Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

"Y OU LIE ! " Nathan exclaimed. He had gone white around the lips, and his hands clenched. Verity had never seen him look or sound so fierce.

"I do not," Malcolm shot back. "I'm speaking nothing but the truth." He took a step forward, his hands doubling into fists, as well.

Wonderful. That was just what she needed—two men brawling in her parlor . She would have to be the one to break it up. And in this pretty new frock, too.

"Gentlemen, please," Verity said, stepping between the men and calling up her best imitation of Lady Lockwood's daughter, Adeline, whose gentle, sweet manner she had studied a few months ago when she was staying at Stonecliffe. If that failed, Verity would have to resort to her imitation of Lady Lockwood herself—which was, when one thought about it, a role she was more adept at playing. "We need to look at this calmly, with courtesy and thoughtfulness. Like the gentlemen you are."

Both men relaxed a trifle, though neither looked particularly pleased with the idea. "Let's sit down," she suggested, gesturing toward the sofa and the chair that sat across from it, several feet away. She took her seat in the chair between them.

"Now." Verity turned to Malcolm, resuming her own demeanor. "Mr. Douglas—" She held up a hand as if to stop him. "For the moment, I will call you that, for I have no way of knowing whether you are telling the truth. Do you have any proof that George Dunbridge married your mother?"

"I don't see how it's any of your concern," Douglas said irritably and looked over at Nathan.

"Mrs. Billingham is here because I value her advice," Nathan said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And I promise you that we can both rely on her utmost discretion."

Malcolm looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "If this is the way you want to handle it, then...my parents were married here in London at Saint Agatha's. The church will have the records of it. July 29, 1787."

Verity glanced at Nathan. It was clear from his face that he was stunned. However little Douglas wanted to talk to her, she had to take the lead in questioning him.

"I'm a mite confused," Verity said. "You seem Scottish. I assume your mother is Scottish, as well. How did she and Mr. Dunbridge come to know each other? Was she living in London then?"

Fortunately, Malcolm seemed to have given up his resistance to Verity's inclusion in the conversation. He simply shook his head and said, "Nay. She's a Scot—Margaret Douglas, a respectable girl from a good family. It was Dunbridge who came to Scotland. He met her when he was spending the summer visiting one of his friends. They fell in love and married."

"But surely the wedding would have been in Scotland, where they were, rather than in London." Verity adopted an innocent frown of puzzlement.

"They eloped. My grandparents were dead set against the marriage," Malcolm explained. "My mother was young and the Douglases dinnae like the English, so they went as fast and far away as they could." He looked at Nathan. "I know this is a shock to you, and I am sorry to lay this problem in your lap. But I'll not forego my heritage."

"What is it you want, Douglas?" Nathan rose from his chair.

"My birthright." Malcolm stood up to face him. "I'm a reasonable man, as I believe you are, too. I am only asking for what's right and fair. No doubt you need time to think it over, so I'll take my leave of you now. We'll discuss this matter further another day. Good day." Malcolm gave them a sharp nod of farewell, then turned and left the house.

"Well." Verity left her chair and went to Nathan. "That wasn't what I expected."

"It rather took me by surprise, as well." Nathan still didn't look quite like himself, but the stunned expression had vanished. "I thought that he would make some claim of illegitimacy and ask for money to keep him silent. Not that he would try to take my...well, everything . Even my name." He stood up and began to pace. "Not that it would do him much good, given that the estate is mortgaged to the hilt, and the rents barely keep our heads above water."

"That was a bit of a miscalculation on his part."

Nathan set his jaw, his expression stony. "I cannot believe it of my father. To have wed my mother, knowing that he already had a wife—no, it's impossible. Not just because he would not have committed bigamy. He would never have done such a thing to my mother. He loved her, I'd swear that on anything you like." His expression changed from belligerent to worried. "Mother will be devastated if this is true."

" If it's true. All we have is this man's word. I think he's a charlatan."

"He seemed sincere to me. Insulted even, that we thought him illegitimate."

"I'll admit that he is good at lying," Verity told Nathan. "But he's not telling the truth."

"How can you tell?"

"His story sounded rehearsed to me. His answers were too quick, as if he'd thought up all the responses to any possible questions beforehand and memorized them. And there was just something in his manner, in the way he watched you. I was the one questioning him, but he kept looking at you. Judging your response. He wanted to see how rattled you were."

Nathan let out a little huff of a laugh. "Well, I am rattled by him. He seemed very confident to me—giving us the name of the church and the date. Surely he must know we'll check it."

"That's exactly what I plan to do, and I suspect we'll find no record of the marriage. But that doesn't prove that they hadn't married. He could claim the record had been lost or perhaps he'd got the church wrong."

Nathan hesitated for a moment, then said, "The thing is, my father apparently did spend the summer in Scotland a time or two when he was young, according to Sloane's father. Marcus said George had a friend who owned a lodge up there."

Verity shrugged. "I think someone could find that out without too much trouble. Maybe Douglas grew up in the village where the lodge is and heard that George Dunbridge used to visit there, then decided to put that knowledge to use and wove this fanciful story. Why did he wait so long to inform you that he was the heir? Given the date of the marriage, I would think that he's at least a year older than you. Indeed, he looked older than that to me. Why would he go along, content with being Malcolm Douglas, making no effort to find you until he was thirty-four or -five?"

"It does seem odd," Nathan agreed. "And why did he come to me ? Why didn't he simply hire a lawyer and pursue his legal rights in court? I could understand if he wanted to get to know our side of the family—I am his half brother if what he says is true. I could even see him shoving it right in my face because he was angry and resentful. But he didn't convey either of those feelings in his manner. He seemed most interested in trying to come across as reasonable and genteel."

