“I’m sure. If he was going to turn me over to Dunsmore he’d have done it by now.”
“Unless he was waiting for you to lead him to me.”
“Harry,” she said, flushing. “I’m sure he was helping me.”
He glanced at her serious expression and looked speculative for a moment. Georgy turned away.
“You seem very certain,” he said at last. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter 29
Nathan entered the Bloomsbury house still wearing a foolish grin—until he saw Goudge hovering in the hall. The ever-calm Goudge bore an expression somewhere between apology and dread. And straightaway Nathan knew.
“My lord—” Goudge began.
“Where is Miss Fellowes?”
“Gone, my lord. Two hours ago. I am sorry—she was not to be dissuaded.”
Nathan swore.
“I did, however, dispatch Davy after her immediately, and he’s already sent word by another message boy that he has her location. She went into a flat above the Camelot Theatre in Covent Garden. He’s watching the place now and will follow her if she leaves.”
“Good work.”
The Camelot. Of course. Max Eddington’s theatre. Where Lily Hawkins topped the bill.
“I’ve also been advised that Lord Dunsmore returned to town today,” Goudge added.
Nathan thought quickly. He was keen to call on Dunsmore as soon as possible. Dunsmore needed to understand that if Georgy was so much as touched again, Nathan would take that very personally. His warning would make an open enemy of Dunsmore, but so be it. A known enemy was probably safer than a secret one.
Although he didn’t want to delay his reunion with Georgy, he reluctantly decided it was more important to deal with Dunsmore first. In the meantime, he would send someone to watch the exterior of the Camelot with Davy until he could get there.
He gave Goudge his orders, then rushed upstairs to change out of his filthy riding clothes while a fresh horse was saddled. When he spoke with Dunsmore, he needed to be the unflappable Earl of Harland. By the time he’d finished dressing, while he wasn’t quite as exquisitely turned-out as usual, his linen was snowy-white, his blue coat free of the merest speck of lint and his boots shone like Whitby jet.
Before he went back downstairs, he entered Georgy’s chamber. It looked as though she was still in occupation. A few pots and jars littered the top of the dressing table. The bed covers were a little rumpled and the wardrobe doors stood open, revealing that the gowns he’d bought her had all been left behind. Her battered valise was gone.
At first he thought she’d left no note, but at last he spotted it lying facedown on the mantel shelf as though it had slipped. He picked it up and tore it open it, heart pounding, fingers shaking. Coins fell out onto the floor.
Dear Nathan
Harry is back and I am going to him. Please find money enclosed for the gowns you bought me. I hope it is enough for the clothes I’ve taken. The others I have left. You’ll be able to get them altered. Most of them haven’t even been worn.
Thank you for saving my life. I regret that I cannot repay you for that.
G
He felt like he’d been gutted. Earlier today she had said she loved him. In his mind, that had meant she would be waiting to fall into his arms when he returned. How stupid of him. He should have realised how anxious she’d be to leave, after what had happened.
He hoped it was true about her brother.
If she fell into danger again, it would be his fault entirely.
Dunsmore received him straightaway. Moments after he’d deposited his card on the butler’s tray, the man was back, murmuring that his lordship was in the library with Viscount Osborne and would his lordship like to come this way?
Nathan hid his surprise at the mention of Osborne’s name and followed the butler down the hall. So Dunsmore and Osborne were speaking, despite Dunsmore’s apparent edict that they should see each other no more.
Dunsmore was standing in front of the fire facing the door when Nathan entered the library. Osborne stood at the window, staring down at the street below. Nathan had the distinct impression he’d interrupted something. Obsorne was looking angry, Dunsmore tense.
“Harland.” Dunsmore spoke coldly, abruptly. “What brings you here?”
Brevity to the point of rudeness.
Nathan smiled, taking a seat without invitation while the other two men remained standing. “I have come to see you about a matter of some delicacy.”
Dunsmore’s mouth tightened. “Is that so?”
