Prologue #2
“Yes, of course.” Allie pulled her hand from Rupert’s long enough to sketch out a square about twelve inches on each side, before grabbing her love once more.
“It has been stashed in the attic at Tostinham along with the rest of my father’s things for years.
” Her cute little nose wrinkled. “I did not know who the woman was, but to find out she was my great-grandfather’s mistress… ”
When she shuddered, Rupert pulled her closer to put his arm around her shoulders, and glared at Bull. “Neither Allie—nor her uncle—knew her great-grandfather had a mistress. It’s all very…”
“Sordid,” Bull supplied. When the other two nodded, he shook out his hands, the familiar fizz building in his blood. “Do ye want to keep the portrait? A painting left in an attic for years, nae emotional connection…do ye object to giving it to this blackmailer?”
Allie immediately shook her head, but Rupert interjected, “It’s blackmail, Bull! Statistically speaking, if Allie gives into this bastard’s demands, there’s a ninety percent chance he’ll make more demands.”
Bull’s lips didn’t twitch, but only because he fought to keep his expression serious.
Leave it to his younger brother to know the obscure statistics of something like that…
or to make them up. To Allie, he gently said, “This is quite possible. The message”—he nodded to the paper in her hand—“may I see it?”
Wordlessly she passed it over, and Bull hummed as his curious gaze examined it. “Block letters, everything spelled correctly, nae mark-outs.” He lifted it to his nose. “Good quality paper, and the ink smells expensive.”
“What does that mean?” Allie asked quietly.
Bull winced. “It means this person might verra well be as powerful as he claims, and able to follow through on the threat.”
To his surprise, his younger—and ridiculously academic—brother made a noise like a growl as he pulled Allie even closer.
“We cannot allow Allie’s name to be linked to any kind of scandal, Bull.
Her uncle was accused of murder, for goodness’s sake, and the family has seen enough scandal, what with everyone dropping dead all the time. No offense, dear,” he added to Allie.
Allie’s smile was a little sickly. “The portrait has no meaning to me and I barely knew my grandmother, much less her father. I have no moral objection to giving it to someone who believes he has a greater claim on it, but this…”
“But we cannot afford the chance this blackmailer will continue!” Rupert interrupted.
Bull lounged back, his fingernails scraping through the stubble on his jaw as he eyed the couple thoughtfully.
“Hmmm. Why does the blackmailer want this portrait in particular? It could be a verra well-planned scheme, Allie. If he begins by demanding something ye have no emotional connection to and ye give it to him, then who’s to say he couldnae escalate to something more meaningful or more expensive. ”
“All while under threat of ruination,” Rupert added darkly. “A threat that never ends.”
Humming, Bull followed through on the logic.
“But if that’s the case, why this portrait?
Just knowing the existence of it proves that the blackmailer is in some way intimately familiar with yer family’s estate…
” He shrugged, frowning, mind trying to untangle a knot without enough purchase on the rope.
“Or things are just as he claims; the portrait is somehow meaningful to him, and he wants it back.” He pinned Allie with a stare.
“Ye dinnae ken who this woman in the ruby necklace is?”
Allie glanced at Rupert, as if pulling strength from him, but shook her head.
“I remember, several years ago, searching the portrait for a signature or identifying mark. I thought…well, we were a little short on cash, and if it were painted by someone famous, it might be worth something. But there was nothing to tell who painted it or who the sitter was. There is not even a date.”
Hmmm.
Bull propped his elbow on the chair’s arm and tapped his fingers against his temple as he stared sightlessly at the flickering flames.
“Then it is possible yer blackmailer is telling the truth and the unknown woman is why he wants the portrait. If we could figure out who the artist was, we might learn who sat for the painting.”
And Merida would know.
She’d never been formally trained in art, but she was the most talented painter he knew; he could get her to look at the portrait and identify the artist.
After all, Bull reasoned, how many painters in the world could there be?
Across the carpet, Rupert frowned. “If you can learn the woman’s identity, you could follow that link to identify blackmailing suspects, assuming the letter is telling the truth and he does want it for personal reasons.”
“But what happens if he makes more demands?” Allie whispered, clearly frightened.
And Bull sighed, pushing himself upright. She was such a sweet lass, no older than Rosie, and he hated the thought of her being afraid—
I thought ye werenae thinking of Rosie anymore.
Och, aye.
His jaw hardened. “We’ll figure out who the bastard is, Allie.
I have an art expert on retainer. Would ye be willing to send the portrait to my offices in London?
I’ll keep it safe, and stay in contact with you.
When you receive another letter from the blackmailer, I’ll arrange a hand-off and we’ll attempt to catch the bastard. ”
Allie nodded. “As soon as I get home I’ll fetch it from the attic and send it to you via courier.”
