Like all of Feagan’s lads, Swindler was accustomed to Jack issuing the orders, so he took no offense. He got up, walked to Olivia, and crouched before her. “Duchess, were you aware of any threats?”

The man sounded so nauseatingly sympathetic, so irritatingly caring. He’d never been one to shy away from revealing his feelings if he thought doing so would gain him an advantage. Olivia would no doubt think he was bloody wonderful. Good. She could marry him and Jack could turn this whole mess over to Swindler. If trouble was afoot, he’d no doubt be the best at discovering what it was and properly dealing with it.

Olivia slowly shook her head as though she could hardly believe the matter had come to this. “No, I, no, not that I’m aware.”

“How did your husband die?”

“He slipped on the stairs and struck his head.”

“Was he prone to being clumsy?”

“Of course not.”

“Were there any witnesses to the mishap?”

“I saw what happened.”

“Did anyone else see him slip?”

She hesitated, and Jack could see she was running various scenarios through her mind, weighing how best to answer. She’d seen him fall, possibly the only one, so if her word were brought into question—

“Swindler, he slipped,” Jack said. “The stairs are marble, treacherous as ice. I almost lost my footing last night. I don’t think you’ll learn anything by pursuing that avenue.”

“Quite right.” Swindler unfolded his body. “I’ll see what I can find.”

A light rap sounded on the door. The footman opened the door and a female servant carried in a tray holding a tea service.

“Oh,” Olivia said, coming to her feet somewhat unsteadily. If last night had been a shock for her, Jack could only imagine what the past few minutes had been. Yet still she remained gracious. “Your tea, Inspector.”

“Thank you, but I really must be off. Another day, perhaps.”

“I’ll see you out,” Jack said, grateful Olivia seemed too unsettled to join them. He followed Swindler into the hallway and, once they were beyond the hearing of the footman, asked in a low voice, “You’re not thinking she tripped him up.”

“No. She was worried about me thinking that, though. He couldn’t have been very old.”

“He was quite old, actually. In his early fifties, I’d say.”

“Twenty years from now, you won’t think fifty is so old. Why do you think she married him?” Swindler asked.

“I don’t know. Do I need to find out?”

Swindler shrugged. “Probably not important unless we begin to suspect he was murdered.”

“I can’t see her murdering anyone.”

“Know her well, do you?”

“I know her hardly at all,” Jack admitted reluctantly. “Doesn’t mean my assessment doesn’t have merit. There was a reason I was very skilled at determining which pockets were worth the trouble to pick.”

“And there’s a reason you’ve asked me to investigate the matter for you.”

“You’re quite right, but I also want you to look into another issue.” They walked from the hallway into the foyer, which was absent of servants. “Make some inquiries and see if you can discover if the duke engaged in any perversions.”

“Perversions?”

“With young boys, specifically.”

Swindler came to a halt, his gaze discerning. He was very clever, perhaps the cleverest of Feagan’s lads. Jack knew by setting Swindler on this trail that Swindler would eventually figure out the aspects of Jack’s past that he’d always wanted to remain secret, but it was a risk he was willing to take in order to discover the truth. While he suspected Lovingdon was not the man who’d bought and abused him, he needed confirmation to put any lingering doubts to rest.

Jack cleared his throat. “I know I was never your favorite among Feagan’s lads, but do this favor for me, will you? Find out if her son is in danger.”

“I’ll make some inquiries, but I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it because Frannie would want me to.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Go to hell.”

Jack laughed. “You’re too late with that command, mate. I’ve been there since I was born.”

Still chuckling, he strode back down the hallway. For a man who was suddenly saddled with unwanted responsibilities, his mood was improving. Olivia would see to the affairs of his household, leaving him free to take care of the matters that were important to him. Entering the library, he was surprised to see Olivia sitting at his desk, looking through his ledger. He snatched it from her and closed it smartly. “You’re still here?”

She rose, her eyes narrowing as though she’d discovered the pages in his book were all blank. “I don’t believe he was truly an inspector from Scotland Yard.”

Jack arched a brow. “You don’t? Then who was he?”

“Obviously someone of your acquaintance. You gave it away by offering him some spirits. But I don’t believe for one moment you’d be friends with an inspector. I think all this was just an elaborate ruse to make me think my son is in danger, to make you appear more important than you are.”

“To what purpose?”

She seemed to hesitate, then thought better of it. “I haven’t determined what you wish to gain. Perhaps my leaving you in peace.”