He decided that life simply didn’t make sense.
“There you are.” Ramsey paused in the hall and welcomed himself into the parlor, much like he welcomed himself into the house. Lord only knew the servants were used to such behavior.
“What do you want?” Lucas asked with little finesse.
Ramsey paused, then shook his head and continued into the room. “What fell into your tea this morning?”
“Nothing.” Lucas waved dismissively.
“Right,” Ramsey enunciated. “Well then, I’m assuming from your stack of paperwork that you’re starting in on the guest list for the evening. The security men have been outfitted in their footmen attire, lest we give the appearance of being overprotective, and the kitchens have made a promising start to the fare for the eve.”
“You’ve been busy this morning,” Lucas replied, his tone slightly sarcastic.
“I’ll choose to take your words as a compliment.” Ramsey arched a dark brow and continued. “The betting books have been updated and I have kept an eye on the particular wager we discussed. It would seem there is a slight discrepancy that I think we need to address.” Ramsey seated himself without invitation and leaned forward.
Lucas followed suit, leaning forward to hear Ramsey’s update. “What discrepancy?”
Ramsey took a deep breath. “Greywick’s estate is not as solid as we had anticipated. Because of your inquiry, I asked an investigator to dig around and find out if the money was readily available.”
“Legally, of course.” Lucas chuckled.
“Enough.” Ramsey echoed his amusement, then continued. “It would seem that Greywick isn’t as heavy in the purse as he wishes people to assume. In fact, his estate is actually in arrears. We have it from a credible source that the help is quietly being let go at intervals, and new help is being hired, only to receive little to no pay.” Ramsey lifted both brows.
“No.” Lucas gave his head a shake.
“Yes. Indeed. So you can see that this leaves us in a quandary. Do we call the bet, or do we allow the gentleman to . . . tie his own noose . . . should he lose?”
Lucas twisted his lips. “He’s not going to lose,” he answered, then thought it over. So many sensations filtered through him as he spoke the words out loud. The words seemed innocuous enough, yet they threatened to shake him to his core.
The bet on Meyer and Lady Liliah’s marriage would certainly be won because, inadvertently, Lucas had played an instrumental role in ensuring the marriage took place.
Greywick would win.
Would clean up.
And the house would lose.
Rather, Lucas would lose.
“How much would it cost us?” Lucas asked, not caring but unable to resist the curiosity.
“The odds are for the event happening, so the payoff wouldn’t be overly substantial, but those betting against the event would lose mightily,” Ramsey answered in a calculating tone.
“I see. And . . . what would happen if the marriage didn’t take place?” Lucas asked, his body warming at the very thought.
“With the amount that Greywick bet, he would face ruin.”
Lucas nodded. “I see. And this knowledge that he is in financial trouble, this is not well known, yes?”
“It took quite a lot of digging to uncover. He’s hidden it well.”
Lucas leaned back on the sofa, thinking. His instincts told him he was on the cusp of something larger.
But was it his battle? No. Liliah had released him from the need to uncover any further information when she made her choice. But while he was able to rationally grasp the concept that he didn’t need to act on the knowledge—let the chips fall where they may—he found he couldn’t let it go.
“That’s quite an odd expression on your face, Lucas. Are you quite all right?” Ramsey asked, his tone dubious.
“I think . . . I’m about to do something quite foolish,” Lucas answered honestly.
Ramsey paused, his eyes narrowing. “Is it something I need to not be aware of, should I be questioned later?” he asked in a wary tone, always looking out for his reputation.
“I think not, but to preserve my reputation, I think I’ll keep my plans to myself.”
“Your reputation,” Ramsey said wryly. “Because it’s quite pristine,” he added with heavy sarcasm as he stood.
“You misunderstand my implication. Rather, my tarnished reputation is indeed the reputation I wish to keep.”
“So you’re going to be valiant, is that it?” Ramsey chuckled. “Then I commend you in your insanity, and I hope it is not folly that follows you, but courage. I dare say you’ll need it,” he joked, then took his leave.
Lucas’s brow pinched as he considered his next step. As he rose from the sofa, he noted the soft dust floating about in the air, dancing like sparkling light. It was oddly lovely.
His stomach growled with hunger as he considered his abandoned breakfast.
Odd how one decision could change everything.
From darkness to light.
From anger to determination.
He didn’t want to consider the reasons behind his abrupt change in outlook. They certainly would be quite damning to his bachelor status.
Yet he found he cared not a fig.
Rather, for the first time since waking up at two this morning, he was at peace with himself.
And maybe, just maybe, he no longer was the man he was a few weeks ago.
Maybe he was better.
Temptation had many forms, and who would have imagined that one of them would be both his demise and rebirth. But wasn’t love known for miracles?
Lucas dismissed his fanciful thoughts and quickly broke his fast. While he was finishing his tea, he hastily sent a note to Heathcliff, requesting he come by that morning. After that missive was dispatched, he sent off another to Meyer, knowing Greywick would likely intercept it, yet he didn’t care if the man read the contents.
Hyde Park, Grosvenor Gate, noon.
