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Chapter Twenty-One

When Shiemour left the Baron at Rosterbrook, he headed for Worthington Hall. It was always good to have a hidden ace—another scheme to slip into place in case the first one failed.

And he had no doubt the Earl of Worthington must need the Clover money desperately—otherwise, why would he be willing to treat a Duke’s daughter so shabbily, and to try to force her into a marriage? So he entered Worthington Hall and asked confidently for an audience with the Earl—just as if he had spent his life socializing with the gentry, instead of with the scum of the London streets.

A pompous old butler received him. He asked for the Earl. The butler eyed his worn clothing—all right, he was no Beau Brummell!—and seemed to consider whether he should even be admitted.

But finally the butler said, “Wait here, Mr. Shiemour. I will see if his lordship is available.”

Johnny Shiemour stood in the grand foyer of Worthington Hall, eyeing the paintings and the preciousobjects d’art.Wonder how much those things would fetch, if they were fenced to an enthusiastic buyer?

Finally, the butler returned. “The Earl will see you,” he intoned. “Follow me, please.”

Shiemour was led to a room he assumed must be the library, since the walls were lined with books.Wonder if anyone ever takes down any of those books and reads it, from one year to the next?Shiemour was out of his familiar element, but he was enjoying himself tremendously, soaking in the luxury around him.

A tall, wavy-haired fellow of military bearing sat in one of the leather chairs.This must be the Earl then.The man gestured to him to take a seat himself.

“To what do I owe the...emm...honor of your visit, Mr. Seymour?”

“It’s Shiemour, my lord. Not Seymour.”

The Earl shrugged, as if to say it made no difference to him what his visitor was called. “Your business, please, Mr. Shiemour. I am a busy man, and I can only give you a few minutes of my time.”

“You’ll give me a great deal more than that, when you learn what I’ve come for, my lord.”

The Earl cocked one eyebrow in surprise. “Indeed? And just what have you come for, sir?”

Shiemour looked him straight in the eye and said, “I know where the girl is, my lord. And I know you need to get her back and marry her, or you’ll lose out on getting her fortune.”

The Earl did not question this; he seemed to believe that Shiemour must know the whole story already—which, in fact, he did. “Just what’s in this for you, Mr. Shiemour? Why would you wish to help me?”

“We’ll get to talking about what I want out of this in a moment. For now, I will simply tell you that you have a competitor in this game. Whichever one of you gets to her first is the winner,” Shiemour said.

“There’s another man out there who wants to marry that wretched girl? I don’t believe it,” said the Earl haughtily.

“No, not to marry her. To kill her and her father before the girl can wed anyone. In which case, that man will legally inherit not just the title of Duke of Clover, but the present Duke’s fortune to go with it.”

“Clover has a nephew who’s the next male heir…,” the Earl reasoned.

“Precisely, my lord. The current Baron Roster. As great as your incentive is to marry the girl, the Baron has even greater incentive to make sure she never marries anyone.”

“I see,” said the Earl. “And I assume that up till now, you have been assisting the Baron in his efforts, but now you wish to assist me instead.”

“You both have a lot to gain and a lot to lose,” Shiemour said shrewdly. “I’ll throw my support behind the man who’ll pay me the most.”

The Earl smiled coldly. “Not a very honorable sentiment,” he said.

“Not much honor to be found on the streets of London, my lord, particularly when you’ve come up the hard way, as I have,” Shiemour replied. “I no longer do this kind of work myself, of course. I have many young lads under my control who are happy to do my dirty work—or the dirty work of my client, in this case.”

“Where is the girl now?” the Earl said, getting right to the heart of the matter.

“Oh, I’d be a very, very foolish man if I were to give you that information, when you and I haven’t agreed on a deal yet. But I can tell you that she and her father are both under armed guard in a safe, out-of-the way place.”

“What kind of deal are you proposing, Mr. Shiemour?”

“Half of what you get from the Duke’s estate as a result of marrying the daughter.”

“Half?” The Earl whistled in amazement. “That’s a pretty steep price.”

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