Brown had drafted the contract. Witnessed Miss Harland’s signature. Sworn he’d seen Harland murdered on Blackfriars Bridge.
Dominic said nothing.
He would let these men dig their own graves.
“If Miss Harland has any sense, she’ll be miles away.” Hecrossed the room, fixed the merchant with a hard stare, and thrust the document back into his hand. “Take it to Bow Street. They’re better at chasing shadows than I am.”
“We need to search the house,” Sir Lionel said.
“Do you have a warrant?” Dominic folded his arms across his chest. “You presume a great deal. I met Miss Harland but once. We shared a waltz. Why would she come here?”
“You shared more than a waltz,” Irving countered, his face darkening like a bruised plum. “After the debacle at the Templeton ball, the girl ought to be grateful I’m willing to take her.”
“Why are you?”
How did the bastard know?
Dominic braced himself. One coarse word about her and he’d forget every lesson in restraint.
“I have business in India and won’t depart without securing my legacy. Her reputation is of no consequence. The arrangement serves my purpose.”
“Oh.” Dominic turned to Beattie. “Tell Mr Irving what we learnt about his licence for those ammunition factories in India.”
Beattie inclined his head. “The latest dispatches from London ensure the Governor-General in Council will find reason to deny the application. Mr Hawke has secured a promise from a friend on the Secret Committee; should Chairman Sterling whisper a word of concern, any contract signed in India will be vetoed before the first pound is spent.”
It wasn’t set in stone. But he trusted Virginia Passmore to repay her debt to him, and mention her reservations to the Chairman while entertaining him in bed.
Irving stilled. Just for a second. Then he scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare interfere in Crown interests.” His fingers creased the edge of the contract.
“Wouldn’t I? I’m capable of causing a damn sight more trouble than that. Consider it a matter of protecting the realm. The Crown must guard itself against vile vermin.”
Beattie gave a discreet cough. “You omitted your recent dinner with the Lord Lieutenant, sir.”
“Ah yes. I mentioned to Lord Bromley that our magistrate has a habit of bending the law when it suits him.”
“You tread on dangerous ground,” Sir Lionel snapped.
“As do you. You stand here without a warrant or lawful cause. Leave, before I give you a reason to regret lingering.”
Sir Lionel held his gaze for a beat too long. Then he gathered his gloves from the desk with stiff fingers.
Irving stuffed the contract back into his satchel, the only proof of Edward Brown’s involvement.
“After you, gentlemen.” Dominic stepped aside, one arm extended towards the door. “I’m sure you’d appreciate an escort to the gate.”
They didn’t argue.
Hands clasped behind his back, he kept pace as they moved through the hall like condemned men.
On the steps outside, Irving muttered under his breath.
Dominic did not ask what was said. His voice cut through the murmur. “I’ll see you broke and destitute if I have cause to look upon you again.”
He did not slow as he escorted them down the sweep of gravel. Beyond the avenue of limes, Irving’s carriage waited on the lane, dwarfed by the iron gates. Crocker was already out of the gatehouse and unfastening the chain.
Sir Lionel paused, as if he expected a final word.
Dominic gave him one. “Next time, bring a warrant.”
