by Darcy Burke
“Apparently. Now I’m to sign a contract giving him a lifetime allowance. In exchange, he’ll testify that I am the Duke of Blackburn.”
Her eyes filled with disgust. “And if you don’t?”
“He’ll tell everyone who I really am—Augustus’s bastard—and that you were all too eager to welcome me as your husband’s replacement. He’s absolutely despicable.” Kit didn’t bother disguising the vitriol he felt.
“Truly,” she agreed darkly, her gaze casting about the room before settling on him once more. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to give him money.”
“Good.”
She blinked in surprise. “What about the dukedom? It should be yours. I want it to be yours.”
He shook his head sadly. “But it isn’t. And if I take it, I’ll be the Duke of Lies. I can’t do that to you or to Beau. We must tell him the truth, and I can’t ask him to hide it. Besides, the title is his. Once Rufus is officially declared dead, Beau will be—and should be—the Duke of Blackburn.”
Lines creased her face as defeat filled her eyes, and he knew she agreed. “What do you want to do?”
“Aside from declaring the truth that I’m Captain Christopher Powell, I’m not sure. It depends on what your father will do when we tell him we won’t consent to his extortion. He’s used to getting his way, I think.” While Kit didn’t have definitive proof of his embezzlement, he was certain of it. And now there was the matter of Rufus’s disappearance and whether Horatio had played a part.
“Can’t we just threaten to have him arrested for embezzlement?”
“Would you want to do that to your own father?”
Her eyes darkened. “He’s guilty of the crime—of stealing from me. He may also be guilty of worse,” she said softly. “What if he had something to do with Rufus’s disappearance?”
Kit moved forward and took her hand, hating the anguish in her gaze. “I’m so sorry about all this.”
“I don’t like my father very much—or at all really. But I never imagined he’d be guilty of actual crimes. And for what? So he can have an extravagant life and buy his way into Society. Wealth and position have always been his passion.”
If he didn’t practically despise the man, Kit would have pitied him. “We can’t prove any of this right now.”
Lifting her chin, she stared at him with hardened eyes. “We must. I won’t allow him to interfere in my life any longer, Kit.”
God, he loved her so much. “You’re beautiful when you’re enraged.”
She cocked her head to the side and flattened her lips, causing him to chuckle softly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll talk with Simon about how to proceed. We may not have the evidence we need yet, but perhaps Simon can help decipher the codes in Cuddy’s ledger.” The sideways cross, the number twenty-two, and the letter G.
She nodded with enthusiasm. “That’s an excellent idea. There must be a way to tie my father to the embezzlement. Should we go in person to tell him we won’t be extorted?” She pressed her lips together. “On second thought, I don’t want to see him. Did you say he’s sending you a contract?” At his nod, she continued. “Let’s return it with a note telling him we won’t give him a farthing.”
He inclined his head. “I bow to your discretion.” His tone was light but now, he looked at her with gravity. “Verity, I want you to make the decisions about this. You’ve had far too much stolen from you—by your father, by Rufus, by me.”
She pulled on his hand, and he inched closer to her on the bed. “You haven’t taken a thing—you’ve given me, and Beau, so much.”
“I want to give you both the world. If you’ll let me.”
She smiled softly. “I just want you.” She launched herself forward and as he caught her, he held her close, looking down into her face.
“There is one other thing. I expect to be accused of fraud—for impersonating a duke. Your father will surely lead that charge.”
She didn’t even take a breath before saying, “I will say you did so to protect me and Beau and Beaumont Tower from my father’s crimes. If not for you, we wouldn’t have discovered the embezzlement.”
“We have to prove it first.”
“We will,” she said firmly. “You must work on your optimism.”
He laughed, drawing her close. “How you still have a wealth of it is beyond me.”
She curled her arms around his neck and pressed against his chest. “I credit you. You came from nowhere and gave me and Beau something we never had—love and family.”
He felt precisely the same. “No, you gave it to me.”
