Uncle Toby tapped his fingers on his knee. “Yes, well, he was desperate. Your father is . . . often indiscreet when he’s desperate.” His voice hardened. “But that’s precisely what I’m talking about. It’s his gambling that drives him to despair, and I can see the earl following in his footsteps if you’re foolish enough to marry the man.”
What in heaven’s name? Uncle Toby’s persistence in this vein was bordering on the absurd. Did this have anything to do with the counterfeiting or not? She tried another tack. “But I told you before, I like Lord Margrave. He’s handsome and charming and—”
“You’re not listening, damn it!” he cried.
She blinked. This became odder by the moment. “Calm yourself, Uncle. I can’t imagine why you are so concerned about my engagement.” The faintest bitterness crept into her tone. “You never cared so much about my affairs before.”
As if realizing he was giving away his agitation, he said nothing for a long moment while he apparently fought to rein in his emotions.
Then he steadied his shoulders. “Very well, you force me to tell you the truth. It pains me to say this, niece, but I have a more pressing reason for meddling in your affairs.” He stared her down. “What if I was to tell you that I think your fiancé is trying to frame my brother for a crime he didn’t commit?”
Her breath dried up in her throat. Oh no. If Uncle Toby had some inkling of what Niall was trying to discover . . . “I would say you’re quite mad. What reason could Lord Margrave possibly have for doing so?”
“To weasel his way back into the good graces of the government. They pardoned him for killing that fellow, you know. Perhaps they did it in exchange for his help framing your father.”
Oh, Lord, she couldn’t breathe. How had he figured out so much? From Papa, perhaps? Did that mean Papa truly was guilty and was once again turning to his brother for help?
But somehow she couldn’t see her uncle believing any lies Papa might tell about being “framed” for a crime. Unless . . .
Unless Uncle Toby knew Papa wasn’t being “framed,” because he, too, was involved in the scheme.
Her heart stumbled. That made far more sense. Uncle Toby wouldn’t go so far as to risk his own reputation to help Papa. But to keep himself from getting caught . . .
“Framing my father for what?” she asked. “Being a terrible gambler is hardly illegal.”
“I don’t want to say until I’m sure, but it’s serious. Something that would . . . send your father to the gallows.”
It took all her meager skills of dissembling to look shocked. “The devil you say!”
“I suspect that Margrave is in league with Baron Fulkham. That’s the real reason Margrave has been courting you. Not because he wants to marry you, but so he can sniff around your father’s friends and . . . pin some nonsense on my brother that Fulkham has cooked up.”
That was a bit too close to the truth for comfort—which made her wonder all the more if Uncle Toby was the real culprit. She couldn’t let on that she knew anything, especially since he refused to tell her exactly what “nonsense” Lord Fulkham had “cooked up.” It was paramount that she play dumb.
Forcing herself to look concerned, she leaned forward. “Are you sure about this? I mean, Lord Margrave and Lord Fulkham have certainly met in society a time or two, but I had no idea that they were particular friends.”
He snorted. “They’re members of the same club, you know. It would give them ample opportunity to hatch their plan to paint your father as a criminal.”
“But why?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to figure out what their game is. All you need to know is that they’re attempting it.”
She stared at him, her mind racing. Somehow she had to find out what had roused his suspicions without revealing her part in everything. More information was more ammunition, and Niall was going to need that.
“I can’t imagine that Lord Margrave would do such a thing,” she said, hoping her uncle would elaborate.
He huffed out a breath. “Look, you are a lovely woman, my dear, whom any man would be lucky to marry. But you said it yourself the last time we spoke—you’re a widow with a son, and your dowry, while attractive, is hardly enough to entice an earl to marry you. Not when he could have any heiress in the city. I tell you, Margrave has an ulterior motive for his attentions to you. And Fulkham is the one providing it to him.”
She shook her head as if unconvinced. “Even if that’s true, what do you suggest I do about it?”
“Break off the engagement, of course. Tell him you don’t like his gambling. That should be enough to convince him.”
“And then I will gain a reputation for being a jilt,” she pointed out.
Her uncle waved his hand dismissively. “A woman as pretty as you can get away with refusing a man for any reason.”
He wasn’t even bothering to make sense anymore.
“Weren’t you just pointing out that I’m a widow with a son and a very small dowry?” she said dryly. “Jilting an earl is hardly going to enhance my appeal.” When he shot her a suspicious glance, she continued, “I’m just saying that breaking the engagement is sure to have consequences.”
“And letting this man get your father hanged will have consequences as well!” He clenched his hands into fists on his knees. “Surely you don’t want to do anything that would hurt your father.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“Besides, Margrave has no intention of actually marrying you, anyway. Not after he’s proved that your father—” He caught himself most tellingly. “Or rather, has made it look as if your father is guilty. Why would he marry the daughter of a criminal?”
Because he loves me.
The thought flashed into her mind with such clarity and truth that it shone a light on all her fears about marrying Niall, showing them to be as foolish as he had claimed.
