Читать книгу If He's Wicked - Hannah Howell - Страница 10

“Damn them,” Julian muttered as he let the last of the papers Leopold had given him fall into his lap and slumped against the pillows. After a full night of sleep he had thought himself strong enough to face even more hard, ugly truths, but he was not so sure of that now. “Do you think it was all planned from the very beginning? That I was naught but a pawn from the start?”

“That is a possibility,” replied Leo as he straightened up a little in the chair he had set next to Julian’s bed. “I am sorry to get so personal, but was your wife a virgin?”

“I think not.” Julian felt himself blush faintly. “I was not vastly experienced when I married and had never bedded down with a virgin. Would probably never have done so even if the opportunity had been there. I saw no glory in dishonoring some foolish, naïve innocent. As for Beatrice, things I have learned since make me believe she feigned all of her innocence. A woman at one particular brothel entertained me with the tale of how she made quite an impressive amount of money by pretending to be a virgin until she was past an age where it was believable. The tale of how she enacted that lie again and again reminded me very strongly of Beatrice on our wedding night. I was sorely tempted to ask the woman if she had ever taught her tricks to a lady, to my wife, but I could not. S’blood, but I really did not wish to hear her answer,” he added softly.

“Of course you did not. Eminently understandable.”

“Oh? Eminently cowardly might be more accurate.”

“Perhaps, but a cowardice most men would share. Betrayal had already sent you crawling through brothels. You did not need to hear of yet another one. In your place, I would not have wished to hear the answer, either. However, that does make me think my suspicions are correct, that your uncle chose Beatrice, that he wanted an ally as close to you as possible. Who better than a lover or a wife?”

“Who better indeed? These papers show that they also seek to put me in debtor’s prison.”

“Which neatly answers the question of why, does it not?” Leo said as he stood up and stretched before idly pacing the length of the room.

“I suspect it does.”

“From what I have seen and learned through careful investigation and observation, most of your lands and investments are intact and are carefully tended. It appears the pair does realize that they need to do at least that much to keep their purses full of your money. Other lands you own are not faring quite so well.” Leo shrugged. “They have no interest in them and so they bleed them dry and invest nothing in them. Since the rumor that you are dead is spreading fast and wide now, there have already been whispers seeping about saying that certain unentailed properties will soon enter the market.”

Leo waited patiently as Julian indulged in a hearty, creative bout of cursing, then said, “There is no proof that you are dead, Julian, so it will be very difficult to dispense with your property too quickly.”

“And Nigel is my heir, not my uncle. I also changed my will, leaving my wife a very small annuity. I thought of leaving her nothing at all but decided that would raise too many questions, the answers to which would be embarrassing for my family.”

“But before that, she had a healthy widow’s portion, I suspect.”

“She did and it included some property, but that property could not be sold without the new earl’s full approval.”

“Who is in Canada. So, if your uncle could show that you gave him the right to act in your stead or made him the executor of your will…”

“I never did such a thing, never gave him any rights or power at all. Of course, that does not mean that he could not produce some claim that he had them.” Julian grimaced. “What would a little forgery matter to such a man?”

“True. He could also dispute your will as it was made in the heat of anger or any other excuse he can think of. So we must conjure up some way to put a spoke in his wheel.”

“Such as what?” Julian was beginning to think that Leopold Wherlocke had a very devious mind.

“Such as debts accrued during the year you were, well, not quite yourself.”

“You mean whilst I acted the drunken debauchee,” Julian drawled, still feeling the pinch of shame and embarrassment over his behavior of the last year. “Unfortunately, I do not believe I have any outstanding debts, certainly not of the sort that could be used to grab fistfuls of any property I own.”

Leo sat on the end of the bed and leaned against the thick bedpost. “Nay, you do not, but that does not mean we cannot produce a few. Do you think your uncle and your wife know of every little thing you have done over the past year?”

Julian thought about that possibility for a few moments and then shook his head. “No, I think not. They have obviously kept a watch on what I was doing, and where, or hired someone else to do it so that they could plan their attempts to kill me, but I can think of several times when they would have had a good chance of succeeding yet nothing happened. And I did gamble and there were some losses, but nothing too severe.”

“Then I believe it might be wise to conjure up a few sizeable debts, ones that could be produced quickly if the sale of certain properties looked imminent. Think of which properties you would truly regret losing and write a chit deeding it or its profits over to me or Edgar or both of us.”

“You have an astonishingly devious mind,” Julian said, unable to hold the thought back any longer.

“Thank you.”

“I will give some hard thought to which properties I truly do not wish to lose and then see to it that you and Edgar have the proper papers to hold up any attempt to sell them for a very long time.”

