Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

N either Tremblay nor Nott had been at their lodgings or anywhere else Lazarus and Shefford had looked last night. They’d finally gone home in defeat hours after midnight.

Lazarus intended to try again this morning, but Tremblay was still not at home. Nor was there anyone Lazarus could ask who could perhaps indicate where he was or when he would return.

Frustrated beyond words, Lazarus made his way to Nott’s lodging, hoping for a better result.

The man lived in a small set of rooms above an apothecary. Lazarus climbed the two flights of stairs to the second floor and knocked loudly on the door. “Mr. Nott?”

Lazarus was fairly certain he heard movement inside and was prepared to break down the door if the man didn’t answer. Thankfully, he did.

Exhaling with relief, Lazarus tried to set aside his irritation. He would get more out of the man if he could be charming or at least pleasant. He summoned a smile. “Good morning. Pardon my interruption at this early hour.” Glancing over the short, slight man’s head, Lazarus saw a valise in the middle of the floor. Was he going somewhere? He met Nott’s gaze and noted the apprehension in their blue depths. “I am Lord Somerton.”

“Good morning, my lord.” He twitched his shoulders nervously. “It is rather early, and I’ve a coach to catch.”

“I see. And where are you going? To visit a relative, perhaps?” He tried to make it seem like he was making idle conversation, but he wanted to know why the man was leaving now amidst all that was happening. Had Jo’s visit yesterday provoked him to want to leave London?

“Ah, yes. A relative.”

“How splendid. Well, I shan’t take too much of your time then, but I do require a few moments.” Lazarus easily pushed his way inside past the man. The lodgings were neat, if shabby, with a spartan collection of furniture.

Lazarus turned as Nott closed his door. He stood to the side of it, his brow deeply creased and his mouth turned down.

“Since you are in a rush, let me get straight to the point,” Lazarus said almost cheerfully. “I understand you are a witness to a love affair between your employer, Mr. Tremblay, and one of his students, Miss Melissa Worsley.” Lazarus paused as the man paled slightly. “Yes, just so,” he continued with a faint smile. “I believe you are aware that Miss Worsley is expecting a child. Unfortunately, she has decided to embroil me in this tawdry situation and claim, falsely, that I am the child’s father. As you can surmise, I am not interested in being trapped into marrying Miss Worsley.”

“No, I don’t imagine you are,” Nott said, his gaze wary. “What is it you want from me?”

“I am trying to prevent my name being dragged into this scandal, and I do hope you can help me by accompanying me to call on Mr. Worsley and perhaps Lord Haverstock to explain the affair you witnessed.” Lazarus thought that was the best, and perhaps only, course of action at this point. Miss Worsley and her mother would tell those gentlemen today that Lazarus had fathered the child, and if Nott could share his knowledge to the contrary, Lazarus was certain Haverstock and Worsley wouldn’t force the marriage.

But Nott went gray. He flicked a glance at his valise, then clasped his hands tightly before him. “I really do need to leave. I shall miss my coach. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Lazarus’s answering smile was practically malevolent this time. “And I am afraid you must.” He recalled what Jo had said about the man being vexed about the amount of money he’d been paid to remain silent as compared to his employer. Now, he was suddenly leaving town. “Did Mrs. Worsley pay you to leave?”

Nott’s eyes rounded. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t certain, but I can deduce that you seem keen to leave. Since I know you were visited yesterday about this matter, I presumed the two events could be related. Did you go to them after my friend spoke with you?”

The smaller man’s shoulders sank. “Yes.” He straightened, as if he’d found his backbone. “Since they’d already paid Tremblay to be quiet and not me, I decided I would ask for money too. You can’t expect me to continue working for that libertine. I’d already decided I needed to find other employment. I’m going to try my luck in Bath.”

“How good of you to finally grow a conscience.” Lazarus couldn’t help thinking of how this man ignored Tremblay’s treatment of his students. “How long have you witnessed his grotesque behavior and said nothing?”

Nott’s jaw worked, though he didn’t have much of a chin to move about.

