If the Viscount Falls (30 page)

Dom had even considered telling Blakeborough that his fiancée was no longer chaste. But that would send her into an apoplectic fit, and rightly so. A gentleman didn't impugn a woman's reputation to gain what he wanted. Even if what he wanted was the woman as his wife.

No, he would just have to hope that Jane did the right thing and broke with the fellow. In the meantime, Dom would pray he could speak to the man with civility . . . or at least without wanting to call him out.

A few moments later they converged on Blakeborough's doorstep, startling the poor footman who responded to their knock. He clearly recognized his master's fiancée, but having a duke, duchess, and viscount unfamiliar to him show up en masse seemed to unsettle him.

While they waited to be announced, Dom tried not to remember the last time he'd been in this house—the night Jane had jilted him. He shot her a furtive glance. Clearly she remembered, too, for she wouldn't look at him, and her gaze kept darting past the massive staircase and down to where the library was situated.

Or perhaps she was just looking at the large Botticelli hanging in the hall. Or the thousand-year-old marble bust of Homer sitting atop a costly mahogany table with ivory inlays. Or even the umbrella-stand of gilded bronze.

Blast the man and his blasted Botticelli and bust and bronze umbrella-stand. No wonder he wanted Jane. He had everything else. Now all he needed to make his life complete was a beautiful and accomplished lady to manage all his pretty things and adorn his arm at parties.

That annoying thought was still ringing in his head when Blakeborough himself strode into the foyer, accompanied by a surprise guest, walking more slowly and stiffly. Jane's uncle. Damn it all to blazes.

“Uncle Horace!” Jane cried, clearly taken as off guard as Dom.

They'd intended to wait until they had more news before informing Sadler about his missing daughter. No chance of that now.

Since Tristan and Lisette knew Blakeborough and Sadler from Dom and Jane's betrothal party years ago and Max knew Blakeborough from his club, there was little need for introductions. Instead, they all stood uncomfortably by as Sadler hugged Jane fiercely.

“My dear girl!” Sadler held her at arm's length, as if to look her over. “What has happened?”

She turned wary. “What do you mean?”

“After I got your letter, Nancy's housekeeper wrote to say that Nancy was supposedly off in Bath with Mrs. Patch and that you and Lord Rathmoor and his family had gone to look for her. I didn't know what to make of that.
Supposedly off in Bath?
What does that mean?”

When Jane looked at a loss for words, Dom jumped in. “We're happy to explain all, sir, but if I may ask, why are you here?”

Sadler shrugged. “I got the housekeeper's letter this morning, so I drove here to consult with Blakeborough, hoping he might know more. That Jane might have bent the rules of propriety to write to her fiancé.”

Blakeborough was watching Jane closely. “As I told your uncle, however, you never bend the rules of propriety.”

The blush that stained her cheeks made Dom want to leap between her and the earl to defend her honor. But since the man hadn't actually impugned it, that would alert the man to the fact that her honor
needed
defending.

Still, it was clear Blakeborough had noticed her blush, for his gaze flicked suspiciously between her and Dom. “Of course, I was glad to hear that Jane was among friends. I shouldn't have liked to think of her riding the roads alone.”

Dom forced a smile. “Despite everything that hap
pened between me and my brother, I do still consider Nancy my responsibility. So Jane came to me the moment she realized her cousin was missing.”

“Missing!” The color drained from Sadler's face. “Are you sure?”

“I'm afraid so.” Dom glanced at the servants who were avidly listening. “We're happy to give you more details, but we've come a long way and—”

“Of course, forgive me,” Blakeborough said hastily, exchanging a glance with Dom that said he understood the need for privacy. “You'll want to be more comfortable for this discussion.”

He ordered that refreshments be brought to the drawing room, then led them there down a different hall from the one leading past the library. Thank God. Even passing by it might send Jane right over the edge, especially with her fiancé right in front of her, reminding her that she could have a more amiable husband than Dom if she wished.

Dom silently groaned. How was he to go on if she chose to stay with Blakeborough?