“You are not pleased to see me?” Nathan said, adjusting his cuffs.
“Frankly, no.”
“You should be pleased. At least I have come alone. I might have brought a magistrate with me.”
Dunsmore laughed harshly and looked at Osborne. “You see,” he said in an accusing tone. “I told you.”
Osborne stepped towards Nathan and said furiously, “I spoke to you in confidence!”
For a brief moment, Nathan was puzzled, but then he shook his head. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I couldn’t care less what you two get up to together. I am here to talk about a real crime.” He turned his attention back to Dunsmore. “One you have committed against your own flesh and blood.”
Dunsmore’s expression shifted. The open hostility ebbed, wary confusion taking its place.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harland. My own flesh and blood? My mother, you mean? She is my only family.”
“And the last time he did anything to defy that lady, he was still in petticoats,” Osborne added acidly.
Dunsmore coloured. “Shut up, Adam.”
“I am speaking of your cousins,” Nathan interrupted, impatient with their bickering. “The children of your father’s older brother, Harry and Georgiana. Please do not waste my time by pretending you do not know about them. I have other matters to attend to this evening and I am not minded to waste overmuch time with you, Dunsmore.”
Dunsmore frowned more deeply. “My cousins? I have never even met them. They are illegitimate.”
Nathan bit back his anger at the denial. Instead, he raised an eyebrow in patent disbelief. “Never met them? One of them has just spent a week at Dunsmore Manor—but then you know that already, don’t you?”
The stupefied expression on Dunsmore’s face rocked Nathan back on his heels slightly. He’d never have imagined Dunsmore would be so good an actor.
“I beg your pardon?” Dunsmore said faintly. “I am not following you, Harland.”
“This is becoming a bore. I am speaking of my valet, as you well know.”
Dunsmore blinked. Osborne attempted to nudge him in the right direction.
“I think what Harland is saying is that this cousin Harry of yours was acting as his valet over Christmas.”
“Not quite,” Nathan said. “My valet was his sister, Georgiana.”
Dunsmore looked utterly bewildered but after a moment of stunned silence, Osborne let out a shout of laughter.
“Of course!” he said, eyes flashing angrily. “I should have realised. I thought your sudden interest in chaps seemed rather odd.”
“You are saying that my cousin, my female cousin, was masquerading as your personal servant in my home, with your knowledge?” Dunsmore said slowly and carefully.
“I did not know her identity, or even that she was a female, when she entered my employ,” Nathan replied. “But it is scarcely the point. She merely entered your house on false pretences. You tried to kill her.”
Dunsmore’s mouth fell open. He stared as though Nathan had grown an extra head.
“Now look here, Harland!” Osborne interrupted. “You are making serious allegations without any foundation from what I can make out!”
Nathan ignored him, fixing his gaze upon the appalled Dunsmore. “You tried to kill her because she is not illegitimate, didn’t you? Her parents were married, and that makes her brother the true Earl of Dunsmore.”
&nb
sp; Dunsmore gaped. It was Osborne who found his voice first.
“What are you talking about? Peter has held the title for a decade!”
“Eight years,” Dunsmore corrected, without seeming to realise he was talking. He walked to the armchair behind the desk and sat down. After a pause he spoke again. “There was a cousin who came to see mother, making all sorts of outrageous claims—lies, mother said. That’s all I know.”
“Is that what she told you?” Nathan asked. “I have seen a letter that makes it plain she knew all about your cousin’s claim to the title before your father died—so she couldn’t have been too shocked to hear about it a year or two ago.”
Dunsmore looked at him sharply. “You have seen a private letter between my parents?”
Nathan inclined his head and said unapologetically, “From your father to your mother.”
Dunsmore’s complexion darkened. “Did you or your valet steal this private correspondence from my house?”
Nathan returned his glance coolly. “In the scheme of criminal acts, I believe it ranks rather lower than attempted murder.”
