Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

V ERITY WENT TO her office the next morning. She told herself that she had been neglecting her business the last two weeks, and she needed to catch up on reports and requests. However, when she arrived, instead of heading to her desk, she dropped into a chair beside Mrs. Malloy and said, "I think I've made a terrible mistake."

Mrs. Malloy's eyebrows went up. "With a case?"

"No. Well, I mean, I haven't accomplished anything there, either. But it's about Nathan."

"The man himself?"

"Yes. You see...well, yesterday I had him followed."

"Why? Do you think he's lying to you?"

"No, never that. He—I better start at the beginning." Verity launched into the entire story, starting with the attack and running all the way through rescuing Nathan and Sloane.

By the time she finished, Mrs. Malloy was laughing so hard she had to take out a handkerchief to dab at the tears in her eyes. "Oh, I'd have paid a penny to see that."

"It was rather amusing," Verity agreed. "But that's not the problem."

"Ah. Mr. Dunbridge's manly pride." The other woman nodded in understanding. "It's a devil of a thing to deal with. Was he angry?"

"He wasn't angry about the rescue, that just embarrassed him. But he was annoyed that I'd had him followed. We quarreled a bit, and, well, the long and short of it is that I told him I cared about him."

"What!" Mrs. Malloy looked at her in astonishment.

"Yes, and, then he began to kiss me, and..." Verity let her voice trail off.

"Oh, my. You went to bed with him?"

"No."

"Why ever not?" Mrs. Malloy exclaimed. "He's a handsome lad—that smile. And such elegant manners. If I were twenty years younger, I'd have snatched him up myself."

"You should have seen him yesterday in only his shirt and breeches." Verity's smile curved up reminiscently. "All sweaty and his shirt hanging open."

"Oh, my." Mrs. Malloy wielded an imaginary fan.

"As you can imagine, my defenses were down after that scene. And he was teasing me, his eyes twinkling in that way he has."

"I repeat—why did you turn him down?"

"I'm not a trollop, Bettina. I've turned down lots of men."

"I am aware of that. You're the choosiest woman I know. I've told you many times, you need to let go and enjoy what life has to offer. It's my opinion your Mr. Dunbridge has a lot to offer."

"He does." Verity's chest tightened. "For some woman who suits him. But I'm not that woman."

"It sounds as if he thinks so."

"It was done in the heat of the moment. Normally he doesn't—well, except for that once—ah, twice. But those were in the heat of the moment, too."

"It sounds to me like you two have a lot of heated moments."

"While we're on this case, yes. But normally we would not even be around each other, let alone attracted. We're thousands of miles apart in every way. He's so...nice. So thoughtful and such a gentleman. A true gentleman, I mean, not an aristocrat. And I am none of those things."

"What rubbish. Honestly, Verity, I've never known you to discount yourself before. You're very nice. And I don't think he's looking for a true gentleman."

Verity laughed. "You know what I mean. A true lady. Someone like Annabeth."

"Rutherford's wife?"

"Yes. Nathan was madly in love with her a year ago. I suspect he still is—or at least holds her as his ideal woman. Annabeth and I are nothing alike. I'm brash and have a wicked tongue. Not to mention, a positively lurid past. More lurid than even you know." And yet I told Nathan all about it. "He could never marry a woman like me."

Mrs. Malloy stared. "You want to marry him?"

"No!" Verity said quickly. "Of course not." She looked down at her hands, considering her next words. "I don't know what I want to have with him. But I feel a way I've never felt with any other man. I feel like I want to... keep him. And it scares me a little how much I want him to stay. I hate to think about what will happen when we take care of the Malcolm Douglas problem."

"The end of the case doesn't mean the end of you and Mr. Dunbridge."

Verity shook her head. "When the case is done, it will be different, even if we start an affair. He'll be doing the sort of things the upper class does, the things he's always done. And I cannot keep up the pretense of Mrs. Billingham much longer, so I won't be in his world after this. Once the case is gone, the excitement will leave, as well. There won't be any rescues or attacks or things to discover. There won't be those ‘heat of the moment' moments."

Verity smiled a little, remembering, then sighed. "Even if that emotion doesn't die, eventually there will come a time when Nathan will want to marry. I cannot imagine him not wanting a wife and children. It's simply his nature. Nathan is not the sort of man to keep a mistress on the side." Verity's eyes hardened. "And I'm not the sort of woman willing to share him. Someday, even if it's not soon, someday he'll leave."

