Moreham knew he should speak, but he couldn’t conjure up a single word. Why had he not seen the possibility of Gillian’s innocent involvement?
It was Gillian who spoke first. “Uncle, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us all. Maybe there is a clue to the stranger’s identity or a weakness we can make use of.”
The duke sighed again and raised his head to look from one to the other.
“It all started with Percy Arnold. Last summer, I came upon him with one of the locals at the tavern in the village. He was a nice enough fellow. I was playing chess with Dr. Williams. The doctor had an emergency, so I asked Arnold if he played the game. He said he did. We played and talked of inconsequential topics that evening. He said he was in the neighborhood for a sennight. At the end of the evening, I bade the man a good night and came home.”
“Did you see him after that night?”
“I think two days later the duchess had me fetch a bolt of cloth from the dressmaker for her. I came upon him on the road. He suggested I join him for a pint at the tavern. I said yes.”
Moreham’s fingers dug into her shoulder. A clear sign Moreham was hearing more than she was.
The duke took a sip of his brandy then continued, “That day he offered to ride with me. I was obliged to agree.”
Uncle looked over at her with tears in his eyes. “On the ride back to Whitings, he opined about the dastardly families who hid their French bloodlines from their peers. I expounded on how dastardly I thought it and that such behavior should not be countenanced. Arnold turned on me and said I was guilty of such an offense. I was stunned. I had no idea what he was talking about. He proceeded to tell me of Gillian’s connection to Empress Josephine. He said it would be a shame to ruin Gillian’s chance for happiness for a thimble full of frog-blood. He would keep silent if I helped him acquire a position in Whitehall. He knew precisely which position he wanted. All would be forgotten if I did so. That was a lie of course.”
The duke dropped his head into his hands. No one said a word. Gillian reached across the desk, took her uncle’s hand and smiled encouragingly. The duke continued, “After our return to Town, Arnold called and requested an introduction to Gillian.”
The duke tightened his grip on Gillian’s hand. “Dearest, I told myself I used my influence with Whitehall to gain his employ in the Quartermaster Office for you. I didn’t really like the man, but I turned a blind eye to what was truly going on.”
“Percy is the man who introduced you to the leader?” Moreham asked.
“Is that who you think the fellow is? I was of the impression the man is a go-between for the upper echelons, more an errand boy really. Both men suggested I host a house party to announce Gillian’s engagement to Percy. Percy would tell me who to invite.”
“And he had you. Should that truth, if it is truth, be revealed Gillian, you and the rest of your family would be ruined and shunned by all Polite Society. There would be no salvation for you socially,” Moreham deduced.
“Such a consequence would kill Isadora. She loves going about in Society. Being the arbiter of good taste.” Her uncle cast a sheepish look at Moreham.
Gillian looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He wished they were still in London in his chambers. Anywhere, but in this room where the harsh reality of her family’s future rested. Her eyes bore into him. He knew she wanted him to save her uncle. The truth was he hadn’t a notion on how to do so.
Cross cleared his throat. “Your Grace, have you discussed this allegation with your duchess?”
“No, I have complied with every one of his demands.”
Gillian gasped, and Moreham squeezed her hand. He really should send her upstairs to bed before her uncle said anything else.
“Don’t even suggest I leave this room. Whitney is my uncle and I will not be scuttled off like a brainless twit for you gentlemen to ferret out the truth then devise a plan to save the day.”
Cross coughed. Moreham glared at his friend. Now was not the time to engage in frivolity over his wife’s hold on his heart.
Moreham directed his attention to Whitney. “To clarify, are these peers attending the house party. Did you invite them as Arnold directed?”
‘Yes, the Earl of Colchester and Viscount Roberts. Both have accepted our invitation. I thought Arnold asking me to include the gentlemen and their wives unusual. I received a missive, unsigned, directing me to escort the earl and viscount to the abbey ruins after midnight tomorrow night.”
“Do you know what will happen at the ruins?” Cross asked.
“I have no idea. Once Arnold’s friends appear, I am to leave.”
“If you are to leave, how will the men return to the house?” Gillian mused.
Moreham groaned. All became clear. The men were not coming to the house party for a meeting. They were coming to be assassinated with Whitney framed as their killer.
Chapter 16
Whitney jumped to his feet, wide-eyed with fear and agitation. He looked around the room as if trying to find an escape. His words stumbled from his mouth in rapid succession, one after another. “Dear Lord, he’s going to kill those men. Isn’t he? What am I saying? He plans to kill me.”
Moreham growled and left her side. “I would wager they are accomplices and he must eliminate the risk of being exposed as a foreign agent. Since the meeting is taking place on your land, you will be suspected of the killings. Filled with remorse, you will commit suicide. I’d say the fellow has come up with a rather neat resolution
