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He sat down, legs spread, his leisurely posture belied by the compression of his lips, his jaw clenched tightly. “Somebody knows,” he echoed.
“But who?” She could not fathom who would come to such a conclusion, never mind attempt blackmail.
“Who does not?” He leaned forward. “The question is, who would be so bold as to hold it over our heads? Who believes they may profit from it?”
She was confused. Who knew of it?
His lips finally relaxed into a soft smile. “You said yourself that servants see everything. Hear everything. I am guessing most have come to the conclusion that Laurence did not kill Daniel.”
Of course, it was true. Nan, Fredericks, and Edwards knew absolutely everything. She relied on them because of that knowledge. They had guided her through the years as much as her father had. She stiffened. Nan and Fredericks had prepared Daniel’s body. They would have been faced with the truth of how close that fatal shot had been, but she could not fathom betrayal from either of them.
“You can’t possibly think Nan or Fredericks could ever do anything so hateful?”
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head back and forth. “I no longer know what to believe.”
*
And that wasthe truth. Nicholas had left home thinking he understood his world, that he fully comprehended the workings of man. The war had put many of those principles into question. The disclosures about Daniel, Laurence, and Catherine’s willingness to support both had skewed much of what he believed. He no longer knew what to think about any of it.
“The only thing I know for certain is that someone does know and is willing to use that knowledge for gain.” He had been furious when he’d read the missive. How dare he! Whoever he—she might be. When Nicholas’s fury had spent, he’d racked his brain to discern the culprit while Langdon had listened patiently to his rant. In the end, it had come down to two. The maid. He could not recall her name, but she had definitely insinuated knowledge of Daniel’s doings and had threatened him. Then there was Brownlee, who no doubt knew about the suicide as well. Both were furious with Nicholas. He would get Langdon to root them out.
Catherine tossed back the last of her glass, tears welling. “Oh, Nicholas.”
He moved quickly, falling to his knees before her. “We will find the scoundrel, and then it will be done. All of it.” He laid his head upon her lap, longing for comfort, longing to comfort her.
A knock at the door interrupted the moment. He stood, his gaze lingering on Catherine’s beautiful face, her eyes darkened to ivy, her hair wondrous in its freedom. The knock repeated.
“Come in,” he barked, irritated by the disruption.
Fredericks stood in the open door, looking miserable. Had the entire staff heard of the blackmail?
“My lord, your father would see you in his rooms.” Despite his obvious discomfort, Fredericks’s voice remained neutral as always.
“Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”
Fredericks nodded and left.
Catherine sat up stiffly, stoic yet somehow wilted. Did she think he would shut her out? They were partners in life now. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He feared this was as ugly as it got, but he knew she had the strength to see it through. Had she not been the pillar holding up this family since his departure for the continent?
He leaned in, laying a hand upon her back, kissing her nose. “This won’t take long, and I promise I’ll tell you what he has to say about all this.” For he had no doubt he’d been summoned because the old man already knew about the threat.
She cupped the back of his head, staying him. “I would come with you—” She hesitated, then breathed deeply. “—if I may.”
He sensed fragility. She had been through so much it was no wonder she questioned her every emotion. Well, she need not question the depth of his love any longer. “I’d like to shelter you from this, if I could.”
Her shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his hand in small circles on her back. He sighed. “But I welcome you by my side.” A shiver ran down her spine, sparking through his palm. He released her. “Go dress. I’ll wait.”
She glanced gratefully at him, then disappeared through the connecting doorway. He strolled to the window. Beyond the terraced gardens lay the woods. Was the culprit out there watching the house? Whoever it was, they knew Catherine had left him, but they had not known of her quick return. He ran a hand through his hair, yanking on the ends.Think, man. Think.
He did not believe this was the work of a moral reformer, despite the letter’s cry for justice in the eyes of God. This was about money; he was sure of it. He had paid both the chit and the steward a hefty severance to ensure they’d have no need for complaint. One of them must have grown greedy. Or could they be united in this rapacious deed?
Damn!What were the legal repercussions for suicide? He’d never considered it before. Had had no need. Thornwood would know. Perhaps Nicholas should summon him? Dare he share any of this? All this? He was sure Thornwood would be discreet. And Nicholas could do with some help to sort through this mess.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from the window and grabbed his waistcoat, buttoning it up carefully. Moving to the mirror, he grabbed the cotton draped there and wrapped it around his neck. Nothing fancy for him. “The popinjay will not be pleased,” he said to his reflection, quickly securing a simple knot upon hearing rustling in the sitting room.
Catherine wore a plain yellow day dress, the humble color of the garden primrose, yet she took his breath away with her splendor. Her burgundy tresses pulled back in a simple chignon, accentuating her high cheekbones, gave her the look of a true blueblood. As regal as she was, she stood unsure, biting her lower lip—the lip already bruised and swollen from their lovemaking.
“You leave me speechless,” he said.
