Glancing across the table, I saw Lady Westover staring at me. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice my discomfort. I gave a half smile and turned my attention back to the duke.
He raised his dark brows. “Surely you didn’t think you could ask my deepest secrets without revealing your own?”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. “No and no. I’m not. Did you pay his blackmail and for how long?”
“No. I offered to buy the letters, but so far, we’ve not agreed on a price. Has a man ever made love to you?”
The soft growl of his voice as he asked me his impertinent question left me sweltering in the chilly dining room. I swallowed hard. “Yes. Who are the other men you mentioned who belong to your club who are also being blackmailed by Mr. Drake?” I wondered if he’d confirm the list I’d already obtained.
“Hancock, Dutton-Cox, Waxpool, and Merville. What did your parents think of your scandalous behavior?”
“It’s not a scandal if no one finds out, and my parents were long dead at that point. Why is Lord Hancock being blackmailed?”
His gaze flicked across the table at the man in question. “It can’t be over his inventions. They’re both dangerous and disastrous. And it’s no secret that his finances are shaky at best. With all that being gossiped about as common knowledge against Lord Hancock, I can’t imagine what his secret is. Are you and this unnamed gentleman still lovers?”
I was saved by the next course. I turned my attention back to Lord Naylard, giving my heart rate a chance to slow while I tried with delicacy to learn why Drake would blackmail such an uncomplicated man.
“I keep thinking of Mr. Drake,” I told Naylard. “He’s out there somewhere and here you are his good friend, and you don’t know where he is. Has he disappeared like this before?”
Naylard finished his bite. “This is very good roast. Try some. Drake hasn’t disappeared before. I never went more than two or three days without seeing him, and it’s been a week.”
“Do you always see him in the same locations? Perhaps you haven’t been to these places lately and Mr. Drake isn’t really missing.” I was already sick of looking at so much food and wishing this was Phyllida’s simple cooking.
He chewed slowly and studied the far wall. “No. I either see him at my club, and I’m there almost daily, or at the racecourse, but there haven’t been any races lately. Perhaps he’s gone somewhere to look at a promising filly. He’ll turn up and make a joke at the thought of anyone being concerned.”
“And as your sister says, it’s all in God’s hands.”
Naylard seemed to back up a little in his chair. “I say, are you one of them?”
“One of whom, milord?”
“Is that why you’re not quite eligible to go out in polite society?”
Had this man who appeared so simple figured out I was an impostor? “What do you mean, milord?”
“Lady Westover said you weren’t eligible for polite society. Nothing naughty, I hope.” He grinned as if he’d told a childish joke.
I grinned back. “No, but my grandmother was scandalous. Your sister hasn’t done anything scandalous, has she?”
“Oh, no. Lucinda believes in following all of the commandments. She’s very wise.”
“I’m certain of that.” Talking to Lord Naylard was useful, but I was beginning to develop a headache from all the verbal leaps we were taking. “Am I one of whom?”
“Papists, of course. Is that why you’re not quite eligible to go out in polite society?”
Was that the reason Miss Lucinda Naylard was blackmailed?
Naylard had begun another long tale about his animals when my roast course disappeared, replaced by the fowl course. I felt cold seep into every fiber of my being. Time to question Blackford again. My pulse began to race before I could turn my head.
The duke was already looking at me, a smile trailing off his face. The sort of look a cat gives a sparrow. Well, this sparrow was a determined little bird. “Was Drake blackmailing Hancock and the others in your club with letters their relatives had sent?”
“You haven’t answered my last question. Are you still his paramour?”
Chapter Seven
I GLARED at the Duke of Blackford, unwilling to let him probe my feelings of loss. The man had been my fiancé, my hope for a life with a husband and children, after I’d lost my family at seventeen. I took a breath to steady my voice. “He’s dead.”
“My condolences.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. Now—?”
“I don’t know what papers he was blackmailing the others with. I know in Merville’s case it is something going back more than ten years. When did your protector die?”
How dare he assume I was a kept woman. We were in love and planned to marry. The pain of losing him came out in my sharp hiss. “He wasn’t my protector. We were of the same class. He died four years ago. What did the duke say to tell you it was an old scandal?”
“He said, ‘I can’t believe Drake found out. It’s been over ten years. I’ll be a laughingstock if anyone learns about this.’ Did he tell you he’d marry you someday?”
I didn’t know which was more upsetting. His questions or his purring voice as he asked. “We were engaged and had set a wedding date. Rather like you and Miss Victoria, Your Grace.” My comment about Victoria Dutton-Cox made no visible impression on him. He didn’t even blink. “What do you know about the Earl of Waxpool’s secret?”
“Nothing. He doesn’t have one. Have you been in love since the death of your lover?”
I reached out and touched his sleeve. “Hold on a moment. He’s being blackmailed but he doesn’t have a secret? That makes no sense.”
“If you want clarification, you must answer my question first.”
“No.”
“The answer is no, or you won’t answer?”
I smiled. “If you want clarification . . .”
“Touché. The Earl of Waxpool has led a disgustingly virtuous life. You don’t have to take my word for it; check with anyone. He said he had recently noticed irregularities in his accounts and suspected one of his relatives stole from him to pay off their blackmailer. If he suspected someone in particular, he didn’t tell me.” He ate another bite. “I believe you owe me an explanation on your answer about whether you’ve been in love since your fiancé died.”
“No, I haven’t been. Could you please explain what you said earlier about Lord Hancock?”
“He’s constantly inventing something lethal and looking for investors so he can mass-produce it and have it deployed to slaughter the residents of some corner of the empire. Since his inventions are so destructive, our military is loath to use them for fear our soldiers would be among the victims. No one with any sense will invest with him.” He shook his head. “I don’t have any idea why someone would blackmail a man with so little money and so many lethal weapons at his disposal. Why are you looking for Drake?”
I was surprised at first because his question wasn’t personal. Relieved that it wasn’t, I began with a simple answer. “Because that’s what the Archivist Society does. We search for missing people and find the killers of those who are murdered.”