Robert faded back into the shrubbery, crouching in the deep shade of an overhanging elm. The general stalked around the corner, his fists clenched and his color high. Clearly he expected to see one of her friends or other, and he spun a circle to glare into the bushes.
“I told you, I was thinking,” Lucinda said, joining him. “What in heaven’s name is wrong? You frightened me half to death, yelling like that.”
Good girl. She had to hate lying to the general, but it meant that she did trust in Robert if she’d decided to keep silent about his visit. Still, he tried not to let it mean too much.
Whatever had upset Barrett, Lucinda managed to get him into the house before the neighbors could hear any of the arguing. Robert disliked leaving her there, but if he stepped into the middle of it, things would only get worse for all of them. And besides, he had some things he needed to look into, which he couldn’t do if General Barrett had him arrested.
He slipped down the street and hailed a hack to drop him off behind Carroway House. From there it was simple, even with his game leg, to hop a fence and climb the trellis back into his bedchamber. To cover for Lucinda in case her father wanted to know if he’d been lurking about earlier, he then headed downstairs and out around the side of the house to water his roses again. Both of his watchers remained in the bushes across the street, and obviously had no idea he’d gone anywhere. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to kill his plants with overwatering.
“I wish the Runt attended to his studies as well as you attend to those roses,” Tristan drawled, coming outside to watch him.
“I’m just making an appearance,” Robert returned, jerking his head in the direction of their skulking audience.
“Did Lucinda have any insights?”
Robert straightened. “I wasn’t going to ask her for any, but it doesn’t matter anyway. She won’t help. She said it’s not fair that she trusted me and isn’t supposed to trust Geoffrey.” The fact that she refused to differentiate between the two of them angered him, but he would dwell on that later.
“She has a point.”
“Yes, she does. Which means I’ll have to go about this the hard way.”
Tristan blew out his breath. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”
“Saying what?”
“ ‘I.’ And yes, I know, you’re going to tell me again that this is your problem, and that you’ll deal with it, and that the rest of us need to stay out of trouble.”
“Exactly,” Robert agreed, tossing the watering can back beside the stable.
“Bullocks.”
Lifting an eyebrow, Robert folded his arms. “Beg pardon?”
The viscount took a step closer, putting a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Think about it, Robert. Where do you want to be tomorrow? Next week? If you don’t care, then definitely keep us out of this. If you do, we’re here for you.”
With that, he strolled back around the front of the house. Robert dusted off his trousers and followed. A few weeks ago, he wasn’t certain he would have had an answer to Tristan’s question. How could he possibly know where he wanted to be in the future, when he didn’t deserve one?
Recently, though, the question—and its answer—had become much more complicated. Where did he want to be tomorrow? With Lucinda. Next week, forever? With Lucinda. Robert stopped on the front step, ignoring Dawkins holding the door open for him.
Good God. He was eight and twenty years of age. Of those, he’d served in the British Army for three years, and had been all but dead for nearly four. He’d known he’d been getting better, slowly, in the last two years or so, though it felt more like clawing his way out of a pit than making improvement. But in the past weeks, things had changed. He felt…alive. And even the accusations and the mutterings served to bring his emotions—his anger and his long-buried instinct for survival—back into play.
And along with that, he’d been rediscovering his sense of humor, and his passion—and for that he needed to thank Lucinda. It wasn’t gratitude that he felt most strongly, though. He wanted her, and he wanted to hold her, and talk with her, and protect her, and just look at her. And he definitely did not want anyone else to have her.
“Bit, are you coming in?” Tristan called.
“I’ll be right there.”
So he did have a reason to want Lord Geoffrey Newcombe to be the culprit in this whole mess. And he wanted to tell Lucinda Guinevere Barrett something that wouldn’t have been easy for him even before he’d been captured and taken to Chateau Pagnon. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. And even if it didn’t change her plans for a simple life, he wanted to know whether she could ever, possibly, perhaps, love him a little, as well.
If he ever wanted the opportunity to find out, he needed to solve this—and quickly. And so he would have to do something else he wouldn’t have been able to do a few weeks ago: He needed to ask for help.
Lucinda wanted to tear her hair out. Instead, she sat in her father’s office, hands folded on her lap, while he paced the floor and ranted about her dearest friends.
“And Lieutenant Staeley’s report says that pages are now missing from the visitors logbook! Am I supposed to believe that’s a coincidence?”
Since she knew it wasn’t, and she’d even seen the pages, Lucinda kept her mouth shut. She needed to think anyway—as difficult as it was to do with her father yelling like that. But out of all the names on those pages, Robert had chosen to be suspicious of Geoffrey. Was he jealous? A shiver of goose bumps ran down her arms.
“Apparently the damned Carroways have managed to dupe Lady St. Aubyn into playing their little games, too! Hopefully, St. Aubyn has more sense.”
