The Earl of Elverton poured himself a scotch, dropped into a chair in his library, and brooded. Late last night, while he’d been at his club, his wife had called for a carriage. The vehicle and driver had yet to return. No one seemed to know where his countess had gone.

All day and into evening, he considered his dilemma. Was it better to sound the alarm and have people searching for her or to wait until someone came to inform him that she was dead? Because she would die, was probably already staring sightlessly into oblivion. Perhaps she’d expired in the carriage and the driver was too terrified to return her to the residence. Or she’d passed elsewhere and had yet to be found.

He would be shocked, of course, horrified, bereaved.

He wanted Polly, to become lost in her, but it would not do to be caught plowing into her when news came regarding the demise of his countess. His time would be better spent planning his lies, his disbelief, his sorrow. There was a small chance she still lived. If she returned to the residence . . . well, more direct measures might be called for because he was determined, one way or another, that Selena Sheffield, Duchess of Lushing, would become his wife within the year.

Aiden had gone to Finn’s farm and explained the situation to him, knowing his brother wouldn’t hesitate to saddle a horse and accompany him to Elverton’s residence. They didn’t bother to knock on the door, but simply strode in and demanded the butler tell them where they’d find the earl. Dismissing him, not waiting for an introduction, they marched down the hallway and into the library, where the toad who had sired them sat in a chair by the fireplace, glass in hand, sipping an amber liquid.

He released an impatient gust of air. “I rid myself of you bastards so I wouldn’t be bothered with you. You’re making a nuisance of yourselves.”

“Was your countess making a nuisance of herself?” Aiden asked. “Is that the reason you poisoned her?”

The earl went so still it was impossible to tell if he even breathed. “I did no such thing. Is she dead, then?”

Aiden lunged forward, grabbed the armrests, and caged in the vile excuse for a man. “She came to me. I nursed her through the night. But Dr. William Graves confirms she was given arsenic, probably during dinner.”

“It must have been a servant. I’ll let go the lot of them.”

Grabbing his lapels, Aiden jerked him out of the chair with such force that his glass went flying before crashing to the floor. “I know it was you.”

The old man shoved himself free. “You can’t prove it. You can’t prove anything.”

“We’re well aware of that, but that doesn’t mean we can’t see justice done.”