By the time he faced Lord Keyes and Mr. Fisher, his nerves had settled, but his headache remained. He was surprised when another knock on the door heralded the arrival of Diana and the Countess of Westbrook. But he supposed if he was about to be kicked out on his arse, it was fitting that the entire private staff should witness his humiliation.
He would’ve preferred to stand for the
coup de grace,
but his current frail state required a chair.
Lord Keyes took center stage by sitting on the front of his desk while the others grouped themselves around him.
“I understand that you saw your brother last night.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Did you invite him here?”
“On the contrary, I made it very clear to him that he was not to visit me at the Sinners.”
“Then why do you think he turned up?”
Alistair shrugged. “He was probably hoping to steal money from me to pay his current debts.”
“You didn’t offer him money?”
“No, my lord. I have none left to give, and I made that very clear to him.” He straightened his spine. “I can only apologize unreservedly for my brother’s appalling behavior and for inflicting him on you all. I also wish to tender my resignation.”
“Why the devil would you want to do that?” Lord Keyes asked.
“Because I should never have taken the job in the first place.” He scanned all their faces. “I knew my brother’s reputation. I should’ve realized that despite my best efforts to remain apart from him, most people believe that blood wins out and that I would be willing to do anything for my family.”
“But we’re not most people, Maclean.” Lord Keyes glanced across at Adam Fisher, who nodded. “We don’t accept your resignation.”
“I don’t understand.” Alistair frowned. “You obviously believe that I aided my brother and encouraged him to come here. And, in truth, you might be right. I have helped him far too readily in the past, but I have resolved not to do so anymore.”
“You’re not the only one.” Adam Fisher sighed. “I could say exactly the same thing, and I don’t have the excuse of a blood relationship. I’ve just been a fool. Harry didn’t come to steal from you last night, Alistair, he came to steal from me.”
“We found you in Mr. Fisher’s office. Do you remember that?” Diana asked.
“It was dark and I wasn’t sure exactly whose office I was in. I suppose I assumed it was mine because that’s where I expected Harry to be.”
“Harry stole a key from my desk a few months ago. I’d all but forgotten about it.” Adam grimaced. “It proved to be a very costly mistake.”
Coldness settled over Alistair’s gut. “What did he steal?”
“Gold and some rather incriminating documents about some of the political leanings of the younger aristocracy.” Adam’s mouth twisted. “There were several items he could have chosen, but he seemed to know what he wanted.”
“He’s still my brother, sir. I am to blame for all of this.”
Adam’s smile was sweet. “No, you are not, Mr. Maclean. We can’t choose our family and there are bad apples in all of them. I
chose
to consort with your brother. I am the fool here.”
“You should not blame yourself. He is very hard to resist when he wants something.”
Lord Keyes cleared his throat. “The question is, what will Harry do with these documents? Will he sell them to the highest bidder, or were they stolen for a particular buyer?”
“I would assume he knows who wants them,” Alistair said. “Do you have copies of the documents, Mr. Fisher?”
“Yes, I do. They are in the bank vault.”
“Then perhaps we should retrieve the copies and work out exactly who would want that information destroyed.”
“Agreed.” Lord Keyes stood up. “And in the meantime, if you can think of any place where your brother might hide out, please let me know.”
“I will, my lord. I swear I will do everything in my power to repay your trust in me.”
“I’m delighted to hear it.” Keyes hesitated. “However, I must warn you that Harry will face serious charges if he is caught. I am not prepared to protect him from the consequences of his actions.”
“I understand that, sir.”
“Do you?” Keyes sighed. “In my own experience, learning of the betrayal by a family member is a lot more complicated than you might imagine. It is hard to cast off the shackles of loyalty.”
“You managed to save your father, my lord.”
“Only because he is already dying. I’m still not sure how I would’ve felt if I’d had to go to the king, denounce him, and watch him be tried by his peers.”
“All I can say, my lord, is that I will do my best and that I will not betray my country or the Sinners.”
“And that”—Lord Keyes smiled—“is as much as I can expect from any honest man.” He clapped Alistair on the shoulder. “Now I must get back to my wife or she will be moving furniture or something else likely to be injurious to her current condition.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Alistair sat down again and allowed the babble of conversation to carry on around him. They’d trusted him enough to let him keep his job. He was finding it difficult to comprehend his good fortune.