“I don’t know what the Worsleys paid for your silence, but I will pay you more if you will speak. Do yourself a favor and don’t inflate the price. I will be asking Mrs. Worsley what she paid you.” He looked down his nose at Nott. “Furthermore, I’m sure a letter of reference from a viscount will go a long way to ensure your future security in Bath.”

He nodded furiously. “Indeed, it would, my lord. I would be most grateful. She paid me twenty pounds, but with your letter, I would be happy to accept ten from you.”

“How magnanimous.” Lazarus withdrew the notes from his pocket. “You may have the money now, and you’ll receive the letter after you deliver your testimony to Haverstock and Worsley. Shall we go?”

“Now?” Nott fidgeted with the buttons on his coat.

“Is there a better time? Besides, as you said, you need to catch your coach.”

“I’ll have to take a later one,” he replied sullenly.

“But you shall be the richer for it.” Lazarus started for the door. “Come, Mr. Nott.”

As they left the man’s mean lodgings, Lazarus felt a soothing calm. This would all be over very soon. Then he could call on Mr. Price and set his future in motion.

A ll morning, Gwen felt as though she were walking across a thinly iced pond waiting for it to break. Or in this case, waiting for something to happen. Either Lazarus would call and their betrothal could be made official, or Markwith would arrive eager to negotiate a marriage that wasn’t going to happen.

She’d tried to speak with her father last night, to tell him she couldn’t wed Markwith, but he was still not home when Gwen had gone to bed. Her efforts to talk to her mother instead had also been foiled, as she’d retired early with a headache. Her maid had confided that the stress of the Eberforce rumor was taking a toll.

Gwen felt terribly about that. If not for her secretly meeting Lazarus at Tamsin’s, Eberforce would not have spread the gossip.

Before Gwen thought it would be reasonable to disturb her father, which was any time before noon, she was summoned to his study. She dearly hoped she wouldn’t arrive to find Markwith already there.

Worrying her hands as she walked downstairs, she rehearsed what she would say to Markwith if he was here. He was a very nice gentleman, and she hated to disappoint or hurt him. She reminded herself she’d never done anything to indicate she would marry him. Up to now, she’d enjoyed dancing with him and taking a promenade. That did not equate to an entire courtship that would result in marriage.

Particularly since she didn’t love him.

Her love for Lazarus, however, was so strong and keen that she felt like skipping, which would probably be disastrous. Or singing, which would definitely be painful for those around her.

Instead, she walked sedately to her father’s study and peered around the partially open door. “You wanted to see me, Papa?” A quick scan of the interior revealed him to be alone. Relief swept through her.

“Come in, Gwen,” he said from where he sat at his desk. He stood as she entered. “Markwith has just sent a note. He intends to call this afternoon.” Papa smiled. “He was quite enthused about the marriage.”

Gwen sagged. “I had hoped to speak with you last night, but you didn’t return home until after I retired. If I’d known you were about this morning, I would have sought you out.” In hindsight, she should have told his valet that she wanted to see her father first thing today.

He frowned. “Is aught amiss?”

“I know you want me to marry Mr. Markwith, and he is very pleasant.” She dropped her hands to her sides and straightened her spine, lifting her shoulders as if she could become larger. She could be a bear or a stag, something of impressive stature. “However, I am in love with someone else. Indeed, this gentleman has already asked if I will marry him, and I said yes.”

“What the devil is this about?” Papa rarely became angry, but he looked to be that now. His face had darkened, and his eyes narrowed. “You said nothing of another gentleman yesterday when we informed you that you would wed Markwith.”

“His proposal happened since then,” Gwen replied. Seeing her father open his mouth, she was certain he would ask when. “I encountered him at Henlow House yesterday, by chance.”

Her father was nearly scowling. “And who is this gentleman?”

“Lord Somerton.”

As Papa’s eyes tried to bulge from his face, Gwen heard her mother speak from behind her.

“Somerton? The man you are alleged to be having an affair with?” Mama’s voice sounded raspy.

