Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

T HE MAN COULD not have tossed in a more explosive conversational bomb. Nathan's jaw dropped, and for a moment, the scene was frozen in silence. Then Lady Lockwood thumped her cane and exclaimed, "What impertinence! Toss the charlatan out."

That was very much what Nathan would like to do, but the last thing he wanted was to have a brawl in Adeline's house. The important thing—the only thing—was to get this fellow out before his mother and aunt came back inside from the garden.

"I don't know what you want," Nathan said firmly and stepped up to grip the man's arm. "But we are not speaking of this here and now. I will return to London tomorrow, and we can discuss the matter."

Douglas jerked his arm away. "I'm not taking orders from you. I mean to be heard."

"And I will listen. You have my word. Contact me, and we will set up a meeting." Nathan gave him the address of his flat, then went on firmly, "But now , unless you want to get tossed into the nearest pond, you will leave . Immediately . "

For a moment, Nathan thought the man would refuse, but when Carlisle and Sloane came up to stand with Nathan, Douglas shot him a final glare and stormed out of the house.

Nathan turned to the others. "Please don't say anything to my mother and aunt about this. It would be most distressing to them. I'll take care of the matter, and Mother need never hear of it."

"Of course, we shan't say a word," Lady Lockwood said stoutly. "I'm sure the scoundrel is lying. He's not George's son. He's Scottish ."

Marcus, standing beside Lady Lockwood, cleared his throat. "George was friends with that chap—what was his name—whose family had a lodge in Scotland. Used to go there for the fishing and whatnot. George visited him there a summer or two."

Lady Lockwood sent Marcus a quelling look. " I never heard of this. And I don't know any Douglases, either."

"Well, that should settle the matter then," Sloane murmured.

"What are you going to do?" Carlisle asked Nathan.

"I'm not sure. I'll make some excuse to Mother and return to London tomorrow and see what it is this fellow wants."

"Money," Sloane said drily.

"I'll need to look into Douglas's background, see if there's any truth to his story."

"There are some Douglases in the ton ," Carlisle offered. "A chap named Robert, I believe. I don't know him, but I'm sure some of those Londoners who have estates in Scotland would know more about any Douglases."

"Why would someone in the ton be claiming to be illegitimate?" Nathan said.

"Again," Sloane said drily. "Money. There are a number of penniless second and third and fourth sons running about. They may be unwilling to lower themselves by working, but swindling would be acceptable."

"Ever the cynic, I see," Carlisle told Sloane. He turned to Nathan. "If there's any way I can help you, you know I'll be more than glad to do it."

Nathan shook his head. "No, though I thank you for the offer. But I would ask a favor from you, Sloane. I need to find Verity Cole."

Sloane's eyebrows slid up in surprise, but he made no comment, merely gave Nathan directions to Verity's detective agency. Just as he finished, Adeline and the Dunbridge women returned from the garden, and all discussion of Malcolm Douglas ceased.

N ATHAN LEFT FOR London early the next morning despite his mother's protestations that he should stay. He found the office easily enough, but when he walked inside, there was no sign of Verity, only a pleasant grandmotherly sort of woman who sat behind a counter, placidly knitting.

Her eyes were filled with curiosity when he asked for Verity. She hesitated for a moment, studying him, then, apparently deciding he wasn't dangerous, directed him to a particular bench in Hyde Park, adding, "She often goes there around this time."

Nathan found Verity right where the woman had said. Today she looked more like a governess than the lively widow of the other night, her red hair covered by a bonnet and her dress an unremarkable brown, with a decorous white fichu at the neckline. She didn't see him at first, her gaze directed across the park to the wide walkway, where two women were walking, pushing a baby carriage.

As he came closer, Verity turned her head sharply and looked his way. She smiled—not one of her repertoire of smiles, carefully orchestrated to suit her needs, but a sweet curve of her lips and a certain warmth in her eyes that conveyed surprise and welcome. Or perhaps he just liked to think it meant that.

"Miss Cole." He swept off his hat to bow slightly to her.

"Mr. Dunbridge. This is a surprise. We seem to have a habit of running into one another."

"Well, this time I was looking for you."

"Indeed. How did you know where to look?"

"I asked Sloane where your office was, and that very nice woman there sent me here."

"You asked Sloane? I am impressed."

"That I asked him or that he told me?"

Verity laughed. "A little of both." She gestured to the bench beside her. "Please, have a seat, and tell me what sent you searching for me."

Nathan sat down beside her. Verity was just as lovely in her plain clothes...though he did wish he could see her hair. "I have a bit of a problem, and I hope you can help."

