Chapter 58 Derek
Derek
“Lord Wentworth isn’t home,” the butler intoned.
“That’s not a problem,” Derek said, removing his topper as he stood in the Wentworth’s townhome entry. He smiled insincerely at the servant. “I’ll wait.”
The butler didn’t seem perturbed by Derek’s rudeness or refusal, but that was butlers for you. The man led Derek to a receiving room. “I will alert His Lordship as soon as he is back in residence.”
“Please do and ensure he knows it’s urgent.”
Derek wandered about the room, drumming his topper against his leg. He’d called unannounced. He hadn’t wanted to give Wentworth advanced notice.
After the events last night, everything felt off, his skin itchy, his muscles antsy.
He’d had Livy and her aunt seen by the doctor as soon as they’d returned to Ironcrest House.
They’d both been in good health, just prescribed rest. Lady Rutledge was there now, visiting with them.
Keeping an eye on them. Dorothea was with Rafe.
In such a short time, two people in Derek’s life had been threatened, nearly taken away from him. Rafe’s fate still hung in the balance.
His attention fell on the over-the-top furnishings, the silk wall coverings, the marble mantle.
It was elegant, freshly built. The baron had clearly done well for himself.
But men never had enough, did they? Wentworth wanted the title as well.
Prestige. Would he really go as far as arson, as murder, for it?
Wentworth was a portly, fidgety gent. Nervous. Meek. It didn’t fit.
“My lord.” A soft voice drifted over the doorway. A blonde woman with curves that would have at one time garnered Derek’s attention stepped into the room. A well-built footman silently slid into the room and stood at attention at the wall nearest her. She quietly shut the door behind her.
Derek stiffened. There might be a servant with her, but he wasn’t unfamiliar with attempts at trapping him into marriage.
“We don’t have much time,” she murmured and stiffly made her way over to him. Her gaze darted toward the door and back.
Surely, Wentworth knew this wouldn’t work? It wouldn’t be the first time Derek had left a young woman ruined because of a set of grasping parents.
“I have some information I need to impart. About my father.”
Derek’s ears perked up at that.
She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a scroll. “I found this in my father’s desk.”
Derek frowned but took the rolled-up parchment. “You often snoop through your father’s things?”
Her gaze flitted to the footman and back to Derek. “I knew he kept spare bank notes there. I was planning…” She hesitated. “My father is not a nice man, my lord.”
The chit had been planning to run. To flee her father. He studied her carefully. That’s when he noticed it—how awkwardly she held herself, the arm she hadn’t used to obtain the scroll hung rigid at her side, as though she feared moving it. Or couldn’t.
“He always seemed rather…timid,” Derek said slowly.
The smile twisting her lips was sardonic. “Don’t let that fool you. It’s nothing more than a front.”
“Why run now?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “He seemed to think our nuptials were imminent.” Her gaze flicked up to his. “I don’t want to marry you. I won’t.”
“So, he caught you rifling through his desk. Discovered your plans. Is that when he gave you that?” He jerked his chin in the direction of her arm.
A low growl came from behind her. Derek’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. And he recognized the expression on the man’s face. It was vitriol; it was a promise of pain—one a man instilled on another for harming his woman. Well, well, well.
“Are you fucking your footman, Miss Wentworth?”
A blush washed over her cheeks, and the footman flinched at the wall. Derek’s gaze dropped to the man’s clenching and unclenching fists. Interesting. Though a bit unoriginal. It was always a footman.
She swallowed hard. “I turned one-and-twenty last month. I had wanted more time to save up funds. But then…”
“Something happened to make your father think we were marrying. Even though I’ve told him repeatedly I wasn’t interested.” He began unraveling the parchment she’d given him.
“I believe my father has been trying to force your hand for some time, my lord,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Derek scanned the paper. His eyes went wide, and his gaze flew to Miss Wentworth. He’d thought it’d be something to tie Wentworth to the events of last night. But this? Fury whipped through his veins, and his teeth slammed together, their audible clack echoing in the room. The fucking bastard.
Miss Wentworth took a quick step backward. “H-he doesn’t know I found that, Lord Dunmore. He can’t know. I fear what he’d do if he found out.”
Derek took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax. That wasn’t something she needed to concern herself with. Her father wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone, let alone his daughter, once Derek was done with him.
“I couldn’t in good conscience not tell you. I hadn’t known how I’d find the chance, but then this morning…”
He’d called. Thank bloody hell he’d called. He went to hand the note back to her, but she shook her head. “It’s been transcribed. I put the original back, though I’m sure it’s been destroyed by now.”
His brows lifted. Impressive. “I need you to do something for me, Miss Wentworth.”
She bit her bottom lip, her features tight. Everything about her screamed distrust. Nervousness.
“Don’t run away.”
Her mouth popped open, her attention flying to her footman.
“I mean it. I need you to trust me.” He turned to her lover, and the man’s jaw tightened. “I’ll take care of this.” He glanced between them. “At least give me a couple days.”
The two shared a look, and then she met Derek’s gaze. “We can wait a few days,” she acquiesced.
