The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,100

his thoughts. His world was tipping over, starting to roll downhill, and heading straight for a cliff.

The men they’d suspected of framing Matthew were based entirely on Matthew’s own suspicions. It had been a good start, but maybe it had blinded them to the truth from the very beginning. They’d been so convinced it had to be one of those men, they’d not paid proper attention until they’d suggested Guthrie look into Mr. St. John as well. And even then, Simon had still been convinced it had to be one of the three men Matthew had named. Ida’s instincts hadn’t been wrong though. She hadn’t trusted Mr. St. John. She’d felt as if something was off about him.

Simon took a deep breath. Anyone profiting from England’s largest military supplier had motive. No one more so than the owner himself.

“Christ.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Guthrie muttered.

Huntley frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ll let you know in a minute. Let’s meet with the courier first.”

“What courier?” Huntley asked.

“Someone I pray might be able to identify the man who framed Ida’s father so there’s no more room for doubt.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Huntley said. “How does that have anything to do with the charges being pressed against her?”

“Let’s just say that I believe someone is very keen to get her out of the way.” Simon still wasn’t sure how Mr. St. John had managed to convince his uncle to have Ida arrested. Although he supposed there was a chance Elliot had decided to do so on his own and Mr. St. John was merely taking advantage. Even if this did seem a bit too neat for Simon’s liking.

He marched toward his study with Guthrie and Huntley close behind. The man who waited stood to greet him. His eyes darted to Guthrie and then to Huntley. Simon smiled and glanced over his shoulder at Guthrie. “Lock the door and pocket the key, would you?”

The dark red scar above the courier’s left brow suggested he was the man he’d been seeking. So did his age and his height. Everything about him matched Murdoch’s description. And Simon would be damned if the man tried to run off.

“I came to apply for the position you advertised in the paper, my lord.” The courier’s eyes shifted back to Simon. There was a great deal of uncertainty to be found there.

“Please.” Simon gestured toward a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

“Um. All right.”

Simon crossed to the sideboard and poured four glasses of brandy. Huntley claimed the seat next to the courier while Guthrie remained by the door, arms crossed and looking every bit as fierce as he was reputed to be.

“Let’s start with your name,” Simon said. He handed the courier the first glass of brandy before offering the next to his friends.

“Fletcher.” He took a quick sip of his drink, then added, “Duncan Fletcher, that is.”

“Right.” Simon rounded his desk and dropped into his chair. Leaning back, he cradled his glass between his hands while considering Fletcher for a brief moment. He was scruffier than he’d expected. Less confident too. “Well, I’m the Earl of Fielding and these two gentlemen are the Duke of Huntley and the Duke of Windham.”

“A pleasure.” Fletcher shifted in his seat. He’d broken eye contact with Simon and now appeared to be very intrigued by the wall behind him. “Your advertisement said you required someone with at least four years of experience.”

“That’s because I’m interested in acquiring information about some letters that were delivered to the captain of The Soaring Falcon in 1815.”

“And why would I know anything about that?” Fletcher asked.

“Because the courier Captain Murdoch described looks exactly like you.” Simon set his glass to his lips and savored the way the brandy burned as it slid down his throat. “What I want to know is the name of the man who hired you to deliver those letters.”

Fletcher straightened. “I came here looking for employment, my lord. If you’ve got nothing to offer, then I’d best be on my way.”

“I never said I’ve nothing to offer. How much will depend entirely on how willing you are to cooperate.” Simon set his glass aside and narrowed his gaze on the man before him. “An innocent man was executed because of those letters. His daughter may face unjust punishment as well.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, but that’s really not my concern.” Fletcher stood.

“The way I see it,” Guthrie murmured, “you can either help us, or face the charges of conspiracy to commit treason that we’ll have no