A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2)

by Jessica Scarlett

  Matthew jumped in. “We are temporarily in need of some funds for wedding preparations. Allerton was unsure of the monetary assets currently available to him—”

  “I am confounded that he would ask this favor of you and not of me. Such things are my employ. Not yours.”

  I could see by the look on the steward’s face that he didn’t buy any of it. We were losing ground.

  I stepped forward. “Who knows what goes on in John’s head? I thought the request odd as well when he wrote me.”

  “His Grace requested this of you in a letter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where is this letter?”

  Drat. “It, erm, somehow slipped my mind to bring it along. You must understand, Mr. Mosely.”

  A gracious half-smile met his mouth, but it appeared hard-edged and deliberate. “Oh, I understand, Miss Wycliffe. Women are often forgetful about such things. If you procure this note, I shall give you what you seek. Not before. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he gave another bow, “I have other duties I must attend to.” With one last sharp glare, he swept out of the room, the echoes of his heels carrying down the hall.

  Silence reigned in the foyer. I let out a breath of pent up air.

  “I told you this was a bad idea.”

  “Oh, shut it!” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot, debating what to do. I didn’t know when Allerton would leave town again, thus giving me another opportunity. A week? A month? I couldn’t afford to wait a day. And even if he did leave town, without verbal or written permission, Mr. Mosley would not hand over his accounts.

  When I saw the butler returning to the entryway, I had my answer. “My good man!” I called to him.

  He looked up in surprise. “Yes, miss?”

  “When is the duke scheduled to return?”

  “In only a few hours, miss.”

  Plenty of time. “Would you be so kind as to show us into his study? I should like to wait until he returns so I may speak with him.”

  The butler bowed in acquiescence and gestured for us to follow him. I looked back at Matthew to flash him a determined smile, for the study was sure to be where Allerton’s ledgers were kept. If Mr. Mosley would not show them to me, I would just have to find them myself. Matthew frowned, but followed me into the study. The butler closed the door behind us.

  Candlelight flickered in the room that bore only one small window. Shiny mahogany panels and bookcases lined the walls, trapping in the sylvan smell that hung in the air. Matthew immediately set to work, scanning the rows of books, searching for personal accounts. I went to the imperial desk nestled at the far end of the room and rummaged through the drawers. When Matthew’s quick assessment proved unfruitful, he walked over to a glass casement sandwiched between the built-in bookcases, tugging on the handle.

  “It’s locked.” He rattled the glass doors then let go. “And there it is. I can see the ledger.”

  I looked up to behold a thick tome as tall as my forearm, locked away in the cabinet. Key. We need a key. I opened more drawers on the desk, riffling through papers, bottles of ink, and sticks of wax. On the last drawer, next to some parchment lay a small key the size of my pinky.

  “Aha,” I said, handing it to Matthew.

  “Not trying overly hard to keep it hidden, is he?”

  “Perhaps he’s innocent,” I said.

  “Or doesn’t think he could get caught.” After a turn of the key, Matthew held the cabinet open and pulled the large tome out of the casement, setting it on the desk with a loud thud.

  “Shh!” I whispered.

  “Blasted heavy.” Matthew creaked it open, eyes skimming the columns written in immaculate cursive. His mouth moved with his eyes as he read to himself. He flicked through a few pages, pointer finger tapping the dates at the top of each column.

  While he worked, I set to flipping through the stacks of papers in the desk, looking for anything useful. Notices, receipts, invitations, correspondence . . . I searched the names on each note, hoping one of them would prove to be of interest, but everything came up short. The sound of shuffling papers was the only thing that broke the hush of the room while Matthew and I continued to work.

  Fortescue. I saw the name and pulled out the sheet of paper it belonged to, only to sag in disappointment. It was nothing. Only the name ‘Sidney Fortescue’ written over and over on the page. I set it aside and continued my search.

