Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

N ATHAN AWOKE , disoriented at first. He blinked and glanced around, and everything that had happened last night came flooding back into his mind, with the result that he was immediately hard. Again? Really? Not that he minded. A faint smiled touched his lips.

He was in Verity's bed. He couldn't remember ever awakening in a woman's bed. He'd never kept a mistress. He hadn't had the money to pay for another household, let alone all the expected jewels and dresses and so on that his acquaintances had complained about. Besides, he had pined for Annabeth, however unlikely it was that she would marry him, and no other woman had ever been more than a flirtation to him.

Brothels and lightskirts didn't appeal to Nathan. He'd dallied with tavern maids when he was at university, but he'd given that up as he became an adult. His friends had joked about him being a romantic, wanting love instead of simply a willing body. But the truth was that he'd found the transaction demeaning—on both sides.

Over the years he'd had short affairs mainly with widows—women wise to the world who, like him, expected nothing more than some nights of pleasure. However, he had never actually spent the whole night in their beds; instead, he had left before dawn in order to preserve the woman's reputation.

But last night, when he had finally forced himself to leave her bed, Verity had, as always, laughed at his concerns for her reputation and had proceeded to convince him to stay in a most enjoyable way.

Nathan linked his arms behind his head and gazed up at Verity's ceiling as he considered how very good he felt. He was far too happy, really, for a man who had discovered the day before that he was illegitimate and was suddenly out of a house or, indeed, even money with which to live.

The door opened and Verity sailed in, carrying a large tray. "Get up, slugabed. I've brought you food."

"Mmm. You're a jewel." Nathan sat up to inspect the goods on the tray she set on the bed, but his eyes lingered on her first.

She wore a dressing gown which was not in any way immodest, but Nathan wanted to slide his hands across the smooth, shining satin and under the lapel. He wondered what she had on beneath the robe.

"Uh-uh," Verity laughed. "You're not leading me astray."

"I didn't do anything," Nathan protested, feigning indignation.

"I knew what you were thinking," she replied lightly and sat down on the bed beside the tray, curling her legs under her. "I'm a detective, you know."

"And an excellent one." Nathan took a piece of bacon from a plate and devoured it. "Tell your cook she's a gem."

"I thought I was the jewel."

"Oh, well, you are, of course. Of an entirely different sort."

"A diamond?" Verity asked, tearing apart a roll and slathering it with butter.

"No, you're much too rare for a mere diamond." He considered the matter. "An emerald, I should think. Cleopatra wore them, you know."

"Goodness. I am impressed. You know your jewelry."

Nathan chuckled, shaking his head. "Not in the least. I have simply spent far too much time in the presence of Lady Lockwood."

"Now I'm impressed by your fortitude."

"I haven't seen that you are very much in fear of her ladyship," Nathan retorted.

"Not in fear," Verity agreed. "More in awe."

They continued to eat in silence, but Nathan noticed that Verity glanced at him more than once, a thoughtful look in her eyes, but said nothing. He had the suspicion that she wanted to talk about his situation but hated to spoil his mood. His stomach dropped. He hoped Verity was not about to tell him that with what they had learned at the diocese the case was all wrapped up. It still seemed unfinished. Though Nathan had to admit he was less upset about the possibility of her closing his case than he was the idea that might also end this exceedingly brief affair. However he felt about last night, it didn't mean Verity necessarily felt the same.

With an inward sigh, he laid down his fork and said, "What? I can tell you're thinking of something."

"I'm not certain that this case is solved."

Her words were so far from what he expected that he could only stare at her for a moment. "What do you mean? It seems very clear cut to me. We saw the record—my father married Margaret." He managed a faint smile. "Are you sure it isn't just that you don't want to admit you're wrong?"

"Well, that does take some getting used to—it so rarely happens." Verity sent him a twinkling glance. "But all my instincts told me Mr. Douglas was lying, and my instincts are very good. I have trouble believing that Malcolm Douglas wasn't here to extort money from you. Everything about him—his gestures, his voice, the things he said—all seemed so memorized. Rehearsed. I've known a number of liars and mountebanks, and he fit the role."