She laughed softly. “We gave it to each other.” She kissed him then, her lips molding to his and easing the anxiety rioting through him. Pulling him, she fell back onto the mattress and brought him with her. Her eyes were dark with love and desire. “This will all come out right. You’ll see.”
He wanted to, but right now, he saw charges of fraud and a potential prison cell. “We have to find proof of your father’s crimes.”
She gazed up at him reassuringly. “We will. He’s guilty, and the truth will win out.”
Kit wanted to believe her, but with that came the dread that he was guilty too.
The contract arrived the following day while Kit and Verity were at the park with Beau. As soon as they arrived back at Simon and Diana’s town house, Randolph handed him an envelope, and he and Verity exchanged a knowing glance. They went upstairs to their sitting room and promptly wrote a note telling Horatio they’d burned the contract.
Then they burned the contract.
That afternoon when Simon arrived home, Kit asked if they could speak in his office. After grabbing the ledger from upstairs, Kit informed Simon of all that had transpired.
Simon now sat behind his desk, his eyes wide with disgust. “Her father’s a right son of a bitch. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Diana’s father is equally so, and they are brothers.” He let out a rather virulent curse. “It’s amazing to me how two such abominable men fathered such wonderful women.”
“Now you see why I’d like you to help me find evidence that will keep him out of our lives for good.”
“I can see that, all right. I only wish I could do the same for Diana’s father. Not that he’s tried to communicate with us since I tossed him from Lyndhurst back in January.”
Kit opened the ledger and set it down in front of Simon. “Do you see him here in London at all?”
“No, but I imagine he tries to stay clear of me. He would if he’s smart, and honestly, I don’t know if he’s that smart. He may just be lucky.” Simon brought the ledger closer. “Let’s see how we may prove this Kingman is a scoundrel of the criminal order.” He studied it for a moment, slowly turning a few pages, his brow furrowed. “The CS is your steward?”
“Cuthbert Strader, yes. That leaves twenty-two G and the odd sideways cross.”
“I don’t suppose he was giving money to the church?” Simon asked wryly.
“We discarded that idea,” Kit said with a half smile.
“Brilliant.” Simon returned his gaze to the ledger, frowning. “The amounts to twenty-two G are higher overall, and they vary. Whereas the payments to the steward and this cross symbol never seem to change.”
“Yes, and the cross payments don’t start until several months after Cuddy was hired.”
“That should tell us something,” Simon said, looking up once more. “What does it tell us?”
“If it’s extortion, it started sometime after Rufus disappeared. I wonder if the two are somehow related.”
Simon sat back in his chair. “How do we investigate that?”
Kit exhaled. “That is what I’m trying to determine.”
A commotion in the entry hall drew Simon’s focus toward the door. “Wonder what that’s about?”
The door opened without a knock, and Simon’s young butler, his face pale, stepped inside. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but I’m afraid there are Bow Street Runners in the hall.”
Simon stood. “Runners? What the devil for?”
Kit’s stomach sank even as he rose from the chair. “I’ll wager they’re here for me.”
The butler turned his wide-eyed expression to Kit. “You’re correct, Your Grace. I did tell them you were busy.”
Kit managed to laugh. “I imagine they didn’t much care.”
Randolph shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Come along, then,” Kit said with resignation.
Simon moved quickly around the desk and grabbed Kit’s arm as he walked toward the door. “You can’t mean to go with them?”
“What else can I do? I’m not going to make a scene and have Beau witness anything. Let me go with them quietly. Talk to Verity and puzzle out that damned ledger. I’m confident Horatio is behind this. It’s more crucial than ever that we reveal his crimes.” Kit hadn’t even had a chance to tell him about Horatio’s potential involvement in Rufus’s disappearance. “Ask Verity about the possible connection between her father and Rufus going missing.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “This is a bloody novel.” He frowned. “I don’t like you going.”
“Nor do I. Rally the troops and work quickly, please.” Kit stepped into the entry hall and greeted the Runners warmly. One was a tall, beefy fellow with a ruddy complexion, while the other was leaner with a long nose and a foreboding stare. “Good morning. I understand you’re here for me.”