“I have not attempted to murder anyone, least of all some trollop who dresses up as men and enters others’ homes under false pretences!” Dunsmore shouted.
Nathan rose from his chair and strode over to the desk behind which Dunsmore sat. The other man stood as Nathan approached, his stance warily defensive.
“Do not ever refer to her in those terms,” Nathan said in a quiet, lethal voice. “Or use any other pejorative word about her. I will not have her spoken of thus by anyone, least of all you.”
“Very well,” Dunsmore said stiffly. “But mark this, Harland—I have not tried to harm her or her brother. And I will not have you saying otherwise.”
“I will say nothing to anyone,” Nathan said, “provided all attempts to harm either Georgiana or her brother cease.”
“There is nothing to cease!” Dunsmore returned hotly.
Nathan’s nostrils flared. “You are trying my patience severely.”
Osborne cleared his throat. “Let us consider matters rationally. Have you actually seen this letter you referred to, Harland? The one between Peter’s parents?”
Nathan nodded.
“And what did it say?”
“It was written by Dunsmore’s sire at an interesting time—two days after the death of his cousin Benjamin and on the actual day that Georgiana’s mother died. She was attacked outside the theatre she worked in, stabbed and left for dead.” Nathan turned his attention from Osborne’s grim countenance to a shaken looking Dunsmore. “The letter refers to an unnamed woman who was causing your father trouble, threatening his hopes for the future. He told your mother he had sent someone called Monk after the woman, to take care of matters. He assured your mother that all would be well. And of course, it was. Georgiana Knight’s mother was killed that day and her secret with her—for a time, anyway.”
Dunsmore visibly paled during this speech. He sank slowly back into his chair, his features frozen in blank horror. “Monk?”
Osborne went to him, frowning. “What is it?”
“Monk is the man father sent after Archie.”
Something flickered in Osborne’s eyes.
“Did this Monk have long, grey hair?” Nathan asked, pressing his advantage. “And a scar—” he bisected his right eye with one gloved finger, “—here?”
Dunsmore swallowed. “You have seen him?”
“Yes. He attacked Georgiana outside my own house. He is now dead.”
The expression that flitted over Dunsmore’s face then was unmistakable. Relief.
“He is dead,” he repeated, as though to test the sound of the words.
“Tell me who he was,” Nathan demanded.
“A servant of the family. He was groom to my father for many years. My father entrusted him with certain personal errands.”
“What sort of errands?”
Dunsmore made a strangled noise. “Dealing with problems,” he said at last.
“Problems like Aurora Knight?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, then at last he said softly, “I’ve not been trying to kill anyone, Harland.”
“Monk has,” Nathan said implacably. “More than once. And someone must have sent him.”
“Well, it wasn’t me!”
“So who does that leave?” Nathan demanded. “Your father’s dead. Are you telling me your mother did this?”
Dunsmore’s anger seemed to fall away as suddenly as it had arisen. He stared at Nathan helplessly and a horrible silence grew. Nathan thought of Dunsmore’s mother pouring tea for her guests at Dunsmore House and plying her embroidery needle. She seemed an unlikely would-be-murderess. Eventually, into the silence came Osborne’s voice.
“It’s the only explanation.”
He dropped to his knees to meet Dunsmore’s stunned gaze with his own steady one. “You cannot allow this to continue, Peter. You have let her ruin your life, but you cannot let her do this. They are your flesh and blood, legitimate or not.”
“There must be another explanation,” Dunsmore said weakly. “She is autocratic but she is not wicked.”
Osborne looked sceptical.
“Call for her now. Let’s speak with her. Let’s see what she has to say to this.”
Dunsmore looked panicked at the thought. But Osborne was already crossing the room. He pulled the bell rope. When the butler opened the door moments later, it was he who spoke.
“His lordship requires Lady Dunsmore to attend him straightaway,” Osborne said.
“Regrettably, Lady Dunsmore is no longer at home,” the butler replied, looking surprised at the unusual summons. “She left in her carriage half an hour ago.” He glanced then at Nathan. “And an errand boy has called for Lord Harland. He says he has an urgent message.”
