Oblivious to Grace’s heart quietly shattering, Lord Armitage continued, ‘Again, it was only a suspicion—but one he was preparing to prove.’
He inhaled deeply and hesitated, as though bracing himself for what he had to say next. Then, exhaling slowly, he said, ‘My father was poisoned.’
Grace gasped. So what Charlotte had written was true. Her hands tightened around the letter, her heartbeat hammering in her ears.
‘Every night, my father had a habit of taking a small glass of brandy before bed,’ Lord Armitage said, as his voice became raspy. ‘He kept a decanter in his study—only he drank from it.’
A dark shadow crossed his features.
‘It was laced with poison.’
Grace could not speak.
Lord Armitage turned back to the window, his posture tense, his hands curling into fists.
‘I returned to England too late.’
A heavy silence filled the room.
She could see the tension in his frame, the barely controlled grief. He had lost both his father and his brother. He had no one to share his pain, no one to console him.
‘I am so sorry for your loss,’ she said softly.
Tentatively, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm.
At her touch, he turned to face her.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
But in his eyes, she saw something too raw, too deep to be put into words.
He cleared his throat and looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was harsher.
‘By the time I reached England, my father had already been buried. I could trust no one. I had no idea which family member had betrayed us—I only knew he was a man. That was all.’
His jaw clenched.
‘Therefore, I decided to keep my return a secret until I uncovered the truth. Only my sister and a few trusted Bow Street Runners know I am here. I was working with them to gather evidence about these Estates, but someone has been coveringtheir tracks. Every other Estate we investigated yielded nothing—no tangible proof of any wrongdoing. This was the last one left, the only one yet to be examined.’
Grace could barely process what she was hearing. ‘How do you know you can trust your sister or these Bow Street Runners?’ she asked, her voice sounding strangled to her ears.
A steely expression crossed his features. ‘These Bow Street Runners are not just officers—I served with them in the military. Let us just say I would trust them with my life.’
‘And your sister?’
His lips quirked into a wry smile. ‘If I cannot trust my sister—who was more like a mother to me than my own—then I would not want to live in a world where such a soul could be corrupted.’
Grace felt the same way about Heather and nodded in understanding. ‘Have you informed your sister about our findings?’
‘No, and I wish to keep it that way. I do not want her falling victim to this killer. She has no idea that we are looking for an Averton.’
Grace understood. After losing his father and brother, of course, he would be protective of his only sister.
‘Coming here under an alias turned out to be the right decision. Because of you, I now know the traitor is an Averton—I never imagined it could be someone so close to my own family. I had assumed it would be someone on my mother’s side—there are enough unsavoury characters there—or a distant relative.
‘Our investigations have also confirmed my father’s worst fears: these Estates are being used for smuggling. A cunning plan, really. No one would suspect a Duke of criminal dealings—it deflects all suspicion from the authorities. But this Averton was careless here. He failed to erase the mess Gibbs left behind. Still, much remains unknown.’
‘Perhaps Mr Barnes will be found,’ Grace suggested, hopeful. ‘He might still provide the information he promised your father.’
