The Bachelor Trap (22 page)

Brand was too restless to give his full attention to the various speakers who rose, one after another, to endorse the candidate of their choice. There were six candidates for the nomination, but by the time the meeting had almost run its course, four had withdrawn from the race, leaving Elliot Coyne and himself still in the running. Lord Hove had the floor now, and as his voice droned on, Brand's thoughts dwelled on Marion, probing, weighing, trying to find the answer to why she would go off with a man who had jilted her.

He was jealous, of course, jealous and aggrieved. He'd thought Marion was his for the asking, but now he wasn't so sure, and he wondered if he really knew her at all.

He did not make friends easily, but that was largely by choice. For the most part, his friendships had been formed at school and university. He wasn't gregarious like Ash, nor did he want to be. He did not accept people at face value, but took his time to assess and weigh before he gave them his trust.

All that changed when Lady Marion Dane fixed him with one of her cool-eyed stares, and he'd realized that
he
was the one who was being assessed and weighed. The novelty had captivated him. Marion had captivated him. And the more she had kept him at arm's length, the more determined he had become to penetrate the veneer of reserve she used as a shield.

And he'd succeeded, with one major exception: David Kerr. Why was she so secretive about a man who should mean nothing to her? And what was he doing here?

He was still brooding on David Kerr when a round of applause drew him back to his surroundings. Everyone was looking at him, coming forward to congratulate him. While he'd been woolgathering, it seemed that Elliot Coyne had decided to throw his support behind him, and he'd won the nomination.

As soon as he could decently manage it, he made his escape. Ash was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“I found her,” Ash said at once, “and David Kerr as well. And no, they were not together, though there's no doubt in my mind that they quarreled. I sent Marion back to the hotel in my carriage, and yours is waiting for you. I'll walk you to it and tell you how things stand.”

When they were clear of the house, Ash gave a concise account of what had happened while Brand was in the meeting, ending with, “There's something strange going on here. Marion seemed…dejected…beaten—I don't know how else to describe her, and Kerr…” He shrugged as he groped for words, “Kerr is very much on his dignity, as though he is the injured party. Yet I sense that he's gloating about something. At any rate, he seemed to be relieved to hear that Marion had gone back to the hotel while you were still at the meeting. I think he wants to give you his version of events before she does. He's waiting for you in your carriage. I thought you could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, you know, hear him out as you drive back to the hotel.”

A thousand questions were circling in Brand's mind, but the one that made his temper blaze was what had David Kerr said or done to upset Marion.

He quickened his steps when the carriage came into view, but Ash's grasp on his arm brought him up short.

“Listen to me!” said Ash roughly. “If you go into that carriage ready to do battle, you'll never get a thing out of Kerr. Let your head rule you, not your heart. Think of Marion and what's best for her.”

One jerk freed Brand's arm. “I am thinking of Marion, damn you!”

“No, you're not! You're thinking of the satisfaction you'll get if you beat Kerr to a pulp with your bare fists. Find out what he knows first, for God's sake.”

Brand stood there, breathing hard and fast. Finally, he nodded. “You're right,” he said. “I'll be as meek as a little lamb—then I'll kill him.”

Ash laughed. Hands on his hips, he watched as his friend entered the carriage. There was no doubt in his mind that another bachelor friend had fallen by the wayside. If this went on, he'd be the last bachelor standing. What was so intriguing about marriage, he mused, that it could cause such havoc among his friends?

He liked Marion, really liked her. He could say the same about any number of women. But he liked the single life more.

He was whistling as he made his way back to the house, but he stopped when he saw Lady Griselda Sneathe bearing down on him, her lovely features twisted in fury. He edged back when she came to stand in front of him.

Her shoulders rose and fell as she strove to master herself. “Do you know where I have been, Ash?”

He winced. He'd forgotten about her in the bustle of taking care of things for Brand. “In the conservatory?”

“Where you were supposed to come and fetch me when your carriage was ready! You promised to meet me there after supper.”

“Ah. My carriage.” He gave her a disarming smile, the one that never failed to seduce a woman from her righteous wrath. “I'm afraid I had to offer it to a lady in distress. You see, Griselda—”

His words were cut off when her hand lashed out and caught him across the face, jarring his teeth. “You…you faithless rake!” she declared, and she stalked off.

Ash nursed his sore jaw, thinking that it might be a long time before he could purse his lips to whistle.

Brand was glad of the gloom in the carriage, for it concealed the murderous rage that seethed inside him. He tried to hold on to Ash's advice: He must think only of what was best for Marion.

Ash was right about something else. David Kerr had the air of someone who had been wronged.
The injured party
, Ash called it.

“Let me see if I have this right,” said Brand, modulating his voice to sound neutral. “You say that Marion attacked you?”

Kerr sighed. The faint light from one of the carriage lamps filtered inside to show that he held a folded handkerchief pressed to his lips. It also showed that he had changed into a footman's livery—Ash's doing, Brand supposed.

Another sigh from Kerr. “I should not have been surprised. We were engaged to be married once, you know, but I called it off because she is so unpredictable. Her temper is not to be trusted. There was no call to attack me. She broke one of my teeth—that's how vicious she is.”

With as much patience as he could muster, Brand said, “There must have been a reason for the attack.” He could not help adding, “I know it's not because you broke your engagement to her. Marion doesn't hold grudges. So what happened tonight?”

“I'll tell you what happened.” Kerr's voice had lost some of its composure. “She accused me of setting footpads on her in Vauxhall Gardens, yes, and pushing her down a flight of stairs at the theater! When I denied it, she attacked me and pushed me over the edge of the dock.”