He was trying to uncover the counterfeiters precisely because he wanted to ensure their future happiness, to free himself of Lord Fulkham’s machinations so they could live in peace. He knew that the scandal could damage his own reputation and that of his family, but he didn’t care. He’d offered to save her father if that was what she wanted. He’d even defied Edwin to tell her the truth about the duel, knowing full well he was risking a great deal to trust her with it. What kind of man did that?
A steady one. Who would be there for her . . . and Silas and their children, the way he’d been there for his sister. If she would only let him.
“Are you listening to me, niece?” her uncle asked sharply.
She blinked. “Oh. Sorry. I’m just . . . trying to figure out how best to refuse Lord Margrave—if you are absolutely certain about what you have told me. Are you sure you want me to jilt him right away? If I continued the engagement, I could find out more information for you.” She flashed him a bland smile. “Although you would have to explain what they’re trying to frame Papa for, so I’d know what questions to ask.”
The alarm in his eyes was unmistakable. “No, indeed, I do not want you involved. You just jilt the man, and let me take care of the rest. I’ll have no trouble convincing your father to stop playing cards with Margrave once the two of you are no longer engaged.”
Ah, so that was why he was so desperate to end this. Because of the card-playing. Had he somehow figured out that Niall had put his hands on a counterfeit note last night?
Whatever the reason, she needed to get Uncle Toby out of here before either her aunt returned or Niall arrived. She had to warn Niall about this.
She rose. “Well then, Uncle, I suppose I have no choice but to end my engagement with Lord Margrave. I’ll let you know once I’ve had the chance to speak with him—”
“I do need to discuss one more thing with you,” he said, remaining seated.
Stifling her irritation, she sank back onto the settee. “And what is that?”
Uncle Toby rose and came to sit beside her on the settee. “It so happens I have need
of your talent as an artist.” With a furtive glance at the door, he drew a sheet of paper from his pocket and laid it on her lap.
She stared at the document. It looked vaguely official, something that might be presented at a government office or bank. Unfortunately, it was in French, and French was not her strong suit. “What is this?”
“Something that will exonerate your father—if you can copy it exactly, down to the image stamped on the corner. But you’d have to make minor changes to a name and a few numbers. Do you think you could manage that? I would pay you to do it.”
Her mind raced. He wanted her to fake a document to “exonerate” her father—right. “I could copy it easily, of course. But how exactly will it exonerate Papa?”
He flashed her a thin smile. “Oh, it’s much too complicated to explain at present. But it would help a great deal. If you’re sure you’re willing to do it.”
She should probably agree, if only to see what he was up to. Then she could show it to Niall, who could figure out what was going on. “Anything to help Papa, of course.”
At that moment, her aunt’s footman entered the room. “Lord Margrave is here to see you, ma’am.”
Oh no, she needed more time to get Uncle Toby out of here!
Her uncle leaned close. “You should admit him, niece. No better time than the present to send him packing. That way, if he gives you any trouble, I’m here to support you.”
When she hesitated, her mind sorting through all the choices, he rose and said to the footman, “Send him in, will you? My niece and I wish to speak to him together.”
The footman nodded and walked out.
She jumped to her feet. “Uncle! I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I have to think about how—”
“Nonsense. It’s a simple matter.” He stuffed the document into his pocket. “Tell him you know all about his gambling, and you can’t abide marrying such a man after what happened with your father and late husband.” He took her rather forcefully by the arm. “You can’t let him send my brother to prison, girl.”
“Of course not.” Drat the man. He would not leave until she sent Niall away, and she had to go along or risk his suspecting that she and Niall were working together. “But you must let me tell Lord Margrave or—”
“Tell me what?” Niall asked as he walked in. He dropped his gaze to her uncle’s hand on her arm, and his lips tightened. “Forgive me, sweeting, I was unaware you had company.”
Uncle Toby squeezed her arm.
She none too subtly tugged it free of his grip. “I’m afraid I have a delicate matter to discuss with you, sir.”
“Oh?” Niall searched her face, and she put as much emotion into her gaze as she could manage, hoping he read her mind as well as he usually did.
Crossing her hands over her waist, she drew herself up. “When I agreed to marry you, I had no idea of your . . . deplorable tendency to gamble every night away. But you’ve spent the last two evenings at the tables and I find that intolerable.”
His eyes narrowed. “Intolerable? Two nights at the tables?”
She couldn’t look at him, afraid she would burst out with the words I love you. Which would rather defeat the purpose of jilting him. Or worse, she might say, My uncle could be one of the counterfeiters, though she had no firm evidence of that.
“It’s the timing of those nights that’s problematic,” she said. “If you can’t stay away from gambling now, when we’ve just become engaged, how can I believe you’ll stay away from it later?” Deliberately, she turned to meet his gaze. “Once we’re an old married couple, I mean?”
Something warm flickered in his eyes, leading her to hope he understood what she was trying to tell him. That she trusted him, loved him . . . wanted to be married to him.
“I had not expected you to get cold feet so soon, Mrs. Trevor,” he said, matching her formal tone. “But if you insist upon ending this—”
“She does!” Uncle Toby burst in. “And I, for one, say good riddance.”
