Strike at Midnight(11)

“Call me Rella, please,” I said with a light smile.

“Oh,” he said, and he blushed slightly at the request for such informality. He needed to understand that it wasn’t a lady sitting in front of him, and propriety didn’t exactly apply to the likes of me.

“Very well,” he said, waving his hand to call upon one of the people serving. “What are you drinking, Rella?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said. I just wanted my money and the go-ahead for the rest of the job. But then my stomach rumbled. “Actually, I’ll have the cheese-and-ham pie, if you don’t mind?”

Ordering such a thing probably went against all etiquette—but screw it. I was starving.

He quickly reeled off the order when the serving wench came up to us, and I thanked him. He was paying, at least.

“Well done for last night,” he said once we were alone again. “I’ve arranged for the imposter to be put into the Royal Dungeons to await trial before the Royal Court, but all he would tell us is that he paid well for the privilege of becoming the duke. He won’t tell me anything about where the real Duke of York is.”

“I didn’t really expect him to,” I replied honestly. “The guy is a nasty piece of work.”

“Yet you still took him on,” he said with pride. “I give credit to you.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I mentally rubbed my hands with glee when he took a small pouch out of his jacket pocket.

“Your payment, of course. As agreed.”

“Thanks again,” I said, lifting the pouch as fast as a sly fox. It was in my pocket before anyone could even realize it was there. Old habit.

“I still need to determine the location of where the real duke is situated,” he said, “and I must admit I’m at a loss for what to do next.”

“Is that another reason I’m here?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“You are very astute, my dear. Yes, in fact. It is.”

“You would like me to find the duke?”

“I would definitely like you to try. I am quite worried about him.”

I nodded in understanding. I didn’t want to sound too desperate.

“May I ask what made you so suspicious of the imposter in the first place?”

Sir Raymond smiled at the serving wench who brought his drink to the table.

“Thank you,” he said to her, and he waited for his goblet of red to be placed before him. The fact that they used goblets instead of cheap glasses here spoke volumes on how the place was doing. You didn’t get that kind of treatment at Melodies. The woman disappeared off to take care of other duties—hopefully, my pie—and he gave me his answer.

“It was quite a gradual process if I’m honest. He disappeared for over two weeks, which was so unlike him. An odd few days yes, but not that long. No one from his staff could put a finger on where he had gone, but many assumed he had just taken up with one of his lovers for a while. No one was overly concerned.”

“But then he came back on the scene?”

“That he did, and he was completely different.” He picked up his goblet and took a sip of his drink. “I thought for a time that something had happened while he had been away, something that had made him distant and bitter. But then I had my doubts.”

“He wasn’t the duke you knew.”

“No. He wasn’t. I was quite friendly with the duke, and looked upon him a bit like a son. Yet this man acted so coldly towards me. He acted as if I was a hindrance, and I knew then that something was wrong.”

“How come you didn’t see his birthmark when he came back?”

“No man of his nobility would go out without gloves in public,” he said as if I should have known that. I guess I really should have.

“So how did you know he had a birthmark?”

“We were sparring once and I caught his hand by accident with my sword. He removed his glove for me to take a look and help treat it. That’s when I saw it and asked him about it.”

“And he said it was a birthmark?”

“That’s right. Nothing else was said, and there was no real way for me to ask the imposter to remove his gloves in a socially acceptable way. Anything else would have raised suspicions.”

“You have good instincts, Sir Raymond. And the real duke is lucky to have you looking out for him. This guy has convinced a lot of people that he is the duke.” I thought of Lady Stanley and held back a snicker.

“Part of me hoped I was wrong, and that he was just under a lot of strain. Now I fear for his life.”

“The imposter said he had paid well for the privilege. So it sounds as if he isn’t directly involved. Do you have any idea who could be behind this? Who would know enough about him to target him particularly?”

“I really don’t know,” he said, and there was a sadness in his eyes. “He doesn’t have any family I am aware of, as he was an only child. He inherited the lands when his parents were killed in an unfortunate accident.”

“The perfect target.”

“Yes,” he said, deep in thought. “I suppose he was.”

“People are easy to emulate on a social level. Many of us put on an act for others to see. But it’s harder for us to deceive those close to us. Maybe this person didn’t know about your friendship with him?”