“I will.” The duke hesitated, then shook his head, a bemused smile twisting his lips. “I suppose there’s no way around it. I’ve come to you today because I have an…unusualproblem I’d like your help in solving.”
Intrigued, Kincaid reached for his pen. “What kind of unusual problem?”
Sterling grimaced. “I’ve been accused of murdering my mistress.”
“I’m sorry,” Kincaid said politely. “You’ve what?”
“I didn’t do it.” His grimace deepening into a scowl, Sterling surged to his feet. “Do you have anything to drink that doesn’t have cat hair in it?”
“I wouldn’t think that you did. And there’s a bottle of brandy in that cabinet there. Might as well pour two glasses.” Ordinarily, Kincaid would never share alcohol with a client, but there was nothingordinaryabout a duke being accused of murder.
Filling a glass to the brim and placing it on the edge of Kincaid’s desk, Sterling reserved the bottle for himself. He did not return to his seat, but rather went to the window, his gray gaze unreadable as he stared out through the glass at the dull, dreary sky beyond. “I didn’t do it,” he repeated before he tilted the brandy to his lips and indulged in a long, liberal swallow that had Kincaid’s brows rising. “Admittedly, Eloise and I had a tempestuous relationship at times, but I would never cause her physical harm.”
Kincaid pressed the tip of his pen to parchment. “Eloise is…”
“Wasmy mistress,” Sterling said darkly.
“Can you describe her?” Part of being a good detective was knowing when to calm a client down and when to incite them. Given the rigidity of Sterling’s broad shoulders, it was clear what the duke required. And there was no better way to cut through tension than with talking.
“Eloise was gorgeous, of course.” His tone wry, Sterling glanced back at Kincaid. “I’d never take up with anyoneplain.”
No, he wouldn’t. Because that might mean he would be forced to see past the superficiality of his lover’s physical appearance, and Kincaid knew that Sterling would rather eat rocks for the rest of his life than become engaged in a personal relationship. Which was also why he knew, deep in his gut, that the Duke of Hanover reallywasinnocent. Not because they were friends, but because Sterling simply didn’t care enough about any other human being to bother with murdering them.
Any genuine emotion Sterling had once possessed had disappeared when his brother was killed. What remained was a caricature of whom thetonwanted him to be: a devilish duke with a penchant for fast horses and beautiful women.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“Could you be more specific?” Kincaid asked, tapping his pen against the side of his jaw.
“Silky black hair, straight as a pin. Big blue eyes. The nicest tits I’ve ever seen.”
“Black hair, blue eyes, large breasts,” Kincaid muttered as he took notes. “Any distinguishing characteristics? A scar, or a birth mark…”
“A freckle, here.” Sterling pointed to the middle of his collarbone. “She also had a slight accent. Her mother was a French courtesan, her father a British diplomat. She was brought to England when she was a girl, and raised in the country by governesses. When she was seventeen, she came to London and quickly made a name for herself on the stage. I’ll never forget her performance in Shakespeare’sCleopatra.”
“She sounds like she was a very talented young woman.”
“She was,” the duke said wistfully. “The things she could do with her thighs—”
“I’m sure were extraordinary,” Kincaid interrupted. “Why areyoubeing accused of her murder?”
Sterling’s expression shuttered. “Because the night she was killed, I was the last person to see her alive. And we argued. Screamed at each other, more like.”
Kincaid’s pen stilled. “That’s not good.”
“Well, not when you say it likethat.”
“What were you arguing about?”
“Nothing important. I got caught up at the tables, and was nearly two hours late coming to see her. Had I been there when I was supposed to be, I doubt we’d have fought at all. Or maybe we would have.” Sterling gave a shrug. “It was our way of communicating. Foreplay, if you will.”
“And after you were done fighting, you…”
“Fucked,” the duke said bluntly. “Then I left.”
“Did anyone see you leaving?”
“It was late. The servants had all gone to bed.”
