Chapter 9 #2
Padua had no desire to ride through town again. Mr. Notley’s note made her feel guilty, however, so after dinner she tied on her bonnet, donned her pelisse, and picked up her reticule. She checked to be sure she carried some coins, then headed down to the door.
“Please have a hired coach procured for me,” she told the servant manning the reception hall.
He turned on his heel, and strode to the door.
He did not leave. Someone stood outside. The servant stepped to the side of the threshold.
Ives strode in. He walked right up to her, stopped, and examined her from bonnet to shoes. “Are you going out?”
“I received a summons from the lawyer. He asked that I call on him as soon as possible.”
“It is very late for that.”
“It is important, he says.”
“May I see this letter?”
She did not like his tone. Not so much suspicious as imperious; there was a good mix of the former in it too. His expression had assumed its most chiseled countenance. His eyes pierced whatever he saw. Especially her.
She dug into her reticule. “It is a business jotting, no more, from one of his clerks.” She handed it to him.
With a flourish he flipped it open and held it to the lamp on a nearby table. “This did not come from Notley, or one of his clerks. Clerks have better hands when they use a pen, and lawyers have better paper.”
“If not from Mr. Notley, from whom?”
“Come with me.” He took her hand and strode to the back of the house, pulling her along.
She tried to dig in her heels to no avail. Extricating her hand proved impossible. She stumbled along behind him, getting crosser, more resistant, and less balanced with each step.
He led her into the morning room, released her, and closed the door.
She set herself to rights. “Your letter yesterday implied that you would not be visiting while I am here. I am sorry to see I misunderstood.”
“It is a damned good thing I visited.” He stood straight and tall. He waved the letter in the air dramatically. “This was sent to lure you out of the house this evening. Men waited to abduct you.”
His pronouncement inspired laughter that she could not contain. “No one would abduct me. There is no one to pay a ransom.”
He did not so much as smile. Under that dark gaze she swallowed the last giggles. “Surely you are mistaken,” she said.
“Hardly, since I just sent those men packing. Nor did they seek a ransom in the normal way, although your father may have found himself bargaining for your freedom. They wanted information from you. Information that your father refuses to give them.”
“Since I cannot give it, either, it would have been much drama to little purpose.”
He paced in front of her, setting his boots down firmly, never taking his eyes off her. “They do not know that. They do not believe that.”
“Who are they?”
He looked to the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “Did you, or did you not, return to Newgate this afternoon?”
She decided it was a good time to remove her bonnet. While she did she deliberated whether a small untruth would be wise. Or successful.
He waited for her answer, his hands clasped behind him, his gaze daring her to lie.
“I did.”
“Did I not tell you not to do that? Did I not warn you that suspicions abounded about you?”
“Yes.”
“But you ignored me, and visited his cell anyway, bringing once more books—which are almost never brought to prisoners and in themselves suspicious.”
“Why would books be suspicious?”
“It is easy to hide messages in them. If not a note, something written on the pages themselves.”
She faced him squarely. “I intended to have a warden deliver them. Then Mr. Brown told me my father refused to meet with Mr. Notley. So I went myself, to convince him to make use of the lawyer I had found. I realize that you think I should just let him rot there, but as his daughter I cannot do that.”
“Did it do any good? Did you convince him?”
She hated giving him the satisfaction of hearing what he expected. “No. I did not.”
He just looked at her. He considered something important, from the intensity of his examination.
“Did he tell you anything useful?”
“He only scolded me for coming, as he always does.”
“Nothing more? No directions, or instructions? No confidences regarding the location of his ill-gotten gains?”
“What are you implying?”
“I want to know everything you know about him, damn it. I demand you tell me anything he may have said that in any way touches on his role in that counterfeiting.”
Hardness had settled on him. The famed barrister had her in the dock, and through force of will intended to make her confess.
To what?
“Do you also think now that I may be his accomplice? Do I look like one to you?”
“I would have said not. However, I do not put much trust in my judgment now.”
“Why not? What has changed?”
“Damn it, you know why not. As for what has changed . . . ” He walked over to the table used for breakfast. He reached into his coat and removed something that he placed on the table’s surface. “You did not search his apartment much, did you?”
