England's Perfect Hero (35 page)

"This hinges on Lucinda," he said loudly, noting that his interruption startled everyone into silence. "She needs to convince Geoffrey to join her at Tattersall's, where she will be joining Saint and Evie."

"And what will we be doing there?" Saint asked.

"Looking at teams—and trying to convince Geoffrey to buy a new mount."

"Why do we want him to buy a horse?" Edward wanted to know.

"We don't. We want to hear what he says about his finances." Robert gazed at Saint. "And if possible, we want to know what he plans to do for a career if Lucinda doesn't agree to marry him."

"Is he even going to think that's a possibility?" Georgiana broke in. "Luanda's fairly straightforward, and she has been—"

"I have reason to believe that Geoffrey will be nervous about her answer," Robert said calmly.

"That's simple enough." Saint brushed at an imaginary fleck of dust on his midnight-colored jacket. "But what will you be doing, Robert?"

"I'll eavesdrop until I'm convinced that we're on the correct trail, and then I'll make a visit to Geoffrey's home." He glanced at Edward. "Which is a very bad thing, and should only be condoned under the most dire of circumstances."

"What about us?" Andrew asked.

"I rather thought you might join me," Robert answered. "We won't have much time to search the house for the missing items, and I'd like to have at least one of you there to attest to the fact that I didn't plant them in the first place."

"It would be better if we had someone who wasn't a family member to witness that," Bradshaw countered.

Tristan cleared his throat. "I believe I can take care of that. I mean, what's the use of having the Duke of Wycliffe as your closest friend if you don't embroil him in some of your schemes?"

"As long as he knows the risks." No one else was going to become involved by accident. Too much of that had happened already, as far as Robert was concerned. He faced Saint again. "The three of you will have to keep Newcombe occupied long enough to let us make a search."

"How polite do we have to be about it?"

"With his access to Lucinda and General Barrett, I don't want him suspecting anything, if we can help it."

Saint nodded, though he looked a little disappointed. "And what if you don't find anything?"

"I'd better," Robert answered. "Because I'm not going to prison, and I promised not to leave England."

Dawkins scratched at the door to announce dinner, and everyone trooped into the dining room. Georgiana hung back a little, and curious, Robert followed suit.

"I have two questions for you," the viscountess said, taking his arm.

He could guess what they were, but gestured for her to continue anyway. "I'm listening."

"First, what will you do if you
do
happen to find the missing papers at Lord Geoffrey's residence?"

"I'll turn him in."

"To General Barrett?"

A slight shudder went through his frame. Hoping she hadn't noticed, he nodded. "He would seem to be the official heading the investigation."

"And he also has a reputation to think of. Everyone knows of his friendship with Geoffrey." She walked in silence for a moment. "And his dislike for you."

"It's a shared emotion," he said stiffly. "I can deal with Barrett." And to his surprise, in part he was looking forward to it. "What's your second question?"

"How do you know Lucinda didn't accept a marriage offer from Geoffrey?"

"She told me."

"She seems to confide in you a great deal."

Robert smiled. "I'm a good listener."

Georgiana gazed up at him with warm green eyes. "I have a feeling you're a great deal more than that, Robert Sylvester Carroway."

He ushered her into the dining room. "Time will tell, I suppose." A very short time, one way or the other.

Before he could make his way to his chair, a small hand tugged on his coat. As he turned, Edward gestured for him to turn back into the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Did I help?"

Robert squatted, trying not to favor his bad knee. "You provided what may turn out to be the key to this entire investigation, Runt. That's more than helping."

The boy blinked. "What did I provide?" he whispered.

"The main piece of the puzzle is whether or not General Barrett talked to Lord Geoffrey about my stay at Chateau Pagnon. You suggested that."

Edward's chest puffed out. "I'm very intuitive," he said. "But I didn't know you stayed at Chateau Pagnon. What is it?"

Slowly Robert pulled his brother into a tight hug. "I'll make you an agreement," he whispered into his youngest brother's ear. "If you keep all of this conversation tonight a secret from your friends and Mr. Trost until Friday at noon, I will tell you about Chateau Pagnon."

