Just a Little Heartache (The Brotherhood #5) - Merry Farmer Page 0,101

only just beginning when Xavier burst out through the front door and rushed to meet them.

“Sir,” Xavier began, standing in Blake’s path to stop him from racing after the girls, who had darted ahead into the house as Charles held the door. “The police are here.”

Blake shook his head and blinked at Xavier, but dread filled Niall’s gut.

“For what reason?” Blake asked as the three of them headed up the terrace stairs and into the house.

“They arrived an hour ago demanding to question the staff and to know your whereabouts,” Xavier reported. He glanced to Niall. “Both of your whereabouts. They are particularly interested in whether you are together.” The sharp look in the young man’s eyes hinted there was more to the word “together” than physical proximity.

“Ian,” Niall hissed, acid in his gut. “This has to be part of his plan.”

“It would fit,” Blake sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t had time to shave in days, which had him looking rough and roguish. Under any other circumstances, Niall would have found his appearance irresistible and dragged Blake off to let the man have his way with him. “Where are the officers?” Blake asked Xavier at last.

“In the Egyptian parlor, sir,” Xavier answered. “It’s the farthest from here, so I thought it would give me a moment to explain things.”

“Good idea.” Blake thumped Xavier’s shoulder, then started down the hall, calling, “Let the nursery maid know the girls are back.”

“You’re not going to confront the police immediately, are you?” Niall rushed after Blake.

Blake glanced at him, a determined spark in his eyes. “You may know the way of things in London, but things work differently in Yorkshire. I know how to manage local police officers.”

He added a wry grin that was almost enough to give Niall confidence that they’d make it through the confrontation unscathed.

That confidence faltered when they entered the Egyptian parlor and were faced with two Metropolitan Police officers from London. They were examining curiosities around the room, but turned to frown at Blake and Niall when they entered.

All the same, Blake kept his smile in place as he greeted them with, “Gentlemen, I’m sorry you were made to wait. I’ve only just arrived home from an emergency trip to Blackpool to retrieve my children. My wife and I had a disagreement, and I had reason to believe she intended to take my son, the future duke, and my daughters out of the country.”

A burst of pride filled Niall at the clever way Blake began the encounter. In one, quick comment, he’d reminded the officers he was a duke, a married man, and a father, and that Annamarie was in the wrong. All the same, Niall hung back to observe how things would go next instead of drawing attention to himself.

The officers gaped and stammered, immediately on the back foot.

“We received reports of, um, acts of gross indecency taking place here, your grace,” the taller of the two officers said. He glanced in Niall’s direction.

Niall stood near the cabinet where he’d found the necklace they’d given to Ian to serve as the medallion, hands behind his back, shoulders squared, face implacable, looking as masculine as possible.

Blake laughed as though the idea were ridiculous. “Who made these reports?” he asked, but rushed quickly to, “Please have a seat, gentlemen. I see my excellent staff have already provided you with tea.” Indeed, a tea set sat on the table under one of the windows.

“No, thank you, your grace,” the tall officer said, his brow knit into a frown. “We cannot divulge where we received our reports, only that we were charged with investigating and making arrests, if warranted.” He turned to Niall. “Are you Mr. Niall Cristofori?”

“I am,” Niall answered without moving from his position.

“We were told that you are a known sodomite,” the second, stouter officer blurted, scowling at Niall in disgust.

Niall shrugged. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Archibald said—”

“You are known to associate with all manner of men through your theatrical connections, are you not?” the first officer cut the second off.

Niall grinned, in spite of the fact that his heart raced with danger and fury at Ian. At least they had proof of who was behind the whole thing now. “I am a renowned playwright,” Niall answered with a shrug. “I am friends with a dozen or more actresses with interesting reputations as well. Does that make me a rake?”

“Er, it’s just that—”

The first officer scrambled to come up with a way to counter