Dangerous to Kiss (35 page)

Gray looked at him sternly. “Don’t you know your Bible, man?”

“Not particularly.”

“What the devil do they teach boys in school these days? Oh, never mind! What it comes down to is this. The driving force in your father’s life appears to be the collections he has amassed over the years.”

Leathe’s sneer was pronounced. “My father sees
himself as a man of culture, and a great connoisseur. That he is a thief and stole the money to finance his collections, from first my mother then from Deb and me, does not trouble his conscience.”

“If anything happened to Deborah, what would become of her fortune?”

“The bulk of it would come to me, unless she marries. That’s why my father has never bothered to take legal action to have her declared dead.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

“My income is in excess of a hundred thousand a year, as is Deborah’s. Coal and cotton are quite lucrative.”

Gray’s jaw went slack. “Good Lord! I think I begin to understand.” He thought for a moment, then said, “When I arrived, you were on your way to see your father. Why?”

“I thought I might pick a quarrel with him, and possibly kill him, just to avenge Deb’s sufferings.”

“That
would not help Deborah.”

“No. But it would help me. Do you have a better idea?”

Gray smiled an unholy smile. “I’m a diplomat, Leathe. My methods were learned at the courts of Europe.”

“Diplomacy,” said Leathe, flicking Gray a dry look, “has never been known to work with my father.”

That remark earned a smirk from Gray. “That’s because you’ve never tried it, not as it’s practiced by His Majesty’s ministers. You’re a hothead, Leathe. Diplomacy requires patience, cool nerves, and a straight face.”

Gray had risen and Leathe did likewise. “I presume,” said Gray, “your father is in residence at Belvidere?”

“Yes. They never come up to town until the hunting season is over. How did you know?”

“Because Deborah would never have come to London if she thought her father was likely to be there. We can be at Belvidere by evening, spend the night at Windsor, and be back here by tomorrow afternoon.”

Leathe was still reflecting on what Gray had said.
“What kind of diplomacy is practiced by His Majesty’s ministers?” he asked.

“I’ll fill you in on the way to Belvidere. You are to take your cue from me. Understood?”

They were in the inn’s lobby when they caught sight of Meg. She was tethering her horse to the hitching post in the courtyard.

“What the devil is she doing here?” demanded Gray.

“I sent her a note,” said Leathe, flinging the words at him.

Gray gritted his teeth. “Oh, you did, did you?”

They were both bristling, like dogs about to go on the attack.

“Well, get rid of her,” said Gray. “We don’t want Deborah to know that we are leaving together. She would guess that we are up to something.”

Gray took cover in the deserted taproom and watched with mounting irritation at the spectacle that took place in the inn’s courtyard. The young whelp actually had the effrontery to take Meg in his arms and kiss her. Only one thing mitigated Gray’s annoyance. Meg was chaperoned by a groom. Soon after, Meg and the groom rode off, and Leathe returned to the inn.

“I have a hired chaise waiting,” said Leathe, stiff as starch, indicating the vehicle in question. “We can stable our mounts here until we return.”

Nothing more was said until they were inside the chaise. “I meant what I said,” said Gray. “You are not a suitable young man for my sister to know.”

Leathe’s response was equally blunt. “Those are my sentiments exactly with respect to yourself. You are too much in the petticoat line for my taste, Kendal, and I’m warning you now, I shall do everything in my power to protect Deb from you.”

“You had better not take that tack in the presence of your father,” Gray said between his teeth. “My strategy depends on convincing him that Deb will soon be my wife and thus under my protection.”

“I can playact as well as you,” was the stiff rejoinder.

They glared, they hunched their shoulders, and each affected an interest in the passing scenery.

They reached Belvidere a little after eight o’clock. Though they had unbent enough to discuss their strategy, their manner toward each other was polite rather than friendly.

“I’ve heard a lot about Belvidere,” said Gray, looking around him with interest. “It’s reputed that your father rebuilt it into the most magnificent private palace in the whole of England.”