Nathan looked doubtful. "I don't know..."

"I'm not relying only on my feelings. There are several peculiar things about this whole matter. Why does he go by the name Malcolm Douglas instead of Malcolm Dunbridge? I realize that his family hates the English, but surely that's better than being thought illegitimate. Why did he slip out of the inn where he was staying and disappear? And if he has a legitimate claim as the heir, why didn't he hire an attorney to press his claim in court? Why come to you with these hints about coming to an understanding?"

More than hints. Nathan thought of the thinly veiled threats the man had made to him privately. But even those threats didn't disprove the man's paternity. "Maybe...maybe he just didn't want to get embroiled in a scandal. If his uncle is any indication, he comes from a family with a good name. He might not have wanted to embarrass them."

"If he wanted to avoid a scandal, all he had to do was not make the claim at all. As you said, his uncle seems upper-class and with some degree of wealth. It's not as if Malcolm really needs the money. And speaking of his uncle, why did Malcolm not tell his uncle what he was doing? Why did he not stay with him or at least let Robert know he was in the city?"

"Maybe he thought his uncle would disapprove."

"I imagine he would, given all the gossip that will result. But his uncle, indeed everyone, will know about it soon enough. He'll have to take it to court to establish his legitimacy. Most perplexing is the fact that he seems to have disappeared. Why has he not contacted you again?"

"Yes, those things are oddities, and I don't know how to explain them," Nathan admitted, but determinedly quashed the little bit of hope her words raised in him. "But we cannot ignore the fact that Margaret Douglas and my father married two years before I was born. It was right there in the records."

"But how do we know that they were married before Malcolm was born? We agreed that Malcolm looked older than you. There's a touch of gray at his temples, and lines at his eyes and mouth."

"Some people turn gray early. And he has that fair Scottish skin—if he spends much time outdoors, he'd have lines."

"And some couples marry after they have a child. I'd put him nearer to forty than thirty-four."

Nathan looked at her. "I don't know. Even if they got married afterward, they were still married, which means my parents were not."

"Not necessarily. Your father could have been a widower when he married your mother. Margaret could have died. Women often die in childbirth."

"That's true. I could just be the second son." Nathan paused, thinking. "But if that were true, why would my father have kept it a secret? Why would he have let his heir be raised in Scotland instead of at the manor? He would have known my mother would have treated the boy well. Mother has the softest heart one could find."

Verity shrugged. "That is one of the many inconsistencies in this tale."

"Do you really think there's a chance that this isn't true? Or are you just trying to lift my spirits?"

Verity leaned forward, putting her hand on his. "I wouldn't try to raise false hopes in you, Nathan. That would be cruel. But neither can I ignore the oddities here, and I wouldn't want to advise you to give up without investigating further."

Nathan quirked a smile. "Do you ever advise giving up?"

Verity grinned back. "Only when there's no one still standing."

Whether she had been trying to cheer him up or not, Verity had made him curious, even a little hopeful. And, really, today almost anything seemed possible. He wouldn't admit defeat this easily, no matter how great a blow yesterday's discovery had been. "Very well. How do we find the answers to your questions?"

"The first thing we have to do is learn Malcolm Douglas's age. I want to see the records. So we need to find out where he was born."

"His uncle is the best source of information on that score," Nathan said.

"I agree. We must discover Robert Douglas's address." She paused. "Though calling on him and asking about Malcolm's birth might make him suspicious of us. It's an odd thing to do, and even if he isn't aware of his nephew's scheme, he would have to wonder."

"I can see him at his club. He did extend an invitation to me to visit him at White's anytime."

"Where I am not allowed to enter, being a mere woman." Verity scowled.

Nathan's eyes gleamed with amusement. "I am afraid that this time you are simply going to have to trust me."

"Don't be silly. Of course I trust you. And you're right—a chance meeting is less likely to arouse his suspicions, even if it is an odd topic."

"I'll think of some way to work it in." Nathan reached over and took her hand. "But first I might need a little distraction from such heavy matters."

"Oh, I know just what will help—a game of whist!" Verity looked around the room. "Where are my cards?"

"I have something else in mind."

