Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance by Sahara Kelly Page B

the title then…?”
    “Yes,” Julia nodded. “Here it is. Title passed to younger brother Aubrey, January 1805. And here…” She leaned over the pages. “Mother, Margaret Wellstone.”
    “Oh my God.”
    “That has to be it. Margaret Wellstone was the mother of the Viscount and his younger brother…the Aubrey Elwyn of your note.” Julia beamed at Léonie. “Well, what do you know? We girls have found a clue. All by ourselves.”
    Léonie beamed back. “Tea?”
    “Tea.”
     
     
     

Chapter Nine
    Lucius and Dev parted ways at the door of the elegant Club on St. James’s street. This was no quietly informal Mitra Club, this was the establishment frequented by the highest of the Ton , up to and including His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, when the mood hit him.
    At this time of day, it was in a state of genteel tranquility, and a few appropriate whispered questions elicited the information that his Grace the Earl of March was indeed enjoying a brandy in the Reading Room.
    Dev nodded his thanks, blessed his father for putting him up for membership even though he seldom used it, and made his way down hushed halls to a large salon where several gentlemen were smoking cigars and availing themselves of the latest papers.
    “I beg your pardon, your Grace.”
    An austere white-haired gentleman moved a hand slightly and glared over the top of the page at Dev.
    Then smiled. “Good God, Deverell. Haven’t seen you in an age. Where’ve you been?” He motioned to a chair and folded his paper.
    “Keeping out of trouble, sir.”
    “You’re too damn good-looking to stay out of trouble, lad. If you’re not in any right now, you’re not trying hard enough.”
    Dev suppressed a chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind, your Grace. I’m not in trouble, but I do have a problem I’m working on and I believe you might be able to help.”
    “Me? Well, of course if I can.” He leaned forward. “It’s not money, is it? Your father was a bit of a gambler in that area…”
    “Oh no, sir. Nothing like that.”
    The Earl sighed with relief. “In that case, what can I do for you?”
    “Well, I was wondering how well you knew Lord Aubrey Elwyn?”
    “Elwyn?” March scratched his chin. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of years now, I believe. But a few years ago we worked closely for a time. His brother’s estate bordered the March properties, don’t you know. When Aubrey inherited the title, we spent a bit of time together trying to sort out the muddled family settlements.” The Earl sighed. “Dreadful mess it was, too. Quite dreadful.”
    “These things can certainly be a headache. I’m sure you were a great help.”
    March looked at Dev. “Really?”
    “Well, sir, I…”
    “Never mind. Just stop with the polite nonsense. I know you better than that.”
    Dev smiled, chagrined. “Yes, sir.”
    “If I recall,” continued the Earl, “Aubrey had been teaching overseas. He had to come home when his brother passed.  It ended up that most of the estate had to be sold or passed on to whoever was in the original will. My man of business oversaw the bulk of it. There was an entail, but that dead-ended at Cuidad Rodrigo.”
    Silence fell for a moment or two. “War plays havoc on the traditions and histories of families, doesn’t it?” March stared into the fire. “Too many sons dying, too many estates falling into penury. Sad for those involved and sad for the country. In some places it’s been a death blow to local economies. A long-reaching ripple of a shot fired in a foreign land.”
    Dev listened, hearing the pain in the Earl’s voice. He wasn’t sure that March had lost an heir—he didn’t think so—but it was clearly something that had hit close to home for his Grace.
    “But that’s neither here nor there.” The Earl recalled himself. “Now, what do you need to know about Elwyn?”
    Dev chose his words carefully. “I’m looking for a connection between the Elwyn family and mine. I recently