I took another sip, trying to focus through the crushing disappointment. “We were hoping to speak to your father on a matter of great importance,” I said.

And now all hope was gone. The man was dead.

“I know,” Dr. Lawrence said. He turned to Evan. “Sir, am I, in fact, addressing Lord Evan Belford?”

Evan considered him for a tense second, then sighed. “I have not gone by that name for many years.”

“My lord.” The doctor bowed. “My father described you to me. I did not think I was mistaken.”

Evan inclined his head, the marquess’s son appearing in just that simple gesture.

Dr. Lawrence motioned us to the sofa. “Please, sit. There are things I must tell you.”

As we took our seats, he asked, “May I offer you refreshment?”

“No, thank you,” I said. The brandy had been quite sufficient.

Evan politely waved away the offer. “What is it that you must tell us?”

Dr. Lawrence took the seat opposite us in the armchair but sat forward as if the information he held bowed him over. “My father died of a short illness. On his deathbed, he told me about the duel twenty years ago.” He looked at Evan. “He made me promise that I would relate the truth to you if you were ever to come looking for it.” A fleeting expression of anguish crossed his face. “I must say, I do not wish to do so. There is a great deal of pain within this story, and it brings shame upon my family’s name. Even so, I made a vow and I will honor it.”

Pain not only for his family, I thought.

“Twenty years ago,” he began, “my father had a flourishing practice, a wife, two daughters, and two sons. One of the daughters, Sally—”

I sat up slightly—Sally Lawrence, the name in the wager book. I glanced at Evan. He nodded his own recognition.

Dr. Lawrence saw our exchange. “You know my sister’s name?”

“We have come across it,” Evan said. “But please, go on.”

“My sister Sally was beautiful in countenance and in spirit. She was also headstrong and a little too romantic for her own good. She thought her destiny lay beyond marrying a man chosen for her and ran away to London, thinking to become a lauded actress like Sarah Siddons. Her destiny, however, was to come into the path of a man by the name of Sanderson.” He looked at Evan. “As was yours.”

“Destiny?” Evan said. “I would not call it destiny.”

Indeed, not after what we had found in the Rack and Ruin Club.