Bettina Malloy studied her for a moment. "I'll admit I don't know much about marriage. I'm not the one to give anyone advice about that. What I do know is passion. Once it's burning, it's hard to stop."

"I know." Verity nodded. "It's not passion I fear."

"Then what?"

"I'm not in love with him—really, I'm not—but I'm afraid I could be. No, that's not quite right. I'm afraid because I know I would fall in love with him. And when we part, it will break my heart. I have to be sure that what I feel for him is worth the pain it will cause."

"So you've finally found a risk Verity Cole won't take." The older woman's smile softened her words. "What did he say when you turned him down?"

Verity lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "I didn't exactly turn him down. I told him I don't want to lose his friendship. Which is true—once you start, the friendship is gone. While you're in the affair, it's so much more than friendship, and after the affair ends, it's so much less. But now I worry that last night already damaged what we have. Nathan was a perfect gentleman, just as one would expect of him. He didn't argue or try to persuade me, he agreed to continue as friends. But after that, it was awkward between us. Neither one of us quite knew how to act. What if that is how it will continue to be? What if I've ruined it? I shouldn't have kissed him."

"It would have happened sometime," Mrs. Malloy said flatly. "The feelings were there whether you kissed him or not. And you weren't the only participant. I warrant Mr. Dunbridge encouraged you along the way."

A faint smile touched Verity's lips. "Yes. He was rather good at it, too."

Mrs. Malloy reached over and patted Verity's arm, her voice comforting. "I have the feeling this will all work itself out. Mr. Dunbridge doesn't sound to me like he's going anywhere. You need to trust your instincts. I've never seen you so discombobulated."

"That's because it's never been real before."

"I know, dear. And that's why this is a good thing."

"A good thing to be at all sixes and sevens?" Verity frowned.

"Of course." Mrs. Malloy smiled. "That's the way love is, dear. And now you know."

Verity had tried to concentrate on reports for her cases the remainder of the morning, but she could think of nothing but Nathan. It was thoroughly irritating. How romance-obsessed ladies in the ton ever got a single thing accomplished was beyond her understanding. Of course, most ladies of breeding had few things they needed to get done, and the things they did were probably all in service of landing that dashing beau they thought of constantly. Well, she wasn't going to join their ranks. Standing up from her desk, she told Mrs. Malloy she was going for a walk. Busying her body often freed Verity's mind and brought her clarity on a case.

Before she knew it, she was walking to a place she'd been just recently. And though Verity told herself it had nothing to do with Nathan, deep down she knew if she was not considering some sort of entanglement with him, she would not be so fixated on checking on the home where she had killed the late Lord Stanhope.

Verity knew she shouldn't be here again; she wasn't even in disguise this time. But perhaps she could use that to her advantage. The young girl she'd talked to originally had seemed loose-tongued—it was only her superior that had kept her from saying too much about Stanhope. And the girl had been working outside the house last time. Maybe if Verity waited around for a while she would come back out. She'd probably be even more willing to give information to someone who was dressed as Verity was now—in a proper day dress and not tattered rags like the last time—and could offer her a few shillings for her trouble.

But she couldn't just stand on the sidewalk for however long it might take for the girl's chores to take her outside. Surely then Verity would draw the attention of the older woman and ruin her chance at getting more information. Verity discreetly studied the house as she walked past, continuing around to the street that formed the back border of the park. There was no entrance on this side—the pleasant bit of greenery in the middle of the city was intended for only the residents of the crescent row—but the wrought iron fence was little impediment to Verity.

Several of the trees in the park branched outside it, and after a quick glance around her, Verity made a running jump and swung up onto an overhanging tree limb and shimmied along it to the trunk and down on the other side of the fence.

Shrubbery grew along the fence, shielding the park and its occupants from the view of passersby. Verity crossed the grass to the other side and sat down on a bench where she could see the house without being seen herself.

Nothing of any note happened for the next hour, and Verity felt herself growing drowsy. But she came alert in an instant when a man opened the gate and stepped inside the park. Her pulse quickened and for a moment she thought it was Lord Stanhope, back from the country estate. Verity quickly slipped off the bench and ducked into a cluster of greenery that bordered a large tree nearby.

On closer inspection of the man, she could see that not only was he shorter and heavier than Jonathan, he had the beginnings of a bald patch—he certainly did not possess her stepbrother's thick hair. She was more on edge than she had realized if she'd thought this man could be Lord Stanhope.

