qualify as a duel, but it bears an exact resemblance to murder.”
“You don’t know that’s what happened,” Wilton hissed. “You can’t know that.”
“First hand? Perhaps not, but I have Lord Hellerington’s sworn affidavit, and that will do to get things started.”
“You would not dare,” Wilton retorted, desperation ruining his attempt at indignation.
“I might not, but Frommer’s brother heard the same tale from young Frommer on that unfortunate man’s deathbed. Because the marquis was himself not an eyewitness, he did not feel he could come forth with the tale, his inattentiveness at the scene reflecting further dishonor on the proceedings, and on himself. In short, Wilton, you got lucky. But deathbed confessions are admissible hearsay in a court of law.”
Nick let that sink in and felt a petty gratification as he watched the color leach from Wilton’s face. A silence spread through the room, full of satisfaction on Nick’s part, no doubt full of dread on Wilton’s.
“What will you do, Bellefonte?”
“Don’t know.” Nick’s tone was jaunty to the point of nastiness. “I know what you’re going to do, though.”
Wilton nodded shakily, waiting.
“You’re going to retire to Wilton Acres,” Nick said, “where you will attend your estate in such a manner as to ensure a reasonable profit. You will sell the town house you purchased for that viperous little mistress of yours, and you will lease out this property, should your sons not be interested in its use. With those proceeds and the profits off Wilton, you will repay your children what you’ve stolen from them, with reasonable interest. You will not circulate in Society at any level, Wilton. Not for at least five years.”
He was banishing his father-in-law, as Leah had been banished, but Wilton at least had the grace to ask one question. “Emily?”
“She will enjoy my grandmother’s hospitality,” Nick said, “and that of her sister’s household, under my protection, and that of her brothers. They are aware of your situation, by the way, and agree that short of causing the scandal you deserve and they do not, this is the best course.”
Wilton sat heavily in one of the delicate, expensive chairs, staring at Nick mutely.
“I suggest you start packing,” Nick said softly, tapping his hat onto his head and pulling on his gloves.
Wilton addressed the carpet before Nick could move to the door. “It was an accident—with Frommer. I wanted to scare him off, of course. He could have taken Leah’s portion, and there was none to be had, but when his gun went off…” Wilton shook his head. “I panicked. It was an accident, I swear. I hate the girl on some level, hate that her mother did what she did, hate that I couldn’t… But I just wanted Frommer backed off enough never to ask the wrong questions, you know? About dowries, of course, but also about inheritances. I made a mistake.”
“As perhaps the girl’s mother made a mistake, one for which you could not forgive her.”
Wilton nodded miserably but said nothing further.
“Wilton,” Nick said before his compassion evaporated in the heat of his contempt, “I believe you did not premeditate murder. You will live out your days in the country anyway, because what you did before and after that accident was deliberate cruelty toward those you should have protected.”
Another nod, and then Wilton seemed to shrink and draw in on himself, a physical metaphor for the shriveling of his soul.
If indeed he still possessed one.
***
“I don’t understand,” Leah muttered, glancing over at Nick as their coach rumbled off toward Darius’s estate. “You went to call on Wilton?”
“I am your husband.” Nick took pleasure in reminding them both, though his errand with Wilton had meant Leah had awoken alone in their bed. “Your battles are mine to fight.”
“You beat him?” Leah’s tone bore equal hints of relish and dismay.
“Figuratively. You and Frommer were legally married, Leah. Your father encouraged the elopement to explain the lack of dowry, but he’d forgotten you also had inheritances—funds he’d stolen several years before—of which Frommer might have gotten wind. Those funds were to go to you in trust upon your marriage, a hedge against your father’s embezzlement of your dowry.”
The coach slowed to make the turn from the lane, shifting Leah’s weight more snugly against Nick’s side.
“Mother mentioned something about that, though she was very ill at the time, and I didn’t know if she was speaking factually or in terms of unmet wishes.”
“Factually,” Nick said, settling his arm around Leah’s shoulder. Her scent was particularly luscious this morning, and to