Page 42

13

“Some inherit a title, others a vendetta. Both can prove fatal if left unexamined.”

Impressions of England by an Unrepentant Foreigner

Marco regretted unleashing his baser impulses on Molly. All he had achieved was to make them each yearn for something he could not commit to. But she had been so tempting. And perhaps he had owed her a kiss without apologies after ruining her first the way he had.

He should be recognized for having the strength to stop at all. When she had told him she had been thinking about their kiss, there were few things more unsettling than to have a well-bred young lady such as Molly reveal such a thing. The only thing that could make it worse was if she had elaborated on her thoughts.

Maledizione! I cannot think about that!

There was a man trying to kill him, whom they could not find. It was time to run this MacNaby to ground!

“I searched the attic level again, after Angelo, and found a maid or two up there for my troubles. No signs of this scoundrel,” Lorenzo stated, his irritation palpable.

“And I searched the basement and this floor,” Angelo added.

“The grooms in the mews told me they had not seen him today at all,” Marco reported in a gloomy voice.

He, his brother, and Lorenzo had returned from their second search of the house and grounds, but it appeared that MacNaby was not merely out on an errand. A missive from Sebastian had arrived to inform them that the duke had sent for Runners, and they should expect them to arrive shortly and begin their own search for the missing butler whom no one had seen for three hours or more.

“Mr. Scott?” He looked up from the seat he had taken in the library to find Duncan. “His lordship has asked that you and your brother join him in the study.”

Marco nodded, getting to his feet. He should report to his uncle that the Runners would be arriving, so it was an excellent time to talk. Truthfully, after searching the house, there was nothing more to be done for now. Marco did not know England, so it would be useless to try searching the neighborhood. Best that task was undertaken far more efficiently by the duke’s men who would arrive at any minute.

He headed to the study down the hall, Angelo joining him.

“Do you think there is news?”

Marco shrugged as they reached the baron’s door and knocked.

A voice invited them in, and when they entered, Marco found Nicholas sprawled in an armchair with the ottoman propping up his leg. Molly was seated in the corner, and Miss Dubois was installed outside the window in a bitter stance. At least on this occasion, he knew the cause of the servant’s brooding. He had been hit with a sharp, chilly breeze when he searched the grounds. The late November weather was uncomfortable, but he could not help feeling the chaperon deserved it for how she annoyed Molly so.

“Please, Marco, close the door. Nicholas has news, and we shall have to keep our voices low. Miss Dubois is an infamous gossip, and we cannot allow her to overhear anything we say.”

The reminder was appreciated, even if they had been making a habit of these meetings with the petite watchdog glaring at the window.

Angelo and he took their seats and looked to Nicholas expectantly.

Their young uncle sighed with disgust. “I can confirm that the butler is our man.”

“You believe we do not need to search any further for more accomplices? The baroness could have hired more than one,” Marco rejoined.

“MacNaby was not hired. My mother may have left him with some coin to complete her foul crusade, but his motive is not money.”

The baron leaned back in his swivel chair. “More’s the pity. Unfortunately, MacNaby is a true fanatic with personal reasons to seek Marco’s death. And Angelo’s. I think I have been spared his wrath because of my poor health.”

“Wrath?” Angelo’s brows had shot up to almost his hairline, his low voice flabbergasted. “What have we done to invoke his wrath?”

Nicholas scowled. “Perhaps ‘wrath’ is not the correct word, John. I would say it is his … ambition.”

The choice of words startled Marco, leaning forward to urge Nicholas along. “The journal from thirty years ago somehow reveals”—he stopped, cocking his head in confusion—“ambition as a reason to pursue multiple murder attempts?”

“It is complicated, but let me begin with the short answer to illuminate the matter … MacNaby might be Simon’s father.”

Silence fell. Even Nicholas, who had proclaimed the news, seemed rather bemused to state it, as the repercussions of the statement trickled into their minds. In his peripheral vision, Marco saw Molly fold her arms as if defending against the news.

“That would explain his willingness to enact Lady Blackwood’s revenge,” she finally squeaked into the prolonged quiet.