“I will come for the theater if nothing else.” He would not have Nicholas face them alone, even though he could picture the exact moment when Nicholas, bombarded with complaints and a rising crescendo of accusations, dragged him into the thick of it.
None of them would believe that the simplest explanation was the only one. The duke had written that will that way because he wanted to.
His uncle had been a very unusual man. Mercurial in his emotions. Radical in his politics, not that he did much in that area. Generous at times, and miserly at others. Very smart, too. On a whim he had learned several foreign languages. Not German or Russian. Chinese and the tongue of indigenous Brazil.
The duke was not mad, but very much an original. He might well have given away fortunes to strangers, in which case finding those other two women would be nigh impossible.
Chase’s horse came around the house, guided by that blond groom. He slipped the fellow a shilling before mounting. As he peered over the horse’s back, something across the street caught his eye. He stopped, one boot in a stirrup, and watched.
A woman strolled along the fence that enclosed the park. Her bonnet’s brim obscured her face and her garments appeared presentable but unremarkable. None of that garnered his attention. The edge of a memory did. He was almost sure that she had been there when he arrived, walking in the same direction.
“Sir?” The groom called for his attention.
“Keep him here. I will return shortly.” With the groom and Nicholas exchanging perplexed looks, Chase strode toward the street.
* * *
Minerva made it a point not to look at Whiteford House when she walked past it. While many probably did gawk at its façade, she did not want to draw attention to herself. There were only so many times one could pass a home before one did that, and she was well on her way to the limit.
On her way down the lane she had seen two men outside. One had looked to be Chase Radnor. All the more reason to remain inconspicuous. She wished she could take one good look, however. Perhaps the other man was the new duke. Jeremy, who had managed to be hired as a groom here, said the duke remained in the house most days, but that he often left around three o’clock. It was now quarter past three.
None other than Jeremy himself brought a horse around the house while she passed. From the corner of her eye she could see that attract both men’s attention. She took the opportunity to turn her head and give the unknown man a good examination.
He stood as tall as Chase, and they shared other qualities such as dark hair. Her quick glance took in his boots and coats, which were of superior quality. The two of them had much in common.
She continued her walk with more purpose. After three to and fros, her time was up.
Warmth at her side. A presence hovering. The boots that fell into step with her arrived unexpectedly. She reared back and looked up. Chase Radnor was looking down at her.
She had not heard him approach. Normally she knew someone followed her as soon as they came within twenty-five feet.
“Out taking a turn?” he asked. “You are far afield from your home.”
She stopped and faced him. That conveniently gave her an excellent view of the house over his shoulder. “I often come to Hyde Park, and today decided to admire the large homes on this lane.”
“I would say you decided to do a close study, since you walked by at least twice. Four times, since I only saw you retracing your steps. Some would consider that suspicious activity. It is the sort of thing thieves do before they enter unannounced.”
“You would know about sneaking into homes in ways I don’t.”
“Do you have a particular interest in Whiteford House, Mrs. Hepplewhite?”
She made a point of raising her chin and looking past him so she might appear vexed he delayed her. It also allowed her to watch that other man leave on his horse.
“Not at all, other than it being impressive.” She returned her gaze to him. “And it is Miss Hepplewhite.”
His blue eyes sparkled with humor, transforming his stern face into one much more alluring. Little stomach flutters almost distracted her from the house.
“You have chosen to style yourself as never married? What happens if you decide to wed again, and have to explain the truth?”
Her laughter burst out indelicately. “Oh, my.” She caught her breath. “I think it is safe to say that I will never marry. You see, a friend I would trust with my life once confided that marriage was worse than prison.” The details of what such a prison could entail cleared her humor in a snap, and dried her eyes just in time to see the duke ride off his property.
She squinted, trying to observe details.
Radnor looked over his shoulder. “Ah. It is not the house that interests you, but the family.”
She tried an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“That is my cousin.” He stepped aside. “Look to your heart’s content.”
Although annoyed, she did look. The horse came onto the street and headed in their direction. She managed not to stare, but still take him in. A handsome man, he resembled Chase Radnor but had more regular features. The strong bone structure made him appear dashing, not harsh.
The duke passed within ten feet of them, then all she could see was his back. She gave up her examination to find Radnor watching her intently.
“He appears a sober sort,” she said.
“He is concerned about our uncle’s death,” he said. “He thinks it may have been a murder.” He bowed. “I must take my leave. The groom who is holding my horse no doubt has other duties.”
“Do you think it was?” she asked when he had taken a few steps away. “Murder, I mean.”
He looked back at her. “I am almost certain of it.”
Chapter Three
Minerva waited while Mrs. Drable considered the request presented to her.
Mrs. Drable fingered the white fichu at her dress’s neckline, her slender fingers straying on occasion to the cameo pendant that dangled below her throat. Although at least fifty years in age, Mrs. Drable appeared younger, due in part to her soft complexion and her vivid red hair. A neighbor for whom Minerva had done a good turn, they had met today for a professional reason.
“There is one young woman,” Mrs. Drable finally said. “I think she would do. She currently is without a situation, and I despair of finding her a new one. She is educated enough to write and read, and she has a decent hand. She has, however, no experience in what you describe.”
“Where is she now? I will visit her if you arrange it.” This young woman’s experience or education were secondary to her spirit. Minerva required someone with a bit of adventure in her blood. Hepplewhite’s Office of Discreet Inquiries would be no ordinary situation.
“She just started on a short hire. A week at most. The new Duke of Hollinburgh is hosting a family gathering and the housekeeper asked their usual service to supply extra servants just for that. They are woefully short of staff due to servants leaving with their pensions.”
That explained why Jeremy had found work there so easily. He had only hoped to be taken on for occasional service, but had been offered daily work once they saw he knew the labor.
Mrs. Drable sighed. “Well, it is not the sort of thing we do, is it? Nor are there many decent servants available for such a brief duty. So the word went out to all of us. Elise was available and I sent her over. That is her name. Elise Turner.”