Chapter Thirty-Five
W hen twenty-four hours passed and Malcolm had not returned to see her, Adeline knew that something had gone wrong. But Lord Hartwick had very rationally pointed out that Malcolm might simply be doing his job and that the paperwork or whatever task he may have been assigned was taking all his time. By dinnertime the second day, they all agreed that Malcolm would have at least sent a note by now. Lucy suggested that her husband use his contacts to find out what was happening so that Adeline could have peace of mind.
This morning, Adeline picked at her breakfast. She had gotten little sleep last night as she fretted about how her choices had possibly gotten Malcolm killed. What if he suffered the same fate as the admiral? Dear Lord, what if she never saw him again? She had been so foolish taking the artifacts with her. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto her fork.
“Addy, please don’t cry. We don’t know what’s happened yet. Don’t immediately think the worst.”
She looked up at her friends. “You don’t understand what villainy my father is capable of.” She sucked in a breath. It was time to tell them the truth. “I have been avoiding telling you both something I recently learned. Partially because I didn’t want you to sever your friendship with me but also because I didn’t want my brother and mother to suffer because of my father’s actions.”
“We cannot control our fathers’ actions any more than we can change the past,” Hartwick said. “This is something I have learned. My father was not the perfect gentleman I always thought. It is something I had to come to terms with.”
“But he was not a murderer!” Adeline clapped her hand over her mouth. More tears escaped. She lowered her hand. “Several weeks ago, I went to speak to my father but there were men in his study. Rough men who demanded payment, saying he was overdue. I overheard them speak about when my father hired them to kill two toffs. My father retorted that they had messed up the job. And they replied it wasn’t their fault you were a survivor.”
She watched the realization dawn across both their faces. “Now you truly understand why I have acted so strangely around you recently,” she said quietly.
Lucy reached over and gripped her husband’s hand. Their eyes met. “Now you know. It is the last piece.”
Hartwick’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you for telling me. Please excuse me for a moment.” His chair scraped back, and he stood and walked out of the room.
Lucy watched him before turning back to Adeline. “Don’t fret. He just needs a few moments to come to terms with the news. He would never blame you, dear. And neither do I. You aren’t responsible for your father’s actions.”
Adeline nodded dully. She picked up her fork again but only pushed her eggs around the plate. She certainly wouldn’t blame Hartwick if he wished to have revenge. She took a gulp of tea. This was no time to worry about what type of scandal would rain down on her family. It was an inevitability. Right now, her priority was finding out what happened to Malcolm.
The door opened, and Hartwick strode back into the room with a slim notebook in his hand. Behind him, a tall, lean gentleman followed him into the room. Adeline gasped as she recognized him, the thin scar across his cheek unmistakable. He tipped his hat to her. “Oh, hello again, Lady Amberley.”
Hartwick looked between them. “You two are acquainted?”
Adeline shot to her feet. “This man tried to shoot me.”
“Technically speaking, I saved your life.”
“And then you pointed a gun at me and smashed Artemis!”
“Ah, but I didn’t shoot you. I told you I would never risk the ire of this one.” He pointed at Lucy.
Lucy grinned at him as he crossed to buss her cheek. “Seaton, what have you been up to now?”
Hartwick rolled his eyes. “Adeline, this is Rhys Seaton, my half-brother.”
Mr. Seaton ambled over to the buffet and plucked a piece of bacon from a tray. “Who is Artemis?”
Adeline sat down with a huff. “She is the Greek goddess of the hunt. That was the statue from my bag you smashed.”
“Sorry, but that’s the job. It was what was inside that I was asked to procure.”
“Seaton has come with news,” Hartwick said. “I am afraid it is not good. Kingsbury is being detained in a cell in Whitehall’s basement. He has been accused of stealing the missing artifacts.”
“What?!” Adeline slumped in her chair and covered her face with her hands, perilously close to tears again. This was all her fault. Malcolm should have stayed far away from her.
Stop. No more crying.
She refused to be the girl who let bad things happen without fighting back. She would no longer be a victim, thinking she had no choices.