As soon as they entered the drawing room, Jane followed her uncle to the settee. Dom noticed that Sadler had to hold on to her to sit down. Well into his sixties now, he apparently had bad knees. Dom sighed. He hated telling the aging fellow bad news about his only child, but that couldn't be helped.

Meanwhile, Blakeborough placed himself behind them like a guard. The investigator in Dom went to work analyzing the man's attire—expensive but not ostenta
tious, studied but not affected—and Blakeborough's wary stance, closed manner, and stiff expression. Was that just his usual response to strangers or a sign that he was bracing for trouble about his brother? Which could mean he was well aware of Barlow's scheme.

But the
man
in Dom noticed none of that. It just wanted to march over and punch bloody Blakeborough in his perfect, unscarred face for being too rich, too eligible, and too thoroughly engaged to Jane. The
man
in him wanted to throttle the earl for standing guard over Jane when she should be
Dom's
responsibility,
Dom's
to protect.
Dom's
to marry.

The man in him had to shut up, unfortunately. Or this investigation wouldn't progress very far.

As soon as Max and Lisette were seated in two wing chairs and Dom and Tristan stood next to them, Sadler turned to Jane. “Now, what's this about Nancy being missing?”

Jane grabbed his hand. “I hate to tell you, Uncle, but she's gone off somewhere with Edwin's brother.”

Despite hearing Sadler's gasp, Dom kept his gaze fixed on Blakeborough to assess the man's reaction. There was shock, alarm, dismay. But no guilt. The man was either a brilliant actor . . . or entirely unaware of his brother's scheme.

A pity. Dom would very much have enjoyed arresting him. For anything.

But Blakeborough seemed utterly undone, for he now gripped the top of the settee behind Jane. “
Samuel
has something to do with this?” he asked hoarsely.

Briefly, Dom and Tristan laid out all they had discovered, refraining from posing their speculations about what was afoot. Dom first wanted to see what the earl and Sadler would make of the bare facts.

“So, Blakeborough, as you might imagine,” Dom finished, “we need to speak to your brother. And Nancy, too, of course. It's most important. We were hoping you might know where he stays when he's in London.”

“I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea.” Blakeborough raked his fingers through his black hair. “I gather that you already have his address in York.”

“Well, this all seems entirely outrageous,” Sadler put in, though his wan cheeks showed he had some notion of the ramifications. “My girl would never run off with that scoundrel. She knows better.”

“Does she?” Blakeborough said cynically, to Dom's surprise. “Until she ended up with Rathmoor's brother, you feared she might actually marry Samuel.”

“But that was long before he got cut off by your esteemed father,” Sadler said. “Once that happened, Nancy agreed with me when I stated that the fellow was a rascal and not to be trusted.” He winced. “If you'll pardon me for saying so, Lord Blakeborough.”

Blakeborough's hard laugh cut through the room. “No need to beg pardon from
me,
sir. I know what my brother is capable of.”

Jane twisted to look up at him. “And what is that, Edwin? I mean, he . . . he wouldn't hurt Nancy, would he?”

The earl glanced at Dom, as if appealing to him for
help in dealing with Jane's delicate feelings.

“She already knows what got Barlow disinherited, I'm afraid,” Dom said. “I consulted with Lord Ravens-wood on the matter, and she overheard our discussion.”

“Dear God,” Blakeborough muttered.

“What?” Sadler asked. “What is it?”

“Well, Edwin?” Jane asked anxiously. “Would he
hurt
her?”

Blakeborough squeezed Jane's shoulder, then left his hand resting there. That seemed remarkably intimate for a man who supposedly had only a platonic-­sounding “arrangement” with her.

Dom tamped down his urge to go knock the earl's hand from here into the next county.

“It depends on how you define ‘hurt,' ” Blakeborough mused aloud. “I don't think he'd . . . do what he did before with that other poor girl.”

“What other poor girl?” Sadler cried.

“It's all right, Mr. Sadler,” Dom cut in. “Tristan and I agree with the earl's assessment. We think Barlow is enamored of your daughter and wouldn't harm her.”

He probably shouldn't mention his suspicions about what
Nancy
was capable of. Her father might not handle that well at all.

