Eve could have laughed if the man wasn’t so very serious. What would Jean Luc have wanted to discuss with his heir?
Darius changed the subject, asking after Rhoda and Coleus and Hollyhock. He was aware of Rhoda’s marriage. Jean Luc must have told him. Although, he could have read about it. Or heard about it. The marriage and scandal surrounding her oldest daughter’s nuptials had created something of a stir. What with the bet and all…
“Miss Coleus will come out this spring then?” The questions sounded innocent enough, but his eyes gleamed with something of a suspicious light.
Eve straightened her spine. “She will not. We’ll observe proper morning, of course.” She hadn’t decided until that very moment. Something protective bringing her maternal instincts to the fore. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to view the body.”
At her request, his gaze settled thoughtfully upon her.
“But of course, Eve.”
Chapter 12
Friends and Relatives
* * *
Sitting in the kitchen later that afternoon, Niles wished he’d yanked her away from the pompous ass who’d inherit Jean Luc Mossant’s worldly goods.
And the debts, of course. He’d inherit the debts as well. Niles felt not an ounce of sympathy for the bastard.
Instead, he berated himself. At the very least, Niles wished he had insisted upon following them through the damn front door. He didn’t like the idea of her being at the mercy of anyone related to her dead husband. He’d wanted to protect her from them.
But Eve had gone willingly inside. It was as though she could not allow herself to acknowledge the time they’d spent together. Of course, she’d been ashamed.
He’d seen the regret in her eyes when she’d ushered her maid into the chamber he’d shared with her for two nights. She’d feared being caught with him — her man of business — an employee. The thought that she was mortified of what they’d done disgusted him.
He’d given her a wide berth ever since. And yes, he himself needed to reestablish his professional position. He’d inspect the estate books for her, sit through the reading of the will, and then depart for London.
She’d mentioned having questions as to the girls’ dowries, as well as a trust her father might have insisted be put in place upon her own marriage. In order to discover anything, Niles needed access to those books.
An unwillingness to abandon her now had nothing to do with his decision.
Frustration coursing through him, he pushed back his chair and marched toward the stairs that would lead him to the main part of the house. Niles had tackled situations far stickier than this and knew he’d not find the answer by seeking out the new master.
No, the answers would be found far higher than that. He chuckled to himself.
He needed to locate Jean Luc Mossant’s valet.
* * *
Two hours and several drinks later, the esteemed gentleman’s gentleman sat across from Niles in a nearby pub. Mr. Reginald Forrester, a very ordinary looking gentleman who appeared to be nearing his fifties, hadn’t been all that difficult to track down. Niles experienced even less difficulty enticing him to talk about his former master’s last dealings.
Jean Luc Mossant hadn’t done a great deal to ensure much loyalty, that was for certain. For the price of a few ales, the man would spill the dead man’s darkest secrets to a perfect stranger.
“My bet’s on Mrs. Donnelly’s husband.” Mr. Forrester speculated the murder in a conspiratorial tone. “Mossant owed her close to a thousand pounds.”
Niles wouldn’t ask after the services that might have been rendered. Instead he nodded, keeping a mildly interested expression on his face. “Your master didn’t pay his debts?”
The valet threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Not recently. But he had a plan.” Without lowering his voice, the valet continued. “Heard that his wife had come into a plump sum of money.”
“How’d she manage that? She an heiress?”
“A wager. Bet that her own daughter would sacrifice her virtue.” Apparently the valet thought this quite humorous, guffawing and winking. “And she won. The thing is, she and Mossant had been separated so long, a good deal of effort was going to be required to gain access to it.”
Efforts which would not have been successful. Those funds were invested under names Mossant never could have uncovered. Niles would know better than anyone. But Mossant would not have known this, and his notions might explain why Mossant had invited his heir. He’d needed someone to assist him in getting to Eve.
Niles scratched his chin. The timeliness of Darius Mossant’s visit caused his hair to stand on end.
He recalled the man’s smug expression as he’d led Eve into the house. “How did Mossant intend to get it from her?” He remained impassive, as though none of this mattered.
The valet leaned closer. “Was gonna send the heir after it.” A snicker. “But he won’t have to go after her now. Word is that she’s come to pay her respects, showed up at the mansion today. The heir’s a handsome devil. I imagine he could win the old girl over. Past her prime for certain.”
Niles stifled the impulse to plant a facer on the valet. This was not the time to defend her honor. She’d much prefer he defend her fortune.
In order to do that he needed to get back to Pebble’s Gate. It was imperative that she know that her husband’s heir was aware of her winnings last year.
* * *
“What do you mean Mrs. Mossant is not available?” Eve wasn’t the sort of woman to lie abed throughout the day. “Is she ill?”
The seedy-looking butler shook his head. “She is indisposed at the moment. Would you like to speak with the master?”
Hell yes, he’d speak with the master. “If you would lead me to him.” Niles kept calm despite the sick feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Of course.” The butler would not meet his eyes. For this man to have held onto his employment with someone as disreputable as Jean Luc Mossant for as long as he had, Niles doubted he could be trusted.
What the hell was Darius Mossant up to?
