She chuckled low and long. “But darling, you only need proper motivation.”
“Motivation? There is nothing on earth that would move me to join my name with yours.”
“No? How about to avoid the scaffold? Many men have been moved to far worse fates to save their skins.”
He seized her silk and lace-clad arm. “What the devil are you talking about?”
She raised her chin defiantly. “I speak of the murder of the Baron Palmerston-Wriothesley, of course.”
“That’s a ridiculous and groundless speculation,” he snarled. “Were you a man, I would call you out on the spot.”
“Groundless? Oh I think not! For who stood to gain more by the Baron’s death than you? Unless it’s the poor, grieving widow who is now left penniless? But what if the two of you had confederated? What a wicked, wicked notion that is!” she cackled.
“You really think I would resort to killing a man to get what I want?”
“I think you are capable of almost anything. After all, darling, I know the underhanded means by which you came into your title, putting it about that your father is dead when we both know you have him locked away.”
“There were extenuating circumstances that you know nothing about!”
“Does Hewett know that his father yet lives?” she asked.
His grip on her arm convulsively tightened. “Leave Hew out of this.”
“Whatever you say, my love,” she answered sweetly. “My point was only that I know you to be coldblooded and ruthless when it suits your purpose. And you are the one who holds the deed to Lord Reggie’s lands, the deed you would have had to sacrifice had he won the race. Moreover, you and the baroness are guilty of adultery. Don’t deny it, Ludovic. I know that he intended to file suit against you for it.”
“And you think I killed him? Your insinuation is crass and baseless.”
“Is it? Lord Reggie had already obtained signed affidavits from the servants. I have copies in my possession. Sad, isn’t it, how difficult it is to buy loyalty these days?”
“You think a court of law would uphold a servant’s word against mine?”
“You are right, of course, but then again, a ducal coronet would bear considerably more weight in a witness box. I saw you with her, Ludovic. A married woman alone with a man of your reputation? There can be no other interpretation.”
“Your word against mine, then.” He emitted a mirthless laugh. “Hell hath no fury like a duchess scorned.”
She gave him a venomous smile. “And I will teach you that my fury is to be feared.”
“Caroline, you may drag me through the mud if you wish, but there is no possibility that I would ever be convicted of such a crime. I am a peer of the realm, and there are no witnesses who can place me at the scene.”
“But even to be connected to this. Imagine the scandal, Ludovic! Your name besmirched in all the broadsheets, your person avoided and ostracized by anyone of quality.”
“Yet as a man, I would come out much cleaner than you as my accuser. I have little to fear from any woman of your sullied repute.”
“Is that so? Then if you would not spare yourself the scandal and dishonor, what of your penniless and newly widowed baroness?”
His eyes narrowed. “What of the baroness?”
“Unless you desist your relations with her, my love, I promise to destroy her.”
***
“An entirely gruesome business, this.” Sir John shuddered and accepted the stiff drink proffered by DeVere’s footman. “I suppose we must try to piece this mess together. The sooner the dead man is laid to rest, the better, I say.” He downed the glass of port in one long draft and beckoned for another. “When was the deceased last seen? And by whom?”
Edward answered. “Lord Reginald had joined Annalee, Diana, and me in the stands immediately prior to the first race but then departed to investigate when his horse did not appear.”
“Then his horse was supposed to have run in the first race?”
“Yes. His groom Johnson was to ride Reggie’s stallion, Centurion,” Edward said.
“What do we know of the circumstances leading to the discovery of the body?”
DeVere interjected, “My man Pratt came upon the horse saddled as if to ride but greatly agitated and pacing in his box. When he investigated further, he found the deceased and the unconscious groom.”
“And there was no sign of injury to the horse?” Sir John asked.
“None, according to Pratt,” DeVere answered.
“That’s most curious that he did not run then. Have either of you any knowledge of the stallion’s temperament? Might we surmise that he attacked the unwary groom?”
“To my knowledge, Centurion is high spirited, but not a vicious animal,” Edward replied.
Sir John scowled and scratched some notes. “Yet stallions can be unpredictable. Surely it is a possibility.”