  “I can’t understand it,” Matthew muttered beside me. “There’s a set amount of revenue that comes in every month, but it doesn’t specify the source.” He paused, then gave a harrumph. “Allerton isn’t as well off as he claims to be. Looks to be in a bit of trouble, in fact. I wonder where he’s getting all this money from, when he’s half bankrupt.”

  Radcliff. The name caught my eye from the corner of a document at the very bottom of the last drawer. I fished it out, holding it up to the light.

  It was a copy of Andrew Radcliff’s trust fund.

  Pulse erratic, I read it over, catching bits and pieces, but mostly confused by the legal jargon. I went back through it, reading slower.

  “Allerton isn’t a trustee.” The words slipped out in my shock. Seeing I’d caught Matthew’s attention, I handed him the document. “Allerton may be Andrew’s uncle, but he’s not his trustee. Fortescue is.”

  Matthew glanced back and forth between the trust document and the ledger. “That’s where the extra money’s coming from.” He set the document down. “The date of Andrew’s pension corresponds with the incoming revenue.”

  My brow furrowed. “But how could he access the funds from Andrew’s trust if he’s not—” Eyes snagging on the document bearing Mr. Fortescue’s name, I stopped short. Allerton was forging Fortescue’s signature in order to get the pension. He was siphoning money out of Andrew’s trust. And instead of setting the boy up in a proper school, he was paying off his own accrued debts, and funneling the rest somewhere else.

  But where?

  “By all England.” The way Matthew softly enunciated every syllable gave me pause.

  I looked over. “What?”

  Matthew shook his head, lips tight, finger pointing to a single line on the page. He was mute a long while before he was able to say it. “Allerton’s been sending money to France, the same amount every month, dating back to a year ago.” He scoffed, shaking his head again. “Lady Iris was right. The man’s a complete rake.”

  Bile rose into my throat. I pushed it down as I looked to where Matthew pointed. As I stared at the numbers, my vision lost focus, and I had to take several deep breaths before I was able to comprehend what I was seeing.

  Iris hadn’t come to steal Allerton for herself, but to warn me away. She’d been telling the truth. I turned to Matthew. “Wait. How did you know Lady Iris had accused Allerton of unfaithfulness?”

  He hesitated, before, “. . . Now, that conversation I did eavesdrop on.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Matthew!”

  “Well it was bloody difficult not to, the way the both of you were carrying on!”

  “Shh!” I said, checking the sliver of light shining under the door for any shadows.

  Ignoring me, Matthew consulted the book again. “And here. It looks like the last date recorded for these ‘deliveries’ was . . .” He scanned the page. “Four days ago.”

  Four days. Allerton had lied straight to my face!

  Matthew’s jaw clenched as he slammed the book shut. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Think, Eliza, think.

  But I couldn’t. Not only was Allerton neglectful of his nephew, not only was he spending the boy’s inheritance for his own personal gain, but he was also making continual excursions to pay his attentions to some mistress across the channel. With this gossip about Allerton proven accurate, perhaps the other rumor Iris had confided was true—perhaps he really had impregnated his mistress.

  And I was the fool engaged to him.

  The door opened and mine and Matthew’s heads snapped up. Filling t
he doorway was the frame of Mr. Mosley. Oh no.

  “Time to go,” Matthew said under his breath.

  The steward’s eyes gleamed with fury as he took in the papers strewn around the desk and the ledger sitting before us.

  “Of all the insidious schemes!” he barked.

  I snatched my coat draped over a chair and clutched it to my chest, hurrying across the room. Matthew was quicker, already shoving past the livid Mr. Mosely.

  “I have half a mind to call the authorities! Do not suppose there will be no consequence to your actions. His Grace will hear of this, I assure you, Miss Wycliffe—Miss Wycliffe!”

  By now Matthew and I were hastening down the hallway and rushing out the door. It had grown darker outside, both from the sun setting below the horizon, and a sudden influx of ominous storm clouds. They thundered in the heavens—but as I hurried across the courtyard and back out into the streets of London, the sound of my racing heart put them to shame.