“You heard correctly,” said Leathe, “and it was money from coal and cotton that is responsible for all this grandeur.” He made a gesture with one hand, encompassing the neoclassical façade of white marble steps and Greek columns. “My father lived like a king while my mother languished in an insane asylum. I shall never forgive him for that.”

Gray had prepared himself for a finely appointed house, but even he was taken aback by its splendor when Leathe ushered him into the vast entrance hall. A set of twelve Greek columns with gilt Greek statues upon them seemed to hold up the intricate plaster ceiling with its mural of some scene from Roman history. Beneath his feet was a marble mosaic in white and blue to match the columns.

“The columns,” said Leathe, “were discovered in the river Tiber in Rome. My father had them brought to Belvidere on the occasion of his marriage to my mother. You might say they were a wedding present to himself.”

The footman who took their coats and hats gave no sign of recognizing Leathe. Leathe had warned Gray to expect this. He had not set foot in Belvidere since he had run away from school.

“You may tell his lordship,” Gray told the footman, “that Lord Kendal presents his compliments and requests a few moments of his time.”

Within minutes, the footman had returned and was politely ushering them into a gold and green anteroom.
Paintings which Gray recognized at once as executed by Raphael and Titian adorned the walls, and gilt pedestals were set around the room with objets d’art displayed to effect on each one.

Leathe was amused by Gray’s expression. “Look at the mural on the ceiling,” he said. “Can you believe it? It’s of my father. Yes, it’s a Greek myth and he is portrayed as the Greek hero Theseus.”

He broke off as the door opened. Gray had never met the Earl of Belvidere, and nothing had prepared him for the gentleman who entered. After listening to Leathe’s account of all that he and Deborah had suffered, he had expected an evil-looking monster. What he saw was a remarkably handsome man, dark hair, and a thin face dominated by deep-set dark eyes. His garments were of the finest materials and exquisitely tailored, but he wore them easily. His whole bearing was majestic, but it was also gracious. A prince presiding at his court. It came to Gray then that the house and its contents were no more than a stage setting to gratify this man’s ego. He should have been amused. He found the spectacle chilling.

One slim hand gestured, hinting a welcome, and rings flashed, reflecting the light. “Kendal,” said the earl affably. “This is an honor! Pray be seated.” He indicated a gold upholstered chair against the wall.

“I believe you know my companion,” said Gray.

Leathe took a step forward, and the smile on Belvidere’s face dimmed, but only momentarily. The voice was rich and smooth. The tone was ironic. “Does this mean that the prodigal son has returned?”

Leathe’s voice was not so level as the earl’s. “You know better than that. Only something extraordinary could have brought me back to this house.”

Again that thin hand made a brief gesture. “I see that your manners have not improved, Leathe. Gentlemen, why don’t we sit down and make ourselves comfortable? Something extraordinary, you say? I’m all ears.”

As they seated themselves, Belvidere spoke to Gray. His voice was amused, tolerant. “I presume Leathe has made me out to be some kind of ogre? It seems to be his
life’s object, to blacken my character. As you see, I’m only a country gentleman.” He ignored Leathe’s soft imprecation. “The boy is prejudiced. His mind has been poisoned against me. If we are to have a reasonable conversation, Kendal, it’s best that you understand that.”

Gray said pleasantly, “All families have quarrels. I’m not so green as to take everything Leathe says at face value.”

Belvidere smiled and settled back in his chair. “Well then, how may I help you?”

“I’ll come right to the point,” said Gray. “You have a daughter whom you have not seen in nine years. We have found her, Belvidere. Deborah. Your daughter, Deborah. That’s why we are here.”

For a moment Belvidere’s mask slipped, but then he mastered himself.

“Deborah!” The earl pressed a hand to his eyes. “I have always wondered … what I have suffered, not knowing … Deborah!” He looked up, and his features were set in an expression of regret. Only the eyes betrayed him. They were blank.

