Page 87 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

“And?”

She frowned. “Her diary fell into the hands of a blackmailer. It caused no small amount of grief for her and her husband Gideon. One could say she accidentally became his duchess. They chased all over London for that book. I believe at one point the duke was holding it in his hands in your favorite brothel.”

“I don’t have a favorite brothel,” he said with a calm smile.

“No matter. The diary appeared in the rookeries before it was returned to Charlotte. The thief turned out to be a friend of Harriet’s, a defiant young criminal who was dubbed the Duke of St. Giles to her street duchess. You are not the only person I know with a notorious nickname.”

“If Susannah kept a journal that implicated Bruxton in any abuse, he’d have destroyed it,” he said. “A blackmail attempt would have been made by now. Unless the Irishman is doing so in secret and that is why Bruxton came here in a panic.”

“Irish?” she said slowly.

“The groom. Kieran Healy. Is his name familiar?”

“Not at all.”

“He has a pleasing voice with a trace of an accent,” Simon went on. He stared at her intently. “Why?”

“The man at Grayson’s party,” she said. “He may have had an accent. Not English or Welsh. My ears were ringing. There was confusion everywhere, and now I might be influenced by what you’ve said. He mumbled only a few words.”

He disengaged his hand from hers and shoved back his chair. Ravenna hopped around the table in apprehension. “Kieran evidently knows his way around a stable as well as he does a lady’s bedchamber.”

She watched him with increasing concern. “Why would her groom want to kill you?”

“Perhaps he was afraid I would find something in her letters to incriminate him. God only knows. Bruxton mentioned a child. Susannah never told me of a pregnancy. Evidently all three of them were hiding secrets.”

“Where are you off to?” she asked, alarmed.

“My study. I’m going to send a message to Heath and read through her letters again.”

“I will help.” She rang for a servant to indicate they’d finished their luncheon. “I’ll order a pot of strong coffee.”

He waited for her at the door. “It doesn’t seem reasonable that Kieran would come here if he’s on the run. Not if he wanted a good chance to kill me.”

“If only we always acted on reason,” she said as she caught up with him. “Of course, if I had done so, we wouldn’t be married.”

“You regret the result?” he asked, catching her by the sash of her gown.

She swung back against him. “I shall not give you another iota of sympathy as long as you continue to doubt me. Unhand me. We have reading to do.”

Hours of reading, as it turned out. Ravenna quoted aloud the last of Susannah’s letters from her cramped position between Simon and his red leather writing box on the sofa.

“’We spent the afternoon in the woods again today,’” she read. “’Matthew has forbidden me to do so, but I no longer listen to him. He is to return tomorrow, and the estate is in chaos. Only last week he informed me of his plans for a house party and does not remember that Mrs. Littleton has broken her arm. When are you to visit us, Simon? You have been promising for months. I am in desperate need of my older brother’s shoulder.

However, I understand that you are busy in London. Perhaps one day when you are married, I will see you …’” Ravenna broke off. “Well.”

Simon opened his eyes. “And?”

“Nothing else. Nothing to incriminate anyone that I can perceive. She missed you. She missed your brother and his family, too. She defied her husband to ride. Who is Mrs. Littleton?”

“The housekeeper at Bruxton Manor. She was at home the day Susannah died and passed away herself a few months afterward. It wasn’t surprising. She was elderly and in frail health. She had served the earl’s family forever as I recall. I spoke to nearly everyone in the parish after my sister’s funeral. Several acquaintances promised to keep in touch with me. The general opinion is still that her death was a mishap.”

She refolded the letter, her brow creased in thought. “But you have to make certain.”

“She asked me to visit,” he said, his voice deep with self-recrimination. “I didn’t pay attention.”

“But you are now.”

He collected the letters and locked them back in the box. “No stone unturned,” he mused. “Have I missed one? Lend me your perspective. My brother wants to believe her death was a tragic accident.”

“I agree with you that her groom is the key.”

“Do I hunt him down?”

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “Bruxton is right about one thing. A man running for his life is a desperate creature.”

“I might never learn the truth without him. I know he wanted to tell me more than he did.”

She shook her head. “You might not return to me alive if you confront him,” she said. “You regret not listening to your sister. At least you can listen to your wife. Do not go after him, Simon. I am afraid to be left by myself. I have grown dependent on you.”

“Liar. You are afraid of no one.”

“But I do need you. That is the truth.”