She lowered herself to one of the vacant chairs beside her and folded her hands in her lap. It was timeto understand exactly what had occurred, which could only be done if she managed to leash her temper.
So she allowed herself a second to take a deep breath and expel it, then did her best to soften her voice when she asked, “Were you obstructing his effort to find his sister’s murderer? If you knew your son was guilty and tried to prevent my husband from finding the proof he required, then that would explain why—”
“This conversation is over,” Stanton snapped. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“But—”
“Bringing up my son was a grave mistake on your part, Mrs. Croft.”
“I’m simply attempting to understand what happened.”
“Allow me to tell you.” Stanton gripped the armrests and leaned forward in his chair, agitation wafting off his bulky frame. “Your husband decided my son had committed those murders, and as a result, he had him killed.Thatis what happened. Now if you would please—”
“I’d like to see the blackmail letter he sent you.”
Stanton appeared to be taken aback by her calmly spoken request. For a second, he seemed unsure as to how to respond, but then he huffed a breath and reached into one of his desk drawers. A piece of paper was handed to Samantha a moment later, the crease marks suggesting it had been unfolded and refolded numerous times.
She read the brief paragraph quickly, her attentionlingering on the demand being made. Not only did it support her belief that Adrian wasn’t behind this, it provided a clear indication of who was.
Placing the letter on Stanton’s desk, she met his gaze squarely. “This wasn’t written by my husband. His penmanship is different.”
“An easy claim for anyone to make. Especially if your aim is to protect him.” Stanton jabbed the paper with a podgy finger. “His name is there, in case you missed it.”
“Then why not take it to the authorities? Let them deal with it?”
“Let’s not pretend you don’t know the answer to that.”
The patronizing manner with which he spoke grated, but she acknowledged the truth in what he told her. He had no wish for anyone else to learn about the information the blackmail letter referred to – the by-blow he’d supposedly had with his late wife’s sister.
“Fine, but that signature has been forged.”
Disbelief parted Stanton’s lips. He suddenly laughed. “Are you suggesting someone else is attempting to blackmail me and pin the deed on Croft?”
“Yes.”
“But that’s absurd.”
“Is it?” She straightened her spine and raised her chin ever so slightly. “Seems like the perfect way to add pressure while passing the blame onto someone else. The letter mentions a time and place where you weresupposed to meet the demands. I’m guessing you chose to ignore this?”
“Of course. There was no way in hell I was going to hand those documents over.”
“And you received no further demands?” When Stanton shook his head, Samantha asked, “Have you never wondered why that might be?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I believed Croft must have realized I wasn’t the easy target he’d hoped for.”
“Again, it wasn’t him. He had nothing to do with this, or he would have believed you were the one behind the attacks. But he had no inkling. He never so much as suspected you.”
“I’m still convinced you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes. But let’s suppose you’re right. Who then would have done it?”
Samantha still didn’t think the viscount believed her even after she told him. Not that cared. She was far more concerned with returning home and revealing all of her findings to Adrian. She’d have to make one additional stop first, however. It was time for her to fulfill her promise to Isak.
28
There was nothing worse than being coddled. Adrian glared at Murry as he moved around the bedchamber, carrying out various tasks. The valet had first arrived in response to the bell-pull. He’d assisted Adrian with his toilette, which was fine, but when Adrian had started voicing his plans for the day, Murry had promptly ushered him back into bed.
A breakfast tray had been ordered, Adrian’s insistence he was well enough to take the meal downstairs in the dining room completely ignored. When he’d scoffed at Murry’s order to rest, the man had threatened to deny him the bacon he had requested, along with the morning paper.
So here he was, tucked into bed like a helpless baby, with Murry fussing over him like some sort of nursemaid. It was intolerable.
