A Duke to Remember (A Season for Scandal Book 2) (3 page)

“I know. The duchess is in Chelmsford.”

Elise narrowed her eyes at him. Ivory was indeed in Chelmsford, managing a situation there. But that was not common knowledge.

King shrugged in response. “One hears things.”

And that was the problem, Elise thought to herself. The man was as dangerous and as unpredictable as a pit viper, but he had connections that ran as deeply into the upper echelons of London society as they did into the gutters of the underworld. And there were times when Chegarre & Associates needed his assistance.

King reached out a hand and touched the lapel of Elise’s coat, rubbing the coarse wool between his fingers, as if testing its quality. It was everything she could do to remain still.

“I would trouble you to step away from my sister,” Alex said, taking a slow sip of whiskey, his posture not altering, but the threat in his voice unmistakable.

The corner of King’s mouth lifted, and he withdrew his hand. “No need to get so prickly, Lavoie. I am rather an admirer of Miss DeVries, if you must know. I have great respect for those who are good at what they do.”

Alex made a rude noise. “Respect? A strange word coming from the mouth of a man who thought auctioning a wom—”

“Whatever business was between the duchess and myself was just that, Lavoie. Business.” King looked at Alex coldly.

“Enough.” Elise put her hands on her hips, drawing on those acting skills that King had so recently praised and cloaking her face in a mask of boredom. “We’re wasting time, and I have clients waiting. Why are you here, King?”

King examined the ring on his finger. “I was made to understand that you were asking questions about Francis Ellery and the son of the late Duke of Ashland on behalf of a client.”

Jesus, was there nothing that this man didn’t hear? She glanced at Alex and saw him put his glass to the side. “Perhaps,” she replied.

“In the spirit of the respect I have for this fine firm, I thought I might bring to your attention the fact that Francis Ellery has recently hired two assassins.”

Elise felt her jaw slacken. “I beg your pardon?”

“Not good ones, mind you, because Ellery simply can’t afford them. The vainglorious sot has galloped his way through whatever money was left to him and whatever he borrowed after that. And good assassins, the kind that can make murder seem like the most innocent of accidents, are heinously expensive. At least my favorites are. Highway robbery if you ask me, but then again, one gets what one pays for.”

Elise was trying to make sense of this. “Why are you sharing this with us?”

“Because their target is Noah Ellery.”

A deafening silence descended in the room.

“He’s alive then,” Elise said carefully.

“Yes. Or at least he was the last time I saw him. And I’d very much like to locate him before these middling assassins do.”

Elise’s mind was racing. “When did you see him last?”

“Twelve years ago.”

“Where?”

“Here. In London.”

“Ellery was in
London
?”

“He was. Until Lady Abigail left the glitter of high society behind and married a blacksmith from Derby. Very dedicated to and protective of his sister, you know.” His eyes slid to Alex.

Elise frowned. “Lady Abigail didn’t mention any of this.”

“That is because Lady Abigail never knew he was in London. It’s possible she assumes him dead. I can tell you with certainty that she’s never done or said anything in the past twelve years to indicate that she believes he’s still alive.”

“You’ve been watching her.”

King smoothed a finger over the top of his walking stick. “Checking in occasionally, perhaps.”

“And how did
you
know the duke’s son was in London?”

“That is none of your business.”

Elise regarded King impassively, knowing there was something much deeper here than King’s professed respect for Chegarre & Associates. “Just what, exactly, is your interest in Noah Ellery?”

Something in King’s face shifted. “That would also be none of your business.”

“No, that is very much my business. For I am not in the habit of locating individuals if I know that exposing them will endanger their lives.”

King’s nostrils flared slightly. “You think I wish to harm him?”

Elise shrugged. “Do you?”

The man’s pale eyes slitted. “If I had known before today that Francis Ellery had hired such men, I would have located these assassins and paid them double to forget the name Noah Ellery ever existed. I might have paid them double again to make Francis Ellery disappear instead. Still might.” A muscle flexed along his clean-shaven jaw. “But they are in the wind at the moment. And I can’t have Francis killed. Not yet. He may still be useful in locating the heir to Ashland.”