He tugged her to him, and Verity went easily, opening her eyes wide in faux innocence and saying, "You do? Why, whatever can that be?"

"This." He kissed her lips.

"Oh, that." She smiled, curling her arms around his neck. She took his mouth in a long, drugging kiss. "That doesn't seem very responsible when we have a case waiting."

Nathan slid his hand under the lapel of her dressing gown, cupping her breast, and nuzzled the side of her neck. "It appears I am becoming quite reckless."

Kissing her, he bore her back down on the bed.

R OBERT D OUGLAS WAS not at the club when Nathan arrived, which was a bit deflating. But Nathan was well-known there, so he took a seat and picked up a news sheet, pretending to read it as he kept an eye on the door. It would probably be more natural seeming this way, less intentional.

After what felt like an eternity he saw his quarry enter the club, handing off his hat and decorative cane. Nathan looked back down at the paper in his hands as if absorbed, intending to look up at the last moment and recognize Douglas.

However, Mr. Douglas started the conversation himself before Nathan could do so. "Good day," he said cheerfully. "Mr. Dunbridge, isn't it? We met at Alan Grant's not long ago."

"Yes, of course." Nathan stood up to shake his hand, offering him a friendly smile. "I remember quite well. Do sit down."

"Thank you, sir." Douglas settled into the chair across from Nathan's, and for a few minutes they exchanged casual remarks about the weather.

The butler brought Douglas a cup of tea, and in the lull after the other man took a sip, Nathan asked, "I believe you were awaiting your nephew's visit when I saw you last."

Douglas nodded. "I was. But he never came. I don't suppose you've run into him anywhere, have you? As I remember, you were looking for him, were you not?"

"I was indeed. It's too bad." Nathan feigned a look of disappointment. "I'm thinking of purchasing a cottage in Scotland, and Alan told me your nephew was born in a picturesque spot. But he couldn't remember the name. I was hoping Malcolm could tell me."

"Gairmore?" Mr. Douglas's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Are you sure? It's just a little spot in the Highlands where the family was...um, visiting for the summer." His normally open and gregarious expression shifted and he glanced away.

"That's exactly the sort of place I'm looking for," Nathan said with delight. "A pleasant summer house where I can retreat when summer in the city becomes too much. Did they own a house there?"

"No. Margaret and her mother, um, just happened to be there. Taken by surprise a bit, you see. It sounded to me like a rather primitive place. Well, no matter." Robert smiled brightly at Nathan. "I'm sure your friend was talking about the family estate, not far from Aberdeen. They live in Edinburgh most of the time, but the estate is where the Douglas heirs are usually born."

"Yes, no doubt I misunderstood," Nathan replied smoothly.

"Now, that is a lovely spot. Excellent fishing," Douglas went on, and Nathan joined him in a discussion of hunting and fishing and the best locations in Scotland for doing either of those things.

After a long enough time to conceal that his motivation had been only to ask about Malcolm Douglas's birthplace, Nathan took his leave of Robert and returned to Verity's house. Verity had not returned yet, but the housekeeper let him in and offered tea while he settled down in the front room to wait for her.

It hadn't been long since they'd last been together, but after checking his pocket watch for the fifth time in less than a half hour Nathan had to admit that he was eager to see Verity again. He had already felt oddly close to Verity and after the night they spent together there was now a vague sense of unease in his gut when she wasn't nearby. As though he'd forgotten something or was missing a cherished heirloom he was accustomed to wearing every day.

Not, of course, that he would have told Verity that. Her teasing about being as important to him as his favorite pair of cufflinks would be relentless. And she was so much more than that to him. It was simply such a new feeling that he knew no better way to describe it.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who was already used to him being here. Nathan reflected that the housekeeper was beginning to treat him like a member of the household. And with all the time he'd spent here lately, the place was beginning to seem almost like home.

He decided not to continue that line of thinking. With Verity he could have only the present. No plans, no future. He thought again of her adamant rejection of marriage. It wasn't that he wanted to marry her, either, but still, her words had stung a little. Nathan had to wonder if she truly did not want to marry...or if she just didn't want to marry him .