And then a thought struck. What if Eve didn’t want to see him? What if she was experiencing so much regret that she could not bring herself to face him?
It was possible Mossant had nothing to do with her inaccessibility after all.
But he’d assume otherwise until she told him herself.
The butler opened the door and gestured for Niles to enter.
“Ah, Mr. Waverly. I’ve been expecting you.” Darius Mossant sat behind a large desk with several papers strewn in front of him. Niles didn’t trust the smile, nor the handshake offered. “I imagine you’d like a look at the estate books. You’ll discover, unfortunately, that my uncle has burdened me with nothing but a stack of vowels.”
“In addition to the estate,” Niles added.
At which Mossant chuckled. “Indeed.” He lifted a small notebook out of the top drawer and handed it over. “Of course, everything should be settled tomorrow at the reading.”
Niles opened the pages and nodded.
“Of course, I’d like to go over these with Eve— with Mrs. Mossant.” Dammit! What kind of a fool was he to slip up and say her given name? Amateur move on his part.
Mossant’s eyes narrowed at him. Of course, he’d noticed.
“Mrs. Mossant does not wish to be disturbed. As her closest living family member, I’ll respect her request. She’s had quite a shock and needs her rest. I do believe viewing my uncle’s corpse disturbed her more than she expected.”
Was the man not aware that she had three daughters? Of course he was. He was simply of a mind to put Niles firmly in his place.
Niles was not family. He was not even a social equal.
He was tempted to argue but was in no position to demand anything. For now, he’d not press the matter. He would find Eve on his own. Regardless of what had gone on between the two of them, he had a duty to perform for her
and he’d damn well do it.
“I suppose.” Niles slapped the book against his thigh. “You won’t mind if I peruse this overnight.” Likely, there was nothing to hide. Common knowledge was the estate was buried in debt.
“But of course.” The other man rose. Even with Niles’ injured ribs, he could take him out, he had no doubt. He stood a good six inches taller and outweighed the heir by at least two stones.
But such action wasn’t yet necessary. And of course, Niles did not wish to find himself facing charges, especially away from London, away from the people who would interfere upon his behalf.
“I’ll have the butler escort you out.”
“Not necessary,” Niles rejoined. Of course, the bastard would be aware Niles had spent the previous night in a small chamber above stairs. “If you remember correctly, Mrs. Mossant requested I remain here at Pebble’s Gate until matters were settled to her approval.”
The smaller, younger man nodded slowly. It seemed that he too, was unwilling to show his hand.
* * *
Eve was staying in the Mistress’ chamber. Niles had serendipitously bumped into a maid carrying a dinner tray upstairs and deduced her destination. For now, he stood behind a rather large planter, awaiting the maid to exit.
He’d quickly surmised that most of the servants had been newly hired. The average duration of employment was less than one week. Some had been hired before Jean Luc Mossant’s death, and some had been hired after. All had been hired by Darius Mossant.
His instincts screamed that something was off.
Niles ducked down when the made stepped back into the corridor.
And then, without warning, an adjacent door opened and Mossant waved the servant over. “Make certain she eats,” he commanded in a cold voice.
The maid nodded, keeping her head down. “I will, sir. She’s sleeping now, but I’ll check back in soon to see she does as you wish.”
“And then report to me,” he ordered.
Eve? Sleeping? In the middle of the day? She’d never take anything to calm her nerves. She’d been more than adamant with him regarding her feelings towards such medicines.
As soon as the corridor cleared, Niles stole across the hallway and pushed at the door. At least it wasn’t locked.
Careful of being caught, he quickly slipped inside and clicked it shut behind him.
The curtains were drawn closed, leaving a small amount of light for him to see. The high canopied bed was not empty.
“Eve?”
At her lack of response, he cleared his throat and spoke her name again, this time more loudly. “Eve?”
“Jean Luc?” A tiny voice mumbled from beneath the covers. “Please don’t. Please don’t.”
Niles used the conveniently mounted steps to hop up and sit beside her. Upon pulling the covers back, he felt a small sense of relief.
She was sleepy and rumpled, but she seemed unharmed.
“Eve, sweetheart?” He couldn’t help himself and reached out to brush away the silky strands covering her face. She wasn’t fevered. Perhaps Mossant had simply been stating the truth. She’d undergone a considerable hardship after the accident.
And then been thrown into her past upon arrival at her former home, Pebble’s Gate. Where her useless husband’s body was laid out.
He himself had viewed the dead husband and it hadn’t been pretty.
“Niles?” she mumbled again without opening her eyes. “So tired.”
“I know, my dear Mrs. Mossant.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Likely, she’d thrash him if she were awake. “I needed to check on you. That’s part of my job, correct? To make sure you’re not in any danger?”
He knew it was not. To be precise, his job was to keep her funds safely tucked away.
“Danger? Jean Luc?” Her eyes fluttered open for only a few seconds. “I don’t want to marry him. I donwanna…” Seeing her husband’s body would have brought back all manner of recollections.
He needed to tell her about Darius. But would she remember?
If she were anybody else, he’d think she’d taken a dose or two of laudanum.
