England's Perfect Hero (34 page)

Robert was halfway inside the front door when the messenger from Barrett House arrived. He took the missive himself, which didn't please Dawkins overly much, but as he saw the addressee and the handwriting, he didn't care whether he'd offended the butler or not.

If Lucinda had written to him and sent one of her father's footmen, then the general knew about the correspondence. His heart pounded. What else did her father know? If the general had found out about him and Lucinda…

Her handwriting, though, was clear and neat, with small flourishes here and there—just like her. Robert smiled a little as he opened the note.
Robert, my father knows about the log sheets
, he read silently, his grin fading.
He has convinced himself that you are to blame for both thefts, and insists that you meet him at the Horse Guards for questioning
.

"Uh-oh," Bradshaw said, coming down the stairs. "You don't look happy."

"Quiet, I'm reading," Robert returned, otherwise ignoring him.
I have asked, and he has granted, that you be given until noon on Friday to do what it is you need to accomplish. At that time, if you are still in London he will send soldiers to escort you, and I'm to inform you that you will be watched until then
.

"Who's that from?"

"Lucinda."

Bradshaw turned on his heel and vanished into the drawing room. When he emerged a moment later, Tristan was right behind him. "Bit, what—"

"Just a damned minute," Robert retorted. "At least let me finish reading it." He lowered his head again.
Please be careful, Robert. And know that until four weeks ago, I don't think Geoffrey had ever been to the Horse Guards. Yours, Lucinda
.

He handed it over to his brothers, who immediately began a loud argument over whether General Barrett had lost his mind or not. Robert, though, found that something else occupied his thoughts at the moment—the way Lucinda had signed the letter.
Yours
meant his—"Mine." Did it signify something, or was she being polite?

"Why does she mention Lord Geoffrey and the Horse Guards?" Andrew wanted to know, snatching the letter for himself when Tristan began waving it in the air.

"She's giving us a clue," Robert returned.

"A clue about what?" Edward asked, as he too, joined the fracas, his tutor in tow.

"I thought she wasn't going to help you," Tristan said, eyeing Robert.

"Who?" the Runt demanded.

Robert shrugged. "Something changed her mind." And obviously, he needed to find out a few more things about Lord Geoffrey Newcombe. Things other than the fact that Newcombe wanted to marry Lucinda and become a major with his own command in India.

"He's only giving you a damned day and a half," Shaw growled. "Does he really expect you to clear yourself by then?"

"I think he expects me to leave England by then," Robert returned slowly. That made more sense than anything. Whatever Lucinda had used to convince the general to give him more time, it had also convinced Barrett that Robert needed to get away from his daughter.

"You can't leave England!" Edward protested, then stomped both feet. "Someone tell me what the devil is going on here!"

"Edward!" half the adults yelled at him at the same time.

"I don't care! Devil, devil, devil! You tell me what's going on!"

Robert snagged his arm, crouching down in front of him while Bradshaw got rid of Mr. Trost. "I'm in a little trouble," he said quietly, damning himself for not keeping this away from Edward. "We're just trying to straighten some things out before it gets any worse."

"Is this the same thing you were worried about before?" the Runt asked.

"Yes. But it's almost over with."

"I want to help."

Smiling, Robert tousled the boy's dark hair. "You are helping, by being my brother."

Abruptly Edward threw his arms around Robert's shoulders. "Promise you're not leaving," he said.

Every moment he seemed to realize more of what he had to lose if he let this go—or if he ran. "I promise," he said, hugging the Runt back.

"So what are we going to do, then?" Andrew queried, stepping sideways as Georgiana joined them, reading the missive in turn.

"First, I think we need to get out of the hallway." Robert motioned the group toward the drawing room.

"Lucinda must be very upset by this," Georgiana said, leading the way into the large room and taking a seat on the couch. She perused the letter again, glancing up at Robert as she finished.

"I'm very upset by it, too," he returned, sitting close to the door. As soon as everyone was inside and the door closed he sat forward. "All right," he said slowly, praying none of them would pay for his poor reputation, "I'm asking for your help."

"Tell us what you need." Tristan entwined his fingers with Georgiana's.

Robert took a breath. "First of all, I need someone who can converse with Geoffrey without making him suspicious."

"That lets all of us out," Shaw said. "What about St. Aubyn?"

"He might do." Robert furrowed his brow, then turned his gaze to Tristan. "Tattersall's auction is tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's fairly wide open, there, though."

"That's what I want. Somewhere I can watch him without being seen."

"Why don't Dare or I watch him, and you stay here, out of trouble?" Bradshaw countered, scowling.

"Because I've done enough sitting about to last me a lifetime," he returned. "Saint by himself might rouse Newcombe's suspicions."

"Evie will go," Georgiana said, with a small smile. "She's already volunteered any assistance necessary."

"That should help. It would be even better if…" Robert trailed off. Lucinda had given him a hint, but she'd also made her feelings about getting involved in this quite clear. "Nothing. This should do."

"I'll ask Evie to send Lucinda a note," Georgie offered, demonstrating her usual keen intuition. "In fact, we should have Evie and Saint here now, while we're planning."

She rose with help from Tristan, and hurried into the office. A moment later a footman left, and Robert could hear Georgie informing Dawkins that they would have two more for dinner.