Verity glanced back at the two women, then turned to him. "How might I help?"

"Do you know them?" Nathan asked curiously, nodding toward the pair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you're here to talk to them, we can do this another time."

"No." Verity gave him her cocky grin. "I'm just spying. You know, that's what I do. I've seen enough. Now...tell me all."

"I—there's a chap I need to find out something about. His name is Malcolm Douglas. He's—" Nathan paused. He hadn't really thought about how embarrassing it would be to talk about this, especially to a woman. His cheeks warmed.

"He's what?" Verity gave him a flat look. "Nathan, you know I don't have delicate ears. Tell me."

"He claims to be my father's son."

"Ah. So it's a matter of family honor?"

"No. I mean, only partly that. It would upset my mother greatly if she found out my father had been unfaithful. They always seemed very much in love. I wouldn't have thought my father would have an affair. But..." He trailed off.

She nodded. "Gentlemen stray."

"Not every gentleman," Nathan protested.

The corner of Verity's mouth curved up. "No. Not you, I would think."

Nathan wasn't sure whether she was complimenting him or thinking him a joke. "I would have said the same about Father." He shrugged. "But the past year I've found that he did keep secrets. Nothing horrifying, just...well, I'm not sure I knew him as well as I thought I did."

"Do you believe what Mr. Douglas told you? Does he have any evidence?"

"I don't know," Nathan admitted and told her what had happened the day before. "When I got back to my flat in London, he'd already called on me. He left me the name of his inn, and I need to reply. Set up a meeting. I would appreciate it if you could go with me when I talk to him. I'm not sure I can deduce whether he's telling me the truth. I thought you'd be more able, that you've dealt more with..."

"Mountebanks and other liars?" Verity's eyes twinkled. "You're right. I have."

"I'm not sure what you charge. Should I pay you now or—"

"Pay me?" Verity eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a business transaction. I thought I was doing a favor for a friend . But apparently I was mistaken."

"No!" Nathan was taken aback. "You aren't—I mean, of course you are more—I just didn't want to, to take advantage of our relationship—that is, our friendship. Naturally I regret..." How was it that he invariably said the wrong thing to Verity, even when he was trying his best not to offend her? And then he always turned into a blithering fool trying to get out of the mess he'd made.

"Your fumbling and agitation is apology enough." Verity's face softened. "Though I will downgrade you to mere acquaintance if you ever propose paying my fee again." She reached out to put her hand lightly on his arm.

Nathan was terribly aware of her touch, and for a moment it drove all else out of his mind. But when she pulled back, he wished she'd left her hand on him.

She went on, "Of course I will help you. Now, tell me. Where and when are we meeting this man?"

"Tomorrow afternoon? I'd like to get rid of him as soon as I can. I had thought of going to the inn where he is staying." He frowned. "No, that won't do, I'm not familiar with it. I'm not sure it's an appropriate place for a lady."

Verity grinned. Nathan was sure she found him laughable. No doubt she never thought of such things as propriety.

"Not there," she agreed. "We don't want to meet him on his ground."

"But we can't meet him on my ground. It would be disastrous for your reputation to come to my flat." It didn't matter if she thought he was an old-fashioned prude. She might not care, but he refused to be the one to involve her in a scandal.

"Then let's do it on my ground. We can meet at my house. You gentlemen can call on me." Her eyes lit up. "Of course! That's it."

Nathan looked at her warily. "What is it?"

"You can pretend to be courting me."

"What?" Nathan felt a flush rising up his neck. "But that's—it—we couldn't—"

Verity cocked one eyebrow, saying coolly, "You think it would be outlandish for you to court me?"

"No!" Nathan scrabbled for something to say. He was never sure when Verity was teasing him or genuinely upset. There was a light in her eyes that made him suspect that at this moment she was only trying to get a rise out of him, but he had to come up with an answer anyway. And, really, he didn't know why he had reacted so strongly to her suggestion. "It's not that. It's just that, um, I'm no good at pretense. I'm a terrible liar."

"You'll get more comfortable with it, I promise." She grinned. "And you did fine at Lady Arden's party the other night. The thing is we will be spending time together, perhaps a lot of it, working on this. This would be the perfect excuse. I am supposed to be a wealthy widow, remember. And you are wooing me for my money. No one will think anything of it. That's what a gentleman does when his estate is deep in debt. And, not to boast, but I am quite sought after in that regard."

"Verity! I wouldn't marry you for money." Nathan was shocked. He couldn't believe she thought that was the sort of man he was.

