Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

N ATHAN SPENT THE next morning going very visibly from one place to another, establishing that he was once again in the city. Verity had managed to beg off in order to check on the cases she had neglected while they were in Scotland. In the afternoon, however, she couldn't resist joining him to visit Fairborn's Confectionary.

Though Nathan was intent on making sure Malcolm knew that he was back, Verity was able to convince him to stay in their carriage to keep an eye on the shop. It would not do if their quarry saw Nathan or Verity first. And the men were already distinctly aware that Nathan was onto them after the chase with Sloane.

The coachman alternated between driving up and down the street—Russell asked no questions, having long ago become accustomed to Verity's odd requests—and pulling up in front of some other business for a time.

Watching the shop was, all in all, a rather boring exercise, and Verity spent much of her time planning what to wear that night at the theater. She was still uncertain about going out undisguised, but she hadn't known what to say to Nathan when he had pressed her on why she had wanted to wear a wig, so she had decided against it. The time for telling him about overhearing Stanhope in the park had passed. At this point her "not telling" looked more like hiding what she'd learned.

Nathan seemed the forgiving sort, but he was also an honest man. An honest man that just had his whole life undone and thrown back together by a lie. Verity wasn't sure how he would respond to her withholding what she had known for so long.

Besides, no one had discovered her in all this time that she'd been playing Mrs. Billingham. What were the chances that she'd be discovered during one more night out? And she desperately wanted one more night with Nathan. Who knew how many we have left together?

"Do you do this sort of surveillance a great deal?" Nathan asked as the afternoon wore on.

Verity let out a little laugh. "Unfortunately, yes. It can be a bit dull."

"I can see why you wanted to dress up as a crossing sweeper last time."

"Yes, but this street is really too busy to do much of any activity. We can return tomorrow—or prowl around the area where you found Hill before. We can hardly expect the man to buy lemon drops every day."

"I suppose not," Nathan agreed.

It was something of a relief when the shop closed and they could return home. It took Verity some time to get ready for going out—trying this style and that, changing her mind about the evening gown she had chosen and therefore having to come up with an entirely different set of accessories. She even dithered over which fan to carry.

Verity told herself she was being ridiculous, but she wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted to strike just the right tone that would both stir Nathan's senses and be stylishly elegant.

The way Nathan's eyes lit up when he saw her was reward enough for her efforts. In that instant, all that mattered was Nathan and the little world that they had created.

When they walked into the theater, however, it was apparent that they would not be in a world of their own. Lady Lockwood stood near the stairs with Marcus Rutherford and Nathan's mother and aunt.

Nathan came to a halt and turned to retreat, but it was too late. They had been spotted.

"Dunbridge," Lady Lockwood called, and as they drew nearer she added in an offended tone, "I didn't know you would be here."

"Yes, well, here we are," Nathan replied, forcing a smile.

"I am so happy to see you again," Rose Dunbridge said to Verity in her sweet way. "We haven't had a chance to talk since we met at Lady Lockwood's, oh, that must have been a fortnight ago or more, wasn't it? Now we can have a nice chat."

Verity's stomach sank at the prospect of talking with Nathan's mother and aunt. Any conversation with them was bound to be full of pitfalls, given what they had learned about Nathan's father, and she didn't like the idea of having to lie to Mrs. Dunbridge. She was glad she had decided against wearing any disguise tonight so at least she didn't have to explain a change in her appearance to the two women.

"Yes, yes, plenty of time for that," Lady Lockwood said impatiently. "Come along, it's almost time for the curtain to go up. You'll sit with us, of course." She nodded to Nathan and Verity.

"Of course." Nathan and Verity trailed after the others to Lady Lockwood's box. He bent his head toward Verity, murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"Lady Lockwood is a force of nature," Verity replied. "I can hardly expect you to go against that. Though I do wish we had arrived a bit later."

Lady Lockwood waited for Nathan and Verity at the door. "We cannot speak about it now, naturally," she said in a low voice, casting a regretful glance inside the box at Rose. "But I want to hear everything that happened. You must come to the dinner I'm having on Saturday."

It would have been useless to disagree so Nathan nodded, and they took their seats. Fortunately, the curtain rose before any more conversation could take place. Everyone knew that Lady Lockwood disliked conversation during a performance—except her own comments, of course—so the first act passed in relative silence.

When the curtain fell, there was the usual visiting between boxes; Verity thought it might be this activity that brought the ton to the theater more than the play itself. But she was grateful for the custom when three middle-aged gentlemen almost immediately squeezed into the box, clearly intent on wooing Nathan's pretty mother, thus precluding any conversation with Rose. It was amusing to watch the suitors jockey for the position closest to Rose while Nathan loomed over them, scowling, but after a time, Verity took pity on the men and slipped her hand into the crook of Nathan's arm and tugged slightly.

