Page 11 of The Detective and the Baroness

Drew cut into his steak. “I always wanted an older brother. Now I have two.”

“And probably more than we’d ever want or need,” Mitchell replied sardonically. “Do not forget the four youngsters coming to live with Damon and Althea next month.”

“That is right. I told Damon I would stop by in the new year to meet them.”

“As to us being friends, we can do that,” Mitchell said as he cut into his beef. “We will take the brother thing as it goes.”

Drew gave him a warm smile and lifted his wine glass. “To The Duke’s Bastards.”

Mitchell picked up his goblet and gave a salute. “To us all, wherever we may be.” He took a sip, then frowned. “We may be turning over stones best left unturned. The late duke was a reprobate. I attended his death scene.”

“What? How?”

“It was before I transferred to the precinct I’m at now. At the time, I didn’t know my connection to him. It was a suspicious death, seeing he had a rope around his neck and was tied to the bedpost. There was a woman with him. They were playing some erotic asphyxiation game when he had a heart attack.”

Drew sat back in his chair, clearly shocked. “My God.”

“What other horrible things are left to discover?” Mitchell questioned. “What if some of these offspring inherited his loathsome personality and immoral tendencies?” Mitchell could only hope they were not making a mistake digging up secrets best left buried.

Chapter Four

Corrine was shocked to find Travis waiting for her in the sitting room when she came downstairs the next morning. He immediately stood. Her husband was immaculately dressed in a black morning coat with dark gray striped trousers. Travis also wore one of those new silk neckties that had become all the rage.

“Corrine. Good morning.”

So formal. So removed from it all.

“Good morning, Travis. Have you had your breakfast?” she asked in a similar tone.

“I have. I will not be staying long. I came to collect my correspondence and other incidentals. My case is waiting for me at the front entrance.”

Corrine exhaled. “Please, Travis. Sit with me for a moment.” She strolled to the door and closed it.

Travis looked like a trapped animal, his gaze darting about the room as if looking for a means of escape. Something was seriously wrong with her husband. Empathy took hold, and she approached him slowly.

“Can we not talk?” she soothed. Corrine took his arm, and he immediately stiffened. But she ignored his reaction and led him to the sofa. They sat upon it, and she noted he kept his distance from her. “I did not expect romance in our marriage, but I want us to be truthful with each other.”

Travis exhaled. “It is not you. It’s me.”

“When people say that, they really mean it is the other person. I do apologize for insisting on children. I thought trying for an heir was prudent—as in carrying on the title. I assumed that was why you wished to be married. I also admit to a selfish motive; a child would keep me occupied. It would be someone to love and to love me in return. I presumed you wanted the same. I am sorry.” Corrine spoke from the heart.

“I never sought out marriage and children,” Travis stated wistfully. “When I became the heir, Gilbert repeatedly stated that my duty was to carry on the barony. He was most insistent about it. So, I thought of the ladies I’d met over the years, and you were the most kind and lovely one I could recall. And the most honest.”

“Yes, I was certainly upfront about my demands,” Corrine scoffed. “And I’d never sought out marriage and children either. It was not something I’d yearned for.”

“I find your honesty refreshing, then and now. Your family was in dire financial straits, and of course, you wanted to assist them. I was happy to help in that regard.”

Corrine turned to face him. “Is it me you find abhorrent, then? Is there another woman, perhaps? Or do you prefer—men? Or both?”

Travis shook his head. “No, my dear lady. To all your questions.”

Travis clearly struggled, trying to decide what to reveal, if anything at all. Peppering him with questions would only make him run from the room like a skittish horse. So they sat silently, the logs crackling in the fireplace the only audible sound.

He reached into his pocket and handed her a roll of pound notes. “There are one hundred pounds there, give or take. It is enough for the household expenses and pin money for yourself. I must go.” Travis stood, looking eager to depart.

Corrine remained seated. “Where will you go? To your old residence?”

“Yes, for a time. I need to think. But I’ll be in touch soon.”