It was a simple message, one he hoped Meyer would heed. The plan Lucas was concocting was quickly brewing, and he knew that time was of the essence. He only hoped that Meyer would be amenable to meeting him. The scene that had haunted Lucas’s dreams was Meyer’s dance with Liliah the night before. Anyone else would have simply disregarded the soft whispers and the inclined heads as betrothed lovers conversing, but Lucas was far too aware of Liliah’s facial expressions to be fooled. She was telling him of her plan, the one that she hadn’t needed any of his help in concocting, the one that he wasn’t sure he could have executed.
As wise as it would have been to save his skin, he had gone to the ball with every intention of hinting at the solution of Meyer accepting Lucas’s by-blow, but when he’d seen her, all he could think was mine. To his astonishment, she had broached the topic and had had the will to walk away.
When he wasn’t sure he would have had the strength to do the same.
It was bloody humbling.
And damned infuriating to see her in Meyer’s arms.
Yet now he suspected that Meyer, knowing much, would be less inclined to have a rational conversation. Lucas only hoped he himself was restrained enough to be the wiser of the two.
It never had been his strong point.
Lucas left the breakfast table and took the stairs two at a time as he rang for his valet. In short order he was tugging on his cuffs and descending the stairs, only to find Heathcliff just entering the foyer.
“What’s all this bloody business about meeting you so abruptly?” Heathcliff had the appearance of a man who had not slept, and Lucas pulled up short.
“Bee in your bonnet, lass?” He teased his friend with a crisp English accent, just to irritate him.
“Ach, I hate it when you do that. And yes, but clearly I’m not the only one. Ramsey stopped by and warned me about some harebrained scheme and that you were in a foul disposition. Well, that makes two of us.”
“Ramsey has been a busy fellow.”
>
“One of us has to be.” Heathcliff ran a hand through his hair. “What are you needing that’s so damn important?”
Lucas gestured to the study on the left and Heathcliff all but stalked in. Lucas followed and closed the door softly. “Now, I do believe that my information will be a much longer story, so why don’t we start with why you look like Master Death?” Lucas rubbed his hands together and took a seat by the low fire.
“It’s a bloody mess, I tell you.” Heathcliff didn’t even hint at subtlety. It never was his strong point; it was refreshing, since the large man was as transparent as glass when it came to his motives.
“Enlighten me.” Lucas arched a brow and waited.
Heathcliff rubbed his hand down his face, again, as if in disbelief. “I’m to have a ward, and oversee her come-out. She’s almost of age, which means I’ll be rid of her soon, but from my understanding, she has had little training from a governess.” He shook his head and collapsed onto the sofa. “As if I’m a proper guardian.”
“Well.” Lucas blinked, absorbing the news. “That’s indeed interesting. How did this all come about?”
Heathcliff shrugged. “Her parents were off gallivanting in the Indies and caught the fever. They never returned, and she had been living with her grandmother, who also passed. I was the last and very distant relation.” He blew out a sigh.
“That’s an odd turn of events. But the girl cannot be without fortune, or is she destitute as well?”
“Not destitute, she’s actually quite well situated, but without proper guardianship and not of legal age to oversee her fortune. I just learned all this yesterday, and already I’m having a headache trying to organize all the different needs for the lass.”
“A governess, of course,” Lucas added helpfully.
“That’s first on the list. I already put an ad in the Times, but I’ve asked several acquaintances for references as well. I don’t want some old crow.” Heathcliff shuddered.
“Already turning your eye to the help,” Lucas teased.
“Heavens no, I just do na’ want to subject the poor lass to a mean biddy. Life’s been hard enough on her.”
“Listen to you, being kindhearted to the girl.”
“Pain in the arse,” Heathcliff retorted.
Lucas chuckled. “Where is the girl going to stay? Not in London.”
“No.” Heathcliff shook his head. “I’ll set her up in the county seat while the governess gives her some polish, then will bring her to London for a proper season, and pray the Good Lord gets her matched up real quick.”
Lucas arched a brow. “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d join the ranks of the matchmaking mamas of the ton.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend.”
“Clearly,” Lucas replied.
After a moment of reflection, Heathcliff said, “So, what is your news, and if it’s more startling than mine, I may have to start drinking now and pray I get drunk rapidly.”
Lucas gave a little shake of his head. “Pour a glass, my friend. Your world is about to turn on its ear.”
“Not again.” Heathcliff groaned. “My heart can take only so much shock in a day’s span. What the hell did you do this time?”
“Would it shock you to hear that I may have a tendre for Lady Liliah Durary?”
“No. I’d say you’d been bloody denying it for a while though,” Heathcliff replied suspiciously.
“Well, then what if I told you I was finally taking my head from my arse and doing something about it?”
“Then I’d say it was about time for you to grow a pair of bollocks and be a man about it. Took you long enough.” Heathcliff shrugged. “What are you planning to do?”
Lucas grinned, then explained what Ramsey had shared earlier that morning concerning the current state of Greywick’s estate.
“You don’t say! The blackguard!” Heathcliff all but shouted. “I knew something was suspicious.”
“Very suspicious.”
“Ramsey didn’t give me that information, bastard.”
