Page 65 of The Not So Perfect Duke

“We really must get the telephone installed,” Althea sighed, getting to her feet.

“And have people ringing you at all hours of the day or night? Bad enough they are bashing on the front bell,” Damon growled, exasperated.

“Quite right. I should wait until I have the office.”

If I ever get an office.

Althea admonished herself all the way downstairs. Enough of such thoughts. One thing at a time. She opened the door to find a tall, dark-haired man, who, she must admit, was rather good-looking. His eyes were a prodigious mix of light gray and green.

He removed his hat. “Good day, miss. I was told that the Duke of Chellenham is here. Could I please speak to him? I am Oliver Wollstonecraft.”

“Wollstonecraft? Like Mary Shelley? And her mother, Mary?” Althea greatly admired both women.

“Very distantly related, a branch so far removed from our family tree, it is hardly any connection at all,” Mr. Wollstonecraft replied pleasantly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Come in, sir. The duke is upstairs. I am Althea Galway.”

“A pleasure, miss.”

She led him upstairs and down the hall, then into the study.

“Mr. Oliver Wollstonecraft to see you, Your Grace,” she said, giving Damon a teasing wink.

Mr. Wollstonecraft stepped into the room. “Your butler said I would find you here. The club has been burgled, completely sacked.”

Chapter 19

“Sacked? What are you on about?” Damon said. “This is Miss Althea Galway of The Galway Investigative Agency. Miss Galway, Mr. Oliver Wollstonecraft. His grandfather is the Earl of Carnstone.”

Wollstonecraft took Althea’s hand. “We met downstairs.”

Damon growled low in his throat. Another man touching Althea? Possessiveness gripped him tight, and it was rather disturbing as he had never experienced such with any other woman.

“A distinct pleasure, once again,” Wollstonecraft kissed her hand, and Damon snarled in response. Doing the man bodily harm became more appealing at the moment. “Never knew you to be predatory, Chellenham.” The wretched man had the audacity to grin at him.

Blast Wollstonecraft for his dark good looks, coming in here to interrupt their serious and private conversation.

“Please, take a seat, Mr. Wollstonecraft. And tell us about the club,” Althea said politely.

“I stopped by to see if the liquor needed replenishing before our next meeting. The door was unlocked, which isn’t common as we are all diligent in locking up. With a closer inspection, I could see that the doorframe had been jimmied, as it were, with a crowbar. Well, I immediately headed upstairs to find the place in shambles.”

“Was anything taken? Not that we have much value,” Damon asked, trying to keep his voice calm. These volatile emotions were going to be the death of him.

“Not that I could see. But everything was tossed every which way as if the person were looking for something. All the liquor was still there. And some of our expensive whiskey blends would fetch a pretty penny on the streets. The silver coffee and tea service is still there as well. Robbery could not have been the motive.”

Althea laughed lightly. “A fine deduction, Mr. Wollstonecraft. I should hire you for my agency.”

Damon’s insides twisted at the fact Althea smiled warmly at Oliver Wollstonecraft. Yes, Damon acted in a predatory manner—not like him at all. Further proof he was utterly smitten with the lovely lady detective.

“I’m flattered, thank you,” Wollstonecraft grinned, showing his straight white teeth. “I came here from your town house since you are the leader of our group.”

“As if someone was looking for something,” Althea mused. “Could it be Browning looking for the safe?”

“It could be,” Damon replied. “Although, why didn’t he look for the safe before now?”

“When I interviewed the staff, they informed me Browning never showed up to Queen Anne’s Gate until days after the funeral. He was unaware your father had passed and, when he learned of it, traveled straight to Chellenhome.” Althea rubbed her chin. “As to what he has been doing after that, I am not sure. Perhaps watching us all? Waiting for an opportunity to search for the safe unencumbered? Is he a threat?”

“Who is Browning?” Wollstonecraft asked.