He held the letter up for her to see. “I think we’ve got enough evidence here to have him convicted of murder.”
Officer Ericson’s frown deepened as he scanned the letter Henry had handed him. He finally glanced up. “Bollocks.” He shifted his gaze to Viola. “I beg your pardon.”
“No need,” she muttered.
“It is just...” Ericson picked up the papers again and blew out an agonized breath. “Christ.”
“I know,” Henry said, agreeing with his verdict. Robert was a duke, after all. The last time one had been tried and sentenced to death was when the Duke of Norfolk had been found guilty of treason in 1572, which was quite some time ago.
“There’s no real precedent for this sort of thing,” Ericson said, mirroring Henry’s thoughts, “but we are speaking of murder. At the very least, there ought to be a thorough investigation and a trial.”
“Do you believe we’ve enough evidence to have him convicted?” Viola asked.
“The House of Lords will have to determine that, but Officer Marvis’s letter to you is pretty damning. Considering his claim that Officer Hoff who was asked to look into Beatrice Cartwright’s death was paid to list the cause as accidental, I don’t believe that the duke will be acquitted.”
“Especially since Officer Hoff has been under investigation for a while now, after inconsistencies began appearing in his reports,” Viola pointed out.
“And then of course there’s the snake Tremaine mentioned,” Henry said. “According to Marvis, there are no venomous snakes in Anguilla, and Hoff’s initial report suggested an accidental fall. But it’s possible Tremaine didn’t know this was deemed the cause of death. After all, he did leave almost immediately after the incident, which again doesn’t fit exactly with what he told me.”
“There are certainly inconsistencies,” Ericson agreed, “and enough material to warrant a dialogue with Tremaine. I’ll dispatch a couple of officers straight away and keep you posted.” He picked the letter back up and shifted it slightly between his fingers. “May I keep this?”
Henry nodded. “Certainly.”
Viola stood, as did Henry. “Thank you, Officer. We look forward to seeing justice served, not only on behalf of Beatrice Cartwright, but on behalf of Olivia Jones as well.”
Ericson nodded, and Henry escorted Viola out of the building.
“I think that went rather well,” Viola said as soon as they were back in the street.
“Agreed, but let’s not get our hopes up until we’re certain he’ll face charges.”
She nodded and accepted the arm he offered. The Red Rose wasn’t far and neither was the rejuvenation center, so they decided to stop by both places to see how things were going before continuing on to Gunther’s, where they stopped for an ice.
“Care for a game of cards?” Viola asked when they returned home that afternoon. They hadn’t played since Paris when he’d beat her three times in a row. She was itching to have her revenge.
“All right. I’ll have one of the maids bring up some tea,” Henry said, already heading for the kitchen stairs. He rarely used the bellpull to summon the servants. In his opinion, it was more efficient for him to go to them instead of demanding they stop their chore, come upstairs to hear his request, only to return downstairs again to fulfill it.
Viola rather agreed. She went to retrieve a deck of playing cards along with the box filled with all the counters they used for betting. A knock at the front door made her still. She waited briefly to see if Mr. Andrews would come to answer it, but when he didn’t, she supposed he must have gone out on an errand since he hadn’t come to assist when she and Henry had returned home either.
Exiting the library, Viola went to open the door. As soon as it swung to one side, a boot lodged between the door and the frame. Then a gloved hand yanked the door out of her hands and opened it wide. She stumbled sideways, momentarily thrown off balance as Robert entered her home as if it were his.
“Henry!” She aimed for a steady timbre, calling out his name as she backed away in the direction of the stairwell leading to the kitchen. Instead it wobbled, betraying her fear.
“We need to have a little conversation,” Robert said as he peeled off each of his gloves and shoved them carelessly into his jacket pocket. “I don’t appreciate being slandered and accused of things I haven’t done.”
“Robert. Listen. I—”
“I’m the bloody Duke of Tremaine,” he shouted, “and you shall call me Your Grace or so help me I’ll—”
“What?” Viola asked as the door behind her burst open and Henry stepped into the hallway. “Kill me as well?”
Robert’s lips flattened into a grim line. “You go too far,” he said. “When I returned home half an hour ago I learned that the bloody Bow Street office is trying to bring me in for questioning. Findlay said it was in regards to my wife’s death and Olivia Jones’s murder, which leads me to suspect that you two decided to stir up things that don’t concern you. You’re the only people with any interest in causing me harm.”
“You murdered those women,” Viola announced.
Robert clenched his fists and advanced. Henry stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and Robert.
“I’ll have you both charged with harassment,” Robert said.
