“It was not hard. Marissa informed me his brother would be arriving yesterday. I had a street urchin waiting in the street to let me know when he arrived.”
Wesley stared at him. “The earl is back in London? Did he bring his wife?”
Nicholas gave him a sharp look. “No. I believe the chit said her sister wasenceinte.”
Wesley’s face darkened. “I hate that son-of-a-dog.”
“So I gathered.”
“I can hire a couple of men off the wharves to dispose of both of them,” Wesley said.
“Getting rid of an earl would raise a lot of questions. This is hardly the time to arouse suspicions of your whereabouts.”
“I suppose you are right,” Wesley muttered, “although I would love to make Jillian a widow once more.” He sighed. “We can wait until Ian leaves to get rid of the brother.”
“If he continues to get in my way, we will do it,” Nicholas agreed. “However, I learned a tidbit of information today that may just solidify my grounds for marrying the little bitch and collecting a very nice dowry.”
Wesley’s ears practically perked up. “What would that be?”
“For now, my secret.” Nicholas nearly laughed as his father narrowed his eyes and looked about to argue, but at the moment, the old man was dependent on him. A point Nicholas might need to remind him of soon.
The Barclay girl blurting that she had a unique birthmark in a very private place had been a stroke of luck Nicholas had not anticipated. Once he painted her with that mark exposed, the gossip would be rampant. Marissa Barclay would be ruined.
And Nicholas would play the gallant knight who would rescue her.
But it would be costly.
