Chapter 21
Anger infusing every bone in his body, Cart leapt from his carriage before it had fully stopped in front of Lord Gunther’s townhouse.
Even his trip home to return his family’s painting to its rightful place hadn’t diminished his rage at Jude and the situation she’d placed him in.
At some point, he’d made his decision regarding what to do—it might not be the most thought out conclusion, but it was a solid path he was dedicated to taking.
It was simple. He’d return Lord Gunther’s money, give him the name of the woman who’d stolen his vase, and let him handle the situation as he saw fit.
That way, Cart was not responsible for Jude’s fate.
The consequences of her actions rested solely on her shoulders, not any decision Cart made—or didn’t make.
Undoubtedly, he believed she deserved some sort of punishment for her illicit activities, but did that include being detained by the magistrate? It was not for Cart to say or decide.
He was removing himself from the entire situation—and Jude’s ultimate fate. He could not jeopardize his own future for a woman who could not be honest with him.
When he’d shut the door to Craven House behind him, it was for good.
Miss Judith had to be cut permanently from his life, especially if he were to regain some semblance of his normal self.
It was similar to his course of action after his uncle, Julian, had absconded from England with much of his family’s fortune in tow.
Cart had moved past the scandalous family betrayal by doing just that—moving on, not dwelling on what he could have done to prevent it all.
He’d simply made the decision to never allow it to happen again.
And he’d failed once again. But this time around, he had the chance to make sure all of society didn’t witness his fall from grace.
A man who spent two hours reading the London paper in the morning instead of tying an intricate cravat.
A man who dedicated time to learning, not debating the appropriate social hour to call on a woman.
A man devoted to restoring his family’s prestige and traditions as opposed to squandering money on frivolous niceties deemed necessary by society, such as the calling cards he’d sent for the previous week.
That was the man Cart needed to return to.
Sensible, self-assured, decisive.
He bounded up the steps to Lord Gunther’s townhouse with his fist prepared to knock, but the front door swung open to reveal Lord Gunther himself.
A very furious Lord Gunther.
“Lord Gunther—“ Cart said, his words cutting short at Gunther’s narrowed stare.
“Cartwright,” he hissed. “I am surprised you would show your face here again.”
“Excuse me?” Cart stood on the stoop as the man made no move to invite him inside. “Is all as it should be?”
“As it should be? Far from it!” With each word, Gunther jabbed his finger at Cart’s chest. “You think I am a bloody dullard? You think you can take advantage of me in such a manner and get away with it?”
Unease filled Cart at the man’s harsh words. Something had happened since he’d met with the man and asked for the money Jude requested for the vase. “My lord, I am unsure what you speak of.”
Gunther took another step toward Cart, forcing him to back down the steps. “You think you can come into my home and lie to me—take my money and disappear.”
“I have not disappeared, my lord,” Cart reassured the man. “I am here, with your banknotes.” He patted his coat’s breast pocket where the envelope resided. “If you will allow me to come in, I will explain everything.”
“I have no doubt you have had ample time to concoct another harebrained scheme to foist on me.”
“My lord, please,” Cart said, raising his hands in surrender. “Let us retire to your office and discuss whatever has happened to negatively affect your opinion of me.”
Gunther stepped aside and Cart entered, following the man through the entry toward the hall that led to his study.
“Sit,” Gunther commanded, closing the door soundly behind him.
As Cart made to sit, his eyes alighted on the object atop Gunther’s desk.
“The vase,” Cart whispered.
“Yes, the vase!” Lord Gunther boomed as he moved behind the desk and sat.
Cart still stood, too shocked to say or do anything.
“Would you care to explain how the vase appeared in my home?” He raised his brow in question.
“I can assure you, my servants searched every square inch of this house before I contacted you to help find the stolen piece. Imagine my utter astonishment when I walked a guest out earlier today and turned to see it—sitting right on a shelf off my entry.”
“How?” Cart was far more dazed than irate.
He’d left Craven House less than two hours before, with the intention of telling Lord Gunther everything and laying himself at the man’s mercy.
