Unmasking Sin, page 19
“Thank you, Mark, you may go,” Rebecca said hastily.
When the door closed behind him, Ludovic said, “I think you must have given them a fright when you hared off to Calvert Court. Your friend Mrs. Belfont no doubt told of them of your new friends and your success. They can see their control slipping.”
“I have no objection to they’re being worried.”
“Nor have I. It will make them more amenable when you decide exactly what you want them to do.” He stood. “I should leave you to think. But send for me at any time, and I will come.”
A silly surge of panic washed over her just because she didn’t want him to go. But she said calmly, “I’ll show you out.”
At least he did not demur, and it gave her another precious minute in his company. What is the matter with me? Something was clearly wrong when she gloried in his mere presence at her side, loved the brush of his leg against her skirts as they descended the stairs together. Again, she had the sense of some kind of echo, not of the past this time, but of the future, a vague, confused imagining of long-term friendship. Companionship.
Oh yes, it was time for him to leave. And for Rebecca to beat her thoughts and feelings into some kind of sensible order.
Since the hall was empty of servants, she handed Ludovic his hat and opened the front door.
He said, “Remember. Send for me at any time, even if just to discuss what is possible. And I will call in a couple of days if I do not hear from you.”
His words came out in a rush, making her wonder, suddenly, if he didn’t want to leave any more than she wanted to let him. But he bowed and walked past her onto the step. She could not help following him. Or seeing, at the foot of the steps, lounging against the railings above the area, the familiar, stocky figure of Napper.
Napper grinned and tipped his hat to her. “Morning, m’lady.”
“Mr. Napper. Are you still protecting us?”
“Off and on. Right now, I’m protecting him.” He jerked his head at Ludovic, who scowled and clapped his hat onto his head.
“Napper,” he all but growled.
But Rebecca’s stomach was performing unpleasant summersaults. “Why does he need protecting?”
Napper swung his foot up a couple of steps to speak confidentially. “Because someone dropped half a chimney on his head and only missed by inches.”
Shock parted her lips and widened her eyes as she stared from Napper to Ludovic.
“He exaggerates,” Ludovic said with a quick smile. “I am in no danger at all. Goodbye, Lady Cornish.” He tipped his hat and walked away, Napper trailing at his heels like a disobedient hound trying to get back into his master’s good graces. A hound who kept looking around him, including above at the rooftops.
Chapter Eighteen
Aloitius found Rebecca’s manner subtly disturbing when he and Constantine finally came upon her in the park with the boy and their retinue. Instead of the half-fearful, half-defiant girl, he found himself presented by an icily polite and self-possessed lady. Whether this was because she expected to be a duchess or just because people had tolerated her at Calvert Court, he did not know. Either way, it boded ill for the continued secrecy of their management of Theo’s estate. They had to find some new way, and soon, to squeeze her out of the boy’s care.
Her new acquaintance, Captain Dauncy, in the smart red and gold coat of a cavalry officer, kissed his fingers to her retreating back. “I compliment you on your niece, gentlemen. A most delightful lady.”
“Indeed,” Constantine said haughtily. “Might one inquire how you know?”
Subtlety was not Constantine’s strong suit.
“Eyes, my dear sir,” Dauncy drawled. “Eyes. You don’t agree with me?”
“Her looks were certainly sufficient to trap our nephew into marriage,” Constantine snapped. “And they do not call her the Black Widow for nothing.”
Dauncy’s sleepy eyes were suddenly sharp with intelligence. “I don’t believe they call her that at all. Not in the best circles.”
Aloitius would have walked on in disgust, leaving his brother to follow as he saw fit, except it struck him that the captain showed no inclination to move. He was not, clearly, averse to gossip.
“And what do they call her in the best circles, Captain?” Aloitius asked silkily.
“My lady, as a rule,” Dauncy said, smiling faintly.
“While we know her as something quite different,” Constantine muttered.
