Silent, Beatrix followed Carlotta into the hall, her mind spinning in a few hundred directions.
The sooner they found the truth of it all, the better it would be. Hopefully, Neville had found something more substantial than she.
LORD NEVILLE RUBBED HIS eyes then focused again on the paperwork before him. Great stacks of documents littered his library, all of which pointed to the same conclusion.
Sir Kirby was exactly who he said he was.
Except for the fact that, deep in his gut, Lord Neville knew it wasn't possible.
How could a man suddenly appear with the perfect connection to the Lamont family when several years prior, such a connection didn't exist? It was common knowledge that the duke was only connected to the Lamont's through a hair's-breadth relation, but, surprising, all who had known him knew he took the guardianship of the three girls seriously. But if there was a closer relation, a closer connection, the duke wouldn't have been named guardian.
Sir Kirby would have.
Except he didn't exist.
At least not then.
Which meant that technically, he still didn't exist. Except that he did on paper.
Normally, the issue was to prove lineage through documentation, not the other way around. How did one prove that a gentleman didn't exist in direct contradiction to the documentation's proof?
"There's not enough brandy in the world for this," Curtis mumbled as he tossed a document on the ever-growing pile. "Bloody hell, this bastard is either a professional swindler, or he actually is authentic."
"I'm aware," Neville replied, studying the document before him.
"No wonder he's made it this far with such a wild claim."
"Indeed."
"You seem oddly calm… it's frankly far more terrifying." Curtis's voice was wary.
"Don't be such a nodcock. We simply have to be more intelligent than this charlatan. We…" Neville rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath as he thought it through.
"Yes?" Curtis asked with an impatient lilt to his voice.
"…we need to draw him out… make him feel like he's won. So far…" Neville picked up another document. "…he's been meticulous, but no one is perfect. There's a flaw. We just have to find it."
"The proverbial needle in a haystack."
"Yes… what if…" Neville stood, stretching his aching legs. Slowly the dull pain dissipated as he paced about the room.
"Are you going to finish that thought, or must I wait in suspense forever?" Curtis drolled.
Neville shot him a dark look. "What if—?"
"You've said that."
"I would caution you against provoking me at this point. I find I'm exceedingly tempted to bloody someone up, pretending it's Kirby."
"Noted." Curtis nodded.
"We give him what he wants."
"Beatrix?"
"No—"
"But—"
"May I finish?" Neville paused and faced his friend, irritation bubbling within. Clenching his fists, he tried to remain calm enough to continue.
Curtis nodded.
"He doesn't want Beatrix. She is simply a means to an end. What he wants is her fortune. But in order to gain that fortune, he must first gain her. So we let him think he's won, or will win rather. Then, once he is settled in the idea, we destroy it, forcing his hand. You see…" Neville took a step forward. "…up till this point, he's been able to think through every move, every idea, every possibility." He took another step forward. "We need to destroy his rhythm, disrupt it. And, in doing so, he'll lead us directly to the truth of it all."
"You sound quite certain," Curtis ascertained, his expression skeptical. "It's quite the risk we take, that Miss Lamont… takes." He let her name linger.
Neville clenched his fists harder, willing himself to remain in control of his emotions when all he wanted to do was roar in rage and kidnap the lady.
But that wouldn't solve the issue. It would only create a new one that would forever mar their relationship. Unless the threat of Sir Kirby was abolished, Beatrix's freedom meant her sister's bondage.
And he couldn't allow that to happen.
Damn it all.
"Has Henry reported?" Neville asked, changing the subject.
Curtis raised his eyebrows in a telling expression but answered the question. "He'll be here sometime this evening, hopefully with some information we can use."
"He's been tailing Kirby?"
"Yes."
A knock on his study door drew his attention. "Yes?"
Stevens, his butler, entered with his usual ridged posture. "Mr. Henry is here to see you, my lord."
Neville shared a glance with Curtis. "Show him in."