“Not well at all.” The letters had distracted her.
“Of course, I interrupted you. Had I not, you may have found this, as perhaps he intended.”
“What is it?”
“Money. A good deal of money.”
She eyed that stack, wondering what size notes it contained.
“I am surprised someone in authority did not find it. I assumed they searched,” she said.
“Perhaps not, having found the counterfeit money so fast. If they went farther, they missed this.” He slid a note out of the stack and took it to a lamp. He examined it. “It is good. All of it is, I expect.” He threw a ten-pound note on top of the packet.
She walked over to the table and lifted the little bundle wrapped in paper. “How much is here?”
“A little over two hundred.”
A small fortune. She tore off the wrapping.
“These notes were hidden in books. Schoolbooks. Your schoolbooks.”
She hoped she did not flush. “He kept those old books?” She filled her hands with the banknotes. She fanned them out.
“There were twelve of them. I found money in ten. Two others had already been searched, so I think you did find some of it, Padua.”
She had no intention of confirming his theory. She much preferred being distracted by the money to looking at the severe lord hovering at her side. Maybe he thought Papa had discovered an easy way to tell his accomplice daughter where to find his ill-gotten gains.
“You did find some of the money, correct?” His voice, crisp and demanding, flowed into her ear. “Before I interrupted.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because you kept crinkling. I should have searched you after all, it seems.”
She turned her head. He stood right beside her. “I do not understand why you are so angry. This is a wonderful discovery that you have made. There are funds now to pay the lawyer fees, and to tide me over until I find another situation. What is it you suspect me of doing?”
“Of not wanting me, of all men, to see the fruits of your father’s crimes.”
“I am sure this money is not that.” She would probably not be allowed to keep it if that were the conclusion. The evidence of payment would only hasten her father’s conviction too.
“It is a lot of money,” he said. “More than most men have on hand. If not payment from his accomplices, how did he get so much?”
She made a thick stack with the notes, so she could hold them tightly. “He does not use much money. You saw how he lives. Over time he probably just squirreled away the extra.”
“Really, Padua.” He reached for the notes.
She turned so he could not touch them. She wished she had searched all of those little red books, before he did. She should have returned and done so yesterday, instead of playing lady of the manor in a duke’s house.
“The legacy. That is what this must be. Payment on the legacy, or from it. It probably pays out only once or twice a year, and he hides the money, then lives off it, bit by bit.”
Despite her desperation, it sounded logical. He thought so too. He did not try to take the notes from her again.
“Tell me about this legacy.”
“There is not much to tell. It came to him soon after my mother died, from a distant relative he did not know. They had never met. Lawyers had spent years tracking down an heir. He never told me how much it was. All he said was fortune had finally smiled on him and provided money to live on, and he could afford to send me to school.”
I’ve the means to buy you an education now. I’ve not the patience to be a child’s tutor, the way your mother was, or to have a girl underfoot, so this is the best for both of us.
He flicked the edges of the notes with his fingertip. “No one will believe that.”
“And if they don’t?”
“The money will be confiscated.”
It would kill her to give this money up.
It was unfair for it to fall from the sky like a gift from heaven, only to have it disappear just as quickly.
She looked at him, searching for the kind, sympathetic lord who could appear at times.
“They cannot confiscate that which they do not know exists,” she said.
His lids lowered. He crossed his arms. She waited for the barrister to explain all the legalities she did not want to hear.
“I should inform the magistrate of what I found, of course,” he said.
Except he had not, had he? He had brought that money here instead. She had half-won this battle before he entered the door.
“I have asked Mr. Notley to investigate the legacy,” she said. “I promise I will not spend any of this until he confirms its existence.” At which point, she would declare this money the proceeds. Not that she would say so now. “In the meantime, I will keep it very safe.”
A final flash of indecision showed in his eyes. On impulse, she stuffed the banknotes down her bodice.
He laughed, darkly. “The fashions today do not lend themselves to that maneuver with such a large number of notes. One or two at most.”
She looked down at the ridiculous bulge between her breasts. “Still it is safe from any gentleman with inconvenient notions of duty.”