Verity's eyes flashed, but she kept her movements measured as she rose to her feet almost calmly. Even so, there was no doubt in Nathan's mind that she was genuinely angry now.

"I am well aware that I am not a suitable wife for a gentleman ." The word dripped from her mouth as if it was an obscenity. "But others will believe the charade. Unlike you, they don't know enough of who I am to have a low opinion of me." She whipped around and started off.

"No. Verity, wait."

"I can't. I have a previous engagement." She turned back to him, her gaze now as cool as her tone of voice. "I will see both of you at my house tomorrow at four. Good-bye."

"Verity, I didn't mean—" Nathan started after her, then stopped. She wouldn't listen to him now, no matter how much he explained. She was the most hardheaded woman he'd ever met.

Nathan turned and walked away in the other direction, irritation bubbling in him. Blast it. Verity is the one with the issue. She takes every utterance I make in the worst way possible. He had been appalled that she could think he would marry anyone for money, but of course she had decided he meant only that he would not marry her .

This time he would just let her stew about it, if that's what she wanted. It was bloody tiring, always having to watch his words with Verity. And, really, what could he say to her? I will marry you?

Of course he wouldn't marry her. She was annoying and impulsive and did such outlandish things. The fact that she was alluring, that it had aroused all of his senses just to sit close to her, that her laugh made him feel warm inside—none of those could counter all her other exasperating qualities. Being with Verity would never be dull, but marriage to her would be absolutely exhausting. And just imagine the children she would have—fiery-haired moppets all tearing around, getting into trouble. She , of course, would just encourage that sort of behavior.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Verity had the most absurd effect on him. It would have been better if he had not asked her for help. It had seemed quite logical when he thought of it. She would be better at all this than he was. But she was simply too captivating, too lively, too exciting, too... everything .

Nathan sighed. But he couldn't back out of it now. It would only confirm her opinion that he was a snob and a dullard, deceitful and unfeeling like all upper-class gentlemen— and why did she have such an antipathy for gentlemen, anyway?

He had to meet her tomorrow, had to include her. He would show her that he wasn't any of those things, that she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. That he would not let her down. Because however much it should not matter what Verity thought of him, the truth was that it did. It mattered a great deal.

V ERITY ADMITTED THAT she had been a little hasty in storming off yesterday. Nathan hadn't done anything wrong; of course he wouldn't want to marry her—though his being horrified at the idea of pretending to court her was rather unflattering.

She wasn't sure why Nathan so often aroused irritation in her. It wasn't his fault that he had been raised an aristocrat and imbued with aristocratic ideals of class and behavior. He was in general a very nice man—courteous and thoughtful, but with a sense of humor and quick retort, as well. He wasn't arrogant or cruel. He would never intentionally hurt anyone's feelings.

She liked him. In fact, Verity sometimes thought she could like him more than was wise. And that might be the very reason she was so often upset by him. It was clear that far from liking her in return, he usually regarded her with disapproval, even horror. There was a bit of desire there, as well; she was aware of his reaction to her when they were pressed against each other. But that was just his body—and he had probably been aghast at his response.

He loved Annabeth. She was the sort of woman he wanted. And Annabeth was in no way like Verity.

Annabeth was tall and slender and had silky-straight locks, and Verity was small and curvy with an unruly mop of red hair. The differences went far beyond that, of course. Annabeth was easy to like—indeed, Verity was friends with her—and Verity knew that she herself was often not likable. Annabeth was a lady. Her lineage was impeccable, and her past unblemished. She knew exactly how to act. Verity possessed none of those qualities.

Being quick and stronger than she looked or possessing the ability to use a small blade to incapacitate but not kill were hardly attributes known to inspire romantic feelings. Nor was having a past that kept her looking over her shoulder still.

Verity wouldn't have been surprised if Nathan had decided to deal with his problem without her, so it was some relief to her that he arrived at her house the following afternoon well before the appointed time. Verity said nothing about the way they had parted yesterday, and Nathan seemed equally disinclined to mention it.

As she led him into her parlor, Nathan looked around him with interest. "The house you rented is lovely."

"I own it," Verity replied. She couldn't keep the pride out of her voice. She added in a joking tone, "I am a woman of property."

"A very nice property." Nathan smiled. Verity wondered if he actually liked her home; it was hard to tell with Nathan because he was always so polite. Another thing that irked her about him. Verity had dealt with many a rude man and while she didn't enjoy their company as she did Nathan's, at least she always knew where she stood with them.