With an uneasy glance at Sadler, Blakeborough said, “But I wouldn't put it past Samuel to . . . er . . . lay on the charm so he could persuade Nancy to marry him.”

At Blakeborough's tactful wording, Sadler stiffened. “ ‘Lay on the charm.' You mean, ‘seduce her,' don't you?” When the other men exchanged glances, Sadler pushed
himself to a stand. “Don't talk to me as if I'm some sentimental old fool. I know what men do to women, especially vulnerable ones like my girl.”

“Uncle,” Jane said gently as she, too, rose. “By every account, Samuel and Nancy have had only a friendship, nothing more.”

Sadler arched one gray brow. “It won't remain that for long if she's in Barlow's power.”

“Look here, my brother is a selfish arse,” Blakeborough broke in. “But I don't think he'd force Nancy into anything. Even his mistress said—” He halted when every eye swung to him.

“Barlow has a mistress?” Dom asked. “Here in London?”

“I believe she's still here, yes. When she came to see me a couple of weeks ago, she gave me an address somewhere in Cheapside.”

Cheapside? Something niggled in the back of Dom's brain, but he couldn't put his finger on why Cheapside seemed significant.

“Why did she come to see you?” Tristan asked.

Blakeborough got a disgusted look on his face. “Well, initially she told me that my brother had gotten her with child when she was working in Yorkshire. So she'd moved to London to stay with her family while she had the babe, but she hadn't heard from him since her arrival. She asked for my help in pressing him to answer her.”

“How long ago did she move here?” Dom asked sharply.

“I don't know. Three months? Four? I told her I would do what I could to convince Samuel to own his flesh and blood, but I also warned her that he has an unreliable character and probably wouldn't pay me much heed.”

Blakeborough's voice hardened. “In the end it didn't matter. A few days ago, she sent a note here saying that she'd been mistaken about being pregnant. I suppose she'd merely been hoping to wheedle some money out of him. Or me.”

“That's about the time when Barlow would have reached London,” Tristan said. “The mistress might have found him, and he might have asked her not to involve herself with his family.”

Dom only shook his head. He'd finally remembered where he'd seen the word
Cheapside
recently. “More likely Barlow had a far more sinister motive.” He glanced at Tristan. “Don't you find it a convenient bit of happenstance that this woman came here from Yorkshire to stay with her family a few months ago? And that she suddenly lost her baby right before we arrived?”

Tristan's eyes widened, and he let out an oath. “As you're so fond of saying, ‘happenstance often happens by design.' ”

Jane had gone pale. “Oh, Lord, Cheapside.” She looked up at the earl. “Did the woman leave her name?”

“Of course. I have the note somewhere.” Blakeborough rounded the settee, headed for a writing table. “It was Merry or something.”

“Meredith,” Jane said hollowly. Her gaze met Dom's.
“She's part of it.”

So Jane had put it together, too, the clever girl. “Which means Nancy is part of it.”

“Not necessarily,” Jane said.

“What are you two talking about?” Sadler stared at Jane. “Wait, isn't Nancy's
maid
named Meredith?”

“Her former maid,” Dom said. “Who accompanied Samuel and Nancy every time they shopped together in York.”

“I guess the man was seducing the maid and the mistress both,” Tristan said. “Looks like you were right to be concerned, Dom. Barlow really is trying to make sure that Nancy's child inherits—even if it's not actually
her
child.”

Dom nodded. “That's why Meredith renounced the pregnancy. She didn't want anyone tracing the babe back to her. That wouldn't have helped their scheme.”

“
Whose
scheme?” Blakeborough asked. “The maid's and my brother's?”

“Your brother's and Nancy's.” Ignoring Sadler's shocked gasp, Dom added, “When Meredith became pregnant, she left to come here, probably hoping that Barlow would follow eventually. Back in York, Nancy began to fear she might lose or had already lost her own baby, so she and Barlow cooked up a scheme to appropriate Meredith's child. That's when they headed here.”

“Now wait just one moment,” Sadler cried. “Are you suggesting that my daughter is helping that scoundrel pass off his mistress's child as George's
heir
? So the
child can inherit what is rightfully yours?”