“Let us pray that we will not need a very long time to clean up this treacherous mess. Now, what about that will?”

“As I said, I made a new one when I realized Beatrice had betrayed me, but I cannot be certain if it still exists. About six months ago, during one of my more sober days, I had a meeting with my solicitor and I got the strongest feeling that he had been corrupted. I told myself Beatrice’s betrayal was just making me too suspicious.”

Leo nodded. “Possibly, but probably not true in this matter. A copy?”

“There is one at Kenwood House, but if my solicitor does not stand behind it, it may not be worth very much. In it I left much of what was not entailed to Edgar, my sister, or my mother.” Julian grimaced. “Even if the copy has been found, Arthur could try to do as you have suggested—declare me incompetent at the time it was written.”

“It could still serve to slow down any sales or gross thievery. It would tie their hands with all sorts of convoluted legalities. In truth, it could tie their hands in ways they have never been tied before.”

“Of course. I have heard a few men bemoan such legal tangles from time to time. Yet, I would have thought my uncle clever enough to foresee all that. And Beatrice cannot believe she will be my uncle’s countess now that I am dead. Nigel is my heir, and Arthur and Beatrice cannot marry anyway. Even if my uncle was not married already, he is too close a relative to me to marry my widow, is he not?”

Leo shrugged. “So he proves your marriage is not valid. Most women would shy away from the scandal that would cause but not, I think, your wife.”

“Sadly true, and neither she nor my uncle would care that such a thing would mark my son as a bastard.”

“Seeing as they were willing to let the child die—nay. And, remember, they think the boy is long dead.”

Julian tensed. “If Arthur plans to marry Beatrice, then my aunt Mildred may be in danger.”

“Quite possibly,” agreed Leo, “but not to worry. I have someone watching over her and your little cousins.”

Staring at Leo in growing wonder, Julian asked, “Someone similar to the relative you have watching over my brother in Canada?”

“In some ways, but better and far more suitable. A mature woman who now acts as a companion to your aunt and a governess to the girls.”

“How much protection can a mature woman be?”

“A lot, and her two hulking sons are always close at hand.” Leo smiled. “Your aunt needed some new footmen, you see.”

“And they all have, er, gifts?”

Leo smiled faintly. “I know you find it all very difficult to believe, but, aye, they all have gifts, ones that will make it nearly impossible for your uncle to hurt your aunt.”

“I do not mean to insult you by doubting your word,” Julian said and then grimaced, knowing his doubt was indeed an insult, for it implied that Leo was a liar.

“Doubt causes me no injuries. If I had not grown up with such gifts, if they did not infect my entire family like some strange plague, I am not sure I would easily believe in such things, either.”

“Are you given to having visions, too?”

“Not as Chloe does. I am not even sure you could call what I have the sight.” Leo shrugged again. “I simply, and often abruptly, just know things. Sad to say, I usually just know dark things, dangerous things. What I am very good at is knowing that someone is lying—by word, deed, or appearance.”

“By damn, but that must be helpful.” Julian puzzled over the sadness that briefly swept over Leo’s face.

“It is, but it is also a curse in its own way. We all lie, do we not? I have come to accept that; can even see that it is necessary at times. Due to the work I do for our government, king and country, I have also become very proficient in the art of lying. As a small, sickly, homely child, however—”

“You, sir, were never a homely child.”

Leo nodded in silent thanks for the compliment, but continued, “I was, if only because I was so sickly, and we all know that what one looks like as a child does not always carry through to an adult. Add to that a mother who found such gifts increasingly alarming and, let us just say, it was difficult. On the other hand, I can know when a woman’s beauty is more false than true, more artifice than nature,” Leo drawled and smiled.

“That is a gift many men would like to have.” Julian sighed, thinking of all the grief such a gift might have saved him.

“Unless, of course, it tells you that the woman who is telling you what a great lover you are is lying through her pretty teeth.”

“God forbid. Did that—no, forget I asked.”

“I will. Back to the matter at hand. I believe your aunt and cousins need not worry us. If it is your uncle’s plan to rid himself of his wife once he is the earl, then she is safe unless you and Nigel die. The title and estates would not go to the sons of your sisters?”

Julian slowly shook his head. “No, it follows only through the males. Since my father is dead, if Nigel and I die without issue, that leaves no male in my father’s line, so it jumps over to my uncle and his line. After that there are only cousins, some quite distant. Arthur is the first Kenwood in written memory who has not bred a son, only daughters.”

“Which might mean the man would then look for a new wife.”

“Only if he cares about passing down the heritage to a son. These papers imply that he is only interested in the wealth of the estates and titles.” Julian rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “By what I can see written here, once Nigel and I are gone, Arthur will try even harder to wring every coin he can out of the estate. Whoever comes after him will find little of value left.”