"Shall we take a stroll?"

"Yes, of course." Nathan abandoned his surveillance of the men and went with her. They strolled along the corridor, and Nathan was stopped twice to talk, only nodding at a few others.

It brought home to Verity quite forcibly just how many people in the ton knew Nathan—and how many of them were now wondering who was the woman on his arm. Coming undisguised tonight had been a mistake. She had been able to ignore the threat of Milsap, the Bow Street Runner, during their trip to Scotland. But it was altogether different here in London; she was being far more unwise than she had even let herself acknowledge. She felt sure there were already several women jealously trying to find out exactly who had caught Nathan's eye and how his mystery lady could be defeated.

Nathan went to fetch them a glass of champagne, and Verity strolled over to a potted palm against the wall, where she would be less visible. When Nathan started to walk back to where she had been, Verity went to meet him, but stopped as her eyes fell on Lord Arden. He stood only a few feet away from her, deep in conversation with another gentleman. The other man glanced over, as if feeling her gaze.

Jonathan Stanhope. Verity's heart leapt into her throat.

Stanhope's dark gaze met hers, and any hope that he might not recognize her vanished when he exclaimed, "You!"

Verity whipped around and took off, running for the stairs.

"No! Wait!" Before she could reach the stairs, he reached her and grabbed her arm. "Verity, stop."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nathan drop the drinks he carried as he ran toward them. Panicked, Verity stamped on Stanhope's foot with the heel of her slipper, wrenched her arm away and ran down the stairs. Stanhope came after her. There was a crash behind her, and Verity turned at the landing, glancing back. Stanhope was rising from the demolished potted palm and charging at Nathan.

No, no, no! Nathan couldn't be involved in this. She started back up, then stopped. The worst thing she could do was make it clear that she and Nathan were close. Nathan could hold his own, and others would jump in to stop the brawl. The best thing she could do was get as far away from Nathan as fast as she could.

Verity turned and flew down the remaining steps. She heard rapid footsteps pursuing her, but she lifted her skirts and darted through the crowd and out the front door. Running across the street, she disappeared into Covent Garden.

She took a twisted route through the darkest of streets, and only when she was certain that she had lost anyone following her did she hail a hack and head back to her house. When she reached it, she saw her own carriage rolling away and Nathan banging at her door.

He whirled at the sound of her hansom. "Verity! Thank God." He started toward her, but she was already running up to unlock the door.

Nathan followed her inside, saying, "I looked all around for you."

"I wanted to lose him," she explained, turning back to face him, and for the first time she got a good look at Nathan. His hair was in disarray, his clothes rumpled, and there was blood on his cheek. Her voice rose in alarm. "Nathan! What did you do ?"

"I hit him. Threw him into that ugly potted palm, actually. Who was that fellow, anyway?"

"It was Lord Stanhope," she flung at him. "Oh, Nathan, why did you do that?"

Nathan stared at her. "Because he was chasing you. Do you think I'd just stand around and let him grab you again?"

"You shouldn't have."

"For pity's sake," Nathan snapped, nettled. "I know you think you never need any help. But I'm not useless."

"That's not why—don't you understand? That was Stanhope . He saw me, recognized me, can connect me to you! It won't take him long to find out everything about Mrs. Billingham. Especially with Milsap on his side. I probably have a day—two at most."

"Milsap? Who on earth is that? Verity, what is going on?"

Verity sighed. "He's a Bow Street Runner that Jonathan hired to find out if I was really dead." She still wasn't ready to tell Nathan, to see the anger in his eyes when he found out she knew all this for weeks. But everything was unraveling. There was no point in hiding something for fear of it tearing them apart. That had already come to pass. "I've been checking on the Stanhope house here in London. I wanted to remain Mrs. Billingham, to stay with you, but I had to know if Jonathan had recognized me. A couple of days before we left for Scotland, I overheard him. I learned he was looking for me again."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nathan's look of hurt was worse than the anger Verity had been expecting. "We could have... I don't know. Stayed in Scotland, bought Milsap off. Something."

"I wasn't positive about what I heard. Jonathan never said the name Verity. And I didn't want it to be true. I clung to that possibility that it wasn't about me. And so I didn't tell you. I tried my best not to think about it. I just wanted to go on as if it had never happened."

"So you didn't hide it because you don't trust me?" Nathan's eyes searched hers.

"No." Verity's throat tightened. "I didn't want to leave. But now I have to. Go to France or Germany or somewhere."

"Leave?" Nathan's eyebrows shot up and he took a step forward. "No, Verity. You killed his father in self-defense. To protect your sister."

"Don't be naive. He's a lord. I am a nobody. They won't take my word over his."