Dauncy’s eyes moved between them, a faintly superior smile playing around his lips. “I get the impression she is in your way, gentlemen. Rumor is too fickle a mistress. It can cling where it shouldn’t and fail to take where it should. You need to consider something a little more direct.”
And only then did the astonishingly simple idea flash into Aloitius’s head. It shocked him so much, he almost banished it, but Dauncy’s sardonic gaze was upon him, seeing, perhaps, the idea take root.
“As you do?” Constantine sneered.
“Of course. I am a soldier at heart.”
“Walk with us a little,” Aloitius invited. “Tell us about those direct methods you use to deal with your own problems.”
Dauncy dismounted, laughing. “Well, that is simple. I intend to kill the bastard.”
*
It took Rebecca until dinnertime to decide what to do about Napper’s terrifying revelation. And it took her until the next morning to pluck up the courage to do it. She ordered the carriage sent round, then ordered Annie to take both footmen with her if she and Tom went out, and went to fetch her bonnet.
The carriage let her down outside Ludovic Dunne’s office building. Having no idea how long her business would take, she told the coachman to return for her at midday and walked inside. A polished brass plaque on the wall directed her upstairs to the office of Ludovic Dunne, Esq., Solicitor. There was only one door on this floor, and it bore the same nameplate. Rebecca pushed the door and went in.
She found herself in a large office bearing three armchairs, two desks, and high-backed chairs. At one of the desks sat Mr. Andrews, the clerk who had collected her letters of instruction. He bounced to his feet so quickly that his chair almost fell over.
“Lady Cornish!” he gasped, bowing.
“How kind of you to remember me. Is Mr. Dunne in his office?” She looked to the far side and another door.
“Yes, but I’m afraid he is meeting with other people and was very clear about not being disturbed.” Mr. Andrews sounded worried, then brightened visibly. “I can ask him to call upon you as soon as he is free.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Rebecca said, sinking into the nearest armchair. “I shall wait.”
If anything, the clerk looked even more alarmed. “That doesn’t seem right, my lady, Mr. Dunne will be happy to call—”
“I am sure. But I prefer to wait.”
He swallowed. “Perhaps I can fetch you a cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely,” she said graciously.
He duly brought her tea and a slice of cake, which was a pleasant surprise. She thanked him and set about consuming them while she waited. Occasionally, she heard some movement from the inner office, a man’s voice raised in argument or, once, laughter. Neither sounded like Ludovic.
And then, without warning, the inner office door flew open, and Ludovic strode out, saying briskly, “Andrews, will you find me—” His gaze flickered over Rebecca, and his words cut off abruptly. “Reb…Lady Cornish! What has happened?”
“Nothing.” He had been about to call her Rebecca and, for no reason, that brightened her day immeasurably. For the rest, he seemed almost stunned, at a loss for once.
“Lady Cornish preferred to wait until you were free,” Mr. Andrews said nervously, “although I told her you would be happy to call.”
“I would,” Ludovic said fervently.
“There is no need since I am here. I came only as a friend to offer what help I could with…the problem Napper mentioned,” she finished discreetly.
Now, he looked positively alarmed. “Oh, no, there is no help you could possibly—”
“On the contrary, my friend,” said an amused voice from behind Ludovic. Another tall man, dashingly dark and handsome, stepped into her line of vision, smiling. “From what I can see, this lady is exactly who we need.”
*
“No. Absolutely not,” Ludovic said, so appalled that it approached panic. Beneath his scowl, his heart was singing because she was here, because she had sought him and not for some emergency. But less than four and twenty hours ago, Dauncy had been on the roof of this office, trying to kill him. And that terrified him. He could not have her mixed up with this.
He was prepared for her to look offended or even hurt by this curt rejection, and to capitalize on it by escorting her out the door and back to her carriage. But after a very direct look, she said only, “I thought we were friends.”
“Of course we are.” He dragged one desperate hand though his hair and prepared to counter her arguments.
But she stood up, and for an instant, he thought he had won without any more effort.
