CHAPTER 19
William was more shocked by the detective’s words than he’d been when he found himself shot in the arm the other night. However, years of handling difficult business matters and maneuvering through the treacherous maze of polite society had served him well. He took a deep breath and looked the detective in the eye. “Am I being charged with something, Detective?”
“Maybe.” Detective Carson remained silent after that one word. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the long clock in the corner. It was as if all the occupants in the room were holding their collective breath.
William had always dealt with business matters by remaining silent. He remained silent. He felt he was doing a good job of hiding the shock he’d just received, which was twisting his stomach and making his heart pound. Although he’d known in the back of his mind that the detectives would love to involve him in the murder for various reasons, he had never thought it would get this close.
Detective Carson placed a folder on the small table in front of them. William immediately recognized it as the file they’d seen in Harding’s library before the police arrived and confiscated it.
William, Viscount Wethington (St. John).
The man opened the folder and looked at the top page and then over to William. “You and Harding were involved in some pretty shady deals, my lord.”
The shocks continued. “What?” William stood, his hands fisted at his side. “I have never involved myself in anything shady in my life.”
Carson continued to stare at him. Then he tapped on the open file. “Not according to this.” He flipped the cover of the folder back. “It says right here, ‘William, Viscount Wethington (St. John).’ Is that you?”
William’s eyes flashed. “I will not play games, Detective. You know very well that is me. However, regardless of what it says in that file”—he nodded toward the folder sitting on the table—“I have no idea what you are talking about with regard to shady deals.”
The detective picked up a shaft of papers and flipped through them. “Fraud, embezzlement, stock manipulation …”
This visit had turned into a nightmare. William had only just begun to suspect that Harding was playing fast and loose with his business matters, but this! The man must have been dealing in dirty business almost from the time he’d employed him.
William reached out. “I want to see those papers, Detective.”
For reasons unknown, the man handed him the file. William looked through the documents, his rage growing and his stomach sinking as he read. Harding had forged William’s signature on a number of contracts that he knew nothing about.
“I don’t care what those papers say, I am completely unaware of any of these dealings. My signature on the documents is a forgery.”
“I take it that is your official story?” Carson leaned back in the chair and studied William as if he were a bug under a glass.
“It is no story, Detective. It is the truth. I have never done anything illegal in my life.” The sweat began to form on his body, and he hoped it would not reach his face, which would only give the detective reason to believe he was lying.
William turned to Amy sitting next to him, needing to cling to a lifeline. “You believe me, don’t you, Amy? You know I would never do anything illegal?”
The panic grew as she hesitated and just looked at him. Surely she would know the truth about him.
Amy studied William and saw the man she’d known for years, whom she’d grown close to over the past year. He was smart, polite, caring, and the most upstanding man she knew, aside from her own papa and brother. In those few seconds while William waited for her answer, she realized she believed him with her whole heart. She trusted him, and aside from a few illegal break-ins—necessary to their investigations, of course—he would never do anything criminal.
She reached out and took his hand, despite the idiot detectives grinning at each other. “Of course I believe you, William. I trust you and would trust you with my life. I know you well. You would never do those things.”
Carson looked at them with disgust. “That’s all very nice and cozy, but we still believe these papers are solid evidence that you and Harding were involved in nefarious activities. Together. Then the man turns up floating in the river. Leads me to believe you didn’t want to continue to share your gains anymore.”
William fisted his hands at his side. “No gains, Detective, because I was not aware of this.”
“So you say.”
William tried assiduously to control his temper. Lashing out at the detectives would not serve his cause. “I will ask once more, sir, am I being charged with something? If that is the case, then I demand a barrister be present to represent me if the questions continue. If not, I then ask you to leave. Lady Amy has nothing to do with this, and I strenuously object to you coming to her house and involving her.”
“My, my. Aren’t we protective?” Carson stood, apparently tired of William hovering above him. “I disagree, my lord. Lady Amy was found at your side when you identified Mr. Harding’s dead body and when you—illegally I might add—broke into the man’s home in search of your file. Like it or not, she is involved, or rather, she has involved herself.”
The detective bent over the table and gathered the papers and shoved them into the folder. “There are further questions. Many of them. At this point I suggest you retain a barrister and report to the police station at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Marsh flipped his notebook closed and stood. The two men lumbered from the room. Amy wrapped her arms around her middle, sick to her stomach. “What are you going to do, William?”
He ran his fingers through
