A painful pressure squeezed Yvette’s heart. “Yes, I gathered.” And men who blew with the wind didn’t marry earl’s daughters and settle into comfortable existences on country estates.
“Lady Yvette,” said a rumbling voice from behind her.
She whirled around to find Mr. Bonnaud standing there. Why was Jane’s brother-in-law here? Oh, right. He was also cousin to the Keanes by marriage. He must have accompanied Miss Keane to Stoke Towers.
“Good morning, Mr. Bonnaud,” she said brightly. “I hope you had good weather for your journey.”
“Yes.” The word was clipped. “Actually . . . er . . . Mr. Keane is in your brother’s study and sent me to fetch you. There’s a matter he wishes to discuss with you privately.”
Panic gripped her. What was wrong with Jeremy? Didn’t he know that her brother would suspect something if he was setting up private meetings with her?
But oddly, Edwin didn’t look upset. He wore a fond expression that was utterly unlike him. “Go on, then,” he said. “Don’t keep the man waiting.”
This was strange. Since when was he pushing her toward Jeremy?
Then her stomach sank as she realized why. Jeremy wanted a moment alone to say his farewells before he left with his sister. And Edwin was so ecstatic over the man’s leaving that he couldn’t wait for it to be done.
Her temper rose the closer she got to the study. She refused to let Jeremy go without a fight. She had a trick or two up her sleeve.
Breezing into the study, she said, “You can’t leave yet. You still owe me a portrait.”
With a startled expression, Jeremy turned to face her. Then a sly smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “I thought I owed your brother a portrait. As I recall, you weren’t that keen on it.”
“Well, I’m keen on it now. You have to finish it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you also still owe me a chance to find my brother’s son. So you see, you can’t leave yet. You haven’t done what you promised.”
A shadow crossed his face, and his smile vanished. “Not the first part, no. But I have done what I promised regarding your brother.”
That knocked the breath from her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He glanced down at the desk and tapped his fingers restlessly on what looked like a small stack of papers. Then he came around to face her, his gaze steady. “Bonnaud has found your nephew.”
Not expecting that, she swayed a little on her feet. He darted forward to catch her around the waist. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I should have given you more warning.”
Her mind stuttered into a gallop, putting things together. The appearance of Mr. Bonnaud here. The odd way Jeremy had looked at her when he’d called her in. “But how . . . When . . .” She narrowed an accusing gaze on him. “I asked you not to involve your relations!”
“Because you feared that they would be indiscreet. But I knew otherwise.”
She pulled away from him. “Oh, you did, did you?”
“Yes. And you’ll have to trust my judgment in that because I cannot tell you why. But I had good reason to believe in their discretion. So I hired them. It was better than your risking your reputation to find the lad.” He smiled faintly. “And I knew you’d never stop looking.”
The warmth in his eyes spread a soothing heat through her jangled nerves. “When did you arrange—”
“The day after the masquerade ball. They’ve been working on it ever since.”
Oh, Lord. All this time. And he’d engineered it for her. How very sweet. Surely it showed a level of caring beyond the ever-present desire simmering between them. “So . . . so that’s why Mr. Bonnaud is here.”
“Yes. To consult with you and your brother. Bonnaud cannot continue to pursue this without the earl’s consent.”
Her heart sank. “No, no, no, no . . . Edwin mustn’t be involved. He will never forgive me!”
Jeremy stepped up to steady her with a hand under her elbow. “First of all, Blakeborough isn’t your enemy. He is perfectly capable of listening to reason.”
“That’s what you think. When he hears about the brothel visit and our bargain and—”
“We don’t need to tell him any of that, sweetheart. We’ll say that you confided your concerns to me, and I decided to find the boy on my own. I enlisted the help of the Duke’s Men because I knew that, as my family, they would keep the secrets of me and my friends. Your brother need never hear the whole truth.”
When she just stood there, trembling, he added softly, “But you must tell him what’s going on. Otherwise, the child will be sent to the Foundling Hospital.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“The lad’s mother wants to marry, and her would-be husband doesn’t want her by-blow hanging about. So if Blakeborough doesn’t step in to help, she means to place the boy elsewhere. And you’ll lose all chance of overseeing his care.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. “She can’t do that. He deserves a home, a family.”
“Well, he’s not going to get one unless you involve your brother. Only Blakeborough has the kind of connections—and the motivation to use them—to find a deserving family for the lad.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “That’s probably true.”
“So you’re willing to bring your brother into it?”
With a sigh, she nodded. She couldn’t let the poor child go to the Foundling Hospital. He deserved to have a loving adoptive mother.
“Good.” Jeremy squeezed her elbow reassuringly. “First, I think we should send for your brother, so the two of us can explain everything. Then we can bring Bonnaud in to present the details of his report, which is on the desk. I haven’t had time to read the whole thing, but he gave me the gist of it. I’m sure he will be happy to answer your questions. All right?”
She released a shaky breath. “Yes.”
As Jeremy stepped into the hall to have a servant summon Edwin, she wandered to the desk to look at the papers. A name caught her eye: Elias Samuel. Miss Moreton had named her child after his father.