“Mr. Maclean, are you feeling quite well?”
He roused himself to answer the countess. “I have a slight headache, my lady.”
“Then you should take yourself back to bed, and not worry about another thing for the rest of the day.”
“I believe Mr. Fisher might have need of me.”
“Not yet, Alistair. Go back to bed. If I need you, I know where you are,” Adam said.
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes. I need to get the duplicate documents from the bank and read through them. When I’ve done that, I’ll have a better idea of what we need to do next.”
“If you are quite certain, Mr. Fisher.” With some care, Alistair rose to his feet. “I’ll return to bed.”
“Let me help you, Mr. Maclean.” Diana tucked his hand into the crook of her arm. “I’ll make sure he’s comfortable and that someone sits with him, Mr. Fisher.”
“Thank you.”
Alistair tottered out of the room and barely managed the stairs with her help as his head pounded as loudly as a cannon bombardment. She put him to bed, helping him out of most of his clothes and giving him some of the medicine the apothecary had left by his bedside. By then, he could barely see and was more than grateful to lie down and have her bathe his forehead with warm water scented with her perfume.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“What?” she murmured.
“That they would allow me to keep my job. I thought . . . I
assumed
that I would be thrown out without a character. Harry’s always done this to me. He uses people. I’ve tried so hard to make up for his behavior, to excuse the inexcusable, and in return all I’ve done is ally myself with him and lose my friends.”
“But not this time. Lord Keyes and Mr. Fisher are not as easily swayed as most men.”
“So it seems. I still can’t believe my good fortune.”
“You deserve it, Mr. Maclean. You are one of the most honest and hardworking men I’ve ever met.”
He sighed and kissed her fingers. “And what of you? If our employers are exceptional men, why can’t you tell them why you are here and what you want from them?”
“I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“Because my issue is not with them, but with the Earl of Westbrook.” She drew an unsteady breath. “I took this job because I wanted to look for evidence against him.”
“Evidence of what?”
“That he is my father.”
Alistair opened his eyes and stared up at her. “Your
father?
You do share similar coloring, although his skin is much darker than yours.”
“His mother was from India.”
“So I understand. Did he ever acknowledge you as his child?”
“No.”
“Then what brought you to believe that he
is
your father?”
She shrugged. “Family stories, and items that were left with me when I was boarded at the charity school.”
“But you felt you needed more evidence and came here to find it.”
“Yes. After my husband died I had the opportunity to look about me once more, and I decided to see if I could prove the rumors were true.”
“Does Nicodemus know about this?”
“He does, but he won’t help me anymore. He is loyal to the Sinners and to his employers.” She smiled at him. “He is rather like you, actually.”
“Which is why you’ve been searching the Sinners records on the top floor.”
She eased back from him. “You know about that?”
“Maddon was concerned.” He sought her hand again. “My lady, even if the earl is your father, what can he do for you now?”
“He can acknowledge me. He can apologize for abandoning my mother in Cornwall without a second thought.”
“I’ve met the earl on many occasions, Diana. I can’t imagine him behaving like that.”
She pulled her hand free. “This was a long time ago. People change. I understand that the countess has been a stabilizing influence on his wildness.”
“So when he returns in a few days, you intend to confront him with little or no evidence and demand that he recognizes you as his offspring.” He let out his breath. “You don’t stand a chance.”
“I have new evidence.”
“That is conclusive proof of his guilt?”
“I believe so.”
“But what of the countess?”
“What of her?”
“She will be hurt by this.”
“She knew her husband was a rake before she married him. She must have assumed that he’d sown his wild oats.”
“But knowing that, and seeing the living proof of it is bound to be upsetting for her.”
“So I am supposed to remain silent so that the Countess of Westbrook isn’t hurt?”
He sighed. “No, that isn’t fair on you either, is it? I can’t think of a way to make it better for both of you. Would you like me to speak to her before you speak to the earl?”
She framed his face in her hands. “No. I don’t wish you to be involved in this at all.”
“But—”
“You are already embroiled in one scandal with your brother. Do you seriously think you can stand to be involved in another? I am perfectly capable of dealing with this situation by myself. In fact, if you interfere in any way, I shall consider it a breach of promise.”