He nodded. Excellent. His mind spun with what needed to be done. For right now, he just needed to act as if he’d called to discuss betrothal arrangements. His stomach roiled.
Then it looked like Ryker was getting his wish.
“I should be going. My father will be returning soon.” Miss Wentworth went to dip a curtsy, her features contorting.
Derek quickly stopped her. “Not necessary. Do you need to see a doctor?” He studied her again, but she hid her injuries well. He was all too familiar with that. “I can try to have you discreetly seen. If you were to say you were calling on a friend…?”
She shook her head as she slowly backed away, a strained smile gracing her pretty features. “No, all is well.” Her footman stepped to her side, and she immediately leaned against him for support.
It didn’t seem that way. She disappeared with her footman. Perhaps once her father was…no longer an issue, she could be examined properly.
Derek took up pacing the receiving room. He didn’t have much time. He needed to think fast. A way to get Lord Wentworth alone. And then…disposed of. Damnit. He needed Ryker. Derek was certain peers couldn’t continue appearing in the Thames without drawing suspicion.
At least he didn’t need to worry about the daughter. Most fathers included their daughters in their wills, though Derek was beginning to question if Wentworth was that kind of man. Even so, it looked like she’d been ready to start a life with her footman anyway.
He’d made what must have been the millionth round of the receiving room when a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Lord Dunmore. What a wonderful surprise to have been informed you called.”
Derek spun to face Lord Wentworth’s portly form. He forced his lips to curve into a smirk. It was the best he could do. Thank Christ he was known for being an arse. “Lord Wentworth.”
“And to what do I owe the honor of your visit?” The man stared so innocently at Derek, his gaze beseeching, shoulders curled forward like he was nervous.
All an act. Derek swallowed down the bile trying to rise up his throat. “After much deliberation, I’ve decided it is in my best interest to revisit your proposal.”
Lord Wentworth’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Let’s adjourn to my study and discuss, then. What great news!”
Derek would hand it to the man; he was a terrific actor. Derek would have never guessed that surprise was feigned.
After they’d settled in Lord Wentworth’s study, both with freshly poured glasses of brandy, Lord Wentworth pulled out a number of documents. He glanced up at Derek and smiled warmly. “Might I ask what caused this change of mind?”
Derek slowly sipped his brandy to hide his grimace. What to reveal? And what information could he garner from the man? “As you well know, the foundling home I sponsor is of extreme importance to me.”
The man nodded seriously. “A great cause. We must do our part to protect God’s children.”
“Yes…” Interesting take by a man who clearly beat his own kin.
“We didn’t have an issue with funding. But recent events have forced my hand.
” He donned his arrogant grin. “It appears I’ll have to accept the shackles of marriage in order to support the foundling home, as much as that pains a bachelor such as I. ”
Lord Wentworth chuckled. “I promise my Amelia will make you a lovely wife. I’ve raised her to be obedient and understand her place.” His smile faded, and his greying brows furrowed. “I was so sorry to hear the news of your benefit auction. Fires.” He shook his head. “So dangerous.”
“Quite. A terrifying incident, one we are all deeply upset over.”
Wentworth nodded sympathetically. “Such a shame. I heard the building was completely destroyed. Thank goodness none of the patrons were there when it occurred.”
“Very fortunate.” And a very interesting piece of information for the man to have. “It could have been much worse.”
“Yes, always a blessing when there are no casualties in a fire.”
Derek was sure.
“But enough somber news. I’m glad I can help you continue supporting your foundlings.
I think you’ll be very pleased with the other items I’ve included in my daughter’s dowry.
” He turned the papers toward Derek. “Your aptitude for investments is well known. I can’t think of a better man to entrust with parts of my estate and business, and with luck, the one to raise my future heir. ” The man winked.
Derek’s smile froze in place.
“There are my land holdings near your Northamptonshire estate…”
The man’s words faded away as Derek’s mind went over what he’d just said.
One to raise my future heir. That’s where the man’s motivation was coming from.
He must have a barony by writ. So, his daughter would inherit, her son after her.
And once she married, her husband would control the estate if Wentworth were to die.
He was hand-selecting who could potentially control the barony and its assets.
“…then there are shares in my shipping company.”
Derek forced himself to focus back on the man.
“I know that is not always viewed as genteel. But I believe once you see the figures, you’ll no longer see the barony’s involvement in commerce as a detriment.”
“I think you’re well-aware I’ve never cared for playing by society’s rules. Coin is coin.” Christ, he needed to get out of here. Before he did something stupid like wrap his hands around the portly cove’s neck, damn the consequences.
“I’d like for my solicitor to look this over before I make any final decisions.”
“Of course, of course. I can have a copy of the contract delivered to you. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to write.”
Derek nodded slowly, a plan coming to life in his mind.
“There is one thing. I like to fully understand what I’m getting myself into. I’d love to see this shipping enterprise of yours.”
Lord Wentworth’s eyes brightened. “That can certainly be arranged. Would tomorrow evening suit you? I generally review my ledgers on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. You are welcome to join me.”
A slow smile pulled at Derek’s lips. “That will do perfectly.”