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“In English society, threats are rarely announced. They are simply seated across from you.”

Impressions of England by an Unrepentant Foreigner

Claudette Dubois glowered through the study window, her delicate features set in anger as she shifted from foot to foot on the terrace outside, her vexation most apparent as she tugged a shawl close to combat the November cold.

Molly turned away, concealing a smug smile at the minor victory over her repugnant companion. Her negotiation with Simon had granted her entry to the private meeting, with the stipulation that Miss Dubois must be able to observe her at all times, albeit through the window.

He had cautioned the occupants of the room to keep their voices low so that the chaperon would not overhear their conversation. The Scotts, Molly, the Italian Scotts, and the duke and earl had opted to move their chairs closer to the baron’s desk, and had turned their backs toward the windows to make it harder for their voices to travel. It was a strange arrangement, but no stranger than the events of the past weeks, so only the Italian men appeared to be mildly confused by such lengths to accommodate Molly.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Simon, but John had supported her request. She supposed it might have to do with her having nursed the baron when no one else could be trusted to do so. John had informed her numerous times that he was impressed by her fortitude.

Simon stood behind the baron, his face grim. “I suppose I must reveal the dark plots that have shadowed our home, especially in light of the accident this morning. We had hoped to welcome you and your brother under happier circumstances, but the possibility of sabotage requires our utmost vigilance over the coming days.”

“Sabotage?” Molly covered her mouth in shock. Was she the only one who had been unaware that a carriage accident might not have been an accident at all?

Marco, who was sitting close to her due to her machinations with the seating arrangements, glanced in her direction. “The coachman believes the wheel was tampered with, but we could not find conclusive … prova?” His nose wrinkled, and he peered around for a translator.

“Evidence,” Molly replied without hesitation.

Those soulful eyes returned to her, warm appreciation in their black depths. “You speak Italian?”

“My mother was passionate about opera. She conversed with me in the language throughout my youth.”

“You are still … youthful.” His sculpted lips curled into a devastating smile that ignited warmth in the region of her heart, excitement sparkling through her veins.

Molly blushed at the compliment. She was considered close to being on the shelf by society’s standards, but Marco evidently did not agree. It was still otherworldly that he appeared to notice her as a woman when he must have his pick of beautiful Florentine women, and she could not help the hand that rose to check her hair. Marco’s eyes followed the gesture, and she quickly lowered it.

Zooks, Molly, what if he is just a flirt?

Even so, she was flattered to receive any of his attention as someone unaccustomed to being in the presence of a male who attracted her so.

“As I was saying,” Simon interjected, “I had hoped to avoid revealing quite so much about private affairs, but in light of … Well, I will have to explain the circumstances of my mother’s death or none of this will make sense. Lives have been lost, and both the baron and my wife were nearly killed, so this is not the time to be coy. It would be appropriate for each of us to take steps to maintain our safety, so John and I have decided to reveal all that has happened.”

Molly leaned forward, nibbling on her lip and realizing she would finally learn the entire truth rather than the scattered tidbits she had piecemeal garnered.

“My mother was not a woman of sound mind. Since her marriage to the late baron in her youth, she had sought to drive a wedge between her husband and your father. She wished for me to become the future baron and took measures to ensure this would happen. Your father—my older brother, Peter—was considered an opponent because he had left England with a wife and was in a position to bear an heir.” Simon gestured to Marco and Angelo. “So she devised a plan to intercept mail from Florence. She recruited servants to do her bidding, so this must be how she went about it. And she knew well that the two of you existed.”

“My parents attempted several times to reconcile with our grandfather,” Marco replied.

Simon nodded. “It was not a brilliant plan, for the truth was bound to come out at some point, but I cannot attest to her intelligence, only to the relentlessness of her purpose.”

The duke shifted in his seat. “My father-in-law, the Baron of Filminster, visited London for the first time in decades and had the misfortune to sit beside Lord Blackwood at the coronation.”

John huffed a dry chuckle. “It was unfortunate for Lord Filminster, but as it turns out, remarkably fortunate for me.”

His Grace nodded. “Lord Filminster questioned Lord Blackwood about his succession in terms that were decidedly provocative, which resulted in the baron informing his family of the encounter. This is how the dowager Lady Blackwood learned Filminster knew there were two heirs in Italy. That very night, she visited Filminster’s home to negotiate with him.”

Simon snorted in disgust. “She hoped to persuade him into keeping the secret, but that did not work.”

The duke laughed humorlessly. “My father-in-law was not a pleasant man, but he considered Peter a friend and he possessed principles of a sort, so we surmise that he told her he had written a letter to the Home Secretary to inform him of Marco’s birth. Lady Blackwood took exception … and struck him from behind.”

“Which was when the investigation into his murder led them to me,” continued Simon. “Which, as my brother has stated, was rather fortunate for us, because it came to light that he was being poisoned by my mother to hurry my inheritance, and due to a timely intervention, he is still with us.”

Molly perched forward, the unfolding story at last fitting in some of the missing pieces. “And what of Madeline?” Looking about, she realized not everyone present knew who she was. “Simon’s wife as of three days ago.”

Simon cleared his throat, seemingly overcome at recalling the day John’s poisoning had come to light after he had collapsed. “My mother tricked her into drinking tea laced with arsenic and accused her of attempting to entrap me into marriage. Lady Blackwood did not consider Madeline the right sort of bride, not being of the peerage. She must have known she would soon be accused of murder, and it was a last desperate act to bring about the future she had envisioned. I was to be baron and to wed a properly connected wife who would elevate her bloodlines even further.”