  We didn’t slow our pace until we were several blocks away. When we finally stopped, I cupped my brow with my palm, still trying to digest all that we’d discovered. Matthew mopped his sweaty face with his sleeve. He looked paler than I’d ever seen him. Angrier, too.

  The next moment found him turning and retching into the gutter. There were no other people ambling down the streets to notice, only a few carriages rattling past.

  “Are you all right?” I put a hesitant hand on his back.

  He shook it off and straightened, wiping spittle from his lips. “No!” His face set. “Mama is on her deathbed, Peter’s left town, William’s fled the country, my hand feels like I broke every bone from punching that idiot, an angry steward might be trailing at our heels, and you keep making me run around like a headless chicken harnessed to a runaway horse! Turns out committing crimes and learning of your loathsome cad of a fiancé doesn’t agree with me! Who the devil knew.” Several minutes passed while Matthew recuperated.

  I stared at him in alarm, realizing I’d never witnessed him ill before, not even as a child.

  “What are we going to do?” he said at last.

  Matthew just as easily could’ve said ‘you,’ but he said ‘we.’ What are we going to do. That one little word made me want to cry with relief. I was not alone. I had Matthew. For a little longer, I had Mama. I did not have to sit idly by and watch Allerton seize my future and any chance I had toward happiness.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted at last. “I must call things off with Allerton, but I don’t know how best to deliver the message—”

  “A swift fist to the groin might suit.”

  “Give your fist a chance to recuperate, Matthew.”

  “Who said it had to be mine,” he grumbled.

  “One thing’s for certain: I should avoid Allerton until I’ve decided how to break it to him. Now that I know his true character, there’s no telling how volatile he might react to the news. And I should not do it when we’re alone.”

  “Eliza!”

  Above the roar of the clouds and rickety carriages came the faint call. But there was no mistaking the sound of my name, nor who the calling voice belonged to. I turned, dread creeping down my spine like a spider leaving a trail of silk.

  Coming from the direction of his townhouse, waving me down, was Allerton, back from France.

  Chapter 26

  We stood in stunned silence as Allerton approached on horseback. The sky seemed to darken, as if sensing the anticipation chilling my blood. “Don’t do anything rash.”

  “Only if he doesn’t,” was my brother’s reply. Even with the element of surprise, against a man of Allerton’s physique, Matthew didn’t stand a chance. But the way Matthew said it made it sound as if he had something else in mind.

  “Eliza.” Allerton neared and reined in his horse, flashing a winning smile. “What a coincidence.”

  His stare pinned me in place, and my feet felt trapped in sludge. My tongue turned to lead, refusing to speak the words Allerton waited to hear. Instead I made the corners of my mouth turn up.

  Though I was sure it was a terrible excuse of a smile, Allerton dismounted and walked around his horse as if he didn’t notice. “I am so glad to have run into you.” He pulled the reins over the beast’s head and clinched them in one hand, patting its neck with the other.

  “We were just out for an evening stroll,” I said, finding my voice. It sounded too nervous. I forced my shoulders to relax. “A-And we were just about to turn back.”

  “You didn’t stop in at my townhouse, by chance?”

  Could it be he’d already made a stop there? My heart dropped into my stomach. Had his steward spoken to him? Could he know what Matthew and I had done? “. . . Why do you ask?”

  “Only because I’ve missed you.” Matthew softly snorted, but Allerton didn’t seem to hear. “And because, I had hoped . . . I had hoped that you missed me, too.”

  The shock coursing through me made me falter. He’d spoken the words with a little smile, soft and convincing, and I almost forgot he’d just returned from visiting a mistress. For a moment, he’d almost persuaded me that I had missed him. Every part of me froze at the twisted irony.

