“It’s urgent.”
“So I gather. I was in the park most of yesterday afternoon. Why not seek me there?”
The man had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, um, I had only heard about it late... and you were with... with—”
“Lady Crewood. Am I to assume you did not want to speak with me in her presence?”
“Well... it would have been somewhat awkward, guv.”
“No doubt.” Matthew glowered at the man, annoyance tightening every muscle.
Because, in fact, the visit to the park had been uncomfortable enough without a Bow Street runner appearing. Sarah had, at first, been quite a pleasant companion. Matthew had decided the safest topic of conversation would be her house, and she had been enthusiastic about it. She obviously loved the little home and its convenient location. She described some of the repairs—which she had mentioned in the Lyon’s office—and knew a great deal more about the structure and what would be needed for fixes than he had expected. As he had quizzed her further, she had explained that she had overseen repairs on the Crewood estate.
Yet another skill that made her a good match for his needs. And Matthew realized he truly enjoyed this woman’s company. As Mrs. Dove-Lyon had indicated, Sarah had a deep intelligence and knowledge of the world around her, and a sly and unexpected humor. She made a joke about the prime minister, which made Matthew chuckle, and asked informed questions about Wellington’s campaigns that had led to the current peace.
Then they had started meeting people, other members of the aristocracy, who not only strolled calmly along Rotten Row but obviously made turns to ensure their paths crossed with Matthew and Sarah. Sideways glances and whispers hidden behind fans and gloved hands seemed to be the trend of the day, but not all were so circumspect. The news about the bann had obviously spread, and more than one noble addressed him—but not Sarah—with inquiries. They blithely ignored her while peppering him with pointed questions about when they had met. Was she not still in mourning? Was it not too soon since his father’s death? Was his mother, still the Duchess of Embleton, aware? Did she approve? Had he not met some of the lovelier debutantes from this season—endowed with substantial dowries and ripe for marriage? Did he not think such suddenness was untoward?
At his side, Sarah fell silent and grew increasingly pale behind her veil, her gaze focused on the path beneath them. His irritation sidled slowly into rage, especially as they ignored his curt replies and attempts to engage Sarah in the conversations. The last straw came when one woman referred to her as “a widow by choice,” and the first tears trailed down her cheeks.
Extracting them from the conversation before he lost all sense of civility, Matthew escorted Sarah out of the park. Inside the safety of her own house, she had confronted him. “Now you see. This is what you will face. Now and forever. If you want to withdraw, now would be the time.”
She had fled up the stairs, leaving him to wish that he had never returned from the battlefield. In that moment, he could have easily laid every member of the aristocracy out for the count. But Matthew did not want to withdraw.
He wanted to prove them wrong.
Matthew took a deep breath. “Let us be straightforward with each other, shall we not, Mr. Lewis? I am a duke, but I am also a soldier. I do not care for the vagaries of speech that characterize so much of Society chatter. You are here because the newest Earl of Crewood asked you to look once again into the death of the elder earl almost two years ago. Because the man died so soon after he had tried to kill his wife, suspicion initially fell upon her. Suspicions unfounded, as she was still bedridden from her injuries.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Therefore, her household was investigated, including all the servants. Nothing could be proven. The doctor who oversaw his death suspected poison, but was unsure as to what kind. Speculation among the Crewood servants, which has spread far and wide, was that arsenic had been used, but without major symptoms it would have had to be administered in small doses over a long period of time, which would have meant crafting and executing the plan weeks if not months before his demise. Yet no arsenic was found at the estate, not even in the kitchens. The second guess was an opium overdose, but the doctor made no clear declaration beyond an accidental poisoning. With no evidence, the matter was dropped by Bow Street, but it is quite clear to me that the new earl has not surrendered and has delved into rumor-mongering and vile aspersions in an attempt to once again soil Lady Crewood’s reputation. Am I up to snuff so far?”
Lewis stared, his mouth gaping.
Mark cleared his throat. “My brother made serious inquiries before engaging Lady Crewood.”
“So I see.”
Matthew stiffened. “What am I missing? Your presence here cannot just be a warning that I seek to marry a woman who has killed her previous husband. What has happened to bring new interest to this incident? Why has Crewood pressed this issue?”
Lewis looked from one brother to the other, then straightened and rolled his shoulders. “There is no proof that the former Lord Crewood tried to kill her.”
“He shoved her into a fireplace.”
“He claimed it were an accident. She stumbled and fell.”
“Heshoved herinto a fireplace and made no attempt to help her. The butler pulled her out and smothered the fire.”
“That would be no excuse—”
“What has changed, sir?”
“Money.”
The room fell silent again.
“I told you it would be about the money,” Mark muttered.
Matthew uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “Explain.”