“But in the meantime?” Rupert pushed, his serious gaze not releasing Bull. “What do we do about the threat to Allie’s reputation? Her family is already barely accepted by Society, and a single hint of a scandal…”
The two of them looked so damn worried, Bull had to smile.
Och, bless ‘em. So innocent.
“Well, Rupe, that’s the easy part,” he drawled, the fingers of his left hand beating a tattoo against his knee. “The Hawthorne family might be barely accepted by Society, but as the fiancée to a Duke’s heir, Allie would be protected…”
For as smart as the dobber was, it took Rupert a moment to understand what Bull was saying. His gasp was echoed by Allie’s as she caught onto Bull’s meaning.
Bull’s grin grew as Rupert’s expression hardened into something like determination and he slipped from Allie’s hold to lower himself to one knee beside the sofa. He took her hand and gazed into her eyes.
“Marry me, Allison?” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “Not just to protect you from scandal, but because you are the most perfect woman I could possibly imagine. You’re kind and brilliant and beautiful and you make me laugh. I love you.”
Allie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her shocked gaze darting around the room. “Rupert, I—you are under no obligation to—”
But when Rupert reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, she gasped again.
“A ring?” Allie squeaked as Rupert opened it. “You have been carrying around a betrothal ring?”
“Maybe. I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” Rupert confessed, pulling the sparkling jewel from the box hopefully. “Although I kept it in my front pocket, because Bull has explained to me how easily it is to have something stolen otherwise. He used to be an award-winning pickpocket, you know.”
Allie was clearly confused—or possibly in shock—as she glanced between the ring, Rupert, and Bull. “Award-winning? There are…awards?”
Taking pity on her, Bull shook his head. “Nay. And I dinnae do that sort of thing anymore.”
In fact, each time one of his family members referenced his childhood talent, the skills he’d perfected to make sure he couldn’t be ignored, he felt…
Well, there was still pride there, aye, but shame as well.
As a lost child, friendless and almost familyless, stealing trinkets from the pockets of those around him had been his way of gaining notice.
But that was a long time ago, Bull told himself.
He’d spent two decades building himself into the sort of man who didn’t need that sort of attention… hadn’t he?
Rupert, however, wasn’t aware of how his casual comment had affected Bull. He was still on his knees, his smile still hopeful, as he waggled the ring box. “Ahem. Please say yes, Allie.”
Bull eyed the ring. That thing wasn’t just a ring; it was a monstrosity from the Peasgoode vault, covered in diamonds with a ruby the size of a quail egg.
When Bull’s stepfather had become the Duke of Peasgoode he’d inherited the estate jewels, and it seemed Rupert was finally putting them to use, since Bull’s mother Felicity refused to wear them.
She claimed they got in the way of her experiments, Lord love her.
But Allie’s gaze had locked on that ruby—quail egg? It was the size of a chicken egg—and now she slowly looked into Rupert’s eyes. “Really, Rupie?”
Rupie. Bull managed not to snort, reminding himself that he was witnessing something beautiful and meaningful and special, et cetera et cetera.
“I love you,” his brother whispered to the young woman.
The young woman who promptly squealed and threw herself into the waiting man’s arms. “Oh, Rupie, I love you so much! Yes! Yes, yes, I will marry you!”
Bull murmured, “Oh, bravo, congratulations,” but doubted the pair of them—whose lips were currently locked together—could hear him.
So he sat back with a sigh.
Another couple marrying. Not just any couple, but his brother and the woman everyone could see was perfect for him. Before long, judging by the almost horizontal kiss before him, it would be bairns.
So what was this hot, knotted feeling in Bull’s stomach? Surely it wasn’t envy?
Why would he be envious?
He had never had any interest in tying himself to one person; he’d spent the last two decades meeting, befriending, and sometimes loving the most fascinating people Britain and Europe had to offer.
He had friends in every walk of life, from dockworker to royal princess, and saw no need to nail himself in one location, to one adventure, to any one person.
So why are ye staring into the fire instead of at their happiness?
Bull scowled, telling himself it was because no one needed to see how enthusiastic the kissing was getting.
Ye’re a shite chaperone.
His lips curled, thinking of his sister Honoria and the adventure they’d taken to London all those years ago to kidnap her now-husband from prison. Bull had been a shite chaperone then, too, but it had been worth it to gain Crowe as a brother-in-law.
With another sigh, he admitted the truth to himself.
He was getting badly distracted by a certain someone he wasnae going to name, not even in the secrecy of his own mind, and he needed a distraction.
A distraction from the distraction.
He needed to focus on this case.
In one easy fix, he’d solved the problem of Allie’s possible ruination, and settled—quite happily, it seemed—Rupert’s future.
But his new future sister-in-law was being threatened with blackmail, and it wouldn’t stop until Bull could determine who exactly wanted that portrait, and why. And capture them. All without ruining the reputation of said future sister-in-law
Aye, Rupert and Allie’s future might be settled, but Bull’s headache was just beginning.