“And that is why we now make plans to try and put some very strong restraints on him.”

“That we can do, and now I can even see how. What might not be so easy is how to prove that he and Beatrice tried to kill my son and me. You have little here and none of it would hold up very well against my uncle’s skill with words or deception, nor against the connections he has made over the years. Not friends, but confederates, and some unwilling ones.”

“Ah, blackmail.” Leo nodded. “I did learn that he is very skilled at discovering those secrets one wishes well buried and wields them well. I have extracted a few from his grasp, but the sort of threat he holds over some of the men, and women, is not one easily fixed or uncovered.”

Julian stared at Leo in surprise. “How do you know he has secrets he can use?”

“I work for the Home Office, if you recall.” Leopold grinned. “The men I work for are very good at ferreting out secrets, and they do not like anyone to be able to get a tight grip on one of the people they use. I gained a lot of my information on your uncle through my work for them. Not all of his gains are from your pockets. We suspect he sold information to the Americans and is now offering his services to the French.”

For a moment Julian felt strongly inclined to succumb again, but he fought off the light-headed feeling brought on by the extreme shock of learning a traitor had tainted the Kenwood bloodlines. His line was well dotted with rogues, debauchers, pirates, and a host of other not so proud figures, but never a traitor. The Kenwoods had all been loyal to England. They might have fought on opposite sides in the wars over who would rule Her, cheated Her, stolen from Her, and criticized Her, but none had ever betrayed Her to an enemy. There had been an unbroken line of loyalty to country in the Kenwood family right from the raw beginnings of the family. Julian did not want to think that his uncle had stepped over that line, broken it, and brought such deep dishonor to the family name.

“Are you certain?” he asked Leo.

“As certain as we can be without the hard proof that could put the man on the gallows,” replied Leopold. “The Home Office feels that if we can hang him for other crimes, such as killing you—”

“But at the end of this game, if we win, I will not be dead.”

“Nay, but others are, and the many attempts upon your life are enough to hang the man or banish him from the country. The men I work for would prefer a more final end to this, however.”

“So would I. If Arthur was still alive at the end of this, I would always feel as if I had a knife at my back.”

“As would I.”

“Do you think my uncle contributed much to the loss of the Colonies?”

“Nay. We never could have won that war, and a lot of us knew it from the first warnings in the air. Everything from the impossible logistics of supplying men, even getting our forces over there, to the vastness of the land, the tenacity of the people, worked against us. Some like to blame the French for the loss, but their aid to the rebels was not enough to credit them with the victory and, personally, I think it demeans all the Colonials who fought and died for what they believed in. Again, we would have lost that battle anyway. I thought it a mistake from the very beginning.”

“In truth, so did I. That does not ease the bite of shame that comes from knowing my uncle was a traitor, however.”

“I did not think it would. I just wanted to pontificate.” Leo shared a brief grin with Julian but quickly grew serious again. “Your uncle’s treachery against England does not need to become common knowledge.”

“There is comfort in that. How many know that Arthur might be a traitor?”

“Very few, and they are utterly trustworthy. If the problem were solved in some other way, they would destroy all of their records concerning your uncle’s traitorous activities. They do not want to stain the good name of Kenwood. Your father was well loved and greatly respected, as was your grandfather.”

Julian nodded and slumped against the pillows. He was exhausted and he knew some of it was because of the shock he had suffered over the news that his uncle was a traitor. Leopold might have said that there was not enough hard proof to hang Arthur for that crime, but the men at the Home Office would not even be hinting at it if they were not certain. They were just waiting to find enough to convince the courts since they knew they would need a lot of proof to convict a Kenwood of treason.

“If Arthur is decried as a traitor, it will destroy my aunt. Not only does she come from a long line of honorable military men, but she will lose everything, and the stain of it will cling to her daughters far longer than it will to any of the rest of us.”

“Which is why the Home Office hopes that his crimes against his own country never come to light. Your aunt is well liked and her family’s service to the country highly respected. Indeed, a number of my superiors’ wives are amongst her very good friends.” Leopold smiled faintly. “One or two share most news with their wives, respecting their intelligence and their integrity, and it was made very clear that your aunt and her daughters did not deserve to suffer for Arthur’s crimes. Trust me in this, even though efforts are being made to uncover the full truth about his traitorous activities, it is mostly to cut away his contacts and leave him unable to continue to betray the country. The hope is strong that some other way will be found to be rid of the man, and soon.”

“Do your superiors know that I am alive?”