The leaner fellow glowered at him. “You’re being charged with fraud—impersonating a duke—and murder.”
Kit had expected the former but not the latter. “Whose?” he asked, surprised at how calm his voice sounded.
“Cuthbert Strader and His Grace, the Duke of Blackburn.”
Holy hell. Horatio was going for the jugular, then. And Kit was suddenly dead certain he’d had something to do with Rufus’s disappearance.
Kit turned to Simon. “He wants money—he’ll try to get it from Verity. Use that to flush him out.”
Simon nodded vigorously.
“You coming peaceably?” the beefy Runner asked.
Kit accepted his hat and gloves from Randolph as if this were just another excursion instead of transportation to Bow Street. “Yes. Let’s go.” He set his hat on his head and pulled his gloves on with a final look at Simon. “Tell her not to worry.”
Simon shook his head. “She will.”
“I know.” And with that, Kit marched out as if he were walking the plank.
Chapter 18
Verity couldn’t manage to stop shaking as she sat with Diana in the drawing room as Simon welcomed four guests—Nick, Bran Crowther, Earl of Knighton, Titus St. John, Duke of Kendal, and Daniel Carlyle, Viscount Carlyle. Simon introduced the latter three ending with Lord Carlyle, a rather tall gentleman with steely, blue-gray eyes and thick, dark hair. “We’re lucky Bran has become friendly with Carlyle who was, until recently inheriting his title, a constable.”
“How fortuitous,” Diana said brightly, giving Verity’s hand a squeeze.
“I’ve told them all what’s happened,” Simon said, clutching Cuddy’s ledger in his hand. He looked pointedly at Verity. “All of it, including Kit’s true identity.”
They’d agreed that was necessary. There was no reason to keep it secret, not when Kit had been prepared to announce it. She and Kit still hadn’t determined how things would play out—there hadn’t been time. But she’d meant what she told him: she just wanted him.
Verity looked at Lord Carlyle, who sat in a chair near the settee. “You know all the charges against him?”
“Yes. The murder accusations are, of course, the most concerning. However, am I correct in understanding that he did commit fraud?”
Verity shook her head. “Not precisely. He pretended to be my husband so we could uncover my father’s crimes.” It was her turn to lie, and she would do so willingly to keep her family together and safe.
“So he never intended to claim the dukedom?” Carlyle asked, glancing toward Simon.
“No.” The lie scalded her tongue, but she didn’t care.
“He did not,” Simon echoed. Before he’d gone to solicit help from these men, she’d talked with him and Diana, and Simon had pledged to do whatever necessary to keep Kit from jail—or worse. They were, he’d said, family.
Carlyle nodded. “Then that shouldn’t be a problem either. Do you know if Mr. Kingman has proof that Mr. Powell killed either of these men?”
“Captain Powell,” Verity corrected softly. “He captained his own ship. No, I can’t believe he does.” But since Kit had killed Cuddy, she feared it was possible. Oh, why hadn’t he gone directly to the constable? She knew why, and she told herself to stop fretting about things they couldn’t change. “If we can prove he was embezzling from my estate, he may drop the charges.”
Lord Carlyle’s eyebrows rose. “You plan to extort him? I can’t be a party to that.”
“Of course not,” she said. “But if I can prove my father’s criminal activities, we may be able to show that he was trying to cover them by falsely accusing Kit. There’s something else.” She took a deep breath. “We suspect my father may have had something to do with my husband’s disappearance nearly seven years ago.”
“I see.” Lord Carlyle tapped a finger against his chin. “Your father is accusing Captain Powell of killing the Duke of Blackburn. It’s not uncommon for a man to accuse another of that of which he is guilty. I’ve seen it many times.”
Diana let out a soft gasp, and Verity clasped her hand.
“Let us try to find the evidence we need, then,” Lord Carlyle said. “May I see this ledger?”
