All I Ever Needed (47 page)

East had not thought they would learn of Sophie's return so quickly. He was uncertain that it could be kept secret until the ambassador's ball, but he had allowed himself to hope she would have a few more days of peace. "Did they say what they wanted?"

"To see Sophia, of course. They were rather surprised that she was gone from home when I was yet about. Oh, do not concern yourself that I said anything more than I ought. Tremont in particular was easily convinced that I am not all of a piece."

"Did you have cause to wallop them with your weapon?"

"I gave Dunsmore a good poke with it."

Eastlyn almost felt sympathy for Harold. "How did you explain Sophie's absence?"

"I did not. I simply spoke all around it. I find that it is the best of diversions, and since neither of them knew of my connection to Sophia through her mother, I recounted the family history for them in great detail over tea. They cannot possibly deny that such a connection exists now, and I satisfied their curiosity about Sophia's inheritance. They were disappointed it was not a larger sum."

East had no difficulty believing that. "Did they say they would return?"

"No. And I did not invite them to do so." She tapped her cane against the fireplace's marble apron. "I am not yet in my dotage, though perhaps you would prefer that it were otherwise. You and Sophia have told me little enough, but I am not without eyes in my head. I also hear well enough when I set my mind to it. You would have me believe that Tremont presents some threat to my niece, but it occurs to me that the real threat may be you." Lady Gilbert's large, arthritic knuckles turned white as she gripped the knob of her cane more tightly. "Is it your intention to marry the gel or do you mean for her to give birth to your bastard?"

* * *

Two evenings following his reluctant explanation to Lady Gilbert, East stood outside the darkened house at No. 14 Bowden Street. Eastlyn observed it from the front, rear, and sides before determining how best to make his entrance. Tremont was now staying in his own town residence, but Dunsmore was at home tonight and was unlikely to sleep as soundly as his drugged wife.

East found a window on the ground floor that had not been properly latched. He pulled it open and soundlessly boosted himself onto the sill. Swiveling around, he dropped to the floor, the toes of his boots tapping lightly on the wood. He listened and heard nothing. When Sophie had shared stories with him about Dunsmore's children, she couldn't have suspected how he would use the information. Robert and Esme were, in fact, his largest concern. Children were unpredictable, and a nightmare could rouse the house. There was also young Robert's penchant for setting traps for the servants, and East did not want to be caught by one of those. In retrospect, he knew that on his first nocturnal visit to this house, he had been extremely fortunate to escape unscathed by anything but the sharp edge of Sophie's tongue.

East lighted a candle and cupped his hand around the flame to hide the glow and protect it from a draft. He was not yet where he wanted to be. The rear parlor was not likely to give up any secrets. He paused at the door, pressing his ear to the wood. Greeted only by silence, he eased the door open and stepped into the hall. He knew from his previous visit, as well as Sophie's descriptions, that Dunsmore's study was on the opposite side. He was prepared for it to be locked and almost did not test the handle to prove that this was so. When the door opened easily, he nearly stumbled into the room, half expecting to confront Dunsmore sitting behind his desk in the dark.

The study was unoccupied, however, and East released the breath he had been holding so carefully that the candle flame did not flicker. He crossed the room to Dunsmore's desk and set the candle in a dish. He glanced around, taking in the study's appointments before he sat at the chair behind the desk. Experience had taught him there was usually a way to find something that did not require upending an entire room. Leaving evidence of his presence behind had never been an option for him; the colonel required discretion in all things.

Now, faced with the task of finding proof of Dunsmore's participation in the opium trade, East placed himself squarely in the viscount's seat and began a slow, thoughtful examination of the room. Private papers, by their very nature, demanded that they be kept away from prying eyes. The door to the study had been left unlocked, though, so East had to wonder if Dunsmore was merely careless or was so confident of his hiding place that he could permit an open invitation to the room. With small children living underfoot, it seemed to East that it must be the latter.

He gave the desk a cursory inspection, first with his eyes, then his hands. There were no hidden drawers that he could detect and no false bottom. East moved his attention to the paintings on the far wall, studying their arrangement and whether something might be hidden behind them. Books lined the shelves at his back and to his right. On his left, a fireplace with an ornately carved mantel took up most of the wall space. East left his chair so that he could examine the fireplace more closely. The scrollwork was intricate, the design embellished with roses in full bloom and many more that were only buds. He ran his fingertips along the carving, just beneath the mantelpiece. There were no protrusions or indentations that might have indicated a spring or a catch. He retrieved the candle and studied the carving with benefit of the light. It required two careful examinations before a fine line in the wood extending vertically from the apron to just above the top of the right andiron caught his eye. It could easily have been mistaken for a crack of the aging wood except that it did not follow the grain and was split so precisely that it likely had been made deliberately.

Eastlyn found the opening for the cleverly concealed door by pushing at each individual rosebud until he found one that could be turned. The slender door sprung open, and East rocked back on his heels as more than a score of tin soldiers tumbled onto the apron. He could not have been more surprised if a hand had reached out from inside the cupboard and pulled the door closed.

Chuckling under his breath at what he had found, as well as his reaction to it, East pushed the soldiers out of the way and knelt on the apron. He saw the ledger immediately. It was unlikely that Dunsmore knew his children used the cubbyhole to quarter their soldiers, else he would not have left his ledger there.

The discovery presented a dilemma for East. If he took the ledger and left the soldiers, Dunsmore would accuse Robert and Esme of stealing. If he left all as it was, then Dunsmore would eventually make the same discovery he had and move the ledger to another hiding place. East decided the best course was to take Dunsmore's book of accounts and return the soldiers to the nursery. If the children were as wise as Sophie had led him to believe, then they would not go to their father to raise the question of how their troops had managed to break camp.