“Good,” she said, brushing past him in a waft of enticing Rebecca-scent. “Then we help each other.” And she walked not to the door but straight into his office, past his bowing guest, who cast Ludovic an impudent grin and followed her inside.
Ludovic cursed under his breath and strode after them. Only strict self-control prevented him from slamming the door. However, he did not allow himself the courtesy of offering her a chair, for she was not staying.
“Lady Cornish, I cannot allow you to come near this mess,” Ludovic said firmly. “Therefore—”
“I am already near it, am I not? If you are discussing the recent attempt on your life by Captain Dauncy.”
“I did not say it was Dauncy.” Even to his own ears, Ludovic sounded more harassed than reasonable and strove to modify his tone. “My lady, this is not a suitable kind of help.”
“Oh, stop being so prissy, Ludo, and introduce us,” said his guest unhelpfully.
“I would if I knew how,” Ludovic retorted. “Lady Cornish, I present an old—or should I say former?—friend of mine from our university days, Mr. Francis. Francis, Lady Cornish.”
Of course, she would extend her hand to Francisco, and he, the cretinous scoundrel, would kiss it like the continental gallant he mostly was. He even held the chair Ludovic had determined she should not sit in. But her gaze came constantly back to him.
She said, “I already know Dauncy, so there is no point in pretending otherwise. And besides, is he really likely to be anywhere near here today if he tried to kill you here yesterday?”
No, he wasn’t. At least, not without Napper or the boys warning Ludovic in plenty of time. Was his main aim, then, just to prevent Francisco from flirting with her? Had he become so pathetically jealous over a woman who could never be his in any way that mattered?
He leaned his hip against the corner of the desk, and Francisco chose to occupy Ludovic’s own chair.
“To make you both safe,” Francisco said, “and to mete out justice, of course, we should concentrate on how to bring this Dauncy down as quickly as possible. The matter has become imperative. We were just discussing how and who to involve. The man is dangerous because he has begun to think he can do what he wishes with impunity. But he is not discreet—he sees no need to be. And so, hooking him should not be so difficult.”
“You say this to a man who has been trying to hook him for five years,” Ludovic pointed out.
“Yes, but you think of the law, of finding evidence, which I very much doubt exists. The paper you found is not enough, and it only taught him to clear up any such loose ends. In that sense, he thinks like you. There is no evidence in your office, for example, of any of your special clients, is there?”
“No,” Ludovic said impatiently. It was part of the discretion of his services. “I keep information only in my head. The point is—”
“That we need to make Dauncy talk, and this lady is perfect for the purpose. So lovely, so aloof, and yet so tempting in every, smallest movement. What man would not want to impress her?”
To Ludovic’s secret delight, she blushed. She had walked in here, ready to argue her case. She had not expected someone else to do it for her with compliments. But she was nothing if not down to earth.
“He knows me,” she confessed, “and shows no interest in unburdening his soul.”
“Only because you disdained him,” Francisco guessed, possibly correctly.
“And he may suspect we are friends,” Ludovic pointed out, “which would preclude all trust.”
Francisco considered her, and she gazed back, half defiant, half amused. “Disguised with a blond wig, a lot of jewels, and exaggerated mannerisms, and she will be perfect.”
“No,” Ludovic said tightly. “She will not be tempting that—that…”
“We are discussing a most excellent—er…flim-flam,” Francisco explained to her. “Leading him on to speak of past misdeeds before people who cannot be doubted.”
Rebecca’s face fell, and Ludovic didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. “No one would believe my testimony. Everyone thinks I murdered both my late husbands.”
Only Francisco’s eyes would light up at such a charge. “I would ask if it were true, except I can see the whole idea is ridiculous. Even if you were not Ludo’s friend.”
Ludovic opened his mouth to pronounce that it still precluded her from their plot, but how could he say that without implying everyone still believed such calumny? Without sapping her new confidence? He pressed his lips together while Francisco explained why none of this mattered.
