as frazzled and unkempt as Percy had ever seen him. “I expected you yesterday morning.”
“Too much brandy,” Percy said, and regretted it immediately. He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry to have given you cause to worry.”
“Your father, my lord. I’m afraid he was injured on the road to Cheveril. Her Grace said that he was shot while defending her from a footpad. But, I’m afraid . . .” Collins faltered.
Percy’s heart was beating so hard, he worried Collins could see it through his waistcoat. “Out with it, Collins.”
“He’s alive but unlikely to remain that way for long.”
“I see. Where is Marian?”
“Her Grace disappeared soon after bringing the duke home.”
“Disappeared?” Percy repeated.
“In the confusion of His Grace being carried in and the physician being called for, she simply . . . disappeared. She didn’t ask for the carriage or have a footman call her a hackney. I can only imagine that she went on foot, although she must have changed her clothes at some point, because she was”—Collins cleared his throat—“quite covered in blood upon her arrival.”
Percy shuddered. He could not think why Marian would have left or where she would have gone. Nothing about their plan could be furthered by her absence—indeed, the reality was quite the opposite.
“Her encounter with the footpads no doubt did in her nerves,” he added firmly. “What have the coachman and outriders said about this attack?” Percy tried not to look like he was holding his breath.
“They’ve all said the same thing. The duke’s carriage was held up outside Tetsworth. Two pistol shots were heard, and then Her Grace called out for the coach to drive on because the duke was injured.”
That much was good. Percy allowed himself to feel something like relief, because at least nobody had connected him or Kit with the holdup. There was another matter he needed to discuss with his valet, though. He steered Collins into an empty parlor and shut the door behind them. “Do you remember hearing that when I was an infant, my father moved his mistress into the north wing of Cheveril Castle?”
“I’m afraid it was discussed for some years, my lord.”
“Did anyone ever mention what she looked like?”
Collins furrowed his brow. “Red hair, rather buxom.”
Percy’s heart thumped, because that fit the description of Elsie Terry. “Why did she leave?”
Collins shocked Percy by barking out a laugh. “The duke brought her there to irritate your mother, but your mother spiked his guns by befriending the girl at once. They were fast friends at the end of a twelvemonth, and when the duke caught on, he made her go. To hear the older servants speak of it, by the time your mother was done with her, she was as much a partisan of the duchess as you or I.”
“Well, how the devil did it never come up between them that Elsie Terry had married my father?”
“She did what?” Collins gasped.
“Goodness, have I finally succeeded in shocking you? Yes, a good year and a half before the duke purported to marry my mother, and she—or somebody who knows her well enough to be in on the secret—is blackmailing Marian and me.”
“But she apparently doted on your mother,” Collins said.
“Well, she did wait until my mother was dead. And she is, lawfully, the Duchess of Clare.”
“Oh dear,” Collins said, blanching.
“I really ought to have broken it to you more carefully. Here,” he said, directing Collins to a chair. “Sit down and I’ll send for some brandy.” He clapped Collins on the shoulder and pulled the cord to summon a servant. “I ought to see my father,” he said, and departed.
The only light in the duke’s chambers came from a branch of candles at the bedside. The physician left after bowing to Percy and telling him a number of things that all amounted to the duke’s imminent death.
Percy stood at the head of the bed. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” he said, taking the book from his pocket. “But I suspect that you’ve left me with enough to destroy the Talbot name for generations. Well, to be fair, you destroyed it with a clandestine marriage and a lifetime of bigamy, but let’s not get mired in details.” Percy opened the Bible to the list of names on its flyleaf, then flipped through the pages of apparently random circlings and underscores. “What I have here is a list of Jacobite supporters. I suspect that the rest of the book contains the particulars—amounts of money, promises made, and so