"The agency has done well," Verity said by way of explanation.

"I've never known a woman who had a business," Nathan said. "Come to think of it, I don't know any man who has a business. Well, except for Sloane."

"It's not quite the thing, you know, old chap," Verity drawled in that lazy public school style many young gentlemen affected.

Nathan chuckled. "I suppose not. But I think a business would be rather interesting."

"You do?"

"Yes. It gives one something to do, doesn't it?" Nathan said. "Sometimes the days seem somewhat empty."

"What? You mean dressing and going to your club and making calls isn't enough to fill one's life?"

"I am aware you're making fun of me, but...yes, sometimes I think so. Sloane has accomplished things, however illegal some of them might have been. He has something to show for his life. You have something to show for yours." Nathan shrugged. "You're proud of this home—you're proud of your business."

"I am." Verity couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by Nathan's remarks. Not only had he noticed the pride she took in the things she valued, but he seemed genuinely interested in them, as well. It was hard to write that off as just genteel courtesy. "The agency has done very well, better than I anticipated. Especially the last few years, once I realized what a good market I have in wealthy women."

"They need a lot of jewels returned, then?"

Verity laughed. "No, not that often. Though one of my clients has a granddaughter who has been pocketing things. It would be embarrassing to hire a Bow Street Runner for the theft, you see. But I can get the goods back without drawing any unwanted attention."

"It seems hard to imagine you not drawing attention." He added hastily, "Not to imply you aren't good at what you do. I just mean I noticed you even when you were Annabeth's maid."

"Ah, yes. One usually notices an irritation." Verity smiled to let him know she was teasing. As much as she liked watching Nathan twist himself into knots when he spoke without thinking, it seemed cruel to never give him a break. "Sometimes I work for people who are being blackmailed—as it turned out, my client from the other night was. Her lover had threatened to show the brooch to her husband."

"Lord Arden?" Nathan asked, astonished.

Verity nodded. "Genteel manners can hide a great many sins." She heard the bitterness in her tone and pushed it down, going on quickly, "Sometimes I'm tracing someone. But most often I do jobs like I did with Annabeth—though usually the person is aware that I've been hired to keep them safe. A woman doesn't want to have a guard hanging about her all the time—sometimes it's her husband she wants protection from. But a maid or a companion can be close to her without any questions asked. My secretary, Mrs. Malloy, is quite good at that, too—you've met her."

"Mrs. Malloy? But how—I mean, she doesn't look like she would provide much protection."

"You'd be surprised how lethal a pair of knitting needles can be. Trust me, Mrs. Malloy knows how to handle troublesome men. She used to own a brothel."

Nathan's jaw dropped. "That grandmotherly woman in your office?"

Verity laughed. "Yes. She's also good at keeping the books and making sure all our accounts are in good standing. Not to mention quite expert in investments."

"Good Gad."

There was a knock on the front door, clearly audible in their room, and a moment later the maid ushered in a man. Verity studied him quickly. He was blond-haired and blue-eyed, unremarkable but not unattractive. Of medium height, he was dressed in gentlemen's clothing, his hair styled in a popular Byronic fashion. In short, he looked to be the sort of man who would be acceptable at any ton party or dinner.

He spoke like an educated man, as well, though he had a Scottish burr. "Sir. Thank you for seeing me." The man looked curiously at Verity. "Ma'am." He turned to Nathan, his expression uncertain. "I thought we were to meet, just the two of us."

"You may speak freely in front of Mrs. Billingham," Nathan said airily. "Mrs. Billingham, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Douglas."

"Yes, well, as to that..." Douglas shuffled his feet a little, looking embarrassed. "I—ah, this is rather a delicate subject." He glanced again at Verity. "Not fit for a lady's ears."

"Please, don't worry about me," Verity told him. "I am aware of gentlemen's proclivities. Illegitimate offspring are not uncommon, I fear."

She could sense Nathan squirming inside at her frankness. But Verity saw little purpose in standing about trading euphemisms and hints.

"I am not illegitimate," Douglas snapped. "George Dunbridge married my mother."

"What!" This brought forth an exclamation from Nathan. "He couldn't have. He was already married. I know this much about my father's character. He would never have deceived any woman by pretending he had no wife."

"Yes, well." Douglas glanced down at his hands, nervously turning the brim of his hat. "I don't know about that. I never knew the man. But you have it backward. It was your mother he deceived. He married mine two years before he married yours. I'm not really Malcolm Douglas, though I was raised as such. I am Malcolm Dunbridge. Your father's eldest son."