He said, “I was sure she must be dead, but I refused to give up hope. Where is she?”

Leathe’s patience came to an end. “Where you’ll never find her! Do you think we are taken in by your playacting? You never cared for Deborah, any more than you cared for me or our mother.” He had half started to his feet.

Gray said quietly, “Leathe, get a hold of yourself.”

When Leathe subsided, Belvidere gave Gray a deprecating smile. “Thank you. Whatever Leathe may think, I have always had my children’s best interests at heart.”

“Then explain Albert,” said Leathe vehemently, “and how you accused Deb of murder, yes, and set the magistrates on her.”

Those long hands moved in an elegant gesture, and rubies and diamonds flashed. Belvidere said gently, “Leathe, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Whatever I said, you would dispute. And as for Lord Kendal, I hardly know him.” His eyes moved to Gray, questioning. “What is it you wish to tell me about Deborah?”

Any normal father would have been showing some emotion, firing off questions, demanding to know what had happened to his daughter in their long years of separation. But there was nothing but that cold, bland mask.

“I’m going to marry Deborah,” Gray said.

“Ah, I think I understand,” Belvidere said. “She’s quite an heiress.”

Gray said cheerfully, “Yes, isn’t she?”

Belvidere chuckled and spread his hands. “I wish you happy, I really do.”

“Thank you,” said Gray, “but there is one small problem.”

“Yes.” There was an infinitesimal pause, then that rich, smooth voice went on. “You could call murder a small problem. It’s a tragic business. I tried to use my influence to have the charges against her dropped, to no avail.”

Leathe made an inarticulate sound.

Gray said, “Now that relieves my mind.”

The earl looked at him curiously. “Unhappily, there were witnesses, servants, whose evidence was irrefutable. They saw Deborah push poor Albert over the balustrade.”

“I thought there might be witnesses,” said Gray, “but you know and I know that if it went to trial, no jury in the land would convict Deborah for defending herself. But think of the unpleasantness, the speculation, the gossip. I’m afraid I cannot allow it.”

“Indeed?” replied Belvidere. “And how do you propose to stop it?”

Gray made a steeple of his fingers. “What I propose,” he said, “is that you try again. To put it bluntly, if those charges against Deborah are not dropped, I shall take punitive action.”

Belvidere gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’re
threatening
me?” There was real amusement in his eyes when he looked at Gray.

“I don’t wish to threaten you,” said Gray. “I’d prefer to make a bargain with you.”

“What bargain?”

“Leathe, please enlighten your father.”

Leathe adopted the same tone as Gray. “The paintings and collections belong to me and Deborah. I’ve consulted a barrister as well as my solicitor, and I’m told that any court in the land would find in our favor. You had control of our income. It was yours to invest for us, not spend on yourself. My solicitor tells me that Deborah and I owe you a debt of gratitude. Over the years, these collections have appreciated in value. Of course, I never cared for money, and neither did Deborah. But you do, and unless you want to lose everything, you’ll do as we say.”

Belvidere’s face was livid with scorn. “I’d see you dead before I’d part with a single porcelain button. The collections are mine, and when I die, they will pass to my daughter, Elizabeth. Take me to court and try to prove your case! Do you think I’m a fool? There are no records. As for your moneys, I shall plead bad investments or incompetence in handling your affairs, and that’s not a crime.”

Until this moment, the earl had confined most of his remarks to Gray, but now that Leathe had entered the debate, it was as if Gray had ceased to exist. Both father and son had risen to their feet, facing each other. The hatred in the air was palpable, and Gray felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. It was clear to him that the earl’s façade had developed a crack. The threat to his precious collections had done this, a threat that had come from an unexpected quarter, his son and heir.

“There isn’t a decent bone in your body.” Leathe stopped to even his breathing, failed, and went on hoarsely. “It shouldn’t be necessary to bribe you. You’re Deborah’s father, for God’s sake. But you’ve never loved anyone in your life. You’re incapable of love. All you cared about was things.”