When she looked at all of this logically, with no stake in either Geoffrey or Robert’s innocence, it didn’t point at one or the other of them. Robert had been a survivor of Chateau Pagnon for three years, so she had no reasonable explanation as to why he would select last week to begin life as a traitor. As for Geoffrey, the general had enlisted his help with the Salamanca chapter…what, four weeks ago? And…
And he’d taken to visiting her father at the Horse Guards since then. Lucinda shook herself. No. It was a coincidence, just as the news about Robert and the theft had coincidentally come to public notice at the same time.
“I don’t think I have a choice, any longer,” her father was saying. “I’ve tried to give him the benefit of the doubt for your sake, but this debacle aside, we now have a theft, obviously on his behalf, made in broad daylight—and again at the Horse Guards! How much more evidence do you need, Lucinda?”
She blinked. “From what you said, at least thirty people were in the entryway during the time those log pages went missing, Papa.”
“Ah, so this is another coincidence? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“I expect that you know Georgiana and Evelyn almost as well as you know me,” she returned. “They aren’t criminals.”
“I didn’t say they did it for themselves. It’s Dare’s damned brother. Again.” Growling, he dropped into his desk chair, threw open a drawer, and yanked out a piece of paper. “And it’s time he answered some questions. Officially.”
“You’re going to have him arrested?” she squeaked, abruptly glad she was sitting down.
“I’m going to request that he report to the Horse Guards for questioning. If he refuses to cooperate, I will have him arrested, yes.”
“No!” She shot to her feet, yanking the pen out of her father’s hand.
“Lucinda! Are you mad? Give that back at once!”
Oh, she should never have refused to help Robert. All he needed was a little time—either to solve this mess, or to flee to Scotland or abroad. A tear ran down her cheek. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. She wanted him here, in London, with her.
“Lucinda!”
“You will give him one more day, Papa,” she said, her voice shaking. “If you don’t—”
“If I don’t, then what?” he snapped, his color high.
“If you don’t, then I will never speak to you again,” she said slowly, another tear following the first.
“You…” He trailed off, the blustering anger in his face fading as he studied her expression. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am.”
The general lowered his head. When he straightened again, he looked more tired and old than she’d ever seen. “A few years ago, I would have had him in jail and confessing by now,” he said in a quieter voice, “damn the consequences. Now, however, I find that my daughter’s affection comes before my career, and my duty to my country.”
“Papa.”
“This is Wednesday. I will give him until noon on Friday,” the general said. “I suggest you send him a note to inform him of that deadline. But he will be watched during that time. And if he leaves, he’d best not take those papers with him. If we don’t find them here in London, I will see him hunted down.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered, standing.
“And Lucinda, I suggest you make it clear that running would be a good idea. I don’t want him in England, regardless of his involvement with this theft.”
She looked at her father for a moment. From the vehemence of her protest, he no doubt realized that she considered Robert more than a mere friend. So the general had his own reasons for wanting to be rid of a rival to Geoffrey—the man he obviously favored. For heaven’s sake, he’d already granted permission for them to marry. That should have made her happy. But it didn’t. “Robert is innocent,” she said firmly.
“I hope you’re right, for both our sakes.”
She hoped so as well. Because if he did run, she wasn’t certain she could let him go alone.
Chapter 21
My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which would decide my hopes or realize my fears.
—The Monster, Frankenstein
Robert was halfway inside the front door when the messenger from Barrett House arrived. He took the missive himself, which didn’t please Dawkins overly much, but as he saw the addressee and the handwriting, he didn’t care whether he’d offended the butler or not.
If Lucinda had written to him and sent one of her father’s footmen, then the general knew about the correspondence. His heart pounded. What else did her father know? If the general had found out about him and Lucinda…
Her handwriting, though, was clear and neat, with small flourishes here and there—just like her. Robert smiled a little as he opened the note. Robert, my father knows about the log sheets, he read silently, his grin fading. He has convinced himself that you are to blame for both thefts, and insists that you meet him at the Horse Guards for questioning.
“Uh-oh,” Bradshaw said, coming down the stairs. “You don’t look happy.”
“Quiet, I’m reading,” Robert returned, otherwise ignoring him. I have asked, and he has granted, that you be given until noon on Friday to do what it is you need to accomplish. At that time, if you are still in London he will send soldiers to escort you, and I’m to inform you that you will be watched until then.
“Who’s that from?”
“Lucinda.”
Bradshaw turned on his heel and vanished into the drawing room. When he emerged a moment later, Tristan was right behind him. “Bit, what—”
“Just a damned minute,” Robert retorted. “At least let me finish reading it.” He lowered his head again. Please be careful, Robert. And know that until four weeks ago, I don’t think Geoffrey had ever been to the Horse Guards. Yours, Lucinda.
He handed it over to his brothers, who immediately began a loud argument over whether General Barrett had lost his mind or not. Robert, though, found that something else occupied his thoughts at the moment—the way Lucinda had signed the letter. Yours meant his—“Mine.” Did it signify something, or was she being polite?
“Why does she mention Lord Geoffrey and the Horse Guards?” Andrew wanted to know, snatching the letter for himself when Tristan began waving it in the air.
“She’s giving us a clue,” Robert returned.
“A clue about what?” Edward asked, as he too, joined the fracas, his tutor in tow.