“I’m sure he was more than inclined to allow me the honors, based on your current fit of pique.”
“I’m not pitching a fit,” Heathcliff grumbled.
“Close enough, but back to the subject at hand. I have an idea as to how to address the situation, but I’m going to need some help digging around.”
Heathcliff sat up straight. “I love digging.”
“I know. Of the three of us, you’re the one who enjoys getting his hands dirty.” Lucas gave a low chuckle.
“What do you need to find out?” Heathcliff’s gaze narrowed, his expression one of intense concentration.
“Several things. First, I need tangible evidence of Greywick’s estate’s financial status.”
Heathcliff nodded once. “Done. Next.”
“I need to know if there’s any possible way Greywick would be aware of the truth of Catherine’s . . . situation,” Lucas added in a strained tone.
“Very good. Anything else?”
“I need to know if anyone else is involved, or if it’s simply a . . . transaction of sorts between Greywick and Chatterwood.”
“Understood. This will be a welcome distraction from all the irritation of making accommodations for the new ward. Good Lord, I need a drink.” Heathcliff stood and marched over to the decanter and poured a liberal splash, then raised it. “To us, may we survive the challenges we face!” He took a long drink.
“Well said, even if it is too early in the morning for such things.” Lucas chuckled; it was a well-placed toast.
Heathcliff gave a swift nod and set down his now empty glass. “I’ll send word when I have the information.”
“Very good. I thank you, my friend.” Lucas nodded.
“Well, it wasn’t a total damn waste of time. Till later.” Heathcliff gave a curt nod and quit the room.
Lucas sighed and thought over what was needed in order for his plans to fall into place. So far, so good.
But the day was young . . . enough.
He rang for his butler, ordered his carriage readied. It was close enough to noon that he could depart and arrive a little early, giving him time to collect his thoughts.
He only hoped Meyer dared meet him at all.
Only time would tell.
Chapter Thirty-one
Lucas selected a spot opposite the Grosvenor Gate. It was a warm day that had the scent of rain lingering in the air from earlier that morning. Being noon, it wasn’t the fashionable hour and the park was sparsely populated, which served Lucas’s purposes quite well. The trees gave unnecessary shade along the path and several squirrels ran from one tree trunk to the next.
But no sign of Meyer.
Lucas took the path that would wind toward Rotten Row, but turned back before he went more than thirty paces, wanting to remain near the gate should Meyer make an appearance.
Sure enough, just after Lucas checked his gold pocket watch for the third time, he noted a black carriage of quality roll up the street, pausing before the gate. Meyer stepped from the conveyance, and immediately spotted him. Lucas took measured steps to meet up with his intended guest. Suspicion, anger, and cool distance all reflected in Meyer’s expression. It was a warranted and deserved reception.
As Meyer closed the distance, Lucas offered a nod, only to be given a cut as Meyer refused to acknowledge the greeting. Lucas slowed his approach, then halted completely as he noted the increase in Meyer’s pace. Before he could ascertain his motive, Meyer reached out and gave a solid roundhouse to Lucas’s left eye.
Lucas took the hit with practiced calm—it was not the first, nor probably the last time he’d engaged in fisticuffs—but rather than beat Meyer to the ground, he simply shook off the hit and regarded the man. “Are you finished or would you like another shot?”
Meyer worked his jaw, irritation and anger evident in his gaze. “I could bloody well beat you and it wouldn’t be justice enough for the likes of
you, Heightfield. And you’re a blackguard of the worst sort if you think you’re not deserving of it.” Meyer almost spat the words.
Lucas glanced around, thankful for their lack of audience. This wasn’t exactly the best way to start out an alliance. “I’m fully aware, thus why I didn’t defend myself, or knock you out in return,” Lucas answered calmly, his eye swelling as he regarded the man before him.
Meyer’s expression gave nothing away.
“I was rather hoping we could have a calm and rational conversation, one that I hope you will find to be in the lady in question’s best interest.”
“Believe me, I think you’ve done quite enough to the lady in question,” Meyer retorted.
Lucas breathed out a frustrated sigh. “No one is more aware of this than I. May I continue?” he asked, trying to keep the exasperation from his tone.
Meyer paused, then nodded once.
It was enough, Lucas decided.
“What do you know of your estate’s situation?” Lucas asked quietly, gesturing for them to take a slow stroll. If they walked, it would look less suspicious should anyone happen by.
Meyer fell into step beside him, his gaze confused. “And why is it of your concern?”
“Do you remember when I mentioned your father’s substantial bet?”
Meyer’s face lost some of the color it had carried from the altercation.
“I’m assuming that is a yes.” Lucas nodded. “It would seem that your father doesn’t have the collateral to back up his bet.”
Meyer met Lucas’s gaze. “That simply cannot be the case. He does nothing but hire more servants and speak of his grand plans for his estate. If there is nothing in the coffers, then how—”
“Because he’s spending money he’s expecting to gain.” Lucas was even more convinced that Greywick was blackmailing Chatterwood, and placing a bet on the side to tidy up another large sum. As underhanded as it was, Lucas gave credit to the man for being resourceful.
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