“I haven’t promised anything.”
“But you will.” She held his gaze.
“Perhaps we might compromise. You show me the new evidence against the earl, and I’ll decide whether I think you have a just claim.”
“It has nothing to do with you deciding anything.”
“I understand that. What I meant was if I agree that you should proceed, I will keep quiet about it.”
“And let me deal with the earl in my own way?”
“Yes.”
She cocked her head to one side to study him, a lock of black hair falling over her face. “Why?”
“Because you have a right to know who your father is, and as much as I value the Sinners, I think that trumps all.”
“Thank you.” She leaned over him and kissed his nose and then his mouth. “I appreciate this more than I can say.”
He closed his eyes against the emotion welling in her beautiful gaze. He didn’t want her gratitude. He didn’t deserve it.
She kissed him once more and then slid off the bed and left him to sleep. She might not think she owned him outside the bedroom, but he was beginning to think she was wrong. Trusting her to sort out the complicated matter of her parentage without damaging the Sinners was a big concession on his part. But it also meant he was absolved from having to fight for her . . .
He was tired of fighting.
Perhaps he was more of a coward than he realized after all.
16
T
here was something niggling in the back of Alistair’s mind . . . something to do with the night of the robbery, but he couldn’t quite work out what it was. He’d slept most of the day away and awakened feeling much better. He was currently in Adam Fisher’s study as his employer went through the list of items he believed Harry had stolen from his desk.
“What I don’t understand, Alistair, is why he picked that particular list of names and pieces of correspondence. None of the men mentioned are major figures of government, prominent courtiers, or aristocrats. It’s more a list of minor nobility and younger sons who have flirted with the idea of political rebellion or expressed more radical opinions that their families usually espouse. The kind of fools who also chose to express such opinions in writing.”
“Could such a list lead to convictions by the authorities?”
Adam glanced down at the copy he’d retrieved from the bank. “Not really. It’s more a list we keep for ourselves than to share with anyone else. In certain circumstances, such information
might
prove useful as an incentive for a family to act or vote in a certain manner.”
“Governmental blackmail, you mean?”
Adam shrugged. “I suppose you might call it that. It is very rarely needed and only when a situation is truly dire.” He hesitated. “I did wonder if perhaps your brother was involved with the Jacobite cause. There are a few Scottish names on the list.”
A familiar pang of old anger shot through Alistair’s heart. “I doubt it. The only thing Harry is loyal to is himself.”
“I tend to agree with you.”
“He’s more likely to blackmail those poor sods. Perhaps that’s all this is. An attempt to safeguard his own future.” Alistair looked up. “He could extort small sums of money from these minor peers for years, couldn’t he, and live quite comfortably?”
“That’s true. But how would he have known the list was here?”
“You did say he had a habit of looking through your drawers and taking what appealed to him,” Alistair said gently. “He might have read the list previously and only recently decided to take it.”
Adam sat down. “I’d be inclined to agree with you, but I only compiled this particular list a month ago, and your brother has never seen it.”
“Unless he is working with someone within the Sinners, or has a way in to the house we don’t know about,” Alistair said.
“Or we go back to our original theory that he stole the list for someone else who did know their name was on it.”
“Someone on that list? How many of those men are members of the Sinners?”
“None,” Adam said flatly. “They are not the kind of men who generally choose to serve their king and country and thus have no right of entry here.”
“Then should we contact them all and warn them that Harry might be calling, or do we investigate them as potential candidates for having acquired the list?”
“Neither. For the next few days, we simply have them watched.”
“We have the men to do this?”
“We’ll find them. There are less than a dozen names on the list. If nothing happens in the next week, we’ll reconsider our options.” Adam nodded. “Thank you, Alistair. You’ve been most helpful.”
“If you wish, I’ll summarize what we have just discussed and send copies to the countess and Lord Keyes.”
“That would be much appreciated.”
Alistair rose and went toward the door, pausing as he noticed a slight red patch on the carpet. Was that where he’d fallen after being hit? He suddenly remembered the blond man looking down at him, the soft, cultured voice . . .
“Mr. Fisher?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know who found me here on the night of the robbery?”
