Chapter 29
“Lord Patrick to see you, Your Grace,” Simkins announced quietly, approaching the armchair in the club library where Nathaniel sat with closed eyes and a thoughtful expression, drumming his fingers lightly on the leather armrest.
Nathaniel opened his eyes and sat up straight in his chair. This was a surprise. While his brother was due in London for his first regimental dinner tonight, he had expected Patrick to spend the entire day at Greyhaven Park, parading in his uniform before Mary.
He looked quizzically at him, taking in his agitated expression and the sweaty, red face that spoke of hard riding.
“Nathaniel, thank God you’re here. There’s trouble…”
At the sound of his brother’s raised voice, various white-haired old buffers suddenly sat up in their chairs, frowning over the tops of their newspapers and shushing him.
Nathaniel quickly grabbed Patrick by the elbow and led him out of the library, though he did not show any real annoyance.
He did not want to discuss family matters openly, but he was genuinely happy to see his brother.
It had been a busy morning for him, one that taxed his mind and wallet more than his body.
For his next appointment, some physical assertiveness might come in handy.
“So, you’ve seen that pamphlet, have you?” Nathaniel asked softly, nodding to Simkins and leading Patrick in the direction of the private sitting rooms.
“You know about that?” Patrick sputtered, flabbergasted. “What are you going to do? My word, if you are not going to act, Nathaniel, I damned well shall. I will not have Mary’s name dragged through the mud—”
“I have acted,” Nathaniel interrupted, dropping into a chair while Patrick continued to pace up and down.
“Or at least, I have begun to act, and you may help me finish. I only found out about the scandal sheet this morning when that nasty old bore Holt thought to send me a threatening letter with my breakfast.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Patrick demanded, frustrated. “I’ve ridden like hell from Greyhaven just now to tell you about that damned pamphlet.”
“I had to act quickly, and I didn’t want to frighten Cecily,” Nathaniel tried to explain. “That’s what Holt wants, just as much as he wants money.”
“Well, you’re too late not to frighten Cecily,” Patrick informed him grimly. “Holt wrote to her too, and to the staff at Greyhaven Park, although only Mrs. Barnes has seen it yet. Cecily and Mary are half in hysterics, and Lilian has had another of her tantrums about them leaving the country.”
“Leaving?” Nathaniel repeated with alarm, his frown deepening, and Patrick shrugged. “Why would she leave?”
“I couldn’t get any sense from anyone after I saw the letters and pamphlet they left on the table. Mrs. Barnes said that I had best come and find you.”
“Damn Holt and all his confederates!” Nathaniel swore and then gestured for Patrick to take a seat. “If you’ll stop marching up and down as though that uniform forces you out on parade, I’ll tell you how you can help.”
He thought about Cecily as he had left her this morning—naked, flushed, and smiling contentedly in his bed.
He had hoped to return to find her in almost the same state and willing to start their bedroom games all over again.
Now it seemed that Lord Holt had driven a team of wild horses through all the defenses he had tried to put around his wife.
“This morning, I called on the publishers of that scandal sheet. For a small fee, and a few threats of legal action and bankruptcy, they were happy to put me in touch with the writer of that pack of lies. For another small fee, the writer was persuaded to reveal his sources. When you arrived, I was planning a visit to Lord Ashworth.”
“Him? I thought it was their uncle.”
“They’re in it together. Lord Ashworth still wants to marry Mary and thinks that this threat will force her to return to her uncle’s house, from where she can be coerced to the altar.”
“Never!” Patrick insisted furiously.
“We cannot let Mary or Cecily’s names be revealed, nor allow the story to reach the papers,” Nathaniel said, his anger as fierce as his brother’s but his mind clearer. “This ends today. So, are you ready to come with me now, help me put Lord Ashworth in his place?”
Patrick nodded with a sound that resembled more a growl than a civilized agreement.
* * *
“Who are you?” asked the grey-bewigged old man, coming to the front door after his butler had announced that an officer was asking for him.
“I am the friend of a lady you have wronged,” Patrick announced, barging into the house, followed by Nathaniel, who had been watching from behind the gatepost, suspecting that Ashworth might recognize him and refuse to open the door.
For a moment, there was a commotion. The wig slipped halfway off Lord Ashworth’s head, before he ordered his butler to summon footmen to remove the intruders. Patrick squared his shoulders, daring either of them to try and touch him.
“Blackmail is a serious matter, Lord Ashworth,” Nathaniel said in a loud, clear voice. “If you prefer it, we can summon the local constables, and we can arrange to have this conversation in court.”
“Blackmail?” Lord Ashworth repeated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who you are.”
Nathaniel noticed that he had gestured for his butler to stand back.
“Then allow me to introduce myself. I am the Duke of Greyhaven, husband to one woman you have defamed and brother-in-law to another. This is my brother, Lord Patrick Winslow.”
“I have defamed no one,” Lord Ashworth blustered, attempting to straighten his wig, but only succeeding in setting it askew. “You are badly informed, Your Grace, but I will accept your apology.”