“Look what you’ve done to your poor mother.” Papa raced to Mama’s side and helped her into a chair. Indeed, Gwen’s mother did look pale.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Gwen said, rushing to her and taking her hand, which was rather cool.

“This will be a terrible scandal,” her mother said. “I spent so much time at the ball the other night telling people that you had not been meeting Somerton at Lord Droxford’s, that it was merely coincidence.”

Gwen’s father’s gaze landed on her as his lips pursed heavily. “And we’re to believe you just happened upon him at Henlow House? Have you no shame?”

Wincing beneath the heat of her father’s words, Gwen chewed the inside of her cheek. This was worse than she’d expected.

“I have no shame for choosing Somerton. I love him, and he loves me.”

Her mother gaped at her. “How can you be so naive? Men like Somerton don’t make good husbands.”

Gwen released her hand. “You seemed enthusiastic about his interest when he first began paying me attention.”

“As a suitor, yes,” her mother said, appearing pained. “But not to marry. Markwith is a far better choice. You must reconsider, my dear. He is everything we hoped for.”

“Except I don’t love him,” Gwen replied.

“Not yet, but you may in time,” Papa said gruffly. “You would be foolish to choose Somerton over him—if he really plans to marry you. The man hasn’t even bothered to pay me a call.” Papa sniffed with disdain. “We only care about your happiness.”

How it stung that they assumed Lazarus to be disingenuous, but they only knew of his reputation, not the man he truly was. “I know you both think I’m hopeless. You didn’t even want to give me a Season, but I finally wore you down. Then it was nearly a disaster because I am awkward and clumsy. But do you know who turned my Season around? Lord Somerton. He paid me public attention, which prompted other gentlemen to consider me, and he met with me at his cousin’s house to advise me on how best to attract a husband. Without his help, I would not have even attracted Markwith’s notice. Because of him, I was queen of the Phoenix Club ball. Weren’t you proud of me that night, Mama?”

“You were meeting with him?” her mother whispered. Was that all she’d heard?

“Yes, but not to have an affair. We did fall in love, but that was not why we started our association. Indeed, we realized our feelings after we’d already agreed to stop meeting. Somerton was adamant I didn’t need him anymore. He worried his further attention and help could be detrimental to my reputation if we persisted.” She couldn’t reveal the truth of their meetings—that was Lazarus’s secret, not hers.

“At least he knew that much,” her father muttered. “I can’t support this marriage, Gwen. He is not a suitable husband.”

Gwen’s mother looked to her beseechingly. “You must know that he will make you unhappy. He may say he loves you, but I doubt he will be faithful. He will break your heart, my dearest girl.”

“No, he won’t. I don’t know how to explain to you that he loves me and could not bear me wedding someone else.”

“Some men want what they can’t have,” her father said darkly. “Trust us, Gwen. You must choose Markwith.”

Again, she stood as tall as she could and tried to become an intimidating creature. “I can’t do that. I’ve already chosen Somerton. I am of age, and he is the man I will wed. I am deeply sorry you do not approve and hope you will change your mind.” Gwen knew in that moment that she wasn’t going to let anyone come between her and Lazarus—not her parents and certainly not Miss Worsley’s lies. “Furthermore, you will need to tell Markwith you were mistaken about where my feelings lie. I never promised him anything, so the apology must come from you.”

Her father’s face had returned to his regular color, but now it reddened again. He took a deep breath, and Gwen decided she should go before things deteriorated further.

“Where are you going?” he snapped as she reached the door.

“I’m leaving before someone says something they wish they hadn’t. I implore you both to consider me and my feelings. I have found a wonderful man whom I love and who loves me in return. I will be a viscountess, but more importantly, I will be cherished and adored. Isn’t that what you want most for me?”

They both stared at her, their mouths clamped shut. Gwen turned and left before she started to cry. She had no time for tears or self-pity. Besides, there was no reason to pity herself, not when she was on the verge of true happiness with the man she loved.

Sniffing, she hurried to fetch her things so she could call on Miss Worsley. It was time for the young woman to abandon her deceitful scheme to snare Lazarus and let true love win out.