Unexpectedly, tears burned Yvette’s eyes. It was nearly over. All that was left was to prove, to Edwin’s satisfaction, that Elias was Samuel’s boy. Then Yvette could deliver the letter to Miss Moreton—or Edwin could—and could arrange for Meredith to take care of their nephew. Her obligation to Samuel would be fulfilled.
And Jeremy’s obligation to her would be fulfilled, as well. If he chose to leave, she had no way to compel him to stay, the paintings notwithstanding.
“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked softly as he reentered the room.
She blinked back her tears. She would die before she let him see how upset she’d become over his leaving. “I’m fine. I just . . . can’t believe they were able to find him.”
He came over to place his hand comfortingly on her waist. “Yes, well—”
The door opened and Edwin entered. “Don’t let me interrupt,” her brother said in an unusually jovial voice. “I see that you’ve told her, Keane. And I assume that since you’ve called me in, she has accepted your offer.”
“What offer?” Yvette stared at Jeremy, whose hand was still on her waist, and the answer hit her. “You’ve already asked my brother for permission to marry me?”
“Yes.” His eyes locked with hers. “This morning before anyone arrived. He said that his answer is dependent upon yours.” He took her hand. “And so is my future. So I do hope you’ll say yes.”
She noticed he hadn’t mentioned love or any great yearning for her company, or anything else to indicate that his feelings about her had changed since last night. Before she leapt willy-nilly into his arms, she had to determine if he was still just offering for her out of duty.
“Why do you wish to marry me?” she asked.
With a furtive glance at Edwin, he murmured, “You
know why.”
“Actually, I don’t. Pray enlighten me.”
Would he reveal what they’d done together? Or drum up some other reason they ought to wed?
He just stared at her, looking frustrated. It was as she’d feared. He was marrying her because it was the right thing to do.
She drew her hand from his. “I’m sorry, Mr. Keane, but—”
“No, don’t refuse me yet. At least think about it.” His eyes burned into hers, full of feeling. Why couldn’t he express it?
But he was right. She should not refuse him out of hand. “Very well. I shall take some time to consider the offer.”
“Wait a minute, Yvette,” Edwin said. “If he wasn’t asking you to marry him when I came in, what the devil was he doing?”
Oh, dear. Time to be honest with Edwin.
Forcing a smile, she turned to her brother. “It turns out that Mr. Keane has managed to locate Miss Peggy Moreton and her child.” As she saw the shock spreading over Edwin’s face, she gulped down apprehension. “You’ll be pleased to hear that Samuel’s son has been found at last.”
Twenty-Three
Jeremy tensed. Blakeborough didn’t look pleased. He wore an expression of betrayal, as if he’d just been kicked in the ballocks.
An unfamiliar sort of guilt settled in Jeremy’s chest. He’d had few close friends in his life, and he’d certainly never betrayed one.
Then Blakeborough turned his anger on Yvette. “You told Keane about Samuel’s supposed by-blow. And about that . . . that woman.”
Jeremy’s guilt vanished, replaced by an instinctual need to protect Yvette. “Yes, she told me.” He moved in front of her. “She needed to confide in someone who could help her decide how to act. And as I explained this morning, she and I grew quite close during our time together doing her portrait.”
“Really?” the earl snapped. “I was there, too, and I don’t recall talking about my damned brother and the damned request he made of my sister.”
“Edwin—” Yvette began.
“You forget that she and I didn’t work all the time.” Jeremy fumbled for an explanation of how they’d grown so intimate. “We danced together at the masquerade ball. Occasionally, you left us alone with Damber so you could attend to estate work.”
“So now your insolent apprentice knows my family’s business as well?” Blakeborough roared.
“Stop it, Edwin!” Yvette cried. “I told Mr. Keane about Samuel the first night I met him, when we danced. I said the only way I would agree to sit for a portrait was if he found my nephew for me.”
That halted the earl’s fury right well.
Jeremy wished he’d thought of that explanation himself. It made perfect sense, and was nearly the truth, too.
Blakeborough scowled at her. “You were that desperate—”
“Yes!” She pushed past Jeremy, headed for her brother. “I told you how upset I was.” When she reached Blakeborough, she softened her voice into the same understanding murmur that had made Jeremy spill his own secrets to her last night. “But it’s all right. The Duke’s Men are very discreet. And Mr. Keane made it clear to them that he regarded the investigation as a personal favor. They will not betray his secrets, even if they’re not too fond of Samuel.”
Jeremy watched as the anger in the earl’s face slowly subsided. And she thought she had no influence over him? Her brother might have a bit of a temper and a rigid code of behavior and a pride stiff enough to hoist a mountain, but clearly he cared about his sister.
The earl drew into himself. “So I suppose that’s why Bonnaud is here.”
“Yes,” she said. “He brought his report. Shall I call him in so he can give it? We need to decide what to do.”
Though Blakeborough set his shoulders like a man preparing for battle, he grumbled, “Might as well. The cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?”
“Out and apparently on a rampage,” Yvette muttered as she went into the hall.
