Duke of Desire (Maiden Lane #12)(95)

And that he couldn’t trust his own judgment.

Because he’d truly believed himself in love with Katherine. What else could he have called the wild, joyous ecstasy of pursuing her? The complete visceral satisfaction of making her his wife?

Yet barely three years after he’d wed her, all that grand passion had turned to ashes and bitter hatred.

Oh, what a beautiful, fickle thing was love. Rather like Katherine herself, in fact.

Hugh sighed and went into the boys’ bedroom.

There were two railed beds, but only one was occupied.

Just turned five years old, Peter was still prone to nightmares. Hugh wasn’t sure if his son had experienced them before Katherine’s death, but now the boy had them several times a week. He lay curled against his elder brother, red face pressed into his side, blond hair tufted under Kit’s arm. Kit was sprawled on his back, openmouthed, his black curly hair flattened sweatily against his temples.

If last night’s assassins had succeeded, his boys would be orphans now. He shook off the thought with a shudder, and his mind turned to the Lords of Chaos. They were a terrible secret club that met irregularly to revel in the worst sort of debauchery. Once a man joined he was committed to the Lords for life. Most members didn’t know the other members, but if one Lord revealed himself to another, the second Lord was bound to help the first man in any way possible. Hugh had reason to believe that the Lords of Chaos had infiltrated the government, the church, the army, and the navy.

Which was why the King wanted them stopped.

When Hugh had begun his investigation into the Lords, he’d been given four names by the Duke of Montgomery:

William Baines, Baron Chase

David Howell, Viscount Dowling

Sir Aaron Crewe

Daniel Kendrick, the Earl of Exley





Four men who were aristocrats and members of the secret society. In the two months since, he’d quietly looked into the four men, attempting to discover how the Lords were organized, who the leaders were, and when they met and where.

He’d found out none of these things.

None.

Why then would they try to assassinate him? It seemed far more likely that tonight’s attack had been the result of political intrigue on the Continent. Wars abroad, rather than a vile secret society that preyed upon the most innocent of victims here in England.

There was no reason at all to link this to the Lords of Chaos.

And yet he could not quite banish the suspicion from his mind.

Hugh grimaced and silently left the bedroom.

In the hall he turned and made for the stairs again, climbing this time to the floor above—the servants’ quarters. He walked along the long corridor, lined with doors on either side, passing a startled scullery maid, and then tapped on one of the doors on the left before opening it.

Bell shared a room with two of the younger footmen. Both of the footmen’s beds were empty, for they would already be up and about their work at this time of the morning, but Bell’s tousled brown head just peeked beneath his blankets.

Hugh winced at the sight, hating to wake the boy so soon after sending him to bed, but this couldn’t wait. He touched Bell’s shoulder.

The boy woke at once. “Your Grace?”

“I have a job for you,” Hugh said. “I want you to find a St Giles informant for me. His name is Alf.”