He held up the candle while he leafed through Dunsmore's accounts. Some of the entries were cryptic, but there were others that East had no difficulty understanding. His knowledge of the ships and captains involved in the trade made some connections obvious. He could see at a glance that Dunsmore had had the misfortune to invest in the
Nineveh
and
Minerva,
neither of which made it to Chinese ports.
Nineveh
was reported lost in a storm around the Cape of Good Hope, and
pirates roaming the Indian Ocean took
Minerva
. Whatever debts Sophie's father had left, East could not imagine they were as damaging to the estate as those of Dunsmore. If Tremont's investments were as badly conceived as his son's, it was little wonder that they had pinned so much hope on a good marriage for Sophie.

And it gave greater credence to Sophie's fears that his life would be forfeit if he gave her a male heir. Tremont and Dunsmore would find a way to manage both Sophie and his son's inheritance. The income from his estates would never support the ill-considered gambling that Tremont and Dunsmore were doing under the guise of investing.

East shut the ledger, closed the cupboard, and began gathering the soldiers. He stuffed them in his pockets until they poked him uncomfortably with their tiny bayonets and drawn swords and carried what remained in his hands. Securing the ledger under his arm, East returned first to the drawing room and dropped the ledger outside the window where he could retrieve it later.

The stairs did not creak overmuch as he mounted them, and the door to the nursery swung noiselessly on well-oiled hinges. East moved cautiously in the room, afraid he might stumble on neglected dolls or wooden horses. He found the toy chest, opened the lid with the toe of his boot, and then emptied his hands and pockets. He was about to close the chest when the unmarked leather spine of a book caught his eye. Curious, he plucked it out and quickly thumbed through the pages. Here was something Sophie had left behind, and something she would be happy to have again in her possession.

"I say, are you the Gentleman Thief?"

Eastlyn carefully tucked the journal under his coat and turned slowly in the direction of the youthful, inquiring voice. He extended his arm, holding his candle steady until the circle of light encompassed the small figure on the threshold of an adjoining room. East squatted so that he would not appear so threatening to the boy and beckoned him closer, saying his name softly.

"How'd you know who I am?"

East shrugged. "Your sister is Esme."

Robert's barefooted approach was quiet. He was still wary, but infinitely curious. "Have you come to take my toys? I shall scream, you know. And my father will come and shoot you."

"That would be unfortunate then, because I have only come to make an inventory. You have a great many toys here. They were not all put away, I noticed." He picked up a nearby ball and dropped it into the chest. "You've been told to return things to their proper place, haven't you?"

Robert's dark eyes grew almost impossibly wide, and he nodded slowly. "Cousin Fia told me someone might come, but I thought she was having me on," he whispered in awed accents.

"I knew your cousin when she was your age. If memory serves, she was a very serious young girl with hair the color of honey. She left quite a few things lying about until I warned her that she shouldn't."

Robert was a believer now, and as he considered this information, he became more hopeful than he had been. "This is to be my warning, then?"

"Yes. Hand me that doll, will you?"

"It isn't mine," Robert said quickly, giving it over. "But I'll tell Esme what you said."

"Very good." East closed the chest and straightened. "I don't expect that you'll know when I've come to look in on you again. If you're missing a toy that was left discarded and unwanted on the floor, you will know I've been here." He managed to keep his smile in check as Robert nodded solemnly. "Go on. Back to bed."

Robert tore out of the room, and East winced as the door was slammed closed. He waited listening for signs that the governess had been roused or that Robert had awakened Esme to tell her of his odd encounter. Across the hall, there were no noises from the parents' bedchamber.

East left the house by the same route he had entered. He retrieved Dunsmore's ledger, brushed it off, and tucked it under his arm. All things considered, including Robert Colley stumbling upon him in the nursery, he had not managed the thing too clumsily. And more importantly, he had his first chamber pot.

* * *

Mr. Sampson regarded his employer with a considering eye. "Your lordship is unaccountably restive this evening. I cannot fathom if you are looking forward to the ambassador's gala or dreading it."

"What if I told you it were both?"

"Then I would say it is a most peculiar state for you." Sampson adjusted Eastlyn's jabot and cravat and pulled on his satin frock coat to improve the line over his shoulders. "You will endeavor to remain still a moment. There is a loose thread on the waistcoat."

Eastlyn allowed Sampson to cut the silk thread and fuss over him for another few seconds before he had had enough. Never one to examine himself in front of a glass, East did not change his habits now. The edge and cuffs of his navy frock coat were heavily embroidered with metallic gold thread, and he felt the weight of the garment on his shoulders. The collar points were so stiffly starched that Eastlyn was cautious of turning his head lest he draw blood. He brushed at his white satin breeches and adjusted the fit at the knee. Straightening, he presented himself for his valet's dark scrutiny a second time. "Your verdict, Sampson. I await your verdict."

"Your lordship is most handsomely turned out," Sampson said dryly.

East accepted this, not because he particularly believed it, but because Sampson did. "I depend on the pride you take in your duties to make it so."

Sampson acknowledged this with a slight bow of his head. "All is in readiness, my lord. The carriage is outside."

"Good."

The valet held out East's brushed beaver top hat. "It is to be hoped that Lady Sophia will enjoy herself this evening."

There was an almost imperceptible hesitation in Eastlyn's reach for his hat. He regarded Sampson with a faint air of wariness. "Why do you suppose she will be there?"

Sampson merely responded with a wry look.

"I am so obvious?" asked East.

"I am afraid so, my lord."

East nodded slowly, taking Sampson's observation as a very good thing. He carefully schooled his features until they reflected nothing so much as boredom and knew that he would have to manage it the entire evening. "Your verdict, Sampson," he drawled. "I await your verdict."