She straightened. “I am certainly not going to let the man I love be accused of a crime that my father perpetrated. But how do I prove what I know to be true?”
“I thought this might help.” Hartwick held up the black leather notebook he’d returned with.
“What is it?” Adeline asked.
“It is a journal my father kept of secrets he knew about others in the ton. Friends and foes alike. I told myself I would not read through it unless it became necessary. I firmly put thoughts of revenge behind me earlier this summer.” He looked lovingly over at his wife. “But let’s see what dirt he had about your father that we can use to barter for Kingsbury’s freedom.” He came and sat next to Adeline at the table.
She tried to be patient, she really did, but a book full of secrets, how did one not look? She peered over his arm as Hartwick flipped through. But the pages went by too quickly to read more than the names at the top of each page.
“Here it is, Rawlings. Oh, perhaps this was a bad idea.” He shut the book with a snap.
“Is it about how I am not his daughter? Because I know. He made sure to tell me how it mattered not to him who he married me off to because I was the product of an affair that my mother had. He said he was happy to finally have me out from under his roof.”
Everyone in the room was quiet as they stared at her with big, concerned eyes. She did not want their pity.
She shrugged. “I always knew he didn’t care a whit about me, and frankly, after learning about the bad things he’s done, I am glad I’m not his daughter.”
“I am afraid it’s worse than that,” Hartwick said quietly. “My father’s entry claims that neither of Rawlings’s children are his. That he is incapable of siring children. None of his mistresses ever became pregnant either. This means your brother is—”
“A bastard as well.” Good Lord . “Well, we can’t use this. It must not be made public. My brother has been trying to manage my father’s vices for years. He does not deserve to be caught up in a scandal like this. In fact, he must never know the truth. Promise me,” she pleaded.
Hartwick nodded. He ripped out the page, walked over to the fireplace, and threw it into the fire. Adeline let out a long breath. What was she going to do?
Then it came to her. The answer was the one thing that had bothered her all along this journey. She twisted in her seat. “Mr. Seaton, what was on that piece of parchment you pulled from the statue?”
“It was just a bunch of names. Written in English and Arabic,” Seaton replied.
“How do you know they were in Arabic?” Hartwick asked.
Seaton shrugged. “I can’t read Arabic, but I recognize the unusual lettering.”
A list of names. Interesting. “What would Bellamy want with a list of names? Knowing what we do about him, stealing from the Greeks while Britain is helping their effort for independence. Perhaps it was not only about the money. Perhaps he was waiting for that message hidden in the statue.”
“The Greeks are fighting for independence? From who?” Lucy asked.
Adeline looked at Hartwick, and they said in unison, “The Ottomans.”
“Who hired you to procure this list?” Adeline asked.
“That I cannot say.” Seaton crunched on another piece of bacon. “But it was not Bellamy or Rawlings. The information was highly sought after. The payment offered a small fortune if I do say so.”
“My bet is that the list names are intelligence officers working undercover in the Ottoman Empire. What better way to disrupt our efforts to help the Greeks than to cut off our intelligence sources,” Hartwick offered. “The House of Lords recently passed a hotly debated bill for funds to send ships to the Mediterranean to help the war.”
Adeline nodded her agreement. “As foreign secretary, he could easily use his position to play both sides. It makes me wonder where his loyalties lie.”
“What are you saying?” Lucy asked.
“One word. Treason,” Adeline said.
Hartwick nodded his agreement.
“Would you be able to arrange an audience with the king for us?” she asked.
“Yes.” Hartwick nodded. “I will go write a letter immediately.”
“I will walk out with you, brother. Glad I could be of help,” Seaton said.
Hartwick scowled. “You are involved in treason—really?”
“Listen, I don’t ask questions. I am paid, and I do the job. As I told you before, little brother, I am no hero.” He clapped Hartwick on the shoulder. Then, turned toward her and Lucy. “Good day, ladies. I’m sure you’ll get your man back. You’re a clever one, you are.”