Simon opened the book and handed it to him. “We know who the CS is.”
The former constable studied the ledger. “The sideways cross is likely the Blades, a group of criminals that does favors for middle- and upper-class folks—for a price.” He flipped through a few pages. “These are quarterly payments to them in the same amount. Looks like extortion to me.” He glanced up at Simon. “Is that correct?”
“That’s what we suspect. But we didn’t know what the cross represented.”
“My apologies,” Lord Carlyle said with a faint smile. “I shouldn’t have called it a cross as you did. It’s a sword. If it were a cross, it would be vertical. And the longer line has a bit more length than your typical cross.”
Verity now wondered why they’d ever thought it was a cross to begin with. Had they missed something obvious with the twenty-two G? She thought hard and, as realization hit her, brought her hand to her forehead. “The final code is my father’s address. Twenty-two Grafton Street. You’ve made me think of something else.” On the journey from Beaumont Tower, she and Kit had discussed the pair of men from London who had visited Cuddy on a regular basis. He suspected they’d come to collect the money that was catalogued in the ledger. She rose from the settee as excited energy pulsed through her. “Every quarter, two men came to Blackburn from London to see Cuddy. Kit thought they might be collecting payments. Perhaps they’re from this Blades group.”
“It’s possible,” Lord Carlyle said. “That would be a strong connection to make. However, it would be even better if we could discover what these payments to the Blades and to Cuddy were for. They’re static.” He gave her a pointed look. “Quarterly, in fact, which seems to indicate an extortion schedule. Do you know the basis for the extortion?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure Cuddy was extorting anyone. I think that was simply his fee, but I doubt we’ll ever know since he’s dead.” She inwardly winced. Kit was accused of his death, and of that, he was guilty, even though it was in self-defense. What were they going to do about that? She worked to ignore a fresh stab of fear. “I don’t know about the Blades. Other than they may have come to Blackburn each quarter.”
“I think I know,” Simon said. “The payments to the Blades started after the duke disappeared. Kit thinks it may have something to do with that. And if your father was also receiving money and was
somehow involved with Rufus’s disappearance, it’s all just a bit too coincidental now, isn’t it?”
Verity felt as if the floor was evaporating beneath her. Diana had stood with her and now, sensing Verity’s distress, put her arm around Verity’s waist.
“What must we do to free Kit?” Verity asked as the fear curdled in her gut.
“We need to discover what your father was paying to hide—if indeed that’s what he was doing.”
Verity was certain of it. And she was becoming more and more certain it had something to do with Rufus. “I know it is. How would my father even know to hire such people?”
“It’s often done through retainers,” Lord Carlyle explained. “They may have a connection to the criminal classes. To expedite matters, it would be best for us to interrogate your father’s staff.”
“Do you have time to help with that? Please, I’m quite desperate.” Verity hated to beg, but she’d do whatever it took.
Lord Carlyle smiled. “Of course. We’ll need to occupy your father, however.”
Verity narrowed her eyes. “I’ll dispatch a note to him immediately and ask him to come here.”
“You’re a smart woman, Your Grace,” Lord Carlyle said. “Make him think he’s won. Perhaps you’ll even get him to admit his crimes.”
Verity doubted that, but oh, she would try. “Please just save Kit. Beau and I need him back.”
While Diana promised to keep Beau occupied upstairs, Verity waited impatiently for her father to arrive. After what seemed a lifetime, Randolph showed him into the drawing room. He looked as smug and irritating as ever. No, he looked more so. And then he frowned, pitching his entire expression downward as if he meant to push his features from his face. She might have laughed at his exaggeration if she wasn’t so distraught.
“Good afternoon, Father. Thank you for coming. Shall we sit?” She was still shaking, though not as much as before. They had a plan, and, God willing, it would be executed flawlessly. She just had to do her part.
“How magnanimous of you, my dear,” he said cautiously, eyeing her with skepticism. He sat in a brocade chair as Verity perched on the settee. “I expected you to rail at me.”