  Allerton wore a mask—a mask that had become nearly indistinguishable from his face, from lack of ever removing it. And Allerton’s was a mask of the most sinister sort. These past months he’d kept me ignorant, charmed by his shy smiles—and never once did I imagine he was anything but genuine. I’d been so preoccupied with trying to figure William out that I’d never considered there were others hiding behind facades, people whose motives were shadowed and menacing.

  Though I rarely knew William’s real thoughts, when he wore a mask, I was at least able to recognize it. The same could not be said of Allerton. The sympathy at Mama’s illness, the understanding at my unrequited love, his passion for parliament, the kind words, the soft looks—they were all premeditated moves, part of a bigger scheme. He was a lord of many masks, and a more convincing liar than William had ever been.

  And that scared me most of all.

  Allerton still waited for me to respond. I cleared my throat. “I did miss you,” I said, and immediately regretted the words. Why had I said that? I was supposed to let him down, not encourage him. Even now, the effects of his spell lingered over me.

  Allerton breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent.” He gestured to Hyde Park situated just across the street. “I have something I wish to speak to you about. Perhaps you will accompany me on a turn about the park? Alone?” His gaze sidled to Matthew.

  The silence was tense. Matthew in turn frowned, glancing at me. My blood chilled at the thought of being alone with Allerton. Blanching, I gave Matthew the barest shake of my head. Do not leave me alone. Oh please, Matthew, for once in your life do something useful and—

  Matthew bowed and walked away, leaving Allerton and I standing on the sidewalk. My hand twitched at my side, yearning to follow Matthew and yank him back just so I could shake some sense into him. He was the most dependable person at being undependable.

  Allerton offered me his arm, which after a hesitant moment, I took. Every part of me revolted in protest at the contact. Now wasn’t the time to confront him—not when we were alone, walking through a deserted park.

  We crossed the street and ambled down on the path. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so we walked in silence for several minutes. Two birds made a nervous flight across our path to take shelter under the awning of a building. They knew it was certain to rain soon. More minutes passed.

  “How have you been, Eliza?” Allerton said at last.

  I cleared my throat. “Well enough, thank you.” I’d never felt worse in my life.

  “You look dreadfully pretty today.” He chuckled nervously. “That is, not dreadful—quite the opposite, I mean. Blast, I’m not very good at this.”

  Oh, yes he was. He was too good at appearing shy and insecure, when he was in fact the opposite. Oh, why hadn’t I listened to William?

  My skin
crawled, wishing myself a mile away. “Thank you,” I managed with a leaden tongue. I lifted it again, forcing the words. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

  “I . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I admit, I lied. I had nothing specific in mind, I only wanted your company without your brother present.”

  Warning bells rang in the back of my mind.

  He stopped walking and turned toward me. “Oh Eliza, I have missed you.” His eyebrows sloped upward. “Would you mind terribly, if . . . if I kissed you?”

  My insides dropped into my feet. Yes. I most certainly would mind. Licking my lips, I said, “Allerton—”

  “John.”

  “Your Grace, I do not think it wise.”

  “What objection can you have?” He looked around. “We are engaged, and there is no one here to witness it.” He stepped closer to me, and it was all I could do not to recoil.

  “Before we kiss, there is something I wish to speak to you about, sir, but now is neither the time nor place. Suffice it say, I am glad you are returned from France.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked. “That is a nice sentiment, Eliza. The only trouble is . . . I never told you I was going to France.”

  I froze, stomach turning to a stack of bricks. Hadn’t he? “At Almack’s, you said—”

  “At Almack’s, I said I was going away on a business trip, but I never told you where. I was particularly careful not to.”

  His warm brown gaze bored into me, cutting me down and trapping me like a fly on a web. No matter how hard my wings or heart beat in frenzy, I would not get away. I was stuck.

  His finger came under my chin and the look he gave me was one of examination. “You see, I know what you’ve been up to. The moment I walked through my gate, my steward informed me that he caught my fiancée and her brother riffling through my papers. He told me which ledgers, and which way you went. I never knew you were such a naughty girl.”