Courting Miss Vallois (20 page)

All too soon, it was over. Robert kissed her once more, then gently pushed her away. Numbly, Sophie picked up her bonnet and put it on, tying the silken ribbons beneath her chin. Without looking at him, she turned and started towards the door.

‘Sophie.'

She stopped, but didn't turn around. ‘Yes?'

‘I'm following a lead. I can't tell you more because I don't know what I'll find. But I won't let you go until I've exhausted every possible avenue.'

Sophie nodded, but kept her gaze on the floor. ‘Then I will go to bed hoping for good news, my love. Because if you cannot find that avenue within the next twenty-four hours, there will no longer be any need to look.'

A
drian Brocknower was leaving. That much became evident the moment Robert stepped into the dilapidated room at the top of the stairs, on a street where no self-respecting gentleman would ever admit to keeping rooms. The narrow bed was bare, the wardrobe doors flung back, and there was a portmanteau lying open on the rough wooden floor.

‘I'm glad I didn't wait any longer,' Robert said as he watched the sole occupant of the room throw clothes haphazardly into the case. ‘Or I would have been forced to add yet another vacated address to my list.'

The young man whirled, his face twisted in fear. ‘Who the hell are you?'

‘A friend. Parker sent me.'

‘Parker?'

‘Yes. We met this morning at Angelo's,' Robert explained. ‘He gave me your card and said to mention his name. I take it you
are
Adrian Brocknower?'

Hearing Parker's name seemed to have a calming effect on the younger man, but his look was still
guarded as he returned to his packing. ‘For now, but I won't be much longer.'

Robert quickly took stock of the other man. In his early twenties, he was of middling height and slim build. His dark hair was unkempt and his long, narrow face bore the unmistakable stamp of fear. ‘You're running away.'

‘Disappearing, actually.' Adrian reached for the small collection of books on the desk and dropped them into the case. ‘I don't intend to be here when he finds out what I've done.'

‘He?'

‘You know who.' Adrian looked up. ‘If Parker sent you, he's the reason you're here.'

‘All right,' Robert said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. ‘What exactly
have
you done?'

Adrian pulled open a drawer and emptied the contents. ‘I've uncovered a fraud, haven't I? And I was foolish enough to tell my employer about it.'

‘Your employer being Sir Thomas Buckley.'

‘That's right. I told him I'd found inconsistencies in the paperwork. Documents that should have been registered left unsigned. Monies that should have been invested. And when I brought it to Sir Thomas's attention, he told me I'd meddled in areas that were none of my concern and said my services were no longer required.'

‘He turned you off?'

‘On the spot. When I tried to explain I was simply following procedure, he had me escorted from the premises, without a letter of recommendation or my final pay. He also threatened me with legal action if I breathed a word of this to anyone.'

‘And have you?' Robert enquired.

‘Parker knows. He advised me to write it all down, so I did. All the names, all the dates, as well as how much money each person invested and where it was supposedly allocated.'

‘Supposedly?'

‘You can't put money into something that doesn't exist.'

Robert's eyes widened. ‘So there
was
a scam. No wonder Sir Thomas's clerk didn't want to talk to me.'

Adrian tensed. ‘You didn't go round the firm, did you? Asking questions? Looking for me?'

‘I did go round, but not because I was looking for you. I was hoping to speak to Sir Thomas,' Robert said. ‘But after being politely but firmly rebuffed, I learned that
you
had handled much of the paperwork for Sir Thomas and that made me think you might be the one I needed to see—especially once I found out you were no longer with the firm.'

‘Yes, well, that's probably for the best,' Adrian said. ‘I wouldn't want to be in Sir Thomas's shoes when word of this gets out. From what little I've heard, Mr Oberon is not a forgiving man.'

‘Would he have reason to suspect you?'

‘I'm not willing to take the chance. He didn't know Sir Thomas handed most of the paperwork off to someone else, and Sir Thomas didn't think I was smart enough to find anything wrong.' Adrian shot him a derisive look. ‘I was only a clerk, after all.'

Robert smiled. It never paid to underestimate one's subordinates. ‘Where is this list of information you've compiled?'

‘Before I tell you that, I want your word as a gentleman that you won't tell a soul who gave it to you.'