The earl rounded on Jeremy. “You knew about Samuel all this time. And you agreed to go behind my back to find out—”
“Forgive me. The friendlier you and I became, the worse I felt about it. But honestly, your sister would have done something foolish if no one had helped her with the matter. I figured it was better that Manton’s Investigations, with their vast experience, do the looking than that she do it on her own, which is what she proposed.”
All right, so he was heaping lies upon lies. But Yvette deserved to be shielded. Because while the earl clearly wasn’t as critical of her as she thought, he still wouldn’t look kindly upon her activities the night of the masquerade ball.
“Now you understand why I thought you should tell her about Samuel,” Jeremy went on. “I hoped it might keep her from behaving rashly.”
Blakeborough drew himself up as if to retort, but before he could, Bonnaud and Yvette returned.
“So,” the earl told Bonnaud, “I understand that Mr. Keane engaged you for an assignment involving my feckless brother’s trail of mistresses. I’m surprised you even agreed to take it on, given how he injured your family.”
Bonnaud shrugged. “My family—my brother—injured you by stealing your fiancée. So I figure we’re even.”
For a long moment, Blakeborough just stared at the man. Then he gave a grudging smile. “Stole her back, one might say. But I suppose you’re right. And I do appreciate your help in the matter.” He cast a glance at Jeremy. “Even if I don’t appreciate that it was requested without my knowledge.”
“To be fair,” Bonnaud said, “Mr. Keane didn’t feel we should bother you with it until we could be sure there was something to your brother’s claim.”
“Ah,” the earl said, as if that settled everything, which they all knew it did not. “I take it that you’ve decided there was something to Samuel’s claim.”
“Yes.” And with that, Bonnaud launched into a dispassionate recital of everything he’d found.
Jeremy had heard most of it already. How Bonnaud had tracked Miss Moreton down. Where he’d learned she was staying. What had been done to determine if the boy Elias was truly Samuel’s son.
Though Jeremy tried to pay attention to the conversation, he couldn’t help being distracted by Yvette. She’d been on the verge of refusing his offer, and the fact that she wouldn’t even look at him worried him. What if she did refuse him? How would he live with himself, knowing that he’d ruined her for any other man?
Not that he wanted to see her with another man. The very idea made him surprisingly hot under the collar.
“What do you think I should do, Keane?”
“Hmm?” Jeremy jerked his gaze from Yvette. “Sorry, Blakeborough. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”
The earl glanced from him to Yvette. “Bonnaud says that Miss Moreton is eager to give up all claim to the boy. But I don’t want to be tricked into supporting a child that isn’t my brother’s, all because a soiled dove wants to marry some gentleman.”
Jeremy could understand why. From what Bonnaud had said, Blakeborough was already supporting Samuel’s last mistress and babe. “Then meet with Miss Moreton yourself. Ask her your questions, and see how she responds.”
The earl’s lips thinned. “That’s all well and good for you to say, but I’m not adept at assessing people’s reactions and figuring out whether they’re lying.”
“Mr. Keane is,” Yvette put in. “So take him with you. The two of you ought to be able to figure it out together. Or I could go—”
“No,” Blakeborough said firmly. “You are not going. That would be entirely unwise.”
“I agree with your brother,” Jeremy told her. “Involving you is unacceptable.” When she blinked at him, clearly startled by his vehemence, Jeremy softened his tone. “But I promise to act as your representative in this matter. It would be my honor.”
The sudden so
ftness in her gaze started an unfamiliar fluttering in his belly. “Very well,” she said. “But if I am not to go, I want to know one thing.” She turned an anxious gaze on Bonnaud. “When you met with Miss Moreton, was the boy there?”
“Elias? Yes.”
She folded her hands together at her waist as if to hold her emotions in. “How did he seem?”
“He wasn’t suffering, if that’s what you’re worried about. But he was also very quiet. Too quiet for a four-year-old, if you ask me.” When worry crossed her face, Bonnaud added hastily, “But then, I don’t know much about children.”
She nodded, but her concerned expression didn’t abate.
Jeremy hated seeing it. “We’ll set things right, sweetheart. I promise you.”
The endearment made Yvette glance nervously at Bonnaud, but the investigator took a sudden interest in straightening the papers of his report.
Meanwhile, her brother was watching her with a wary expression. “I assume you still think we should have Meredith raise the boy with her own son.”
“I think it would be best, yes.”
“At my expense, I suppose,” Blakeborough grumbled.
“Well, not entirely,” she said. “I . . . um . . . probably should have mentioned this before, but I never posted that letter Samuel gave me. I held on to it in case we found her. What’s more, he implied that the contents would secure the future of Miss Moreton and her child.”
“What?” the earl said. “Why didn’t you reveal this before?”
She steadied her shoulders. “You were determined to believe the worst of Samuel. I hardly thought hearing about any financial help for her would change anything. And we couldn’t know what it was anyway until we found Miss Moreton and gave her the letter.”
“The devil we couldn’t.” Blakeborough held out his hand. “Give me the damned envelope.”
The Art of Sinning Page 24
