Sinful in Satin (34 page)

He pulled her closer, and wrapped his arms around her. He gazed past her, into the shadows. “Only my cousin would have a motive, and also be a man who might be given the duty to work with her. I saw him arrive there once, at her house. His crest is not among the others, however. I do not think he was ever one of her patrons.”

“Are you certain it was he who did this? It is a terrible thing to do out of mere irritation about the existence of a bastard cousin.”

“I am sure enough. I will be very sure soon.”

She laid her head on his chest. He did not sigh, but she heard something much like it in him. She wanted to think that speaking of it had helped him, but she did not believe it had.

“Repudiation was not enough for him. I am embarrassed to admit that I find that dismaying,” he said. “He may not like that we share the same blood, but we do all the same. That he would try to arrange my death—” He finally sounded angry, as if that emotion had won a hard battle over a much sadder one.

“What will you do?”

“Tell him that I know. Make him face it. Then we will have a conversation that he has been avoiding since I was nine years old.”

He tucked her under his arm and started back to the house. “And your bad day, Celia? If I have bored you with mine, you must share yours.”

“I saw Anthony. And his solicitor.” She pointed to the house. “I expect it will not be mine soon. I have been thinking that it is too large anyway. I know what income the plants will bring now. I will speak with an estate agent and see about letting another house.” She poked him playfully. “I will make sure it has fine attics.”

“How much is this debt that scoundrel holds?”

“Eight hundred pounds. Whoever thought my mother could bargain so well?”

“You make jokes, but I know this saddens you, Celia.”

“Whenever I get sad about losing the house, I remember Anthony’s face when I told him I would not have him in any way, at any price. I take such joy in his expression that I can’t be too miserable.”

He did not open the garden door, but instead sat her down on the bench nearby, where he had first kissed her. “Celia, before I was old enough to reject Thornridge’s allowance for my silence, a little over a thousand pounds came to me. You will take what you need and be done with the man.”

She did not know what to say. Just as well, because she could not speak if she had to. He looked down at her as if he had not just offered something astonishing. Her throat burned and the sweetest emotion squeezed her heart.

He misunderstood her silence. “It is not what you think. It is not payment, such as your mother received.”

Of course it was, but with the kindest of intentions and the best kind of protection as a motive.

“I am honored that you have offered this, Jonathan. It is probably all the money you have in the world, and the income from it must be what keeps you in coats and shirts.”

He took her hand and helped her up. “Then I will see to it tomorrow.”

She stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “No, you will not. I will find another house. Do not try to do it unbeknownst to me either. I will not allow you to become impoverished because of my mother’s neglect in repaying Anthony.”

He did not argue. He opened the door and handed her over the threshold. “I think that I will stay out here awhile longer, Celia.”

“I will say good night, then, Jonathan.”

She closed the door, and left him in the dark, no doubt to contemplate the meeting with Thornridge that he planned.

She would contemplate it too, and imagine what might happen if Jonathan confronted that family and demanded their acknowledgment. She doubted Jonathan would begin such a battle unarmed. If he engaged at all, he would expect to win.

She hoped he did. She wanted him to have what he deserved. She pictured him escorting that woman in the park instead of being snubbed by her. If the image made her heartsick, it was not because she did not want the best for him. She just knew that if he walked beside his cousin Lady Chesmont, he could not also walk beside Alessandra Northrope’s daughter.

J
onathan dipped his pen and scratched in the journal, reconstructing the main points of the lecture he had attended with Summerhays at the Royal Society. It had been a generous invitation, especially since Summerhays did not count chemistry among his interests. Astronomy would have kept him awake, not nodding off like he did yesterday.

He was almost finished when feet thudded rapidly up the back stairs. A knock on his door made him put down the pen. He opened the door to find Bella in high excitement.

“You must come, sir. He is asking for you.”

“Who is?”

“There is a man at the door, all powdered he is, and in a uniform. Marian says he is just a servant but—” She thrust a small paper at him. “He told us to give you this, and that he would wait. Celia is not at home and—”

He took the paper and read the only two words on it.
Thornridge. Now
.

Grabbing his coat, he went down to the servant. As expected, the man was in Castleford’s livery. No one else would write two words and just assume the world knew from whom they came.

The footman stepped aside and Jonathan went to the street. Dargent’s coach had impressed this neighborhood, but Castleford’s had drawn a crowd. Heads angled this way and that, trying to see inside. Boys admired the massive horses that stood in perfect formation.

Jonathan opened a door and hopped inside. “You are creating a scene.”

Castleford parted the blinds and looked out. “That is because I could ill afford the time to send for you, and had to come fetch you myself.”

“How did you find me?”

“Through an annoying waste of time. I sent to Hawkeswell for your address, only to have my coachman discover it was some printer’s shop. Then I remembered about Miss Pennifold. My solicitor knew about her mother’s solicitor, who knew about this property, so here I am.”

Not only was he here; he was groomed like a duke. One could cut cheese with his collar. A fob on his watch chain sported a ruby that could pay the wages in an entire county for a month.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded.

“Nothing. Only—it is not Tuesday.”

“This could not wait for Tuesday. I go to meet a fellow peer at his request over a matter of great concern to him. Considering the seriousness of his letter, it behooves me to be sober and wearing my station, so to speak.”

