Page 78 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

“I hope so.” Julian meant it more than the words could convey, and set the statement down on the desk before his voice could betray anything further.

Piers, who had been watching the exchange with the wary attention of a man counting exits, cleared his throat. “And Vane?”

Thomas’s expression hardened. “He will not remain silent.”

“He hasn’t,” Julian grunted.

Mr. Harding shifted a paper an inch to the left, a small nervous motion. “There is something else, Your Grace.”

Julian looked up. “Go on.”

“I have located a clerk who served under Sir Edmund Vane during the relevant period.”

Julian felt the sentence land somewhere behind his ribs. “Where?”

“Bath.”

“Does he know what happened?”

“He claims to.”

“Claims,” Julian repeated the word like he was testing its weight.

“He is frightened, Your Grace. Men in his position often are.”

Thomas took a step closer to the desk, closing the distance in two strides. “His name?”

“Samuel.” Harding glanced down at his notes. “Samuel Bell, I believe. My man is confirming the surname now.”

Julian looked to Piers. His brother had already half-risen, his hand reaching for his coat, the movement so automatic it was clear he’d been waiting for an excuse.

“I shall go,” he declared.

“No.”

He stopped, coat half over one shoulder. “Why not?”

“Because you are needed here.”

“I am your brother, Julian. I am also perfectly capable of traveling to Bath without disgracing the family name on the way.”

“You are needed beside me when the statement is made.” Julian held his brother’s gaze until the argument left it.

Piers set the coat back down. “Very well.”

Julian turned back to Harding. “Send someone you trust. Someone who will not spook him further.”

“I already have. And Bell has agreed to give a sworn statement.” Harding said it carefully, the way a man delivered good news he did not yet trust to be true.

Thomas let out a breath he seemed to have been holding since the door opened. Julian looked at the tired, unguarded set of his shoulders, so unlike the man who had bowed to him not five minutes ago, and he felt his own chest ease slightly, though not enough to call it relief.

“This ends today,” he said.

CHAPTER 32

The private chamber at Lincoln’s Inn had not been built to hold this many people, and by the time Julian arrived, it was already packed.

Solicitors stood near the bookshelves in their black coats, indistinguishable from one another except by the particular way each held his hands clasped before him, as though bracing for bad news.