“You mean they liked ignoring Lady Gantry.”
“They believed their actions were sanctioned by your absences. She didn’t contradict them, but Tramel did. He’s probably the reason she didn’t leave sooner.”
“You know that my service to the Crown meant I had to be away.”
“I know that, sir. But no one else.” He chuckled and gulped his ale. “Ask yourself why no one else. Maybe you’re pushing up this hill because you don’t like to lose. I think Lady Gantry is worth more than a half-hearted effort.”
That sounded like Ashbrook’s notions. “I love her. I was too foolish to admit to loving her instantly. I thought myself ridiculous to love so fast, so completely.”
“Sorry, Lord Gantry.” Watson nodded. “As voluptuous as the beautiful Lady Gantry is, even I thought you concocted this marriage as something the Department of War and the Colonies made you do.”
“Tell me about Gladstone. How did my cousin act while I was gone?”
“Like a spoiled rich man. He made some very wrong remarks to her. Tramel made him apologize.”
“Why is my father the good one in this scenario? You remember—”
“He’s focused on what he wants. He wants Lady Gantry.”
“Why can’t she see that?”
“She’s here in Town, not at Warwick, the place she loves. She knows. A woman always knows.”
If Cecilia knew, was that why she left the duke? Felton tapped the table again. “Tramel said she wants Gladstone dead. What have you seen to warrant that?”
Watson sat to attention. His military training certainly stirred. “Assassination, my lord?” He rubbed his hands together like an evil henchman.
“What have you seen? Liverpool let you retire to be able to watch my family while I was away in case one of the governments or rebel leagues we disrupted decided to pay a visit.”
“Yes, and I was able to be with my Matilda until the end.” The man’s cheeky smile faded.
“Tell me, Watson, what could put the artist and the duke in league? Gladstone can have nothing on the man; Tramel would kill him. With his underworld contacts, it’s possible. It sounded to me that the duke wanted to do it himself. It’s personal.”
“And now he wants you to kill Gladstone.” Watson grinned as if he’d been given gold. “Do we break out the suitcase?”
Felton’s suitcase—his case of special weapons—went into the attic last December. “What did you see when my cousin was near Lady Gantry?”
“Antagonism. Slights. One time he was very aggressive towards her when he was drunk. Tramel sent him away.”
“Tramel did that?” Felton was grossly unaware of the goings-on in his house. “Then I owe him. But is that enough to warrant killing him? Duels are illegal.”
“It’s the duke, my lord. Perhaps Gladstone has outlived his usefulness, or he’s a threat somehow.”
His bumbling cousin, a threat? Felton started to laugh. “I act invisible to observe everyone. Gladstone acts like a buffoon because he is one. That’s still not a cause to die. Half of London would be gone.”
Watson slurped. “Well, I’ll make sure the old suitcase is ready to go.”
“You can head back to the house and get things prepared. Only one person can tell me why Gladstone must die. She’s painting all night.”
“Order the sweet biscuits, my lord. She’ll like that. And plenty of coffee for the both of you. That’ll get you through.”
Felton crossed his fingers. “Head out and be back at first light.”
“I’ll wait here till the tavern closes. You might need a way home.”
“I won’t, not until Lady Gantry is done. We’ll leave together.”
“Very good, sir.” Watson started singing again.
