Evelyn, a quiet but redoubtable lady whom Caro had met over dinner the previous evening, had suggested they store the papers in a small parlor on the first floor, not far from the main stairs in the central part of the mansion. “Safest,” Evelyn had opined. “There’s always some maid or footman traipsing about in sight of that door.”
Magnus had grunted, but agreed. The boxes, therefore, were carried upstairs and stacked neatly along one wall of the parlor, waiting for Caro to read through them. When the footmen finally retreated, their job done, she eyed the work before her and sighed.
Michael, shoulder propped against the doorframe, studied her. “Magnus would help at the drop of a hat.”
She sighed again. “I know, but in deference to Camden, if anyone is to read his diaries and private correspondence, it should be me. At least until we know if there’s anything of note in there.”
Michael studied her face, then nodded and straightened. Downstairs, a gong clanged.
Caro smiled. “Saved—I’ll start after lunch.”
Tucking a wayward strand back into her coiffure, she took his arm, let him draw her out of the room and shut the door.
Over luncheon, they studied the will. All of them read it, even Evelyn, as crochety as Magnus could be irrascible yet also shrewd and experienced in her way. None of them felt confident they fully comprehended the convoluted legal language enough to pass judgment.
“Best get an expert opinion,” Magnus said.
Caro graciously repeated her permission; Michael tucked the will back into his pocket.
Once the meal was ended, he accompanied her back to the parlor. They spent the next half hour rearranging the boxes into some semblance of order, then, the first box open at her feet, Caro sat in an armchair—and looked up at him. Raised a faintly amused brow.
He smiled. “No, I’m not going to stand here watching you read.” He tapped his chest; the will crackled. “I’m going to get this examined. I’ll ensure it’s done with absolute discretion.”
She smiled back. “Thank you.”
Still, he hesitated. When she again a raised a brow, he asked, “Will you do something for me?”
She searched his face. “What?”
“Stay here—safe inside. Promise me you won’t leave the house until I get back.”
Her smile was gentle; she regarded him for a moment from steady silver eyes, then inclined her head. “I promise.”
He held her gaze for an instant longer, then saluted her and left.
He didn’t have far to go—just along Upper Grosvenor Street to where it fed into Grosvenor Square. He paced along the north side of the square, searching among the ladies, children, and nursemaids walking and playing in the central gardens, hoping to catch sight of familiar faces. In that he was disappointed. Reaching the imposing mansion in the center of the block, he went up the steps, praying the owners were in residence.
Fate smiled; they were.
It was Devil he asked to see.
Ensconced behind the desk in his study, his brother-in-law greeted him with raised brows and a devilish, faintly taunting smile. “Ho! I thought you were engrossed in the hunt for a wife. What brings you here?”
“A will.” Michael tossed Camden’s will onto Devil’s desk and sank into one of the chairs facing it.
Sitting back in his chair, Devil considered the folded parchment, but made no move to take it. “Whose?”
“Camden Sutcliffe’s.”
At that, Devil looked up, met his gaze. After a moment of studying his face, he asked, “Why?”
Michael told him; as he’d expected, relating the attempts on Caro’s life was all it took to focus his powerful brother-in-law’s attention.
Devil picked up the will. “So the answer could lie in here.”
“Either in there, or in Camden’s papers. Caro’s going through the papers—I wondered if you could get your people to go over that”—with a nod, he indicated the will—“with a fine-toothed comb.”
He could have approached the firm of solicitors Magnus used, but those solicitors were as old as Magnus. Devil, on the other hand, Duke of St. Ives and head of the powerful Cynster clan, and thus constantly embroiled in dealing with all types of legal affairs, employed the very best of the up-and-coming legal fraternity. If any solicitors could identify a potential threat to Caro buried in Camden’s will, Devil’s would.