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Fortunately, Richard outranked the dead peer who had a reputation for drinking, an irascible temper, and violence with his fists. He recalled hearing of the man brandishing a pistol at a prize fight sometime in the past year, so he had high hopes that his version of events would protect Evaline over the coming days.

Radcliffe told the same story, forgoing any mention that the two women had been present and altering the accusations the lord had thrown to mumblings about a game of cards. Richard knew he could trust the longtime family servant to never speak on the matter.

The shorter John had been unconscious from the moment Lord Wood knocked him out with a crack to the head with the pistol the peer brandished after the couple had gained entry to the entrance hall. When the runners questioned the undercover guardsman, he corroborated that Lord Wood had been out of control upon gaining entrance to Balfour Terrace.

Richard worried if his story was weak, only having had a half hour to prepare it and gain Radcliffe’s cooperation, but the runners appeared to accept what he said. Apparently, they were aware that Lord Wood was infamous for routing and fighting. The decoy tale was the least he could do to aid Lady Wood.

Perry arrived moments before the coroner. His brother was pale when he stepped through the front door, his eyes resting on the corpse before he strode over to Richard and grabbed him into a firm embrace.

“You daft cretin, you nearly got yourself killed!” His younger brother’s sardonic ennui was not in evidence, his voice gruff with distress.

“Just think, you could have inherited an earldom tonight.” Richard’s jest was halfhearted, his tone sounding thick to his ears.

“Faugh, that would have been awful! Please promise me you will sire an heir soon. I have no wish to shoulder the responsibilities you carry. How will I find time to spend my allowance and frolic my days away?”

Richard chuckled, releasing his brother. “I am working on it.”

They sat on the stairs while the coroner investigated the scene. Richard answered his questions and then, finally, the body was removed and his brother joined him in the study.

Perry made for the sideboard, poured two drinks, and walked back to where Richard sat in one of the plump armchairs to stare sightlessly into the hearth.

“Here, drink this.”

“No, I am no longer drinking.”

“Make an exception. You have just taken a man’s life, and you look dreadful.”

Richard hung his head, bringing up a hand to rub his face in despair. “I killed a man.”

“Drink, brother. You are in shock.”

Richard took the tumbler and downed the brandy in a few gulps. Warmth spread through his chilled body, and he noticed Perry was correct. Shock had rendered his limbs cold and sweaty, while his pulse fired too rapidly and his breathing was too shallow. As the spirits spread through his system, his body eased and he became more aware of his surroundings.

“I killed a man,” he whispered.

“I only pointed that out so you would accept the liquor. I think you should focus on the fact that you saved someone’s life tonight. That bullet was inevitably going to find its way into one of the people present. All things considered, the right person was on the receiving end of that shot.”

“I doubt his wife would agree.”

“I am certain his wife would agree. Lord Wood was notorious for using his fists to settle disputes. Do you not think his wife suffered under his temper as well? Nay, I believe she turned to you last year for a reason, and you may have freed her from the confines of a difficult, perhaps even unbearable, marriage. Is he the behind all your troubles?”

Richard’s hopes soared at the possibility before sinking like a stone into a pond.

“Nay, when I first arrived on the scene, he ranted that a friend informed him they saw me sneaking into his residence last night.”

“He claimed you are currently carrying on an affair? Good heavens! I can scarcely recall a time you have left Balfour Terrace since you married the countess. I must say, I am thoroughly impressed with Lady Saunton’s resilience. Any other woman would be utterly exhausted by now.”

Richard glared at his brother, who threw up his hands in surrender. “I shall not mention the countess or her resilience again, but clearly your hidden villain has struck once more. What are we doing to end this living nightmare?”

Richard leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands to ponder the question. “Lord Stanford knows the man’s identity. He refused to name the scoundrel out of misguided honor.”

Perry sprang to his feet, his jaw set with determination. “I will find Lord Stanford and compel him to reveal the identity of this troublemaker—even if it means dragging him out of Lady Partridge’s den of impropriety and beating it out from him.”

Richard thought about it, then nodded. “Take one of the barking irons with you.” He gestured to the carved walnut box that housed his pistols on a top shelf.

Perry frowned in puzzlement. “I was not planning to kill the man or call him out.”

Richard groaned. “For protection, you bird-wit! You will carry one and I the other until we settle this matter.”