“My direct superior and his own superior are the only ones who know. Sad to say, we believe your uncle has a grip on a few of our men. We are working hard to find out who they are. After all, even if all they do is work to hinder us in finding out the truth about Arthur, they are a weak link and the Home Office cannot afford to have any weak links. There are some dark rumblings in France, and who knows where they will lead us.”

“’Tis a shame my uncle did not use his obvious talent for ferreting out secrets for the good of England.”

“I fear working for king and country does not often make a man rich.”

“And wealth is my uncle’s god.” Julian sighed. “I fear I may be pushed to spill the blood of my own uncle ere this trial is done.”

“Let us hope that necessary chore will be done by another. However, better that than the deaths of you, Nigel, and Anthony. And, mayhap, your aunt. Better that well-justified stain upon your hands than the unfair one upon the name of Kenwood.”

“Very true. And that is a truth I will hold fast to, for it will keep me from hesitating if I am faced with that choice.”

A sharp rap at the door ended the conversation, and Julian was relieved. The talking and the news that Arthur might well be a traitor had sapped his strength. He knew it was cowardly, but he wanted the conversation to end before he was told any more bad news.

The clock on the mantel told him who was at the door. It was time for another visit from his son. Julian was a little disturbed to discover that he was keenly anticipating another visit from Chloe as well. That interest had to be buried and buried deeply. He might have cut all ties to his wife, but, by law, he was still a married man. Instinct told him that Chloe was not a woman one had an idle flirtation with. She was a woman who would drag emotion into it, and he was done with romance.

Leopold opened the door and Julian felt his battered heart actually skip at the sight of Chloe. She held Anthony’s hand and led him to the bed. The sight of his son and Chloe together looked right. Too right. As they stood by the bed smiling at him the words mine and family pounded in his head. He staunchly silenced the refrain. Family implied marriage and, once he was free of Beatrice, he had no intention of ever marrying again. He had his heir. He needed no wife. A part of him scoffed at that and he frowned. It was obvious that he needed to work on strengthening his convictions.

“Do you have pain?” asked Chloe, trying to guess at the cause of the ominous look that suddenly darkened Julian’s face. “I can fetch you some tea to ease it.”

Julian forced himself to smile. “No. I am well enough. Just caught fast in thinking on even more bad news.”

“Ah.” She glanced at Leo. “It should probably be handed out in very small doses for just a while longer.”

“No,” Julian said before Leo could reply. “As you have all told me, there is no more time to play this game. And, concerning your herbal tea, I would appreciate some after I dine tonight. It does help me sleep undisturbed by aches and pains and that is the best medicine, is it not?” He smiled at Anthony. “And how are you?”

Anthony climbed up onto the bed to sit beside him and then proceeded to tell Julian about every single thing he had done since opening his eyes that morning. Chloe added a few words now and then to aid clarity. Julian felt the pain of his uncle’s treachery fade away beneath the balm of his child’s happy chatter. He struggled to ignore that part of him that also found peace and contentment in Chloe’s presence. If nothing else, he did not wish to reveal any interest in Chloe in front of her far too astute and watchful cousin.

“You have had a very busy day,” he said to Anthony, idly and fruitlessly trying to tame the child’s wild curls with his fingers.

“Aye, I have.” Anthony nodded vigorously, his curls bouncing. “I gots more to do.”

“Have more to do,” corrected Chloe, “and you can do it all after your nap.”

A stubborn look settled on the child’s angelic face. “Nay. Not tired.”

Even though he was amused by the boy’s use of the country-bred aye and nay, Julian hid it and nudged his son toward Chloe. “Then just rest and think for a while.”

Anthony gave a heavy sigh and slid off the bed. “If I must.”

It was hard not to laugh at the child’s martyred tone. The way Chloe rolled her eyes severely tried Julian’s control as well. As soon as they were gone, however, he slumped back against his pillows. Renewed anger over how Beatrice and Arthur had tried to kill his son flooded him. He closed his eyes and cursed. It would take a very long time to forget just how close he had come to never knowing his child, and all because of his uncle’s greed. When he finally opened his eyes again, it was to find Leo sprawled in the chair at his bedside, studying him.

“Aye, it is hard to think of how close the boy came to dying before he had even begun to live,” said Leo.

“Very hard.” Julian reached for the tankard of cider on the table by his bed and took a long drink in an attempt to clear a sudden lump in his throat. “S’truth, whenever I think on it, I believe I could kill my wife with my bare hands if she was in reach. My uncle, too. The fury the thought stirs within me is hot, and, I fear, nearly blind.”

“Then douse it. What must be done now must be done logically, meticulously, and coldly.”

Julian slowly nodded. “Agreed.” He could see a smiling Anthony in his mind’s eye as clearly as if the boy still sat beside him. “There is far too much at risk to fail.”