Wycliff jerked his head back. He looked at Benedict through incredulous eyes. “Did you get the impression she wanted you to bed her?”
“She seemed receptive to the idea, yes, but I’ll not have relations with a woman because she wishes to express her gratitude.”
Wycliff appeared more confused than ever.
Benedict sighed with frustration. How the devil could he make Wycliff understand? “A man should make love to his wife, not tumble her like Haymarket ware. When resentment clouds one’s judgement, it is possible to confuse the two.”
Wycliff’s eyes widened. “Good God.” He relaxed back in the chair and laughed. “You’re still in love with her. That’s why you married her. That’s why you’ve taken the risk. It makes more sense now.
“I’m not in love with her, but remnants of the old feelings are always there. We’ve despised each other for so long I’m not certain what is real anymore.”
“Does Tregarth know this is how you feel?”
“Before you jump to conclusions, my father did not arrange Cassandra’s ruination so that I might marry her.” Tregarth would do anything to secure Benedict’s happiness, but he would never stoop to such vile tactics. “Nor would he hurt an innocent to punish Lord Worthen.”
Wycliff steepled his fingers and offered a mischievous grin. “Then we should strike him off the list of suspects.”
“List of suspects? How do you know I am out for revenge?” Oh, he was out to punish someone for treating his wife so despicably.
“Well, if you weren’t out all night bedding women to banish thoughts of your wife, you must have been doing something to occupy your mind. Indeed, I took the liberty of visiting my father last night and made some enquiries of my own.”
Benedict drained the tumbler of brandy and put the empty glass on the side table. “Did you discover anything of interest?”
“The most notable members of the ton attended Lord Craven’s ball, including my father. By all accounts, Lord Purcell has a vendetta against Worthen and has slandered the earl’s name all over town.”
“A vendetta?” It came as no surprise. Most people despised the earl. “Then it’s no coincidence he was one of the men who received a note to come to Hyde Park.” Of course, Purcell might have written the notes himself, arranged the whole damn thing knowing Benedict was the last person Worthen wanted his daughter to marry. “Does your father know what started the feud?”
“There was a bankruptcy auction for Reavey Hall, a substantial property in Shropshire which borders Purcell’s estate. Tenders were submitted as sealed bids, but Purcell believes Worthen filed more than one bid and bribed a clerk to present the appropriate one. There’s no proof, but Worthen ridiculed Purcell for lacking the funds to make a serious offer.”
Benedict absorbed the information. Lord Worthen loved nothing more than belittling men he deemed inferior. Purcell was guilty of the same, so it was no surprise the men were embroiled in a bitter dispute.
“So Purcell has a motive. What about opportunity?”
Wycliff arched a brow. “That’s where it gets interesting. Trent went to Lord Craven’s mews and bribed a groom. On the night in question, a man fitting Purcell’s description bungled a woman with blonde hair into his carriage. The vehicle bolted from the mews as if the wheels were ablaze.”
Benedict jumped to his feet. “By God, then Purcell is the villain responsible.” And he would fire a lead ball between the lord’s brows for his treachery. “Only a man could have carried Cassandra’s body from the road to the Serpentine.”
“It pays not to jump to conclusions. The groom said numerous drunken couples climbed into their carriages that night. Does Cassandra recall speaking to Purcell at the ball? You said someone drugged her, so she must have encountered her kidnapper.”
Benedict dropped into the seat. He’d been so desperate to place some distance between them he’d not taken the time to question Cassandra. “We agreed to make a detailed account of events during dinner tonight. Her memory is so hazy I saw no reason to distress her by pressing for information.”
Wycliff nodded, which went some way to easing Benedict’s embarrassment. “There’s something else you should know. I met with Woods last night, too.”
“Mrs Crandall’s majordomo? What, has he finally escaped her evil clutches?” Besides greeting guests and serving drinks, Mrs Crandall’s servant often performed private services for his mistress.
“Woods is trying to gather enough funds to make a new life for himself in Boston. I paid him handsomely for the information last night, though he asked me to remind you that if you intend to travel abroad, he would happily act as your valet.”
“The man is so desperate to leave Mrs Crandall’s employ I might pay for his fare myself.” Benedict knew firsthand what it was like to be the recipient of the woman’s rampant affections.
“Trent said the same.” Wycliff gestured to the row of decanters on the drinks table. “Another brandy?”
“Not for me. When I return home, I’d rather not smell as if I’ve partaken in a night of drunken debauchery.” Cassandra had taken her breakfast in her room this morning, and so had no idea what time he had come home. “What did Woods say?”
“That Mrs Crandall is as obsessed with you as ever. Drummond, McCreath and Forrester have never been to her den of vice on Theobolds Road. Purcell visited last week, took tea in the drawing room, and Woods swears Purcell mentioned Lord Worthen’s name.”
Benedict fell silent. How would ruining Cassandra help Mrs Crandall’s bid to win his affections? “Mrs Crandall has nothing to gain by hurting Lord Worthen. Perhaps she discovered how much I despise Cassandra and gave me her ruination as a gift.” That was one of many scenarios he’d considered after arriving in Hyde Park.
“Then she will be livid when she learns you married the lady.”