"I don't understand," Edward said, sitting on the floor in front of Bradshaw and looking far too serious for his age. "Why are we spying on Lord Geoffrey?"

Tristan stirred. "Runt, why don't you go dress for dinner?"

"Because this is my family, too, and I want to know what's going on. I won't get in the way."

"Runt, there are things you should know, but not until you're a little older," Robert said slowly.

Large gray eyes filled with tears. "But I can help," he whispered, as if he couldn't trust his normal speaking voice.

Well, that was that. There was no way in hell that Robert was going to let his youngest brother and greatest champion cry. He nodded. "All right. We want to spy on Lord Geoffrey because we think he stole something and managed to blame me for it."

"How did he blame you?"

Andrew blew out his breath. "This isn't helping."

"Hush," Georgiana warned. "It's a valid question. How did he manage to time things so well?"

Robert cleared his throat. Some of this definitely would have been easier without Edward being present. "I told one person about my… stay at Chateau Pagnon."

"Lucinda?"

Edward bounced onto his knees. "She could've told Lord Geoffrey! They're getting married, aren't they?"

"No," Robert snapped, before anyone else could answer. He swallowed. "I mean, she only told one person—the general."

"Then General Barrett told him," Edward insisted.

The room went quiet. Part of Robert had wanted to suspect the general of leaking the rumor from the beginning, but little liking as he had for the man, he was, after all, Lucinda's father. "Barrett told the senior command at the Horse Guards. It could have been any one of them."

Andrew was shaking his head. "But if we're thinking Lord Geoffrey stole those papers, he would be the one to see your… news as something he could use to his advantage."

"Would the senior officers spread that kind of news around without investigating it first?" Tristan put in.

"Probably not." Bradshaw sat forward, sipping from the snifter of brandy he'd poured for himself. "If they're anything like the Admiralty, they hate sharing a juicy tidbit until they've squeezed all the fun and possibilities for self-promotion out of it."

Damn
. It did make sense. "Considering that General Barrett's chomping at the bit to get Lucinda married to Geoffrey, he might have felt comfortable confiding in him. It's unfortunate that we can't confirm that with Barrett, though."

"Maybe we can't," Georgiana said, "but Lucinda can."

"No. I won't ask her to spy on her own father."

"Bit, be reason—"

"If she'll help us get Geoffrey to Tattersall's, that'll be more than enough." He didn't like it. She'd made it clear that she didn't feel comfortable suspecting Geoffrey; asking her to question her father had to be even worse. At the same time—and he felt like an idiot even admitting it to himself—he missed her already. Anything that brought her into close proximity held a definite appeal for him.

"I'm not convinced she should be included at all. She's the daughter of the man trying to put Bit in prison," Andrew pointed out.

The argument over whether to include Lucinda in their plot went on for several minutes. Robert let them talk; he needed a few moments to think things through, anyway. Lucinda was right about one thing: he
wanted
to suspect Geoffrey. He wanted to hate the pretty, charming, popular bastard for thinking that being grazed in the arm and telling stories of other soldiers' foibles and misfortunes made him a hero. And he wanted to hate him because everyone—even Lucinda—considered him a better candidate for a husband than himself. He wanted to prove them wrong.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Tristan said, annoyance edging his voice. "General Barrett's given Bit a day and a half." His frown deepened. "I don't like ultimatums, but much as I hate to admit it, with the bloody rumors going about, Barrett can do whatever he damn well pleases."

"Then we find Lord Geoffrey and beat a confession out of him," Shaw suggested, his tone dark and deadly serious.

"That won't help." Georgiana looked as serious as Robert had ever seen her. "We need evidence, and we need a motive. At the moment we don't have either." As the Viscountess Dare and the cousin of the Duke of Wycliffe, she obviously wasn't used to being in a powerless position.

Robert, on the other hand, had spent seven months relying on nothing but luck and the whim of English-hating soldiers. "We'll get what we need," he said, "because I don't want to leave England. It took me four years to get back."

The front door opened. "Is everyone well?" Lady St. Aubyn asked, hurrying into the drawing room before Dawkins could announce her. Saint was on her heels, and they were both dressed for an evening out.

Wordlessly Georgiana handed over Lucinda's note. The marquis read it over his wife's shoulder, his gaze sliding to Robert as he finished. "I would assume we're here because you require our assistance?" he commented, running a hand along Evie's arm. "Or further assistance, rather, since apparently my wife has become a burglar now."

"It was for a good cause," Georgiana protested.

"I didn't say I minded," Saint returned, a slight smile touching his mouth. "She told me all about it. I particularly enjoyed hearing where she hid the evidence."

Evelyn blushed. "Saint, that's quite enough. This is serious."

He nodded, guiding her to an empty chair and then sitting on the arm beside her. "Are we arranging for you to leave the country, Robert, or are we going after…" He eyed the letter again. "… Lord Geoffrey Newcombe?"

"Lord Geoffrey," Edward answered.

Everyone began chiming in with their ideas and theories. For a moment Robert listened. Seeing so much activity and passion erupting on his behalf was supremely interesting. From the flow of the argument, Tristan was trying to take command of their small band of troops, and Saint was challenging him. What they needed to realize, however, was that this game—and its outcome—was his responsibility.