Making his way across Mayfair, Dominic knew he was needlessly leaving early that morning. But he didn’t want to risk talking to Verity yet should she think to join him for breakfast again.
I have to say something to her. It cannot wait forever. And yet…
He had meant to last night, thinking it was time. Thinking he would make sure she spoke up and told him the truth about her secrets.
Their short conversation last night had included an invitation for her should she be ready to confess. He had asked the open questions, wishing she would simply be honest with him for once.
We’re simply two strangers trapped together in a union not of our own planning. What could I have expected?
It didn’t matter. Verity hadn’t confessed. She had closed off her expression and furrowed her brow. Clearly not feeling well, his wife had sought refuge in her bed chamber.
And he had to give it to her. There would be no chain about the duchess ordering her about. He had promised himself that much. Promised her, though she hardly knew the truth of the matter. If something was to happen, if she had a secret, she would need to tell him.
In the meantime, it felt like a special sort of torment just for Dominic.
He took a longer ride than intended before taking himself to his solicitor’s office, a stop at his preferred bookshop, and then back to the club.
For all the grumbling gentlemen made about the habit of ladies to gossip, the males were no better. He settled in the corner of the library as hushed voices spread across the room with intrigue and suspicion.
“Someone is saying it’s about Qintby.”
“You don’t say! Prone to push their luck, that family.”
“But whatever was said about people losing their lives over such serious matters? It certainly didn’t sound like suicide. And I cannot imagine it would be murder.”
“Why not? Men die every day; that is the way of life.”
“Hear, read this line again. ‘Where a soul is wont to dip their fingertips in gold and myrrh on the busy streets of London’s wealthy, we must be mindful of the underlying threats hovering over their heads. We bow our heads too easily when it comes to laws made of fool’s gold and quiet funerals where the body already lies hidden and cold.’It makes me shudder. That is surely about death.”
“Yes, but if they really mean someone in particular… See? There, it notes October. Who died last October?”
“Who is to say it was last October?”
Dominic felt as though he were going to be driven mad. He forced himself to remain seated, sipping his brandy slowly whilekeeping an eye on the open windows leading out onto the street. It wasn’t long before the lane was filled with travelers and merchants. Some always stopped to pause and study this building before moving on with their errands and lives.
Sometimes I wish I were among them. It would surely keep my life simpler than this. Yes, the gossip rag spoke in riddles. But so long as one has the right key, they know how to turn the lock. What is hidden behind the walls is another subject to discuss…
“Wycliffe! You’ve been quiet.”
He forced himself to look over at Lord Dunn. “It is a library, is it not?”
Chortling, the older baron waved a hand dismissively in the air. “It hardly matters when the affairs warrant a loud rumor and noisier truth. What say you of this matter? The ladies all insist it to be real and the lords prefer their secrecy and false idols.”
“It’s hardly necessary to make guesses or gamble on matters that we don’t know, let alone those we don’t understand,” he said at after a pause.
Lord Dunn frowned at him before glancing back at the men at his side. “I’m only aiming to make conversation. Surely you must have some idea of what is being discussed in this journal. Why, even theLondon Timeshas written a piece on it now.”
“Every paper in London to Wales has written about it,” added another lord.
That made Dominic pause. He’d eaten too quickly to read more than theLondon Times.The blurb was on the fourth page, so he hadn’t been too worried about people paying it any mind. But now? Every paper? Unease settled low and heavy in his stomach.
As a bitter taste sat on his tongue, he gave a short nod. “The papers do enjoy sensationalist topics.”
“Don’t you want to make a bet?” One of Dunn’s companions asked with a light chortle. He was already deep in his cups at this early hour. “I’ve got ten pounds that it’s part of a blackmail scheme against the House of the Lords.”
“I would find it unwise to dabble in something without proof. There are more important matters at hand, such as helping our farmers with the new tax codes,” Dominic added with a pointed look. “We have a vote to take place at the end of this week and we should be preparing ourselves.”
“It’s not a test, it’s only a vote,” Dunn grumbled. He shook his never. “Never mind, Your Grace. You seem content to sit in your corner. The rest of us will see what we can do to impact our future, never you mind.”
