UNCOMMON DUKE, AN by BENSON LAURIE

Author:BENSON, LAURIE [BENSON, LAURIE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: REGENCY ROMANCE
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Once Hart was on his way, Gabriel rang for Bennett. ‘Is Her Grace home?’

‘No, sir, I believe she is at Mr Manning’s studio for her sitting.’

Gabriel closed his eyes and prayed he was wrong. ‘Do you know when she is expected to return?’

‘No, sir, I do not.’

‘Is Colette with her?’

‘No, she was granted the day to visit her mother. I believe Lady Haverstraw is with Her Grace today.’

Gabriel rubbed the ring that had belonged to his father, not at all comfortable with what he was about to do. ‘If she arrives home in the next hour, I need you to keep her from our rooms.’

Bennett did not look pleased and he knew it was taking all of his butler’s control not to say what was on his mind.

‘Do I make myself clear, Bennett?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Bennett replied before Gabriel took the stairs, two steps at a time.

Olivia had mentioned Manning had painted something for her. He paused in the doorway of her bedchamber and knew once he entered, his life with his wife might be changed for ever.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and was met with the faint scent of honeysuckle. He had not been in the room without her in years. The curtains were drawn back, letting the light stream in through the mullioned windows. There were miniature portraits on her dressing table.

That appeared to be as good a place as any to start. He picked up each frame and squinted at the signature on each one. If any of these were painted by Manning, it would be anyone’s guess from the small size of the writing.

He ran his hand through his hair and turned about the room. There was a landscape over her bed and two smaller ones flanking the large one. Who did she say Manning painted?

His entire body froze and his gaze shifted to the fireplace. There it was. Over the mantel was a portrait of Nicholas. His son was sitting on a bench wearing a blue-velvet gown, his arms wrapped around Gabriel’s mother’s spaniel, Caesar. Walking slowly towards it, he found the signature of the artist in the lower-right corner. His stomach dropped when he took note of the distinct curve of the ‘m’.

There was no denying it. Hart was correct. Olivia’s friend was the man who’d supplied the gunman with Prinny’s whereabouts. However, the scrap of paper he held in his hand would not prove a thing in court. They needed to monitor Manning’s movements and hope he revealed his actions.

He knew he should not waste the opportunity to try to find something that might tie Olivia to Manning’s crime. His stomach rolled at the idea.

On the table beside her bed was a stack of books. He went through each one, looking for hidden notes, but found none. Her dressing table held the usual items a woman kept on hand. He checked and found no hidden compartments. Where would a woman hide her secrets?

He entered her dressing room, where just that morning he knew she’d reclined bathing in the warm water he had arranged for her.

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