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Phillipa stepped back, shocked at her vehemence. She forgave her instantly, knowing the fear Payton felt. But her words still created a niggle of doubt.
He had not whispered words of love. Not once.
“Come here,” she whispered, drawing Payton into her arms, hugging her tightly. “All will be well. I’m sure of it.”
Phillipa met Lord Hoyt’s gaze over Payton’s head and gave him an even look. The hopeful pleasure that suffused his face sickened her. She had not accepted his offer, but she had not refused, either. He already felt he had won. She knew she must act out this charade until she could speak with Anthony. But dread filled her whole body, for she did not know if she could marry him if the rumors were true. The scandal would destroy the connections her father hoped to make.
And with a certainty she could no longer shrug off, she knew they could not be mere rumors. The man she loved was a bastard.
Oh, God, what was she to do?
…
The hum of the gentleman’s club seemed muted. Anthony sipped his port and read the report on Orwell with a cold distance. The blackguard was financially powerful, enjoying profitable returns from his many investments.
Hawke’s report was extensive, but despite that, he’d failed him. Orwell had retired to his country home in Suffolk and disappeared from the watchful eyes of the men Hawke had placed on him. Anthony found it curious that he had vanished without causing any ripples. Thankfully, he had not been sighted near Phillipa.
Anthony came to an entry in the report, and frowned. Orwell had visited his attorney the day before he disappeared. And they shared the same attorney. A chair scraped and his head snapped up to meet Calvert’s worried gaze.
Anthony was surprised to see Sebastian was also with him. Anthony leaned back in his chair as they sat, foreboding flooding over him at the look of savage fury on their faces. “What has happened?” he demanded.
“Newport has disappeared. His office was ransacked and all his correspondence missing. I traveled posthaste to let you know,” Sebastian said flatly.
Anthony clutched the report in his hand. Damnation. There was little doubt what all this meant. “Is Constance safe?”
“She is with our mother. We must go to her immediately.”
He nodded in agreement. Constance needed him. A cold, calm logic filled his mind, and he sifted through his options. He slashed his attention to Calvert. “What bad news do you bring me?”
Anthony saw the sympathy in his friend’s eyes and braced himself, though he knew what was coming.
“My father and several others were meeting to discuss withdrawing from ventures that you are heavily invested in.”
“Which ones?” he demanded.
“The railways and the steam engines.”
He calculated the loss, and the shares he had in them. Substantial, but he should survive.
“The reason?” he demanded evenly, needing confirmation of the worst.
“Lord Hubert and the Marquis of Gale report that you are not a legitimate heir to the Calydon holdings. They have refused to continue any business transactions with you. I tried to inform them that to withdraw from you is to withdraw from Calydon completely. They did not seem to agree,” Calvert said, anger threading his voice, as well.
Anthony met Sebastian’s gaze. They believed his own brother would turn from him, in fear of tainting the Calydon title. A thing he knew would happen when hell froze over.
Anthony saw the speculation in his friend’s gaze, but also the respect of his privacy. “Thank you, my friend, for hastening to inform me. I will not soon forget your support. Now, I must speak with Sebastian and then find Phillipa. I must not delay.”
Anthony froze at Calvert’s sudden stillness.
“Miss Phillipa Peppiwell?” he asked.
“Yes, what of it?”
Calvert gave him the most curious stare. “Why do you want to speak with her?”
Both Sebastian and Anthony measured Calvert carefully. Anthony’s heart stalled, wondering how Orwell had embroiled her in whatever schemes he had set in motion. “The lady and I have an understanding. I will be speaking to her father this afternoon. At least, I’d planned to. I shall, after sorting out this mess.”
“Damnation.” Calvert raked his hands through his too-long hair.
“What is it?” Anthony growled, fearing the worst. Had Orwell started rumors of Phillipa’s abduction, as well?
“Lord Hoyt was at that investors’ meeting. He announced to everyone there his imminent engagement to Miss Peppiwell.”
Betrayal shafted his insides, and he fought against the emotions that swamped him.
The lady had every right to beg off, but he could not credit that she would do so in such a cowardly manner, without speaking to him first.
“There is more,” Calvert said sympathetically. “My mother had morning callers, and I heard whispers that some of the ladies plan to give your sister, Constance, the cut direct.”
The curses that came from Sebastian were some of the most virulent Anthony had ever heard. He struggled to keep a calm facade in the face of them and his own rage. “Thank you, my friend, for letting us know.”
Calvert rose, shook his hand, and departed.
“I must go to Constance at once.” Anthony’s mind churned as he gathered the piles of paper from the report and shoved them into the file jacket. “You say she is with Mother?”
“I will come with you.”
He looked into the hard, angry face of his brother, shocked at the offer. Sebastian had not spoken to their mother in over a decade. Anthony wagered now would not be the best time for that first meeting. “Not necessary. Constance knows you adore her. But I really need to speak with her first.”
Anthony saw Sebastian’s disapproval, but he gave a short nod. “So, you made Miss Peppiwell an offer, after all,” Sebastian growled, addressing the matter Anthony had determined to avoid. It must wait until after he’d dealt with his sister.
“I sent a note to Sherring Cross to let you know.” He dismissed the concern in his brother’s gaze and fought against the rage at how easy she’d deserted him.
The first hint of rumors of his illegitimacy, and she’d crumbled? Good God. She had seemed so fearless, so disdainful of Society. He’d actually believed she would wed him even knowing he was a bastard. He had planned to tell her everything this afternoon, before speaking to her father. What a gullible fool he had been.
He turned his mind from his rioting thoughts and focused on Sebastian.
“Humboldt arrived with news that Lord Orwell’s lackeys paid him a visit.” Humboldt was their family lawyer, and a powerful man in his own right.
“Why?”
“Orwell wanted the papers father left. Humboldt refused, of course,” Sebastian said.
Which explained why Newport’s offices had been ransacked, and the papers forcibly taken from Anthony’s own attorney instead.
The brass balls of Orwell stunned Anthony. “Lord Orwell is growing too bold.” He relayed to Sebastian about Phillipa’s abduction and his rescue of her and about Newport’s break-in.
“The hell, you say!” Sebastian snapped in outrage.
Anthony pushed the report across the table toward him. “It’s all here. There is no doubt who is responsible for spreading the details of my illegitimacy.”
If possible, Sebastian went colder. “I will crush him,” Sebastian swore.
Anthony laughed mirthlessly. “You will need to get in line. Unfortunately, he has closed his houses and fled. He was last seen boarding a ship for the Continent.”
“The bloody coward.”
Anthony blew out a long, long, calming breath. “I find that I am more affected by Phillipa’s desertion than Society learning I am a bastard,” he said, meeting Sebastian’s gaze unflinchingly. It took a hell of a lot to admit that.
“You love her?”
Anthony filled his glass with more port. “It is not like you to talk of love. I thought you did not
believe in the notion.”
“I do not believe in it for myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to find love,” Sebastian growled.