‘You have it,' Robert said without hesitation. ‘But when Oberon is charged, he's bound to know someone betrayed him. And there aren't that many people in the game.'

‘That's why I'm getting out of London. If this all blows up, Sir Thomas will point the finger of blame at me, and by the time that happens, I'll have changed my name and be living somewhere Oberon will never find me.'

‘With luck, he won't get out of prison long enough to try.'

Adrian laughed. ‘Oberon won't go to prison. His father's a peer.'

‘He will if I have anything to do with it,' Robert said quietly. ‘He's ruined too many lives to go free.'

‘Well, I wish you well with it, sir, but I've seen money and power triumph over justice and truth too many times to believe it works the other way round.' With that, Adrian walked across to the open wardrobe and leaned in. There was a sound of wood splintering, and moments later, he re-emerged holding a slim, leather-bound journal. ‘You can read it if you like,' he said, handing it across. ‘I never want to see it again.'

Robert took the journal, but didn't open it. ‘Why didn't you show this to the authorities?'

‘And risk going up against the likes of Lord Oberon? Not a chance. They'd have charged
me
with fraud rather than put the blame where it belonged. No, if you hadn't come along, this book would likely have ended up in the Thames. Or with Parker.'

Robert looked down at the journal. Parker again. He was growing curious about this man who operated in secret and seemed to know things about people most
others didn't. ‘I'm very glad to have this, Mr Brocknower. Perhaps I can use it to help some of the people Oberon has swindled.'

For the first time, Adrian smiled and in doing so, looked less like the fearful young man circumstances had forced him to become. ‘I just want to see justice done. Wealth and privilege don't deserve to be in the hands of a man like that.'

‘No, they don't.' Robert put the journal on the bed and pulled an envelope from his pocket. ‘I don't know where you're going, but this will either help get you there, or establish you once you arrive.'

Adrian stared at the envelope, his face flushing when he realised what it was. ‘I'd like to say I don't need this, but I do. Thank you, sir. I'm glad I had the pleasure of meeting you.'

‘The pleasure's all mine, Mr Brocknower.' Robert turned to go, and then stopped. ‘By the by, who is this Parker chap?'

‘Sir Barrington Parker?' Adrian laughed. ‘To tell you the truth, I don't know much about him. He came to see Sir Thomas a few times and I once heard him mention Mr Oberon's name. I thought he might be a friend of his, until I chanced to meet him in the street and he told me to watch myself around him.'

‘Did he say why?'

‘No, but I found out soon enough.'

Robert smiled. ‘I'll leave you to your packing. I have a few appointments of my own to keep before this night is over.'

 

Oberon was at his club when Robert caught up with him. Just as well. He was less inclined to commit
murder with that many witnesses around. ‘Evening, Oberon.'

‘Well, well, if it isn't my old friend, Silver,' Oberon said, leaning back in his chair. ‘And looking very serious, I might add.'

‘I have been engaged on serious business,' Robert said.

‘Why don't you join me for a drink and tell me about it?' Oberon invited. ‘I shall enjoy spending my last hours as a bachelor in the company of my good friend. Stokes! A brandy for Mr Silverton!'

Robert studied the man with whom he had gambled away more nights than he cared to remember and wondered that he had ever thought him a friend. Now, he could only see him for what he was: a desperate, conniving man who took no responsibility for his actions. One who felt no qualms about destroying other people's hopes and dreams.

A man who would ruin an innocent young woman's life in a twisted attempt to thwart another's.

‘So, Robert, what business have you been engaged upon that has you looking so glum?' Oberon asked. ‘Although, perhaps before you tell me, I should demand that you settle the terms of our wager. You owe me for not having told me the truth about my bride.'

Robert didn't so much as blink. ‘The truth?'

‘About her being a farmer's daughter, of course,' Oberon said, laughing. ‘What a turnabout, eh? A viscount's son marrying the daughter of an impoverished French farmer. My, how the
ton
would laugh if they were to hear such a tale. How I would be roasted for having allowed myself to be taken advantage of by a beautiful face. But they won't, of course, because I have
already concocted a delightful new background for my beautiful bride. Shall I tell you what it is?'