“In this case, your testimony would not be required, so your identity and your reputation would remain unknown. I will be there to hear, and, if Ludo can persuade him, a magistrate of impeccable reputation. Your task will simply be to cozen him into a confession in public.”
“Do drunken confessions count?” she asked doubtfully.
“You would need to ask Ludo. But we do not intend that he should be drunk on anything other than his own cleverness and a very unhealthy dose of—your pardon, my lady—lust. You see, we believe him to have betrayed more than a little information to the French during the war, not just by means of the document which Ludo found. And so, you and I will be French and Bonapartist. Dauncey will be winning you away from me, or perhaps someone else, with stories of his cleverness and secret loyalty to the emperor…”
“No,” Ludovic said forcefully. “A blond wig would not disguise her from anyone who had ever met her.”
“Not from you perhaps, my friend,” Francisco said with a knowing gleam in his eyes that made Ludovic want to hit him. “But from the rest of the world—”
“Masks,” Rebecca said suddenly, gazing at Ludovic.
“Maida,” he said softly. “That would be perfect.” He blinked and straightened. “Only, it cannot be you, Rebecca.”
“On the contrary, it must be her,” Francisco said. “Who else do you trust more?”
No one. “There is no one I wish to keep alive more,” Ludovic ground out. “Have you considered her fate if this goes wrong and he recognizes her?”
“Yes,” Francisco said baldly. “Then we resort to Plan B and a knife in a dark alley. It won’t rehabilitate your brother’s reputation, but it will eliminate the threat to her ladyship and the danger of further treachery.”
“Ludovic would not do that,” Rebecca said.
“No, I would. But I think you underestimate what Ludo will do for those he loves.” Francisco darted up out of Ludovic’s chair and made for the door. “I will set some plans in motion and keep you apprised.” He smiled, bowed, and kissed his fingers to Rebecca on his way out of the door. As usual, he did not trouble to bid Ludovic farewell.
“What an extraordinary man,” Rebecca said faintly, gazing at the closed door. “Who on earth is he?”
“A nameless adventurer who thrives on intrigue. Or so he would have you believe.”
“And in reality?”
“The son of a Spanish nobleman, who died in Bonaparte’s wars, and an English lady. He is an adventurer by nature, but by profession, he has many fingers in many more respectable, if secret, pies. He is a friend to treasure and an enemy to fear. Or so he would also have you believe. My lady, I do not wish to have you involved in this.”
“You called me Rebecca before.”
“I apologize. Look—”
She let out a startled squeak, and Ludovic spun to follow her gaze to the window, where Frankie’s face grinned at him and disappeared.
“Oh the devil,” Ludovic muttered, straightening.
“Who on earth was that?”
“Frankie. He and his friends run errands for us. Today, his face at the window means someone’s approaching the office.” He opened the smaller door. “This way, if you please, for discretion’s sake, until Andrews gets rid of him.”
Clearly intrigued, she stood and peered into what most people expected to be a cupboard and found the narrow staircase. Without protest, she began to climb.
“When you get to the top,” he ordered, “stand still and wait for me because it will be dark.”
In a moment, he shut them into darkness, locked the door, and ran up to join her. She filled his senses. There was not much space, and his arm brushed against her delicate shoulder. He could not help inhaling her soft, distinctive scent. The faint hush of her breath in the dark was unbearably erotic, and he had to concentrate to slide his key into the door and push it open. Daylight seeped in, and she stepped into his hallway.
“Did Frankie warn you of my approach, too?” she asked.
“Yes. But obviously, I did not know who you were, and I trusted Andrews to deal with you or yell. I can’t trust whoever that is not to see you and recognize you.” He closed and locked the little door and brushed past her across the hall to his sitting room.
“I have visited solicitors in their office before,” she said dryly. “Unchaperoned.”
“My instinct,” he said ruefully, “is to protect you.” In the center of his sitting room, he turned to face her.