"But I will stand up for you. I—"

"No, you won't," Verity said flatly. "You will tell them you scarcely knew me. Lady Lockwood and the others will back you up. You hit Stanhope because you saw only that he was accosting a woman whom you thought was a lady. You were fooled by me just as everyone else in Society was. You had no idea I was a fraud."

"You can't be serious. I'm not saying anything like that. You obviously don't know me at all if you think I would."

Verity let out a loud noise of frustration. "Nathan, be reasonable. For once in your life, don't be honest and courageous. If he knows that you are with me, if you oppose him, he will go after you, too. Yes, you are a gentleman and you're popular among the high and mighty, but you aren't a lord ."

"What can he do to me?"

"Besides drag your name through the mud?"

"I don't care about that."

"We just spent the past month chasing leads around trying to protect your name!" Verity shot back. Why was he being so obtuse?

He waved her words away. "People know me. They respect me. They—" He stopped, gazing off into the distance, then said, "Marry me."

Verity's jaw dropped. "What? Have you lost your mind? Marrying me would ruin you."

"No. It will give you status. You wouldn't be a nobody, you'd be my wife. You'd belong in the ton . All you have to do is deny what Stanhope says. Say that you didn't kill his father. Someone else did, and you ran in terror. Carlisle and Noelle will back us up. And Lady Drewsbury—she's a countess. And Lady Lockwood. You know she'd do it if for no other reason than she loves a good fight."

" That's why you want to marry me?" The idea hurt more than Verity would have thought possible. "So you can protect me? It wasn't enough that you heroically gave up Annabeth so she would be happy? Now you're going to sacrifice yourself again in order to save me ?"

His eyes widened, and he quickly said, "No! No, that's not what I mean. It's not only to protect you. I mean, I'm not sacrificing myself. I want to marry you. This is just...hastening things. I know you don't want to marry, but look at how we've been the past few weeks together. How happy and...and good it's been."

"Passion doesn't last, Nathan. ‘Good' and ‘happy' aren't enough."

"It's not just passion," he protested. "I love you."

"The way you loved Annabeth a year ago?" Verity shot back. He looked stricken at her words, and she immediately regretted them. "I'm sorry. I was angry. I didn't mean it."

"I think that's precisely what you meant," Nathan replied. "You don't trust me. You think I'm fickle and shallow. You've always discounted me—I'm naive, I don't know what I'm doing, I simply float through life."

"No." Verity was aghast. "That's not what I think. Maybe at first, but not anymore. I can be aware of how very different our lives have been, how very different we are without it being a judgment on you. Just because I keep some things private, it doesn't mean that I don't care for you."

"You see? Care. " Nathan let out a bitter little laugh. "You can't even say the word love . You want to be alone. You're scared to commit yourself for a lifetime. You like things the way they are because it means you don't have to give anything of yourself to me."

"What the devil do you think I've been doing the past weeks but giving myself to you?" She was suddenly furious. "I've let you into my life. Into my house. Into my bed."

"But not into your heart," Nathan said quietly. "You have given me your body, you have made space for me in your life—and I am very glad that you did so. But I want more than that, Verity. I want everything. I want marriage or nothing at all."

"Then leave." Verity felt ice all through her. "I'm not marrying you."

Nathan's face tightened. For a moment, she thought he would argue, but instead he turned and walked out the front door. The door slammed, leaving only silence behind.

Verity's knees were suddenly weak, and it was hard to breathe. She sank down on one of the risers at the foot of the staircase. He was gone. She felt as if some vital part of her had been torn out, and she wanted to run after him, to tell him she would marry him, that she'd throw herself into his care and let him protect her.

But she would not do that. She could not. She wrapped her hands around her knees and rested her head on them. She couldn't be weak. She couldn't give way to tears and regret. Verity had learned long ago that the only way to stay alive was to keep moving. Do what she had to. Don't look back.

Nathan didn't understand what danger he would be putting himself into. He had always lived a privileged life. Perhaps he hadn't had as much money as some of his friends, but he had been protected from want, from fear, from condemnation. He didn't know, as she did, what it was like to be vulnerable. So easily overwhelmed by the powerful.

Verity felt sick, remembering Stanhope's face, astonished and sharp and somehow gratified. He was glad he'd found her; he wanted to see her punished. She had faced down men with weapons without a qualm, but just the sight of him, so similar to his father, just the feel of his hand grabbing her arm, sent shivering terror through her.

He would see her dead, she was certain, and he would ruin Nathan as well if Nathan crossed him. And no matter how very much Verity wished Nathan were with her right now, his arms strong and warm around her, she would not subject him to Lord Stanhope's revenge.

She was being sensible. She was doing the right thing. She was being strong. But, oh, God, why does it have to hurt so much?