Davy? It had to be. No one but Goudge knew he was here.
“Call for my horse and show the child in here,” Nathan said. The butler glanced uncertainly at Dunsmore.
“The child is quite unkempt, your lordship. I do not think that her ladyship would wish him to set foot on the carp—”
“For god’s sake, Herbert!” Dunsmore bellowed. “Who is master here? Me or my mother? Fetch the damned boy here at once!”
The butler’s eyes widened with shock but he hurried away and was back a moment later with Davy in tow. The child skirted round the butler as soon as he saw Nathan. He was a wiry boy of ten or so, though he looked younger. One of Goudge’s finds. An ex-pickpocket of many talents. Officially he was the boot boy, unofficially Goudge had his eye on him for better things.
“What news?” Nathan asked.
“Two men come,” Davy began with characteristic succinctness. “I know one of ’em. ’E’s as bad as they come. I sent Jem back to Mr. Goudge. Dick’s keepin’ an eye but he won’t be able to do much against them two. I ’eard the bad ’un say, she’s comin’ and we’ve ter wait til she gets ’ere. I don’ know ’ow long they’ll wait though. You better come quick, I fink.”
“Good lad. You can come with me on my horse.” He glanced at Dunsmore and Osborne as he strode to the door. “I have to go.”
“We’ll join you,” Osborne said grimly.
“Then you’ll have to make your own way. I’m leaving now and I have no time to waste.”
Chapter 30
They had finished their tea and crumpets and Georgy was clearing the plates away when they heard the noise. Footsteps running upstairs? Georgy looked at Max questioningly.
“What the devil—” Max said, moving towards the sitting room door. Harry began to struggle up from his reclining position.
Max was about to open the door when it erupted on its hinges, the edge of it colliding with his forehead, pitching him to the floor.
“Max!” Georgy began to run forward and was stopped in her tracks by the two men who had entered. One held a pistol, the other a battered looking club. The one with the club kicked Max viciously in the ribs and Max
grunted with pain.
“One down, Bill!” he said to the other man, grinning. He had an undershot bite, like a bulldog, and his grin was more of a leer, his lips full and slightly wet.
“Leave him alone!” Georgy shouted. She started towards Max but the man called Bill stopped her with a growl that revealed a mouth all but empty of teeth.
“Get back. Both of you stay where you are and keep yer ’ands where we can see ’em.”
“Do as he says, George,” Harry said behind her in a low voice. She made a frustrated noise but stepped back, hating the sickening fear rising in her belly. Without taking his eyes off them, Bill gestured at Max with his free hand. “Move ’im,” he told the other man. “’E can be tied up till ’er Nibs tells us what to do with ’im.”
A third cloaked and hooded figure entered the room as the bulldog dragged Max off and shoved him into a chair. One heavily ringed hand emerged from the folds of the cloak to push the hood back from its wearer’s face. Her other hand, which shook slightly, held a small, elegant, pearl-handled pistol.
“You two have become very troublesome,” Lady Dunsmore said. She sounded aggrieved, upset, her expression disgusted. “And it needn’t have come to this at all. You only have yourselves to blame!”
Georgy glanced at Harry. He stayed silent but his eyes burned. They stood in the centre of the room with Lady Dunsmore and the man called Bill facing them. Lady Dunsmore had her pistol levelled at Harry and Bill had adjusted his aim to cover Georgy. She heard the sound of a blow connecting behind her and then another a low groan from Max. When she turned her head to look at him she saw he was secured to a chair now. His head lolled back and blood trickled down from his forehead.
“Please don’t hurt him!” she pleaded, but the bulldog only laughed, seeming amused by her reaction. She looked back towards Lady Dunsmore, whose expression of disgust had intensified.
“Not yet,” she said to the bulldog in a voice icy with anger, before returning her attention to Georgy.
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