"Of course."
Stevens left, and less than a minute later, Henry Sterling strode into the room. His light hair was cut shorter, giving him the impression of being older than his eighteen years. The boy had grown as well, Neville noticed, his height accentuated by his adolescent leanness. In truth, the poor kid looked like a string bean.
"Henry." Neville nodded.
"My lord… Mr. Sheppard." He nodded respectfully to the two gentlemen.
"We were just speaking of you. Do you have any information pertaining to this Kirby fellow?" Neville asked, studying the boy.
Henry's gaze was direct. "The man's a blackguard if I've ever seen one, but he's also keen. Kept on following him through Hyde Park. It was clear that he knew who to speak with, what to say, how to work the crowd as it were. His manners are impeccable, his tone genteel, everything you'd expect… when he needs to be."
"What do you mean by that?" Curtis asked.
"When he's with the betters, he acts as if he belongs. But he doesn't simply seek their company. I followed him into Cheapside then into a few more… compromising neighborhoods. He visited a bordello, a few gambling hells, and then made his way back to his lodgings, North of Oxford Street toward Paddington. Far more humble than that of Mayfair—if you gather my meaning—but respectable."
"All of this is not necessarily surprising, Henry. Is there any other information? Odd mannerisms? Tells when speaking to others, anything?" Neville asked, feeling desperation lick his heels.
The lad rocked back. "He's been to the duke's to inquire about Beatrix."
"And?" Neville's jaw clenched as he imagined the slimy bastard even darkening the door of Beatrix's residence.
"And the duke sent him away shortly after he was granted an audience. But that's not the odd part." Henry leaned in slightly. "He keeps going back, every day, at the same time."
"Same time?" Curtis asked.
Henry nodded. "Same time every day, at the fashionable hour when the ton are out and about. With the duke's residence in such close proximity to Hyde Park, well, Sir Kirby gets an audience with every attempt… with every rejection," Henry finished, an eyebrow raised.
"But why would he want others to see his rejection?" Curtis spoke, his tone belying the question and making it more of a rhetorical statement.
"That is an excellent question." Neville threaded his fingers behind his head and paced toward the fire. "Why would a man want the very people he's trying to impress, to see his continual rejection?"
"He's sending a message. Perhaps it's not the ton he's concerned about, maybe it's the duke. Is he trying to convince him that he's not easily deterred, so much in fact that he doesn't care who sees his determination?" Curtis asked.
"If that were the case, then why would he make such an effort to converse at the park later, socialize, as it were?" Neville replied to the hanging question.
"It doesn't make sense."
"Nothing about this makes sense," Neville clipped.
Silence hung in the room, thick and deep like a fog. While Neville knew they were missing something important, he couldn't see it through the web of deception Kirby had expertly woven.
"We need time." Curtis broke the silence. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed.
"I'll talk with Beatrix," Neville s
poke.
"Like hell you will! There will be no contact! We don't want to force his hand too quickly, and if you are sniffing bout her skirts then—"
"I'll not be sniffing."
"You can't not sniff!
"If I might offer a solution?" Henry interjected, lifting a finger, but taking a step back when Neville glared at him.
"Any suggestion would be better than his idea," Curtis replied with an annoyed expression aimed at Neville.
Neville returned the glare, his own chest tight.
"Lord Neville, if you wish to write a letter giving detailed instructions, I can easily deliver it undetected and without raising suspicion," Henry offered.
"You forget that you've been tailing Kirby. Wouldn't he recognize you?" Curtis asked, giving voice to Neville's own thoughts.
"No, when I followed Kirby I took on the alias as a hack driver. It was easy enough to keep my distance once I recognized his routine. There are hundreds of hacks about town. I simply dressed like the lot of them, kept my head down, and made a few extra pence." Henry winked, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"Wipe that arrogant expression off your face before I do it for you."
Henry didn't reply but sobered immediately.
