“This morning, I called on the publishers of that scandal sheet. For a small fee, and a few threats of legal action and bankruptcy,they were happy to put me in touch with the writer of that pack of lies. For another small fee, the writer was persuaded to reveal his sources. When you arrived, I was planning a visit to Lord Ashworth.”
“Him? I thought it was their uncle.”
“They’re in it together. Lord Ashworth still wants to marry Mary and thinks that this threat will force her to return to her uncle’s house, from where she can be coerced to the altar.”
“Never!” Patrick insisted furiously.
“We cannot let Mary or Cecily’s names be revealed, nor allow the story to reach the papers,” Nathaniel said, his anger as fierce as his brother’s but his mind clearer. “This ends today. So, are you ready to come with me now, help me put Lord Ashworth in his place?”
Patrick nodded with a sound that resembled more a growl than a civilized agreement.
* * *
“Who are you?” asked the grey-bewigged old man, coming to the front door after his butler had announced that an officer was asking for him.
“I am the friend of a lady you have wronged,” Patrick announced, barging into the house, followed by Nathaniel, whohad been watching from behind the gatepost, suspecting that Ashworth might recognize him and refuse to open the door.
For a moment, there was a commotion. The wig slipped halfway off Lord Ashworth’s head, before he ordered his butler to summon footmen to remove the intruders. Patrick squared his shoulders, daring either of them to try and touch him.
“Blackmail is a serious matter, Lord Ashworth,” Nathaniel said in a loud, clear voice. “If you prefer it, we can summon the local constables, and we can arrange to have this conversation in court.”
“Blackmail?” Lord Ashworth repeated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who you are.”
Nathaniel noticed that he had gestured for his butler to stand back.
“Then allow me to introduce myself. I am the Duke of Greyhaven, husband to one woman you have defamed and brother-in-law to another. This is my brother, Lord Patrick Winslow.”
“I have defamed no one,” Lord Ashworth blustered, attempting to straighten his wig, but only succeeding in setting it askew. “You are badly informed, Your Grace, but I will accept your apology.”
“Really? Well, I have two sworn statements from your associates atSalacious Society Storiesthat say otherwise. In fact, they say that you personally gave them the pack of lies that was printed in yesterday’s pamphlet and even paid them not to ask too many questions.”
Lord Ashworth’s face had turned as grey as his wig, and he was sweating despite his defiant expression.
“Who is to say that was a pack of lies?” he challenged. “Can you really be so sure of your wife, Your Grace? Can anyone? Women can be very cunning.”
“I never laid a finger on Mary!” Patrick burst out, unable to hold back any longer. “Just because she loves me and you can never have her, you’re trying to ruin everything.”
Nathaniel hushed him, but it was too late to silence words already spoken.
Realization crossed Lord Ashworth’s face as he regarded Patrick. “It was you! My little Mary ran away with you!”
“Yes, damn it all, and I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d have me,” Patrick declared.
Despite his disquiet, the old man gave a horrible croaking laugh. “How funny! Mary was a damned whore all along, and I thought I was making it up. Now that her sister is well-married, she won’t even have you.”
This proved too much provocation for Patrick, who crossed the hallway in two steps and slammed Lord Ashworth up against the wall. His wig fell to the floor and lay there like an injured animal while he choked on the tightness of his collar.
“Put him down, Patrick,” Nathaniel ordered immediately. “He is not worthy of your blows.”
Reluctantly, Patrick released Lord Ashworth, although he did not step back from him.
“If you ever come near Mary, or if I ever so much as hear her name on your lips again, I will kill you,” he snarled.
“Well, I think Patrick has made himself clear,” Nathaniel drawled, not inclined to rein his brother in when his fierceness was proving so effective. “Now, let us return to the subject of blackmail. I have had a busy day in London when I should have been at home with my wife, and my patience is running out, so I’d appreciate your cooperation, Ashworth.”
He pulled out a chair from a hall table and gestured for the now-wheezing old man to sit down.
“I know nothing about blackmail,” Lord Ashworth responded hoarsely, sinking onto the chair. “I was promised a bride by Lord Holt. That was all. I only wanted what I was promised.”