"I agr—" .

"Wait. I'm not finished. I will tell you about Pagnon—in seven years."

Edward pulled away, eyeing Robert doubtfully. "Seven years?"

"That's the best I can do, Runt." He stuck out his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"

After a short moment Edward sighed and shook Robert's hand. "Yes, we have an agreement."

"You're going to bed already?" General Barrett asked, one hand on his office door handle.

Lucinda looked down from the landing. "I thought I would. I'm a bit tired."

Her father nodded. "Shall I have Helena bring you up some dinner?"

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry." She started up again.

"Lucinda?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Please face the fact that Robert Carroway is the most likely candidate to have committed this crime. You need to be prepared for the worst."

She slowed, wishing she could explain the pure panic that ran through her when anyone suggested that Robert would be sent to prison—or worse. It hurt that her own father could say such things, even more because until a few weeks ago she'd been able to confide in him about anything.
Why was this so different
? Because she had a stake in the outcome? Because it was something—someone—she actually cared about? Perhaps she'd found the key. Life could be simple and amiable only as long as nothing about it felt particularly important.

Some of the general's peers had thought the job of editing his memoirs would prove to be too dreadful for someone of the female persuasion, and now she thought perhaps it
should
have bothered her. But it hadn't. None of it had, none of it affected her, until she'd learned the truth and the horror of war from Robert.

Lucinda leaned over the balcony, looking down at her father. "Why is he the most likely candidate?" she asked, making an effort to keep her voice quiet and her tone even. "Because he was tortured and survived? What if I hadn't told you about that? Who would be the most likely candidate then?"

He grimaced. "The fact is, I
do
know about it, and I thank you for informing me. It's made the investigation much easier."

"Did you ever discover who informed the rest of London?"

"Lucinda, I told you already, it doesn't matt—"

"It matters, Papa. Can you think of anyone you told who might have anything to gain from another war? Or from the money that selling those papers would earn him? Because frankly, neither of those things would benefit Robert Carroway, and I think you know that. And I think that's why you were willing to give him a little more time."

"I did that for you."

She took a deep breath, not quite willing to believe she was about to ask the question. "Did you, by any chance, mention Chateau Pagnon and Robert to Geoffrey? In one of your tales about the war, maybe?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. "You suspect
Geoffrey}"

Quickly she shook her head, and at the same time reversed course and practically flew back down the stairs. If she couldn't change his train of thought now, she'd never get any information out of him. And she needed some answers, because she was the only one who could get them.

"No, no, no. I do think that Geoffrey, at the beginning of our friendship, might have been jealous of Robert. Of my friendship with him. What better way to make him unpopular than to spread a little gossip, especially if he had it from a reliable source and knew it to be the truth?" She frowned. "If Robert did steal those papers,
he
certainly wouldn't have been the one to spread the rumors."

"Lucinda, this is ridiculous. If Robert Carroway is innocent, the sooner we take him in and have him answer some questions, the better off all of us will be."

"Not Robert," she said quietly. If Geoffrey hadn't spread the rumors, it could have been any of her father's cronies, getting as old as he was, and unable to discern between a piece of juicy gossip and something that could ruin a man's life. And then they would again have little to point to anyone but Robert. "Good night, Papa."

"Good night, Luce. And I'm certain that no matter how 'jealous' you think Geoffrey might have been, he wouldn't have told anyone. The lad knows how to keep a confidence, if anyone does."

Lucinda nearly tripped on the stairs, and made a show of adjusting her slipper to cover it. Geoffrey had known. Her father had told him, and Geoffrey had known.

Oh, she needed to tell Robert. She'd been half hoping he would be lurking in her bedchamber, waiting for her, but now her heart beat so fast she feared she might faint. It didn't mean Geoffrey had done the other things Robert accused him of, but it did mean he was less innocent than she'd believed.

Nothing would happen tonight, she told herself. First thing in the morning, she would get word to Robert. Apparently her neutral stance had ended. She'd just taken sides.