“And just why do you wish to find him?” Elise prodded, deliberately ignoring King’s casual threat to have Francis Ellery executed.

“Because I owe Noah a great debt.” For a split second, there was emotion on King’s face, a vulnerable pain, though it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “And I do not wish to see him harmed.”

Elise blinked. Bloody hell. Did a real human being dwell somewhere beneath King’s icy, twisted exterior?

“If you know so much about this man, why do you need me to find him?”

“Because I have been unable to. And believe me, I’ve tried. But Noah Ellery has covered his tracks too well.”

“I see.”

“I am told you used to be a tracker for the British army. Somewhere in the Empire’s colonies.”

Elise stilled. That wasn’t something she often shared. But it was a waste of time wondering how King had come to know it. “Yes.”

“Further, I am told that you are the best.”

“At what?”

“At finding people who don’t wish to be found.”

“Yes. I am,” said Elise. She knew King had little tolerance for false modesty.

“I know Lady Abigail is here at present,” King said. “And I am hopeful that she can offer a clue as to her brother’s whereabouts that I have yet to uncover. But I know she does not have the funds to pay all of the charges that will be incurred in this matter. I do, and I wish Chegarre to look to me for compensation. But do not, under any circumstances, divulge my involvement in this matter to anyone. This conversation never happened, do you understand?”

“Yes.” Elise paused, frowning. There were more important issues at hand than invoicing details. “How does Francis Ellery even know his cousin is alive?”

“There are some very thin rumors surfacing now,” King said, tracing the tip of his walking stick over the pattern in the rug. “Among those who knew the late Duke of Ashland had a son. Among those who remember that child. Among those who have discovered that there is no credible record of death for that child, who, as far as anyone can determine, has not been seen in over twenty years. Rumors enough to stay Francis’s hand on the duchy of Ashland. At least for now. At least until Noah Ellery can be confirmed dead.” King looked up at her, and his eyes were as flat and as frigid as Elise had ever seen them.

She felt her skin crawl.

King’s cane stilled on the carpet, his knuckles tightening on the handle. “I take exception to a man who thinks to claim something he has no right to from someone who…” He trailed off, and Elise wondered silently just what the hell Noah Ellery had done to earn such devotion from a man as terrifying as this one. “You’ll advise me of your progress?” King’s hand relaxed, and he straightened.

“Of course,” Elise murmured.

“Very good. Mr. Lavoie, Miss DeVries, always a pleasure.” He offered them a smile with no warmth. “I’ll see myself out.”

A silence fell as both Elise and Alex considered the empty doorway through which King had just vanished.

“Is he telling the truth, do you think?” Alex asked presently, pushing himself to his feet.

“I think King was as honest as he’s ever been,” Elise said slowly.

“More than we can say about Lady Abigail.”

“Yes.” Elise put her glass down on the sideboard and pulled off her beard, wincing as the glue tugged at her skin. “It won’t be the last time a client tries to conceal something of importance from us. Though for the life of me, I can’t begin to guess why Lady Abigail hasn’t contacted her brother if she knows he’s alive. He could free his mother from Bedlam in less than a moment.” She rubbed at the reddened skin on her jaw, thinking of the duchess imprisoned in chains.

The same sense of weary sadness she had felt earlier pressed in on her again.

“Are you all right?” Alex had stepped closer to her.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You were talking to Roddy about milking cows.”

“Do you ever miss it? Home, that is?” Elise asked suddenly, thinking of the orchards and the pastures and the forests that they had grown up in. Where things had been simple and straightforward.

Alex was quiet. “I don’t miss the war,” he said.

“I’m not talking about the war, or what it cost us. I’m talking about the farm. When we were still a family.”

“You’re still my family, little sister,” Alex reminded her. “And it doesn’t matter if we’re in York or London.”

“I know.”

“I try not to look backwards, Elise. Makes it hard to see where you’re going.”

Elise looked down. Alex was right. But it was also hard to see where you were going when you couldn’t even be sure who you were anymore.

