Lark had alluded to as much.
“Don’t forget Oakhurst,” the duke chimed in. “But that was his own doing.” He jumped up and stalked across the room. “Stop touching everything,” he said to Fletcher.
“Yes, an accident.” The edges of her mouth tightened. “I think there’s more,” she said quietly to Helen, so that the two men couldn’t overhear.
“Mrs. Bean,” Helen lowered her voice. “Raised Fletcher. She kept a book where she wrote down the various foibles of the titled gentlemen who visited her brothel after a session of Parliament. According to this note, Mrs. Bean rescued the Duchess of Roxboro the night of the duke’s murder. She was trained as a midwife and delivered the…three…boys. At least, I assume the last one to be male. She doesn’t say. Mrs. Bean was curious after the duke’s murder. And it happened in The Devil’s Acre, or close enough. A great deal of information, including, I believe, the name of the party responsible, is in this book. She thought Fletcher would need the information one day.”
“Impossible,” Roxboro had returned to read over his wife’s shoulder. “This can’t possibly be true.”
“Those are the dying words of the woman who raised me,” Fletcher snapped. “She had no reason to lie anymore. And just look at us. Even I can see how alike we are, though it pains me to see you prancin’ about with my face. Are you blind?”
“Prancing about?”
“I believe every word,” the duchess said calmly, silencing her husband and Fletcher. There was something in her eyes. A calculation mixed with unwavering resolve. “It is clear she loved you, Fletcher. She hid you for a reason.”
“My uncle always thought there was more to the death of my father,” Roxboro said. “Sit down,” he ordered Fletcher.
Fletcher rolled his eyes until Helen gave him a look and he took a seat.
“I’m not sure how to proceed, exactly, though I suppose we should summon Freeman and Uncle Damon,” Roxboro said. “Documents will have to be prepared. Your…parentage attested to. Mrs. Bean’s letter might be contested but—”
“There isn’t in doubt, Alexander,” the duchess interrupted softly.
“I suppose not. You have two cousins, Rose and Violet. They’ll be overjoyed to meet you, as they are somewhat exhausted with me.”
“I can imagine,” Fletcher growled. “It’s been only minutes and I—”
“Fletcher.” Helen cautioned him. “We are all…trying to come to terms with this news.”
“I thank you, Miss Cosgrove, for helping us solve the mystery of the man impersonating me. I would like to ask for your discretion in the matter of my…brother, until matters can be seen to. This will create quite an uproar.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Helen demurred.
“I’ll have my carriage return you to Lord Galway. I’m sure you’re anxious to return home.”
“You will not,” Fletcher snarled, taking Helen’s hand. “She stays with me. Besides, Galway has accused her of theft of a pendant. Which I stole. So she cannot return.” He took a seat across from the duke. “I feel as if I’m lookin’ in a mirror. Makes my head hurt.”
“I’m not enjoying myself either,” the duke retorted. “Ah, the pendant you accused me of taking at the theater, Miss Cosgrove. Well, obviously you didn’t take it. I’ll explain it to Galway.”
“No. She’ll come to harm with Galway.”
“I’m a bloody duke. He wouldn’t dare. I’ll place her under my protection.”
Helen shut her eyes, only opening them when she felt the duchess take her fingers. “You will stay as long as you wish, Miss Cosgrove.”
Barstow arrived wheeling in an enormous tray filled with fruit, biscuits, scones, and sandwiches, and tried not to stare at Fletcher.
The duchess waved him over, whispered instructions, and the butler retreated with a bow.
“Barstow will have rooms readied for you both. And baths, which I daresay you need. I do not believe it safe, my lord,” she said to Fletcher. “For you to be out. Either of you. Not until we consult Freeman.”
The duchess wasn’t speaking of Lord Galway, nor Lark. Which worried Helen a great deal more.
She suspects someone.
“And I’ve no intention of calling the authorities, which would be ridiculous under the circumstances, don’t you think?” she smiled at Fletcher. “So please, toss that notion aside, my lord.”
“Stop saying that,” he whispered. “Please.”
