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difficulty at all but he was still incensed
by the insult that had been offered to his family. His anger had
festered all day, finding no outlet and he had ended up pacing back
and forth in his library until, finally, he’d had enough.
    Celeste and Edward had gone out to the
theatre together and there were any number of places that Aubrey
could go, if he so desired. He had invitations aplenty but none of
them held any appeal thanks to his unfinished business.
    ‘Damn and blast it,’ he muttered, scowling
around the room. ‘Damn and blast it to hell!’
    There was no escaping it; the more he
thought about it, the more inclined he was to think that his
lordship needed a damn good kicking. It was just after eleven when
he decided he was going to go and hand one out. He would go around
to Hill Street and pay another call. If Sutton wasn’t home, then to
hell with it, he’d wait. Even if it took all night, he would wait
the worm out, just so he could say what he intended to say because
if he postponed the matter until he could catch the man up in the
usual way of things, he would probably be fit to be tied.
    It was getting on for eleven-thirty when he
once again arrived at Hill Street. Standing on the front step, he
hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should knock the servants
up by ringing the bell. On impulse, he tried the door instead and
was gratified when it opened. Excellent; he could take himself
inside and wait. Unless Sutton was already at home. It seemed
unlikely, as the man was a creature of the night and he would most
likely be out causing trouble, but one never knew.
    Aubrey walked through the
front door, entirely confident he could deal with any questions
that were put to him, should he encounter a servant. There were
benefits to being a viscount, one of which was the ability to stare
down practically anyone who was not a fully-fledged duke or a
member of the royal family (and even certain members of that exclusive family
were inclined to be intimidated if one raised an eyebrow just so).
He certainly did not anticipate anybody would challenge
him.
    A light down the hallway and the murmur of
voices beckoned him forward and he strode towards it with
determination. Perhaps this reckoning would be a deal swifter than
he had anticipated. His fingers itched to get hold of Sutton and
wipe that oily smile off his face. But it was not Sutton that
greeted him, when he entered the library. That is to say; it was,
but not as he had thought to find him.
    Sutton lay dead on the floor, quite clearly
the victim of a violent end if the vacant expression on his face,
and the bloodied candlestick resting beside one out flung hand,
were anything to go by. A single red rose decorated the carpet
beside Sutton’s head.
    The two people who stood regarding his body
had guilt written large across their faces.
    ‘What the devil is going on
here?’
    ‘Oh dear,’ a light, rather musical voice
spoke with some exasperation. ‘We really should think about locking
that door. It seems that all the world is determined to visit
tonight.’
    Aubrey, taken aback by the tone, looked
again and discovered that, rather than discovering two fellows in
the act of committing a crime, he had discovered a gentleman and a
lady. At least, he assumed she was a lady. It was difficult to
conceive how a lady could come to be in the same room as a body but
she certainly sounded well bred.
    ‘It’s a bit late now,’ her companion
returned wryly. ‘Who would have thought Sutton’s library would be
such a circus?’
    ‘Charles Lampforth,’ Aubrey said,
recognizing the young gentleman without any difficulty. Mr.
Lampforth was not a crony of his but they knew each other well
enough to nod to. The fellow was amiable enough; not quite a dandy,
not confident enough to be a Corinthian yet, but he was still
young, no more than three and twenty. Aubrey certainly knew nothing
against him, at least nothing that would have ever suggested he
would be keeping