‘Oberon—'

‘No, really, I insist you listen. You'll find it quite amusing. The young lady is actually the only daughter of the Comte de Shaltiere, a noble Frenchman who, sadly, was killed in a tragic accident just north of Lyon. His wife, the beautiful Comtesse de Shaltiere, died too, leaving Sophie and her brother to be raised by a kindly aunt whose name I cannot remember and who no one is ever going to find.'

‘You're wasting your time, Oberon.'

‘No, in fact, I am making extremely good use of it,' Oberon said. ‘I've had to because you've not been the good friend I believed you to be. A good friend would have told me about Miss Vallois's origins, as I understand you learned of them some time ago.'

‘It came up in conversation.'

‘And you did not think it important enough to share with me?'

Robert met the belligerent gaze with equanimity. ‘My decision not to say anything had more to do with protecting
her
good name than yours.'

‘Yes, no doubt you and the Longworths were in collusion. Making sure no one ever found out that the beautiful Miss Vallois was actually a farmer's daughter.'

‘There was no collusion and it was never the Longworths' intent to make anyone believe Miss Vallois was something she was not.'

‘Then why dress her up in fine clothes and present her as though she were a lady?' Oberon snapped. ‘What was
that
if not a calculated attempt to convince society she was well born?'

‘Miss Vallois may not be well born, but she is every inch a lady.'

‘Rubbish! She is a farmer's brat. The sad consequence of peasants rutting in the fields.'

Robert had to fight the urge to lean across the table and grab Oberon by the throat. ‘If you feel that way, why not call the whole thing off?'

‘Call it off? What, so that you can march in and marry the chit yourself? Oh, no, Silver, I won't let you trump me in this. There's far too much at stake. Besides, I have my pride.'

‘But I
love
her,' Robert said quietly. ‘Can you make the same claim?'

‘Good God, no, nor would I want to! But she still stirs my blood and I want her in my bed.' Oberon's eyes darkened with lust. ‘French women are passionate creatures. With the right encouragement, she'll quiver like a finely plucked bow. In truth, if it were a simple matter to make her my mistress, that's exactly what I would do. But I'd no doubt find myself facing pistols at dawn with you or Longworth or that bothersome brother of hers. So, I shall marry the wench and make sure the story I've come up with is the
only
one society is allowed to hear. Then I shall bury her in the country with my sister. No doubt she and Elaine will be delightful company for one another.'

A red mist boiled in Robert's head, but when he spoke, his voice was like cold steel. ‘And how do you think Lord and Lady Longworth will take to your spreading lies about Miss Vallois?'

‘I don't really give a damn. They should have told me the truth when I informed them of my interest in her,' Oberon said in a silken voice. ‘But they didn't, did
they? They
allowed
me to believe the chit was worthy of my attention, and like a fool, I went to them and asked permission to court her. Imagine! The son of a peer asking permission to address a French peasant. Well, it will do well for them to keep the information to themselves. I can make life very unpleasant for both of them if I choose.'

Robert's voice hardened. ‘As you've said, you hold people in the palm of your hand.'

‘Indeed. But I grow weary of this conversation. Bring the ring to my house tonight,' Oberon said, pouring himself another glass of brandy. ‘I intend having it made into a necklace for my new bride. I shall tell her how I came by it and every time she looks at it, she will think of you. A fitting present, don't you think?'

Robert slowly clenched his fists, aware of an unholy desire to punch Oberon senseless. The man's arrogance was revolting, his certainty that he had won an offence to common decency. But it was his total lack of regard for Sophie's feelings that had Robert longing to throw the existence of the journal in his face and watch him squeal like a stuck pig.

He wouldn't, of course. Adrian Brocknower would never be made to suffer for his honesty. The journal was now in the hands of Robert's lawyer with the instructions that it be kept under lock and key until he returned. That alone enabled him to keep a grip on his emotions. He must for Sophie's sake. To prevent the horror her life would become if she were to marry Oberon.

‘I will not give you the ring, Oberon,' Robert said at length. ‘And there will be no wedding. You are to release Miss Vallois from her promise and swear never to go near her again.'

After a moment spent gazing at him in astonishment, Oberon threw back his head and laughed. ‘My dear Silver, what on earth are you talking about? Of course there will be a wedding. And you will be there to see it. Sitting in the front row with Jane and Nicholas and Lavinia. And once it is over, I intend to get
very
close to my darling wife. I intend to strip the gown from her delicious body and take my time ravishing her—'