Verity was well hidden on two sides by the shrubbery and sprawling tree—not that the man would have noticed her anyway. He didn't glance around the park, keeping his eyes on the gate, only looking away to check his watch occasionally. It was obvious he was waiting for someone, and Verity cursed her bad luck. She'd hoped to catch the attention of the girl if she came out of the house, but Verity could hardly pop out from her hiding place like some sort of deranged jack-in-the-box with this man here.

Her mind was busily working through scenarios—perhaps she could feign that she had dropped a piece of jewelry and been searching for it all this time—when the person the man had been waiting for walked through the gate. This time it was Jonathan Stanhope. Verity's eyes widened. She melted further into the shrubbery behind the tree and peered out through the branches.

Stanhope's face was stony, and he greeted the other man shortly— Milsap . One of the most renowned Bow Street Runners. Stanhope had some serious business if he had hired Milsap. Verity could not hear what the two were saying from this distance, only the tone of their voices. Stanhope was clearly angry, and the other man looked taken aback.

Verity cast about for a way to draw nearer while remaining concealed, but at that moment, Stanhope swung around and began to pace, his words reaching Verity in snatches as he walked back and forth. "...what I paid you for...excuses...you swore to me that she was dead."

Though her name was not mentioned, Verity felt a deep certainty that Stanhope was talking about her. Had he recognized her at the party last week after all?

Milsap followed him, saying, "Sir, she was. She is."

"Don't lie to me, Milsap," Stanhope snapped, his voice as cold as his expression. "I will not brook deception."

Verity's stomach tightened. I will not brook this behavior, young lady.

The other man stiffened, his voice turning frosty. "Sir. I do not lie. I have a reputation to uphold."

"I don't give a damn about your reputation." Stanhope swung around. "I want you to do the job you didn't do sixteen years ago."

He strode toward the gate, the other man at his side, talking in a cajoling tone. They stopped at the gate, and Stanhope made a curt remark, then strode off. Milsap turned sharply and walked in the other direction.

Verity didn't move from her hiding place, her heart racing. Milsap walked straight past her, muttering, "Just like them, blaming me 'cause he's seeing things. Bloody aristocrat."

Verity waited several minutes to emerge from behind the tree to make sure neither of the men returned—and to let her rapid pulse slow. There was no mistaking Jonathan Stanhope's anger at the prospect that Verity might not be dead, and he was just as obviously determined to find her if she was alive.

A craven impulse to run bloomed within her, followed by a desire to find Nathan and... and what ? Tell him she was afraid? Not strong enough to fight her enemies? A fragile flower who needed his protection?

Something like a growl sounded low in her throat, and Verity steeled her spine. This was her problem. Her danger. She'd been fighting her own fights all her life, and she wasn't about to stop now. She had no doubt that Nathan would feel he ought to protect her if she told him, but he had enough of a burden as it was, trying to protect his family's reputation. And she refused to appear weak in front of him—that was not the woman he knew. Not the woman she wanted him to know.

Verity walked briskly out of the park, keeping careful watch for Stanhope or Milsap to turn back even as she began to logically consider the problem.

The rumors of Verity's death that Asquith had planted had worked in the past if a hunter as renowned as Milsap had believed them. But would that subterfuge still hold? Even though she now used a false last name and was frequently in disguise, Verity had been in London long enough and engaged in enough cases that she was known to many people. She, too, had a reputation.

It had been a mistake to keep the name Verity; it was not a common one. A mistake, too, to have worn so little disguise in her role as Mrs. Billingham. She had been overconfident, too certain that her past was well behind her, and it had been sheer self-indulgence to move among the ton looking like herself.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. She wasn't going to waste time in regret. The question was how likely was Milsap to discover her, given those missteps on her part?

The fact was that very few people knew her by her real first name, and those who did would never betray her. And the truth of her past was something she had entrusted to no one. Well, except for Nathan. But there was no one more honorable; he would be silent.

She owned her home under a different false name, and she had kept its location secret from Mrs. Billingham's suitors. Though she had met Malcolm Douglas there. Verity was noticing a distinct connection between her recent lapses of letting her guard down and her further involvement with Nathan. Was she really becoming as frothy-minded as the ladies she had belittled in the past?

However, Milsap was not going to be moving among the people of the ton asking questions. His milieu was the criminal world, where Mrs. Billingham was unknown. Unless, of course, he happened upon Lord Arden during one of his blackmailing schemes. She could only pray Arden was unaware of her involvement with stealing back the Bankwater brooch. If he knew her, even as Mrs. Billingham, Lord Arden would be in a position to undo all her secrets in one fell swoop.