“Do you want me to handle this, Elise?” Alex asked. “I can close the club for a week—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elise said, raising her head. “I’ve got nothing holding me here. The theater is closed. The ink isn’t even dry on Elliston’s lease, and he’s talking about repainting the entire interior. It will be months before he’ll reopen.” She had no idea where this melancholy was coming from, but she needed to focus on the task ahead of her. If she was to help the Duchess of Ashland, she would need to be at her best. “I’ll handle this, Alex. If Noah Ellery is alive, I’ll find him. It’s what I do, after all.”

“Right.” Alex was still watching her. “Well, do you want me to help you talk to Lady Abigail at least?”

“No, I think this will go better if I interview Lady Abigail alone. I don’t want her to feel ambushed.”

“Understood.” Alex glanced in the direction of the hall. “But I insist you send me word about the outcome. Especially,” he added, “if you come across a living, dead heir.”

Roddy fetched Lady Abigail from the kitchens at Elise’s request, and she arrived in the drawing room slightly out of breath, a look of hopeful expectation stamped on her face.

“Were you able to see my mother, Miss DeVries?” Abigail asked, hurrying forward.

“I did,” Elise answered, removing her wig and running her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Was she all right? Surely you could see that there was nothing wrong with her?”

Elise let her hands drop as she regarded the woman standing in front of her. Abigail had her hands on her sturdy hips, her blond hair escaping the tight crown of braids at the back of her head. The seconds ticked by, and still Elise said nothing. The hope in Lady Abigail’s eyes faded and was replaced by deep apprehension.

“Where is Noah living at the moment?” Elise finally inquired. She had no interest in wasting any more time.

The woman paled, before bright spots of pink burned into her cheeks and she looked away. “My brother is dead.”

Lady Abigail was lying. She, like King, knew Noah Ellery was alive.

“You are right about one thing, my lady,” said Elise. “I don’t think that there is anything wrong with your mother or her mind. Yet your cousin pays handsomely to keep her locked up, subjected to torturous treatments that have no curative benefit, but will likely kill her within a month. Maybe two.”

“Oh God.” Lady Abigail sat down heavily on the settee.

“Let me tell you what I think, my lady, and you can simply agree or disagree. I think one cannot inherit a dukedom if the current,
sane
duchess insists that her son, the rightful heir, yet lives.” Elise came to sit next to Abigail. “With such a claim, the estate could be tied up indefinitely.”

Lady Abigail had her face buried in her hands. “This is such a bloody mess,” she mumbled through her fingers. She sounded on the brink of tears. “Damn Francis and his damn greed.”

“Did you never consider what would happen when your father died?”

“Of course! But I didn’t think Francis would do…this.” Abigail’s voice was barely audible.

“Is there no one you can appeal to for help?” Elise asked. “Old friends? Surely someone with enough political and social leverage could look into this on your behalf? You are, after all, the daughter of a duke.”

Abigail shook her head. “I have no friends in London anymore. I’m afraid I burned all of those bridges, though I can’t say I’ve ever regretted it until now. The members of the ton are more eager to align themselves with the next Duke of Ashland than the daughter of a madwoman.” She made a rude noise. “And people wonder why I left London and never looked back.”

Elise sighed. None of what Abigail had said was surprising, but they were still back where they had started. “Is your brother truly mad, as Francis implies?” Elise tried a different tack, though she winced slightly at the cruel manner in which her words came out. “Is that why he doesn’t wish to be found?”

Abigail was worrying a loose thread on her sleeve. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. “He might not have spoken as a child, but Noah is not mad.”

“Nor is he dead,” prompted Elise.

The woman shook her head miserably.

Elise felt a small rush of satisfaction. Now they were getting somewhere. “Where is he then? For I fear that he is the only person who has the power to save your mother in time. He must be fetched back to London.”

“I don’t know where my parents sent him. One day I came home and he was simply gone. I was only fourteen at the time, and they refused to tell me anything. His name was never mentioned in our household again until five years later when my father sat my mother and me down and told us that Noah was dead. He offered not a single detail about how he died, but demanded we accept my brother’s death as fact and move forward.”