“Really? Well, I have two sworn statements from your associates at Salacious Society Stories that say otherwise. In fact, they say that you personally gave them the pack of lies that was printed in yesterday’s pamphlet and even paid them not to ask too many questions.”
Lord Ashworth’s face had turned as grey as his wig, and he was sweating despite his defiant expression.
“Who is to say that was a pack of lies?” he challenged. “Can you really be so sure of your wife, Your Grace? Can anyone? Women can be very cunning.”
“I never laid a finger on Mary!” Patrick burst out, unable to hold back any longer. “Just because she loves me and you can never have her, you’re trying to ruin everything.”
Nathaniel hushed him, but it was too late to silence words already spoken.
Realization crossed Lord Ashworth’s face as he regarded Patrick. “It was you! My little Mary ran away with you!”
“Yes, damn it all, and I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d have me,” Patrick declared.
Despite his disquiet, the old man gave a horrible croaking laugh. “How funny! Mary was a damned whore all along, and I thought I was making it up. Now that her sister is well-married, she won’t even have you.”
This proved too much provocation for Patrick, who crossed the hallway in two steps and slammed Lord Ashworth up against the wall. His wig fell to the floor and lay there like an injured animal while he choked on the tightness of his collar.
“Put him down, Patrick,” Nathaniel ordered immediately. “He is not worthy of your blows.”
Reluctantly, Patrick released Lord Ashworth, although he did not step back from him.
“If you ever come near Mary, or if I ever so much as hear her name on your lips again, I will kill you,” he snarled.
“Well, I think Patrick has made himself clear,” Nathaniel drawled, not inclined to rein his brother in when his fierceness was proving so effective.
“Now, let us return to the subject of blackmail. I have had a busy day in London when I should have been at home with my wife, and my patience is running out, so I’d appreciate your cooperation, Ashworth. ”
He pulled out a chair from a hall table and gestured for the now-wheezing old man to sit down.
“I know nothing about blackmail,” Lord Ashworth responded hoarsely, sinking onto the chair. “I was promised a bride by Lord Holt. That was all. I only wanted what I was promised.”
“Then I expect Lord Holt’s most recent letter to me will come as much of a surprise to you as it did to me,” Nathaniel said lightly.
“What are you talking about?” Lord Ashworth queried uneasily.
“After attempting to extract money from me by other means, Holt wrote this very morning, offering to withdraw the allegations in Salacious Society Stories, and any further attempt to regain custody of Mary, if I pay him a sum I believe to be greater than you were offering for her hand.”
“He was meant to write and tell you to return her home by noon tomorrow,” Lord Ashworth blurted, glancing uneasily toward Patrick as though even this oblique mention of Mary might set him off again.
“Oh, he did that too. I have the letter here. Let me read it to you.”
After producing Lord Holt’s missive from his pocket, Nathaniel opened it and read it aloud to the small audience in the hallway.
“He sent the same message to Cecily,” Patrick commented.
“That was not what we agreed on!” Lord Ashworth complained, evidently feeling very hard done by.
“To the devil with that drunken, money-grubbing, double-crossing old weasel. Preston killed his own wretched brother and sister-in-law through drunkenness and money lust. I was there to see it, and now he wants to drag me into this…”
Nathaniel cast a sharp look at Patrick, silently ordering him not to interrupt.
“A man who chased his own brother down the road after drinking a whole bottle of whiskey, all for money to pay off his gambling debts. I should never have trusted such a man!”
“Quite,” Nathaniel agreed affably, putting the letter back into his pocket and hiding his surprise at the unexpected revelation about the death of Cecily’s parents.
“Let this be a lesson to you. Still, you might yet have your revenge on Lord Holt, if nothing else. Alternatively, I could have you both charged as blackmailers and give the scandal sheets something to really talk about.”
“You wouldn’t!” Lord Ashworth gasped. “Your own name would be dragged through the mud with ours.”
Nathaniel laughed aloud, although his smile did not reach his blazing blue eyes.
“I do not care, Lord Ashworth. The list of what I care about is very, very short indeed. If you knew that one thing about me before you started down this foolish road, you might have saved yourself a great deal of bother and humiliation.”
“What do you want?” Lord Ashworth asked in a sulky voice, after a moment.
“Two letters. The first one would be a signed statement about everything Lord Holt promised you and all your conversations and schemes against the Duchess of Greyhaven and Miss Mary Holt. Remember, it may exonerate you of blackmail.”
“And the second?”
“An accurate account of what occurred on the day the former Baron and Baroness Holt died.”
“It was a long time ago,” Lord Ashworth muttered.
But Nathaniel was not so easily deterred.
“Then it’s lucky that your memory is good, Lord Ashworth, isn’t it?” he said pleasantly, but with an edge to his voice. “You can protect yourself or protect Lord Holt. You can’t do both.”
“You shall have your statements, damn you, Greyhaven,” Lord Ashworth grumbled, rising from his chair. “Take them and do what you will with Lord Holt. He will not be welcome in my house again.”