Wild rubbed his eyes. “Forgive me. My mind is a little hazy. I couldn’t rest. All I could think of were the documents I must sign.”
Jameson clutched the files to his chest. “And what? In your fragile state, you entered the wrong office by mistake?”
“I … I don’t know.” Wild stared into the distance, never blinked. “An hour ago, I was in bed. And now I find myself here.”
Oh, please. Did he take them for fools?
Oliver looked at Nicole, and she raised a curious brow. She shared his doubts over Wild’s pathetic excuse. Despite having a kind and compassionate heart, her mind was sharp. That was what he loved about her.
He caught himself, aware of the foreign word that entered his mind as though it had every right to be there. Of course he cared about her. Like her friendship with Rose, they’d formed a close bond these last two days. It was only natural. Only to be expected.
“Would you mind telling us what that is?” Nicole’s intelligent voice disturbed Oliver’s reverie.
He followed her gaze to the single sheet of paper lying on top of the desk. When Mr Jameson had taken the Benting file, he’d left a space on the cluttered surface.
Wild considered the document. “Oh, it must have fallen from one of the files.” He waved a hand at them. “As I am the one who made the mess, I shall find its rightful home.”
Wild grabbed the paper.
“Wait!” Mr Jameson commanded.
“Oh, don’t shout, Jameson.” Mr Wild pressed his fingers to his temple. “My head throbs at the sound of raised voices.”
Nicole stepped up to the desk and held out her hand. “Give it to me, Mr Wild. There is no point trying to hide your duplicity.” She turned to Oliver. “Unless I am mistaken, the document bears your father’s seal.”
Mr Wild shook his head. “Is this some sort of conspiracy? Are you all so eager to remove me from the practice that you would poison my tea and accuse me of treachery?”
No one had accused him of anything.
The speech was merely another attempt to shift all blame. Wild probably poisoned himself to give him an excuse to be absent from the office. And in his ignorance, he added more of the herb or plant to the teapot than necessary.
Oliver came to stand next to Nicole, so close that the warmth of her body penetrated his clothes. He felt oddly connected to her, in a way he could not define. Together, they were a formidable opponent.
“Hand it over, Mr Wild. Else you leave me no option but to call the constable.”
Mr Wild simply stared.
Various questions flitted through Oliver’s mind. Was Wild guilty of fraud? Had Mr Burrows rushed to the solicitor’s residence to warn him that their game was up?
He was contemplating the scenario when the soft pads of Nicole’s fingers brushed his palm. Her hand slipped into his, and she squeezed gently. It was a gesture of support, of solidarity, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around hers, determined never to let go.
“I believe Lord Stanton has the measure of you.” She directed the comment to Wild though she gazed into Oliver’s eyes.
“Indeed,” Oliver began. “When three people enter a partnership to commit a crime, one always confesses first in the hope of saving their neck from the noose.”
Mr Wild’s mouth opened, but he failed to form a single word.
“Matilda Murray,” Oliver continued, “or Miss Flint as you would have had us believe, has a conscience. Mr Burrows was too late when he came to warn you. We were already here. We know the necklace she claims was a gift from my father is just as fake as the woman herself. The document that supposedly conveys my father’s wishes was obtained fraudulently by Mr Burrows.”
It was all supposition, yet it was the only logical explanation.
Wild shook his head.
The tension in the room was stifling.
“Whatever your reason for acting as you did, you may as well tell the truth now.” Jameson came to stand at Mr Wild’s side. “We can no longer work together. Indeed, you will be lucky if Lord Stanton doesn’t have you transported. Do you know how hard it will be for a man of your age to live amongst thieves and brigands?”
With a sudden surge of energy, Wild jumped to his feet. “Forgive me, my lord.” He clutched his hands together in prayer. “It was Mr Burrows who came up with the idea. He told me your father had employed Miss Flint as a companion to Lady Rose. That you’d have no interest in an asylum.”