Fatal by Design: A Bow Street Duchess Mystery (A Romantic Regency Historical Mystery) (Bow Street Duchess Mystery Series Book 5) by Cara Devlin

Author:Cara Devlin [Devlin, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: First Cup Press
Published: 2023-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twelve

Michael was pouring a round of whiskies when she and Hugh entered the study. Audrey was hopeful one of the glasses was meant for her, but knowing her brother-in-law, she wouldn’t count on it. For a moment, she debated on joining him at the decanters and pouring her own, if only to fortify herself for the coming conversation. Lord Westbrook’s surly reaction to being questioned hadn’t been remarkable. In fact, his agitation only indicated that he was hiding something.

The marquess stood stiffly, his whole demeanor radiating indignance.

“Ask your questions, then, though I don’t know what the devil this could be about,” he all but shouted.

The whisky would have to come later. Getting this interview finished was far more appealing. She remained standing, her hands resting on the back of a leather club chair.

“This is about your intention to propose to Lady Redding and your failure to react appropriately when her carriage was attacked. I want to know why.”

A fleeting expression of blank mystification slackened Lord Westbrook’s face before his pale skin began to redden.

“That is…utterly untrue. Absurd! Upon my word, Your Grace, I have no interest in marrying Lady Redding.”

“Then why would the Baron Edgerton and Lady Edgerton be under the impression that you do?” Hugh asked.

The marquess’s unvarnished confusion returned as he glared at Hugh. “I have no idea why they would be under such faulty impressions! I have never spoken to either of them about Lady Redding.”

Westbrook’s attention flicked back toward Audrey, who noted the blood rushing up from under his cravat to color his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Was it embarrassment or aggravation? She came around the club chair. “But you have spoken to someone about it, for my mother and uncle heard rumors of your plans to propose.”

Michael extended a glass of whisky to Westbrook, one eyebrow pressed low in the expression he usually reserved for concern. But the marquess waved the glass away.

“They heard incorrectly, Your Grace,” he said, his pique cooling, if only to a slight degree.

Audrey glanced toward Hugh, wishing she could know how he was finding the marquess’s answers. Hugh had mentioned before that people often showcased the truth in the way they physically expressed themselves, rather than by what they said. She supposed she would have to wait until later to ask him whether he thought Westbrook was being duplicitous. Her own opinion was that he was telling at least a half-truth. So, what more was he not divulging?

Michael extended the rejected whisky to Hugh. He accepted it, and his eyes met Audrey’s as he put the glass to his lips. Though Hugh was the one sipping the whisky, her insides warmed as if she’d just sipped the spirits too. The day’s ride to Kent had been awkward, to say the least. With Greer between them, Audrey had been at a complete loss for conversation. What else was there to speak of other than Millie’s case, which they had no new information to examine, or their night together?

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