"Do it." Curtis directed his words toward Neville.
Exhaling an irritated sigh, Neville glared at Curtis then stood and strode to his desk. Withdrawing a missive, he took a few moments to convey their message to Beatrix. Unable to help himself, even though he knew the risk was quite substantial, he used her familiar name, smiling slightly as he read, then re-read the word. Beatrix. To hell with the social sanctions that forbid her from receiving a letter from a gentleman. She would receive this one, and in it, see his determination, his vow that she would be his.
Not Kirby's.
His.
With a flourish, he signed his name then sealed the envelope with a glob of wax.
"Don't use your crest. We don't anticipate interception of the letter, but let us remain cautious," Curtis interjected.
Setting his crest down, he pressed his thumb into the warm red wax, leaving a print.
"Be off with you now," Neville commanded.
"Do I wait for a reply?" Henry asked as he tucked the message into his greatcoat.
"Yes," Neville replied, his tone daring as he glared at Curtis, who had begun to shake his head.
"Very good, my lords." Henry bowed and retreated, the sound of his footsteps down the hall the only reminder of his presence.
"The duke will not allow…"
"I bloody well know what the duke will or will not allow."
"…And the chances of her seeing the letter before him — hell, seeing the letter at all… Damn it all, we should have simply sent it to the duke. What were we thinking?" Curtis growled and stood.
"Regardless, they will gather the point."
"Indeed. You… you didn't add anything of a personal nature to the missive, did you?" Curtis paused and studied him carefully.
"I simply included that which we discussed." He shrugged.
"Very good." Curtis nodded.
"Now we wait, and I'm deuced sick of waiting," Neville spoke, irritation thick in his voice.
"That's what happens when you set a trap, my friend. You wait, pray, and watch. Believe me when I say we want to be alert for when we catch our prey."
"Let the games begin." Neville nodded, praying it wouldn't take too long. Because each day, each hour, was one that separated him from Beatrix.
And that simply wouldn't do.
Not when the only place she belonged was in his arms.
CHAPTER TEN
"MURRAY?" BEATRIX TILTED HER HEAD AS she studied the odd behavior of the butler as he shuffled his feet slightly and seemed to study something in his hands.
"Forgive me, Miss Lamont, but I—I have a missive for you, and I know that, well, a lady such as yourself shouldn't be receiving letters without the duke's knowledge, but… with you bein' so down lately, I thought that perhaps this is what you were waiting for?" He held out the cream-colored envelope.
It was true. Even with the earlier reunion with her eldest sister, her heart was heavy. Bethanny had mentioned the same in the short time they were able to be together.
Beatrix grasped the envelope from Murray's hand. There was no writing on the outside of the envelope. "How do you know its intended recipient is me?" Beatrix asked then flipped the envelope over and saw the wax, sealed with a fingerprint, no crest.
Could it be?
"There's a lad downstairs that is waiting for a reply. Now, I told him that there'd be nothing of the sort, ladies such as yourself do not—"
"Is he still there?" Beatrix asked as she quickly broke the wax seal.
"Er, I believe so, but I must advise against such an action—"
"Then go and find Carlotta. She will be my alibi — and yours as well." Beatrix winked at Murray, trying to allay his tension, but it was awkward for her, being so tense herself.
"Of course." Murray bowed and left to find his mistress.
Her eyes scanned the letter, taking in every flick of the pen, every word — especially one.
Her name.
Not her proper name, but her Christian name: Beatrix. Each letter of her name flowed carefully, as if the sender had taken great lengths upon the single word.
Her heart pinched as she ran her fingers over the paper, wishing that something more tangible than a missive connected her with Lord Neville.
But something was better than nothing.
So she'd be thankful for small blessings. Yet as she read the letter, her heart grew heavy with dread. She was to be welcoming to Sir Kirby. They had already discussed as much, but that she would be actually implementing such action made her stomach clench with dread.