They had left Celia’s street behind. Castleford opened the blinds. The light revealed eyes not nearly as serious as his dress and words reflected.

“Thornridge asked to see you, Castleford? I thought this was about me.”

“It will be. Once we are inside. After I am received. To ensure that reception, I arranged for him to want to see me more than he knew I wanted to see him.”

“How did you manage that?”

Castleford angled his head, as something they passed caught his attention. “I seduced his sister. He learned of it, of course, and seems to think it a personal insult, from the strong words of his letter yesterday. He demanded we speak, so here we are, on our way.”

Jonathan looked at him. Castleford looked back, devilishly pleased with his own cleverness.

“You seduced my cousin, Your Grace?” He pictured the woman who had cut him in the park and who, he knew, lived an uneventful life with an unremarkable man. She had not stood a chance.

“Damnation, I suppose she is your cousin, now that you mention it. Unofficially. However, she never speaks to you. It is not as if I seduced your
dear
cousin.”

“This was badly done, Castleford.”

“At least it
is
done. Do not become tiresome. It will be too ridiculous if you start issuing challenges over a blood relation who denies you exist. Besides, I can hardly have a man serve as my second on one day if I am to duel with him over the same matter the next day.”

“Your second now. Are you expecting Thornridge to challenge you over this?”

Castleford shrugged lazily. “Well, I expect someone to challenge someone before the day is out. Don’t you?”

T
he Earl of Thornridge kept a house on Grosvenor Square that he usually inhabited alone when he was in town. His wife, who had been a celebrated beauty while on the marriage mart, had suddenly decided she did not care for London life once she married. Or so it was claimed. Jonathan assumed that Thornridge had a tendency to jealousy, and it was just easier for him to require his wife stay out of temptation’s way.

Considering the reason for this call, it was unlikely Thornridge would change his mind about London’s amorous dangers soon.

Only Castleford’s card was sent up. Since it was Castleford, the servants did not blink at not receiving Jonathan’s. Nor did they question the shadow that accompanied the duke up to the drawing room a little later.

“Are you ready?” Castleford mumbled as they approached the doors. It was clear that he expected a fine show in payment for whatever trouble he had taken with that seduction.

The doors swung ceremoniously. Jonathan decided he was as ready as he would ever be.

Thornridge made no pretense that this was a social call. He waited, his posture strictly straight and his face severe. His welcome of the duke sounded clipped and forced.

Then he saw Jonathan’s face. His own turned red.

Despite the distortion that anger brought, Jonathan studied him, fascinated. He had seen Thornridge from a distance over the years. He had been unable to resist making it a point to do so. So the graying hair and thickening form came as no surprise. He had not seen the earl’s face this close, however, since he was nine years old.

They looked alike. The resemblance could not be missed. Which perhaps gave another motive to Uncle Edward’s offer of the kind of employment that took a man out of London for months at a time.

“What in hell is he doing here?” Thornridge demanded.

“He claimed to have an interest in the matter. You accused me of seducing your sister, and Albrighton here accused me of seducing his cousin. Upon realizing that he and you referred to the same woman, I thought it would be easier to have it out with both of you at once.” Castleford strolled over to a settee, sat down, crossed his legs, and gazed up at the earl blandly.

“I’ll not have him here. He could not have referred to the same woman, because he is of no relation. His is not—”

“Hell, Thornridge, one has only to see him to know he is
some
relation. Half of society has guessed the truth of it.”

“How dare you interfere!”

Castleford feigned confusion. “I am here at your request. You are the one who has raised this other matter about his relationships.”

Thornridge turned his back on the duke and glared at Jonathan. “If you think to press your spurious claim today, know now that I will not hear you.”

“That is not why I am here. I came to find out if I have to kill you.”

Thornridge’s expression fell in shock. Behind him Castleford sat straighter, impressed.

“Are you daring to threaten me?” Thornridge roared.

“If I know a man is bent on seeing me dead, I’ll be damned if I’ll wait for him to make his move.”

Still an inch away from full bluster, Thornridge took his measure. “Your implied accusation is preposterous. I have no reason to want you dead.”

Of course he did. None of the rest made sense if he did not. “I had a long talk with Uncle Edward recently. Perhaps he was too afraid to tell you about it. He does keep you informed normally, doesn’t he? About his efforts on your behalf to keep me busy and away over the years. The end of the war created a challenge there, but even so, he has been resourceful.”

Thornridge hardened perceptibly. “He may have mentioned that you had talents that were useful to England. He spared me the particulars.”

“That is because you already knew them. Anyway, I now know about Alessandra Northrope’s special role during the war. And I know you were the one who told her what bits of information to pass on.”

“You know nothing of the kind.”

“No one else had a reason to have her pass the information about a mission I went on. Very accurate information. I walked into a trap. I should be dead. Who else but you might want me dead, and possibly have access to the details of my mission, and also have a way to get those details to the enemy?”

“I have no reason to want you dead, so your theory is illogical from beginning to end.”

“Of course you do. I was not sure before. For years I thought the odds were less than even that my mother’s story of a deathbed marriage with my father was true. Now I know it was.”

Thornridge looked as if he would burst. Not only anger tightened his face and braced his posture like a man ready to exchange blows. A good deal of shock and fear flexed through him too.