When Niall’s expression turned deadly, Brilliana cried, “Uncle! Do not be rude.”
Niall fixed Uncle Toby with a black look. “So, whose idea was it to end the engagement? Yours, sir? Or my fiancée’s?”
“Mine, of course,” Brilliana broke in. She had to get Niall out of here before he broke Uncle Toby’s nose or something equally dreadful, which at the moment he looked liable to do. And that would not help their situation. “Please, my lord, I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I find that we would not suit, after all. So it’s probably best that you leave.”
After casting her a lingering look, he nodded and turned for the door. “Please pay my respects to your aunt, madam,” he said in chilly tones. “Good day.”
Once he’d departed, she wanted to collapse into the nearest chair, but she had to remain standing, if only to get her uncle to depart, too, so she could find Niall and tell him what she knew.
“You see?” Uncle Toby said. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Uncle. I may never find such a fine suitor again.”
“I doubt that,” he said amiably, all smiles now that she’d done as he asked.
“Well, I should go look in on Silas—” she began.
“Not yet. He has a nurse, right?”
Her heart faltered. “Yes. Why?”
“Because I need you to copy that document for me now. It needs to be on a special kind of paper, which I have in my rooms at your father’s. I was hoping you’d come there with me, so we can get the matter taken care of right away.”
Alarm tightened a vise about her heart. Could Uncle Toby be dangerous? A week ago she would have said he’d never hurt her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Of course, if they were at Papa’s, there would be other people around. He’d have trouble doing anything to her with Jenkins and Papa . . . Unless Papa was guilty, too. Or even Jenkins.
Then it dawned on her that if she went with him, she could get the evidence of counterfeiting that they needed! She’d have two copies of a government document and whatever else she could find in his rooms.
Why, she could hand everything over to Niall and Fulkham, all tied up with pretty pink ribbon, and be done with this. No more subterfuge, no more lying to Aunt Agatha, no more worrying about who knew what. And she and Niall could finally be together.
That was surely worth the risk of her uncle’s trying to hurt her.
“Of course,” she said brightly. “Just let me get my coat.”
Twenty-One
Niall stood in the garden across the street, waiting for Toby Payne to leave so he could talk to Bree. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he did know one thing—Bree would never jilt him over his supposed penchant for gambling. Something was up with her uncle, and he meant to find out what.
And dared he believe that her words about their being an “old married couple” were intended to reassure him about their future together? God, he hoped so.
The door opened and he held his breath. When he saw Bree being urged down the stairs by her uncle, a cold rage seized him. Payne was carrying her off somewhere, damn it!
Though apparently not against her will. They seemed awfully comfortable together as Payne motioned to a waiting hackney and helped her in. Then he heard Payne order the driver to take them to the address of Sir Oswald’s town house.
As the coach drove off, Niall considered how to proceed. He could go to Sir Oswald’s after them, but once there, what could he do? He had no concrete evidence of Payne’s involvement, let alone the power to order an arrest. So the last thing he needed was to put Payne on his guard by accusing the man.
He could go to St. George’s instead and meet with Fulkham as planned, to report on what he’d learned so far and see if Fulkham had more information. If they’d gathered enough to build a case against Payne, Niall would urge Fulkham to strike now. Because instinct told him Payne had a reason for convincing Bree to jilt Niall so summarily, not to mention for persu
ading her to go off with him. Niall just hadn’t figured out what the reason was yet.
The only problem with heading for St. George’s was that it meant leaving Bree with Payne for a while, which didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t be entirely sure that she was safe with her uncle. And while her father did seem to care about her, would he make any attempt to protect her?
After all, he had allowed his brother to talk him into brokering that marriage. And Sir Oswald might just be desperate enough for cash that he would do whatever Payne demanded of him.
But Bree wasn’t some simpering miss. She could handle her relations. Hell, she’d already handled a great deal more than Niall had realized. Perhaps it was time to trust her to look after herself. Because if she’d wanted him to “save” her just now, she would have said so. She was no fool.
Besides, if after all they’d been through with this scheme, Niall ruined everything by blundering in too soon, she would bloody well kill him.
His mind made up, he emerged from the garden into the street, only to be nearly mown down by a woman walking at a brisk speed toward him.
“Margrave!” Lady Pensworth cried. “What are you doing here?” With a disapproving frown, she peered into the garden. “Is Brilliana with you?”
“I’m afraid not. She left here a few moments ago with her uncle.”
“Toby Payne? How peculiar. She told me he was in London, but I had no idea they were so friendly. Why on earth would she go off with him? And why are you lurking about out here in the garden?”
He had no time for this. “Forgive me, Lady Pensworth, but I need to—”
“Do you know where they were going? How long she intends to be gone? Why he fetched her?” She shoved her spectacles up her nose. “This is most distressing. It’s not like Brilliana to go running off without telling me where she’s headed, if only because of Silas. I wonder if she left a note with the servant. I do not like this at all. It sounds entirely too havey-cavey.”
Her concern and outrage gave him pause. “It does indeed.”
The Pleasures of Passion: Sinful Suitors 4 Page 25