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“What of Nicholas himself? How can we know he does not wish to clear a path to inheriting? Should someone else read the journals when he has much to gain if we are all killed?”

Angelo’s face fell with alarm, and Marco realized he had overstepped. Perhaps raising the subject was circumspect, but his lack of sleep, coupled with the pressure of knowing himself marked for death, had sharpened his tongue beyond good judgment. Even Molly had reached out a hand in instinctive reassurance toward Nicholas, who had straightened to glare at Marco in anger.

“I did not help my mother to kill a peer of the realm to cover up your existence, and I did not poison my own brother!” He jerked a hand toward John, bristling with outrage as he responded in an angry but low voice, carefully restrained for fear of being overheard, which reminded everyone present of Miss Dubois, all eyes shifting to the window to ensure the companion could not overhear their conversation before Nicholas returned his heated gaze to Marco. “I certainly did not assist her to overdose my own father. Nor did I assist her to poison Simon’s bride!”

Marco raised his hands in appeasement. “I apologize for how I stated my question, but as someone who is unfamiliar … You have a close relationship with her, and you would benefit if we all died. How can we know you are not a suspect?”

Nicholas rose from his chair, awkward because of the limp, as he straightened to his full height. “Because she was a homicidal lunatic who had no time for her damaged son! Anyone here can confirm that we did not, in fact, share a close relationship. My mother was a vain woman who liked her shallow and pretty pursuits.” Gesturing down at his leg, Nicholas continued. “With an injury like this, do you think she considered me worthy of her attentions? But feel free to read her journals if you wish to know what she thought of her … spare … son.”

The hurt that emanated from the younger man could not be feigned, and Marco slowly comprehended the quiet brutality of the task Nicholas had undertaken. To discover firsthand what she thought of each of her family, including Nicholas himself, while reading about the crimes she had committed and her warped reasons for doing so.

“My deepest apologies, my friend. I had not considered how uncomfortable it must be, and I meant no disrespect.”

Molly reached out a hand with gentle insistence as they stared at each other, the tension palpable, to clasp Nicholas’s. “Please, Nicholas, calm yourself and take a seat.”

Heaving a shuddering sigh, the other man settled back into his seat, his face wreathed in pain. Molly turned to Marco. “Your question is understandable under the circumstances, but as someone who witnessed the baroness interact with Nicholas, I can confirm that her disdain for him was marked. I cannot recollect a single instance when Lady Blackwood directed any conversation in his direction. And Simon would not have left the journals with Nicholas if he had even one thought that Nicholas could be involved. We may have been naïve about the evils a person is capable of before recent events unfolded, but I can assure you that we now possess a far keener awareness.”

Reluctantly, Marco’s esteem for the young woman grew. She had inserted herself to bring peace with sincerity and eloquence, and he could not help admiring how she faced the pressures of life as well as any man he knew. Molly was not only comely, but she also possessed a spine of steel that commanded respect. Her future husband would be a fortunate man to have such a strong partner by his side. And, just for an instant, an unwelcome thought intruded. He pictured that husband as himself.

“I second Molly’s observations. After his accident, Lady Blackwood had little time for her younger son,” the baron interjected. “I could not and would not consider my brother as a suspect. It is much more likely someone has been paid to pursue her goals than that Nicholas would assist in such abhorrent activities.”

Angelo cleared his throat, offering his thoughts in a bright tone intended to improve the prevailing mood. “I think it is best if we can all remember that we are family. We may have just met, but the bonds of blood can make us strong if we work together.”

Despite the troubles they were currently facing, Angelo’s optimistic declaration made Marco’s lips quirk into a slight smile. His brother was a good friend to many, and Marco was glad Angelo had joined him on this bizarre trip to England. “Agreed. Again, my apologies. I did not understand the situation, but now I do.”

“What should I be searching for? Do we have any ideas?” Molly’s attempt to shift the subject was obvious, but welcome.

Nicholas gestured to the journals. “One of these. Each volume has about three years’ worth of entries, and we have a period of three years which is not covered here. My mother pulled these out as her confession to clear Simon’s name in the aftermath of her suicide, so if she tasked an accomplice to complete her work, it is possible she gave the missing volume to that person.”

Marco studied the journals with their distinct rich leather, gold tooling, and embossed thistles on the front. “Did you search the house for it?”

Nicholas looked to John for an answer.

“Simon did have a search done, but I cannot speak to how thorough it was. At the time, we were not aware that there was still danger lurking in these halls.”

“Angelo and I will conduct another search. It is something … tangible?”

“Tangible,” replied Molly immediately, and they exchanged smiles. Marco was relieved to see that she did not hold a grudge for his clumsy rejection last evening, which spoke to a steadiness of temperament he admired more than he ought.

“Sì, it is something tangible for us to do to help.”