“I thought she wasn’t going to help you,” Tristan said, eyeing Robert.
“Who?” the Runt demanded.
Robert shrugged. “Something changed her mind.” And obviously, he needed to find out a few more things about Lord Geoffrey Newcombe. Things other than the fact that Newcombe wanted to marry Lucinda and become a major with his own command in India.
“He’s only giving you a damned day and a half,” Shaw growled. “Does he really expect you to clear yourself by then?”
“I think he expects me to leave England by then,” Robert returned slowly. That made more sense than anything. Whatever Lucinda had used to convince the general to give him more time, it had also convinced Barrett that Robert needed to get away from his daughter.
“You can’t leave England!” Edward protested, then stomped both feet. “Someone tell me what the devil is going on here!”
“Edward!” half the adults yelled at him at the same time.
“I don’t care! Devil, devil, devil! You tell me what’s going on!”
Robert snagged his arm, crouching down in front of him while Bradshaw got rid of Mr. Trost. “I’m in a little trouble,” he said quietly, damning himself for not keeping this away from Edward. “We’re just trying to straighten some things out before it gets any worse.”
“Is this the same thing you were worried about before?” the Runt asked.
“Yes. But it’s almost over with.”
“I want to help.”
Smiling, Robert tousled the boy’s dark hair. “You are helping, by being my brother.”
Abruptly Edward threw his arms around Robert’s shoulders. “Promise you’re not leaving,” he said.
Every moment he seemed to realize more of what he had to lose if he let this go—or if he ran. “I promise,” he said, hugging the Runt back.
“So what are we going to do, then?” Andrew queried, stepping sideways as Georgiana joined them, reading the missive in turn.
“First, I think we need to get out of the hallway.” Robert motioned the group toward the drawing room.
“Lucinda must be very upset by this,” Georgiana said, leading the way into the large room and taking a seat on the couch. She perused the letter again, glancing up at Robert as she finished.
“I’m very upset by it, too,” he returned, sitting close to the door. As soon as everyone was inside and the door closed he sat forward. “All right,” he said slowly, praying none of them would pay for his poor reputation, “I’m asking for your help.”
“Tell us what you need.” Tristan entwined his fingers with Georgiana’s.
Robert took a breath. “First of all, I need someone who can converse with Geoffrey without making him suspicious.”
“That lets all of us out,” Shaw said. “What about St. Aubyn?”
“He might do.” Robert furrowed his brow, then turned his gaze to Tristan. “Tattersall’s auction is tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s fairly wide open, there, though.”
“That’s what I want. Somewhere I can watch him without being seen.”
“Why don’t Dare or I watch him, and you stay here, out of trouble?” Bradshaw countered, scowling.
“Because I’ve done enough sitting about to last me a lifetime,” he returned. “Saint by himself might rouse Newcombe’s suspicions.”
“Evie will go,” Georgiana said, with a small smile. “She’s already volunteered any assistance necessary.”
“That should help. It would be even better if…” Robert trailed off. Lucinda had given him a hint, but she’d also made her feelings about getting involved in this quite clear. “Nothing. This should do.”
“I’ll ask Evie to send Lucinda a note,” Georgie offered, demonstrating her usual keen intuition. “In fact, we should have Evie and Saint here now, while we’re planning.”
She rose with help from Tristan, and hurried into the office. A moment later a footman left, and Robert could hear Georgie informing Dawkins that they would have two more for dinner.
“I don’t understand,” Edward said, sitting on the floor in front of Bradshaw and looking far too serious for his age. “Why are we spying on Lord Geoffrey?”
Tristan stirred. “Runt, why don’t you go dress for dinner?”
“Because this is my family, too, and I want to know what’s going on. I won’t get in the way.”
“Runt, there are things you should know, but not until you’re a little older,” Robert said slowly.
Large gray eyes filled with tears. “But I can help,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t trust his normal speaking voice.
Well, that was that. There was no way in hell that Robert was going to let his youngest brother and greatest champion cry. He nodded. “All right. We want to spy on Lord Geoffrey because we think he stole something and managed to blame me for it.”
“How did he blame you?”
Andrew blew out his breath. “This isn’t helping.”
“Hush,” Georgiana warned. “It’s a valid question. How did he manage to time things so well?”
Robert cleared his throat. Some of this definitely would have been easier without Edward being present. “I told one person about my…stay at Chateau Pagnon.”
“Lucinda?”
Edward bounced onto his knees. “She could’ve told Lord Geoffrey! They’re getting married, aren’t they?”
“No,” Robert snapped, before anyone else could answer. He swallowed. “I mean, she only told one person—the general.”
“Then General Barrett told him,” Edward insisted.
The room went quiet. Part of Robert had wanted to suspect the general of leaking the rumor from the beginning, but little liking as he had for the man, he was, after all, Lucinda’s father. “Barrett told the senior command at the Horse Guards. It could have been any one of them.”
Andrew was shaking his head. “But if we’re thinking Lord Geoffrey stole those papers, he would be the one to see your…news as something he could use to his advantage.”
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