“I assumed it was Lady Theale. She was looking for you at the time.”
Another image of the blond man resurfaced and Alistair went still.
“Are you all right, Alistair?”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and left the office. Instead of returning to his own, he made his way down to the kitchens to find Maddon.
“Maddon, do we have a blond member of staff here at the Sinners?”
“Male or female, sir?”
“Either.”
“No, we do not, sir.”
“The night of the entertainment, did you notice any blond guests?”
Maddon scratched his head. “That would be hard to say, sir, without looking at the guest list.”
“Did we ever find that?”
“It was discovered in the entrance hall, sir, concealed under a vase of flowers. We’re not sure if that was done deliberately, or if it was just overlooked.”
“Do you still have it?”
Maddon rose to his feet. “I do, sir. It’s in my rooms. Please follow me.”
Alistair accompanied Maddon to the butler’s suite at the rear of the basement. He waited impatiently as the butler unhurriedly put on his spectacles and sorted through a book filled with loose sheets.
“I keep all the guest lists, sir. Lady Westbrook asked me to.”
“I’m glad she did.”
“Ah, here it is. See?” He pointed at the sheet. “Dated and everything, Usually I tick off the names of the guests as they arrive, so there are no surprises. This time I had to start a separate list and write them all out again after we found the original.”
“Do you have that too?”
Maddon produced another list. “Here you are, sir.”
“Thank you.” Alistair scanned both lists but saw no mention of Sir Ronald Fairbanks on either of them. “Now, can you remember whether any of the members on this list were blond?”
Maddon took his time reading the names. “Lord Perry is quite fair and the Honorable Angus McDawd, but that’s all.”
“And how old are those gentleman?”
“Lord Perry is in his late forties, and Angus McDawd is around your age, sir.”
Alistair gathered up the lists. “You have been most helpful. May I borrow these?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I’ll be over at the pleasure house if anyone needs me.”
“Are you sure you’re well enough to go out, Mr. Maclean? You still look a bit pale.”
“I’ll be fine. I could do with some fresh air.”
Alistair put on his hat and coat and walked briskly around to the pleasure house. It felt good to be outside even in the mist, which reminded him of home. He asked to see Christian and was taken through to the offices.
“You again, Mr. Maclean?” Christian stood up and waved Alistair to a seat. “I heard you were in the wars this week, and that your brother has returned.”
“Who told you that?”
“I have my sources. What can I do for you?”
“The staff who attended the Roman orgy at the Sinners, were any of them blond?”
“I’m not sure. Is it important?”
“It might be. And this is a government matter, not merely a personal one, so I would appreciate your help.”
“Then I’ll check my records.” Christian moved two books off a stack and pulled another one out. “Let me see . . .”
He looked up. “Three were fair. They were all in costume as slaves. Do you wish to see them? If you are patient you can observe all of them during the shift change.”
“I would appreciate that.” Alistair frowned. “Although I’m fairly certain that the person I saw wasn’t dressed in costume . . .”
“Perhaps it was a member of your club?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t someone I recognized.” But that wasn’t quite true either, was it? Something about the blond man’s voice had seemed familiar.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I have an excellent memory for faces. I suppose one of your staff could’ve changed out of costume and come across me when they were leaving,” Alistair mused.
“Where exactly were you?”
“Lying on the floor of an office bleeding.”
Christian winced. “I doubt anyone from here would’ve been wandering around your offices, Mr. Maclean, clothed or unclothed. If they were, I will not be employing them anymore.”
The clock on the mantelpiece struck four times and Christian stood. “Come down to the kitchens with me.”
Alistair went down into the familiar kitchen of the pleasure house and took up a discreet position under the stairs where he could observe the staff leaving for the day and those arriving to receive their orders for the night. It wasn’t difficult for him to spot the men Christian had mentioned. All three of them looked vaguely familiar, but none of them were the face of the man who had leaned over him as he lay on the floor.
With a sigh he glanced around the kitchen to tell Christian that he didn’t need to speak to anyone. The back door swung open and another blond entered through the scullery. Something about the angle of the head alerted Alistair. He pushed off from the wall and followed the blond up the servants’ staircase at a discreet distance. After three flights of stairs, he was starting to puff and his headache had returned.
