No one had laughed at the joke when the will was read. Rather the opposite. An explosion of emotions greeted the bulk of it. Nicholas received the entailed lands, of course, and even one or two properties that were not entailed. But the duke’s real wealth had been in all those investments he made. Land development, canals, shipping, factories—he had a Midas touch and had increased his personal wealth twentyfold before he died.

None of that, not one shilling, had been left to a relative.

Chase had expected nothing, so his disappointment had been muted. But other of the cousins had assumed a fat inheritance was coming. And the wives . . .

“Have you learned anything?” Nicholas asked. “I know it has been just over a week since the funeral, but what little will be left when the bequests are disbursed will be divided among us and I am not the only one who is anxious to know what amount will come to me.”

“Some small progress has been made.” Chase chose not to tell Nicholas about Peel recruiting him to make an unofficial inquiry into Uncle Frederick’s death. Being in such an awkward situation was one thing. If the family knew, his position would be impossible.

“I have found one of them. Minerva Hepplewhite.” He offered Nicholas less than half a loaf with the announcement. There were two other mystery legacies, and he had not begun to unravel them. He had hoped to make a quick report of success on all counts. He had predicted that Minerva would know about the other two bequests, and lead him to those people. He no longer believed she could do that.

“Was she his mistress?”

“I don’t know. She says not.”

“She’s probably lying,” Nicholas said. “To avoid gossip and such. Is she beautiful?”

Chase did not think Minerva Hepplewhite worried overmuch about gossip. “She is attractive.”

“What a worthless word. That tells me nothing.”

He pictured her sitting on the divan, that soft undressing gown billowing over her curves, while she captured his attention with her compelling gaze. “Very attractive. Is that better? Handsome more than pretty. Strikingly so. Whether she was his lover or not . . . Does it matter? The legacy is hers in any case. I can now move on to the next one.”

Only not right away. That was the devil of it. In agreeing to look into the duke’s death, he would be left with little time to track down these other legatees. He would need to go down to Melton Park in Sussex in order to examine closely where that fall had happened, and talk to the servants there. If he concluded the fall was not accidental, he would need to look into the people with whom Uncle had formed those business partnerships, and discover if anything was amiss.

It would take weeks, maybe months, to do a thorough inquiry.