"Precisely. My opinion is that he wants to blackmail you. That conciliatory manner...giving you time ‘to think about it' and then ‘discuss it later.' Saying he only wants ‘what's fair.' He wants you to brood about the scandal, about your mother's feelings and the horror of a public lawsuit. About having everything, as you said, snatched away from you. He's counting on your being willing to make any immediate financial agreement with him in order to avoid it all. He will come to you and offer to settle the matter like a gentleman and accept some amount of money, and no one will ever need to know. He'll call it a reasonable agreement. It's blackmail."

"I'm not about to give in to blackmail." Nathan's eyes flashed. "Malcolm's fair and far off if he thinks I won't fight him on this. I don't believe him. I can't believe it of my father. Yes, perhaps he kept a secret or two, but they were minor things, things he would have told me if he hadn't died so young. But deceiving everyone for thirty some-odd years? He couldn't have carried it off even if he'd wanted to. Even Lady Lockwood knew nothing about it."

Verity smiled faintly. "Then it couldn't have happened."

Her statement won a rueful smile from Nathan. "Indeed."

"I'll go to this church tomorrow. Even if—"

" We'll go to this church," Nathan put in. "I'm going with you. It's my mystery to solve, after all."

Verity would enjoy his presence, but she wasn't about to let him know that. "Oh, so you don't trust me?"

He scowled. "Of course I trust you. What a thing to say. I was the one who stood up for you when Sloane and Annabeth were wondering whether you were the traitor. I told them you were trustworthy. I would have thought that would have given me some credit with you."

His response surprised Verity. She had expected to rouse in Nathan the usual sort of polite irritation at her needling him. But this had obviously touched a sore point. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should not have said that."

Now he was the one who looked astonished. "You're apologizing?"

"Yes, I know. It's a once-in-a-lifetime event, so you should enjoy it," she told him wryly.

"Verity. I am aware that you don't like me, but surely you know that I am not untrustworthy or deceitful."

"No! I don't dislike you. I've never dis—" When he raised an eyebrow, she went on, "Yes, all right. Maybe I didn't like you much when I first met you. But that was just because you were a member of the ton . And you were always so amiable and polite."

"Yes, those are qualities that often offend people."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "You know what I mean. You were too proper. You never raised your voice, you were never mean or petty. You didn't even tell Lady Lockwood to fire me for my impudence even though I was a bit rude to you."

"A bit?" Nathan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "You were the most unmannerly maid I've ever seen, but I wasn't going to try to get you tossed out just because you didn't like me. Besides, one doesn't tell Lady Lockwood to do anything."

"True." She smiled. "I thought you must be hiding something, acting a part. But after a while I realized that you simply were that kind—I am sure your servants must take terrible advantage of you."

"Nonsense. I'm a tyrant at home."

"Mmm-hmm. You keep believing that," Verity said, feeling relieved. They were back on an even keel. "I am sorry I took that jab at you. I know you stood up for me back then, and I appreciate that now still."

"Well, it was simply the truth." He seemed a trifle embarrassed now. "Besides I'm aware of how unfair it feels to have people believe you are capable of misdeeds that would never even cross your mind."

"You'd be amazed how little the truth factors into what people say," she told him. "Anyway, I was only teasing you." She wasn't going to tell him that she'd teased him mostly to hide her pleasure that he wanted to accompany her to the church. Showing one's emotions always meant giving some part of one's power over to another, even if it was only a small measure. But that was not the sort of thing that Nathan Dunbridge would understand. He was always so authentically himself. Not trying to posture or put something over on her. It was refreshing. "And what do you mean? Who has ever thought you capable of misdeeds?"

"When Gil, Noelle's son, was being targeted, it was by my solicitor. The man did his best to make people believe it had been me trying to harm the boy." Nathan's brows knitted together.

"Someone thought you could harm Gil?" Verity goggled. "What idiocy. You're like an uncle to him."

"The evidence pointed to me. I can't really blame them."

"Annabeth doubted you? Mr. Thorne?"

"No, I don't think Annabeth believed it for a moment. Carlisle said he didn't, but I could see the lurking doubt in his eyes. No one wanted to believe it. They were torn. But still they suspected me. And Carlisle is my oldest friend. The fact that the thought even crossed his mind...it was logical, though."

"He is a fool, then. I wouldn't have believed you'd hurt Gil for a second, and I haven't known you all my life. You know, I could have Mrs. Malloy put the fear of God in Carlisle if you want."

"I wouldn't want her to damage a knitting needle." Nathan's eyes twinkled. "Besides, he was only following the direction the clues led—it's understandable."

"You can understand something and still be angry about it." Verity reached for Nathan's hand.

"I suppose I never thought about being angry."

"You don't think about being angry. It's something you feel . Like a ball of fire in your chest." She gestured at her own body with their clutched hands, almost touching Nathan's skin against the bodice of her dress. Suddenly she was very aware of how warm his hand was in hers. She let go of it, busying herself with an invisible wrinkle in her skirts. "I could see suspecting someone like me ," Verity explained. "Or perhaps Sloane. It would be foolhardy not to consider most people. The human race is a deceptive and sometimes violent group. But not you."

"Because I am too staid and boring?" Nathan teased.

Verity did not return the light tone but instead said with frank honesty, "No. Because it's simply not in your nature."

He smiled faintly. "I believe that was precisely the argument I used for your innocence."

Verity laughed. "Then either you and I are upstanding citizens...or we're setting ourselves up for disappointment."

Though she made the statement in jest, the more time Verity spent with Nathan, the more she worried she was doing just that: setting herself up for a devastating fall.