He paused on a narrow landing to catch his breath, glancing to his left and then his right at the angled passageway under the roof of the house. He guessed he was in the staff quarters. There was a strip of old carpet down the center of the wooden floor, but the paintwork was fresh and the ceiling free of leaks.
With another look to the left, he took a wary step forward and flinched as the door beside him opened and a pistol was rammed against the back of his head.
“Mr. Maclean.”
“Not again.”
He was surprised when his captor chuckled. “You should be grateful that I didn’t hit you with the barrel of my pistol right on that nasty cut you have over your ear.”
“You still could, which is why I am standing very still.”
“You might as well come in. I doubt you’ll leave until you know the truth.”
He let out his breath as the pistol was lowered and he turned toward the blond standing in the doorway.
“I’m Charlie. Come in.”
Alistair accepted the invitation and went to sit on the bed in the small, cramped room. His companion took the chair by the fire and placed the pistol on the table.
“That’s not the first time you’ve held a pistol to my head.”
“You’re very observant, Mr. Maclean.”
“I am when my life is at stake. Why do you choose to dress as a man?”
“You don’t think I’m a man?”
Alistair allowed his gaze to drop from Charlie’s amused face to her narrow, elegant frame and endless legs.
“You are far too beautiful to be male.”
Charlie shrugged off his compliment. “Some of our customers like it. Most of them are gentlemen who are too afraid to give in to their true feelings for their own valets and convince themselves that having a woman
dressed
as their valet will do just as well.”
“I doubt it’s as simple as that.”
She regarded him with her clear gray eyes. “You might be right. Now, what do you want from me?”
“If you truly were the person who found me at the Sinners, why didn’t you follow through on your earlier threats and finish me off? I’ve scarcely tried to help you find my brother or succeeded in warning him off.”
“Because that wasn’t what I’d been paid to do last night.”
“I thought you were paid to warn me and then disappear?”
“That was last time.” She raised her eyebrows. “This was a
separate
commission.”
“Then what were you doing in the Sinners?”
“Looking for your brother, of course. Unfortunately, I just missed him.” She fixed him with an innocent stare. “In truth, you should be more grateful to me. If I hadn’t arrived, your brother might have decided to kill you himself.”
“Harry didn’t touch me.”
“He had an accomplice? Someone from the Sinners, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so. We check our staff very carefully indeed. How did you know that Harry might turn up at the Sinners?”
“Because you are there.” She sighed. “He always comes back to you, doesn’t he?”
Alistair had nothing he wanted to say to that.
“And Adam Fisher, of course,” Charlie added. “Harry hasn’t quite forgiven him for refusing to give him any more money.”
“You seem to know my brother very well.”
“I’ve learned a lot about him over the years.” Charlie’s smile died. “Nothing I’ve learned has endeared him to me in the slightest.”
“You are not alone. My brother is an expert at letting people down.”
“You sound bitter, Mr. Maclean.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” He met her skeptical gaze head-on. “My brother is a thief and a liar who is loyal to no one. What do you want him for, and what is your connection to Sir Ronald Fairbanks?”
“Sir Ronald?”
“Harry’s latest lover. I saw you with him at the Sinners.”
“I was hardly
with
him. I heard he knew where Harry was, so I kept a close eye on him throughout the event.”
“Is he your client?”
“In what sense? He tried to fuck me a few times when he was a member here, but obviously not since he’s been banned.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Maclean, I will do anything to find Harry. I will use
anyone
. He destroyed someone I loved. My suggestion is that we don’t fight each other, but concentrate on finding your brother.”
“So that you can do what? Hand him over to your ‘client’ or kill him yourself?”
“Are you defending him now? Hasn’t he done enough to make you hate him as well? I understand that he was the one who betrayed your father to the authorities for treasonable Jacobite leanings.”
“That . . . was not proven.”
“I can prove it, Mr. Maclean.” She looked up at him.
“I’d rather my brother was officially charged and tried by a court than by you or any of his other associates.”
“So you do intend to bring him to justice?”
“If I must.”
She nodded. “I actually believe you. If you have any information you would like to share with me, please don’t hesitate to seek me out. And even though you haven’t asked it of me, I will endeavor to do the same.”