But if this is what needed to happen in order to put to rest the entire situation, she'd do it gladly.
"Beatrix? What is going on?" Carlotta entered the room, her skin glowing with her increasing.
"It's instructions from Lord Neville, and, I'm assuming, Mr. Sheppard as well."
"And?" Carlotta asked, placing her hand over her swollen belly.
"And it's much of what we already anticipated. The only difference is that those words now need to become action." Beatrix handed over the missive, not missing when Carlotta's eyes widened as she surely read Beatrix's Christian name at the top.
Carlotta raised a skeptical brow but continued reading.
"We are to allow Sir Kirby to pay you court?" Carlotta spoke with a sharp tone of derision.
"It would seem so, but I have all confidence that such action will not be in vain," she asserted.
"The duke will not be pleased." Carlotta bit her lower lip as she seemed to re-read the letter.
"The duke will know that such an endeavor will be to the benefit of us all and give Lord Neville and Mr. Sheppard the time and circumstances needed to sort this whole thing out," Beatrix emphasized.
"You have great confidence in Lord Neville." Carlotta lowered the letter and regarded her with a clear green gaze.
"I do."
Carlotta studied her for a moment longer. "Do we need to reply?"
"Murray said there was a lad waiting."
"Give me a moment." Carlotta turned to walk away.
"Wait!" Beatrix followed after her. "Please, allow me to write it. You can stand behind me. Only let it be in my hand."
Carlotta turned and considered her. "Why? And do not think for one moment that I missed that the letter clearly stated your given name, my dear. Such a liberty isn't to be given freely. I know you must understand." Carlotta narrowed her eyes.
Beatrix squared her shoulders, not willing to cower under her practiced governess's eye. "I'm aware… but this, this letter is the only connection I have at the moment. Please, I beg you. Do not deny me this small indulgence."
Carlotta glanced from the letter to Beatrix then back. With a sigh, she extended the letter. "Then be about it quickly."
> AS PREDICTED, THE DUKE was not pleased with the letter's contents, least of all the request that Beatrix be allowed to be in the presence of Lord Kirby. But after his temper had cooled slightly, he understood the implications of its benefit in the long run. "Just because I understand does not mean I have to like it," the duke huffed indignantly as he paced about his study. "If I had my way, I'd not let the gentleman near you." He glanced at Beatrix.
"Surely Lord Neville and Mr. Sheppard have a reason for such a request, my lord. We must trust them."
"Trust, ha! I'll trust Neville when he asks my permission to address you by your Christian name!"
"I highly doubt you have much to fear since the gentleman in question cannot even be near me while this Kirby farce continues," Beatrix replied, her tone terse as her patience ran thin.
She studied the Aubusson rug with its beautiful design of blue and red, trying to focus on anything but the irritation grating on her last nerve.
"Your grace?" Murray entered the study and, as if sensing the tension in the air, took a step back.
"What is it?" the duke snapped.
"Your grace, you asked to be notified when Sir Kirby arrived? The gentleman in question is requesting your audience." Murray bowed slightly.
"Please let him know that if he wishes to have an… audience…" He stressed the word. "…he'll have to take it tonight at the Smother's rout." As soon as the duke finished the word, he shot a glare to Beatrix. "Like hell will I let that snake around you without the whole of the ton as witnesses. It will also act as a precautionary net. He'll be needing to follow every social protocol, which should render you quite safe." His tone gentled as he gave a final nod to Murray, who left to report the message.
"I see. That was very… discerning, Your Grace," Beatrix replied, humbled that he had put so much thought into the situation.
"You're in my care, under my protection. I—I care Beatrix. So help me I will do all in my power to keep you safe." The duke closed his eyes then sighed. "You have my leave. But please be ready to attend Smother's Ball tonight. We have work to do." He shot her a direct gaze that left her chilled.
A Tempting Ruin (GreenFord Waters #3) Page 12