But she hated it. Said she’d rather die than take any.
“Eve. I need you to listen to me.”
“Ummhmm…”
“Your nephew knows about the money from the bet. Jean Luc told him about it.”
“Ummhmm…”
“The money is safe, of course. But don’t make any decisions or sign anything without me? Can you hear me, Eve? I’m not so certain I trust your nephew.”
“Ummhmm…”
Niles sighed. She must be exhausted. Perhaps she hadn’t slept the night before. Or the night before that. He certainly hadn’t slept a great deal.
“Meet me in the morning after breakfast, yes?” He ran one hand through his hair. The last thing he’d expected was that Mossant had been telling the truth.
Perhaps she had given in and taken a small dose of something but that was difficult for him to believe.
“Niles?”
He’d been about to hop off the bed but turned back to see her sleepy eyes. “Yes, love?”
“Could you? Do you think you might? I never thought it possible…” Her voice sounded weak and thin.
“Could I what?” He leaned forward to hear her better. She sighed softly and closed her eyes again. Niles touched her cheek. “Could I what?”
“Love me?”
Niles swallowed hard before touching his lips to her forehead again.
“I have since I met you.” His whispered words were met by silence. Perhaps she hadn’t been so ashamed after all. But then, no. He dismissed the thought. She was out of her head with exhaustion. “I’ll see you tomorrow love. Rest up.”
Chapter 13
Always the Money
* * *
“Mrs. Mossant? You must not dally. There’s little time to dress.” Eve didn’t recognize the nervous voice pulling her from sleep. “I’ve hot tea and something for you to eat. Mr. Mossant has requested you join him in the study in one hour.”
The words barely penetrated this fog she couldn’t seem to escape. Mr. Mossant? But Jean Luc was dead.
When had this cloying fog dropped on her? Eve tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. So dry.
Hands pulled her to sit up and began tugging at her gown. A woman’s hands. A maid. Not Lucy. Where was Lucy? “Come this way, Missus.” The hands assisted her off the bed so that Eve stood swaying unsteadily.
Her old suite. The one she’d occupied years ago. When she’d lived with Jean Luc.
Jean Luc. That’s when the fog lowered around her. She’d been staring at his lifeless corpse contemplating the tragedy of his life. Darius had entered behind her. He’d told her she’d gone pale.
She couldn’t remember anything after that. She must have fainted.
And now she could hardly open her eyes. She’d never been one of those squeamish women. Why had she fallen apart then?
And why could she not rouse herself now?
Tea. All she needed was some tea.
Eve fought to open her eyes and took the cup from the unfamiliar maid.
“Where is Lucy?”
“Lucy, ma’am? I wouldn’t know who Lucy is. You’ll have to ask Mr. Mossant.” The maid helped Eve to the bench in front of the vanity and began brushing out her hair. The calming strokes of a brush never failed to soothe her. Eve took another sip and closed her eyes again.
She’d dreamed of Niles. That he’d come to her. Held her and called her his ‘love.’ Oh, the fog was falling again. Had she fallen asleep sitting here?
“Eve, my love. You look ravishing.” A strong arm assisted her to her feet.
Weights seemed to hold her eyelids closed. She wanted to see but hadn’t the strength to fight. Where had Jean Luc come from? This man she now leaned upon wasn’t Niles.
Niles was taller. Stronger.
Safer.
By her will alone, she barely was able to c
rack open one eye.
She could make out a few forms, but they were shrouded in the black fog.
“Thank you,” she managed, and then gave into the arms holding her up. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Worry plagued Niles as he made his way to the study for the reading of the will the next morning. A disquieting thought had struck him in the middle of the night.
Where had Lucy gone? Why hadn’t Eve’s maid been with her?
Had she taken ill again, herself? She hadn’t been well enough to travel initially. Or had she simply been occupied elsewhere?
He’d spent what remained of the night studying the numbers and transactions in the documents provided by Mosssant. Nothing surprising in the accounts. What had interested Niles was the page that had been torn out at the end.
He’d used a piece of charcoal to lift the indentions from the blank page beneath it.
A number had been written boldly and underlined twice. It was the precise amount of Eve’s winnings. And Eve’s winnings amounted to only three hundred pounds more than the negative number at the end of the ledger.
Regardless of whether the dead Mossant or the live one had written it, one thing was becoming very clear to Niles. The owner of Pebble’s Gate believed the answer to all his troubles lay in Eve Mossant.
The door to the study had been propped open, and the room was already mostly occupied. A few servants, including Mr. Forrester, had taken the chairs set back from the desk. Mossant and a woman draped in black, sat behind it.
Eve? Surely it wasn’t.
Only it was. He knew that posture. The lovely tilt of her head, but shrouded in black?
“Ah, Mr. Waverly, thank you for coming. We’ve been waiting for you.” The doors closed shut behind him, and Mr. Mercer Priebus, Jean Luc Mossant’s personal solicitor, gestured for Niles to take a seat.
Niles glanced at the clock. He’d been told the reading would be at ten in the morning. It was only now nine forty-five.
To Hell and Back: Regency Romance Novella (Devilish Debutantes Book 6) Page 8