Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(23)

And ironically, he had been. Certainly worth ten of this duke. The club had been a source of amusement for years, until Morland ruined it with his ruthless quest to win all ten tokens and own the stallion outright. The duke currently held seven of the ten brass coins. Julian and Lord Ashworth were the only other surviving members.

“Your arithmetic needs adjustment.” Julian set aside his brandy and reached into his coat. “Because I currently hold two.” From his breast pocket, he withdrew a thin disc of brass. On one side was stamped a horse’s head, and on the other, a horse’s tail. “This one was Leo’s,” he said, holding up the token between thumb and forefinger. “I won it back from Ashworth, in Devonshire.”

“What took you to Devonshire?”

“You’ll remember last summer, the whore who found Leo’s body was tracked down?”

The duke nodded. “When we last saw each other, you were planning to question her.”

“And so I did. I found her, questioned her, and then took her to Ashworth’s backwater village in Devonshire for safekeeping.”

“Safekeeping? Why did she need safekeeping?”

After a brief hesitation, Julian decided to tell Morland everything. Much as he detested the man, he also needed him. Or rather, Lily needed him. And whatever Lily needed, Julian also required.

“The night of his death, Leo picked up the harlot in Covent Garden, asked her to go with him to the boxing match. Afterward, they lingered in the street … negotiating where to … you know.”

“I can imagine.” Morland grimaced. “Just skip that bit.”

Julian did, and happily. He didn’t like thinking about Leo spending his last night on earth with a whore. Truthfully, Julian had been shocked to hear he’d picked up the girl at all. Common light-skirts weren’t Leo’s usual way.

“Anyhow,” he went on, “before they could proceed, a man appeared.”

“The one who resembled you?”

“Yes. And according to the harlot, Leo seemed to know him. The two went round a corner. The girl heard an argument, then silence. Then a fight. She turned the corner and saw two footpads pummeling Leo and this stranger.” Julian reached for his brandy and downed the remainder. It burned going down, but it wasn’t nearly so hard to swallow as the truth.

He cleared his throat and forged ahead. “She didn’t see the attackers clearly. Could only describe them as two large brutes in rough clothing. One was bald, she said, and the other sounded like a Scotsman. She managed to scare them off with a scream, but both Leo and his companion were left severely injured. The whore went for help, but by the time she returned with a hackney driver, this mystery fellow had disappeared. Only Leo was there. She brought him to my house, and you know the rest. He died en route.”

“So who was this other man?”

“That would be the question, wouldn’t it? I searched for weeks, made inquiries.” Finding the man had been a harder task than one might think. Since Julian set the trends for fashion, a great many young gentlemen resembled him. “I finally learned his name. You should know it. Peter Faraday. He’s a former member of the Stud Club.”

“I remember,” the duke said, refilling both glasses. “I won his token just a few nights before Leo’s murder.”

“And just after the murder, Faraday fled Town for a remote cottage in Cornwall. I thought I had the answer. Faraday was disgruntled over losing, or desperate for funds, perhaps. I thought he must have lured Leo into an ambush. Ashworth and I went to Cornwall, bringing along this prostitute to identify him. But when we arrived at Faraday’s hideaway …” Julian expelled a rough sigh. “The man was an invalid. Could barely walk, even two months after the attack. He claims he and Leo were merely talking, and then these two brutes fell on them without warning.”

“And you believe him?”

He shrugged. “Ashworth does. Says he must be innocent—that no man would willingly incur injuries that severe, even to cover up his involvement in a murder plot. But I still say Faraday’s hiding something. Whether ambush or accident, there’s more he’s not telling us.” He reached for the token again and tapped its edge against the arm of his chair, beating a steady rhythm. “Now the investigation is stalled.”

Morland’s gaze trained on the token in Julian’s hand. “That should be mine, you know. I wrote you a bank draft to fund this investigation, on the understanding that token would come to me.”

“You are unbeliev—”

“Save it.” The duke waved off the remainder of Julian’s protest. “I don’t give a damn what you think of me. But I truly do want what’s best for that animal. You could make this easy and agree that Osiris deserves a comfortable retirement at my estate. But since you won’t, I’m forced to call in debts.”

“There are no debts.” Julian put away the token and withdrew the other item he’d secured in the breast pocket of his coat. He unfolded the rectangle of heavy paper and extended it to Morland.

The duke took it, frowning. “Is this …”

“Your bank draft, yes. I never drew the funds.”

Morland blinked at him.

“Oh, I performed a thorough search. Hired runners, investigators, crawled over every inch of this city. But I used my own money.”