She looked at him, but her arms across her chest tightened. “He went into business with an investment partner—no one knows who. My father called him a silent partner. Bentley took the money, paid his debts, and expanded the company. He’s wealthy now and surrounds himself with men just like him. He owns a series of businesses, warehouses, down on the docks.”
Thomas froze, a hard stillness settling over his face. “The docks.”
Rose wiped away the tears. “It’s not that I did not want to go after him. It’s that I have no recourse to do so. I had to concentrate on what I could do, which was help women who remain vulnerable to men like him. What happened to me was done. In the past. They were what remained important. Protecting them.” She touched her reticule again. “And I’m grateful you have agreed to help.”
She turned, hooked Sarah’s arm with her own, and strode back toward the Cumberland Gate, her head down. As they settled in the waiting carriage, Sarah cleared her throat. “Lady Rose, I’m sorry if I—”
Rose waved away the apology. “I knew it would come up sooner or later if we kept flirting with each other. Perhaps it’s better that it come out now.” Rose gathered her cloak around her, huddled back in one corner, and stared out the window.Before either of us becomes too confused about what is real. And what is impossible.
Chapter Nine
“What do youknow about Roger Bentley?”
Philip Ashton looked up from the paperwork in front of him to peer closely at Thomas, who had burst into his office, thudding the door back into the wall.
“So I take it your meeting in the park did not go well?”
Thomas spun, staring at Robert, who sat sprawled in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace of his father’s office. The bruise around his eye had darkened and expanded. “What are you doing in here? I thought you’d be asleep.”
Robert gestured to their father, who arched his eyebrows and straightened. “Your brother has decided to join you in an effort to learn more about the family holdings. We were discussing one such property when you stormed in here, disturbing the peace and our conversation.” Philip motioned toward the matching wingback on the other side of the fireplace from Robert. “Would you like to join us?”
“I suspect Thomas would like to know more about Roger Bentley at the moment.” Robert’s tone was irritatingly calm.
“Does this have anything to do with Lady Rose Timmons?”
Thomas looked from his brother to his father, his fury burrowing deep but into a place of control. He clenched his fists and dropped into a chair near his father’s desk. “Yes.”
Robert shrugged. “I told you,” he murmured to Philip.
Thomas rubbed the bridge of his nose as his rage triggered a vicious headache. “Told him what?”
Philip leaned back in his chair. “He told me you were falling in love with the woman. Are you?”
Thomas glared at his brother, but Robert was immovable, pushing on. “You thought she was a relentless pest when we were children, and you were still thinking that when she poked you in the back. But you changed the moment you realized what she planned to do to Northey at the Higginbotham ball. And the expression on your face when she made Broxley out to be a fool during the quadrille anchored it. You left that night determined to figure her out. No wonder she has managed to crack that façade.”
Philip leaned forward, his forearms on the desk. “I remember her. Blonde ringlets. Constantly sneaking into our back garden at Newbury Hall to get away from her nanny.” He nodded at his second son. “The two of you rode in the park together as teenagers. I always thought you would be the one to pay her suit.”
Robert grinned. “Apparently, Thomas has some charm she can see that’s invisible to the rest of the world.”
“You arse.”
“Thomas,” Philip said, “we have all been blindsided by an unexpected attraction. Fortunately, mine happened well before I turned twenty and has been reciprocated for more than thirty years. You are just a little late in the game. But, obviously, the woman has captured your attention.”
“Captured more than that.”
“Robert.” Philip’s understated reprimand caused Robert to relent, and he leaned back in the chair as Philip continued. “When it happens, it always seems too soon and not soon enough. But that’s not what we’re discussing. What does Mr. Bentley have to do with all this, such that he has stirred a rage in you I have not seen in years?”
Robert sat forward before Thomas could speak. “He was betrothed to Lady Rose. When it ended, Bentley told everyone he called it off because she was barren. He’s spent the last five years making sure every male who would consider her knows it.”
“That’s villainous.”
“It’s worse.” Thomas rose again, pacing the room.
Robert stood as well, any last trace of humor vanishing, his face as serious as Thomas had ever seen it. “How could it be worse?”
“He lied. He didn’t break it off. She did. And he attacked her, kicking her—” His words choked him, and he took a breath. “She was fine until then. Roger Bentley’s attack is the reason she’s barren.”
The silence that descended felt as heavy as a wet wool blanket in August. Robert muttered a dire curse and spun toward the fire, leaning heavily on the mantel. Philip stood and reached for the bell pull behind the desk. All three men were still mired in their disgust and anger when a footman opened the door.