And somehow, Jude had beaten him to it. The woman was infuriating and meddlesome.
“My lord, I was coming today to return your money.”
Gunther entwined his fingers, creating a steeple, and then re-folding them, all while keeping his hardened stare on Cart. “I am sure that was your intent.”
“I can assure you, it was.”
“And what of this note you received, offering the vase in exchange for fifty pounds?”
He’d known since he’d used his left hand to scribble the note that he’d one day come to regret it—today was that day. And from Lord Gunther’s angry demeanor, that day may also be tomorrow and the day after.
“I am as puzzled as you are.” Cart sat heavily in the seat Gunther had offered him.
“After receiving no further communication from the individual purportedly possessing the vase, I came today to return your funds and discuss other options for finding the piece.” To show his honorable intentions, he removed the envelope from his pocket and set in on the desk.
With two fingers, Cart pushed the envelope toward Gunther, who only stared at it—making no move to take it and count its contents.
“You see, I was on my way to discuss things with you. Possibly the person never had the vase and, therefore, had no intention of meeting with me for the exchange.”
“That still does not answer how the thing turned up in my home.” Gunther sighed. “I am overjoyed to have it back in my possession, do not misunderstand me, but it all seems a bit too convenient—and you are the one person at the center of it all.”
“I agree it appears odd, but let us focus on its reappearance and not dwell on the other stuff.” Cart directed the conversation away from who could have possibly taken the vase—and then returned it without being discovered.
The woman had some gall, indeed. He’d arrived with the intent of explaining to Gunther exactly the con he’d been a part of, but somehow, Cart was ending up protecting Jude once again.
Though he’d sworn to himself he would not.
“If that will be all, my lord.” Cart stood, pushing his chair back on the hardwood floor. “I will be going.”
Gunther also stood. “Do not mistake my aims, Cartwright. I plan to look into this matter further and find out what happened. And as of now, nothing appears honorable on your part. It is certainly advantageous that you hold a title, but once everything becomes apparent, that may be the only thing you have in your favor.”
“I will certainly be investigating this, as well,” Cart said in response to the man’s threat. And Cart knew the only place to find the answers he sought—the one place he’d promised himself to never go again, no matter how badly he longed to see the woman within. “I will show myself out.”
“You should do that,” Gunther said in way of dismissal, nodding to Cart before he turned and left.
Another convenient coincidence, certainly, Craven House was a short walk from Lord Gunther’s townhouse, far closer than Cart’s home was.
To focus his thoughts and calm his irritation at Jude, he began counting the steps as he walked, leaving his carriage behind.
The fading evening light gave way to a far cooler night breeze as Cart moved down the sparsely crowded street.
The farther he walked, the fewer carriages drove past him and the number of people on foot lessened.
It was the time of day when most of society was arriving at their nightly entertainment—the dinner hours quickly approaching.
Cart ignored his own stomach’s rumbling, realizing he hadn’t eaten a bite since his morning repast with Theo.
With only eight hundred and thirty-four strides, Cart rounded a corner and Craven House came into view, every room on the ground floor had lights ablaze.
Jude hadn’t told him her family was entertaining that night and the household had appeared quiet when he’d been there earlier in the day—not that he’d been very aware of his surroundings due to his incessant anger with her.
It was very unlikely that she’d share her plans for the evening with him, as he’d not given her much opportunity to speak.
But he was prepared to do just that, allow her to speak—say her piece before he gave her an ultimatum.
Stop her criminal activities or he’d turn her over the magistrate himself.
She could not continue as she was without being caught at some point.
If that happened, Cart would be unable to help her.
It mattered naught that it had been Jude who’d broken into his home, it had been Jude who’d lied to him about where she’d gotten the vase, it had been Jude who’d given him false hope for his future.
There must be consequences for her actions—a debt to be paid.
He shouldn’t care about her—or her safety—but the fact remained that he did…far more than he’d realized.
The stark realization was that his safety was in jeopardy because of his feelings for her.