Brand sat back and stared at the other man across the width of the coach. He had already made up his mind that the three attacks on Marion were all connected to the mystery surrounding Hannah. For the moment, he considered the possibility that Kerr was behind them all. That did not fit with how he'd summed up this man—a sniveling toad. The man in the cottage had not lacked for nerve. Besides, Kerr did not know about Hannah or her letters—or did he?

Kerr went on hotly, “She is far more likely to have set footpads on me than I on her.”

“And why is that, Mr. Kerr?”

Kerr straightened and lifted his chin. “Because I know something that could ruin her if it ever got out.” He exhaled a long breath. “That is why I wanted to talk to her tonight. When I learned that she was engaged to you, a man with a bright future in politics, I knew I could no longer hold my peace. If you marry Marion, you'll be ruined, too.”

“Really?”

Kerr nodded.

“Well, don't stop there. What is it you know about Marion that could ruin her?”

Brand had no qualms about prying into Marion's affairs. Whatever touched her touched him. At least Kerr had got that right.

Kerr seemed uncertain now. He dabbed his brow with his folded handkerchief. “It pains me to tell you, Mr. Hamilton, that you have been misled. You see—” A brief paused ensued. “You see, Marion's parents were never legally married, so she and her sisters are, um, illegitimate.”

This was not what Brand expected to hear and he could not conceal his astonishment.

Kerr smiled, gratified by the effect of his words. “It's true. And I can prove it. So, you see, neither Marion nor her sisters have any right to the title of Lady. They are mere Misses.”

It was the complacent smile that brought Brand out of his stupor. He stretched his fingers taut to prevent him from using his fists to wipe the smile from Kerr's face. He had to keep calm if he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“And Marion knows this, you say?”

Kerr bobbed his head then added quickly, “Not that I was the one to tell her. I think she has known for a long time. Perhaps her parents told her when I broke the engagement.”

Brand allowed the glossed-over statement to stand, but he was well aware that there was more to it than that.

“I'm disappointed in Marion,” he said evenly. “She should have told me.” And that was the truth.

“That's what I told her.” Kerr bobbed his head. “I suppose she was afraid you would withdraw your offer. Marriage to a rich man such as you, Mr. Hamilton, must have been very tempting.”

Brand was beginning to read between the lines. It was subtle, but it was there. He could be bought off if the price was right.

“You mentioned proof?” said Brand.

“Parish records, for one. You see, my father arranged the burial of Lord Penrith's real wife. Before he died, he was the vicar where she was domiciled. She died when Marion was seven years old. In the records, her name is given as Mrs. Rose Dane, neé Sellars. That is her real name, by the way, but she was Lady Penrith.”

David Kerr was a vicar's son? His poor father must be turning in his grave. Trying to conceal his contempt, Brand said, “Where was this, and why didn't she live with her husband?”

“She was deranged and locked up in an infirmary. My father used to visit there in a pastoral role. He said that poor Mrs. Dane was so confused she imagined she was Lady Penrith.”

“Where was this?”

“In the parish of Lonsdale, near Berwick. Oh, in case you're wondering, the infirmary was pulled down years ago and all the records passed to my father.” His smile was almost apologetic. “And when my father died, they passed to me.”

“Parish records can be falsified.”

“There's more. I also have in my possession a letter written to my father from Marion's father thanking him for the funeral service he performed for his dear departed cousin, Mrs. Rose Dane. The thing is, Lord Penrith had no female cousins by that name.”

Brand made a small sound of disbelief. “How could you know that?”

That complacent smile settled on Kerr's lips once more. “I made it my business to find out.”

“When you were engaged to Marion?”

“Naturally. A man is entitled, surely, to discover as much as he can about his prospective bride's relatives?”

As affable as his imperturbable companion, Brand said, “Mr. Kerr, the evidence you have is flimsy at best. I doubt it would raise an eyebrow.”

“The letter was franked,” Kerr went on quickly, “so Lord Penrith's signature is on the outside, and his crest is on the inside.”

“I'm sure a clever lawyer could prove it was a forgery. Perhaps someone was out to discredit the earl.” Like you, you bastard! Brand thought to himself.

He obviously hadn't shaken Kerr's confidence, because that complacent smile did not waver.

Kerr's voice lowered to a confidential whisper. “Show me the evidence that proves Lord Penrith married Marion's mother. There isn't any. Oh, I know that Marion says they married, but if they did, it was bigamy. I don't think the earl would be so foolish as to commit a criminal act, do you? No. Marion's mother was Lord Penrith's mistress, plain and simple.”

Brand steepled his fingers and took a moment to frame his reply. “I think you know, Mr. Kerr, that I'm very attached to Marion. That her parents never married means nothing to me. It's common knowledge that my own origins are nothing to boast about. However, I will do whatever is necessary to save Marion and her sisters from embarrassment.” He swallowed the bile in his throat. “Tell me what I must do to convince you to forget about Mrs. Rose Dane of the parish of Lonsdale.”

Kerr drew himself up, proud to the backbone. “You see here,” he said, “a gentleman who has fallen on hard times. If I don't pay off my debts, I may end up in a debtors' prison. My friends do what they can to help me, but my debts are quite extensive, so it's never enough. I hate to ask for help, but if you could see your way to giving me the money to pay off my debts, I would be most grateful.”

“How grateful?”

“Marion's secret would be safe with me.”

Brand's brows rose. “Come now, Mr. Kerr, that's not good enough. I did not get to my present position by buying a pig in a poke. First, I'd want to examine your evidence, then I'd expect you to hand it over in exchange for the money I'm to give you.”