Apollo glared. “I’ll thank you not to spread my connection to her about.”
“Why would I do that?” Montgomery looked honestly puzzled and Apollo repressed an urge to punch the man in the nose. “What good is knowledge if one shares it with everyone?”
Anything he answered would only provide fuel for Montgomery’s scheming, so Apollo changed the subject. “Have you discovered anything of interest in your sneaking about, Your Grace?”
“Sneaking sounds so very… bad.” Montgomery sniffed as they descended the stairs.
Apollo looked at him.
“Very well!” The duke threw up his hands. “Don’t lose your temper, I don’t know if I could withstand your hamlike fists. I’ve discovered that Mrs. Jellett has a rather handsome, rather young footman she brings everywhere, that Mr. William Greaves has a valet who spent most of his youth in Newgate, that Mr. and Mrs. Warner, despite their newly wedded bliss, keep separate bedrooms—although I’d suspected that already”—the smile he gave was rather nasty—“and that Lady Herrick has a birthmark in the shape of a butterfly on her left buttock. Oh, and that said birthmark turns an interesting shade of lavender when slapped.”
Apollo stopped in the hallway outside the breakfast room and simply stared at his companion.
“What?” Montgomery looked irritated. “I defy any man to not take the opportunity when presented to slap a lovely arse.”
Apollo sighed and continued walking. “Anything else?”
The duke frowned for a moment before supplying, “Miss Royle dislikes me exceedingly.”
Apollo arched an eyebrow. “I’d think any number of young ladies dislike you.”
“Yes, they do,” the duke replied carelessly. “That’s not the interesting part. The interesting part is that I seem to care one way or the other. It’s rather fascinating, truth be told.”
Apollo rolled his eyes at the man’s vanity. “You’ve collected a quantity of knowledge, Your Grace, and none of it is in any way helpful to my case.”
“Ah, but one never knows,” the duke replied. “Knowledge has a strange way of becoming applicable at the oddest moments. It’s why I take care to gather any and all information, no matter how trivial it may seem at first. But never fear: we’ve only been at the house party for less than a day and I anticipate more discoveries today.”
Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Why today?”
“Didn’t you know?” Montgomery had that look of amusement that Apollo was beginning to loathe. “Additional guests arrived late last night.”
And he threw open the door to the breakfast room, revealing Edwin Stump, his mouth full of toast.
But it wasn’t Edwin that Apollo stared at. There were two other people in the room—a rather plain but gentle-faced lady and, beside her, a big man with an olive complexion, a scowl twisting his features. He had one green eye and one blue.
o;Oh, Apollo.” She hadn’t much family herself, but to be so harshly judged simply because one had found an interest in life? It seemed ridiculous.
He nuzzled her hair. “That day I was in London. I met up with three friends. We resolved to spend the night together—two were from school and I’d not seen them in some years. We reserved the back room of a tavern in Whitechapel and ordered wine and food.”
She stirred. “Why such an awful part of London?”
“We hadn’t much money, I’m afraid. The tavern was cheap.”
He stopped speaking, but she could feel his uneven breaths.
“What happened?”
He inhaled. “I don’t know. We shared a bottle—and after that all is blackness. I woke the next morning with my head pounding as if it would split. As soon as I moved I vomited. And then I saw my hands.”
“Apollo?” She tried to twist her face to see him, but he tightened his hold on her.
“I’d been drunk before,” he rasped. “But this was nothing like that. It was as if I were dreaming and couldn’t wake. My hands were covered in blood, I held a knife in my right hand, and there was screaming. I couldn’t stand—when I tried, I fell. And my friends…”
She squeezed his hands. She already knew what had happened to his friends. The scene of the murder had been recounted in countless newssheets—and whether the details had been correct hardly mattered at this moment. They’d been murdered.
Horribly slaughtered.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “so sorry.”