “Backing a man into a corner isn’t the way to get answers.”
Fury burned in Dominic’s eyes. “We have his answer.”
