Falling In Love Again (Heroic Rogues Series) (18 page)

Marcus arched an eyebrow. “Not to buy a ship as you had suggested?” At the shake of his brother’s head, Marcus added, “That doesn’t surprise me. Of the two of us, you were always more like Father.”

His brother slammed his glass on the desk. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Marcus held up his hands as if in surrender. “Take it as you will, dear brother. I’d think that would be a compliment to you.”

“Your sneer and tone of voice tell me it’s not.”

“Ignore me, then. Please, tell me why you called this meeting if not for wanting to purchase a ship.”

Matthew sat behind his desk then motioned to the chair nearby. “Would you like to sit?”

“I’d rather stand, thank you.”

“As you wish.” Matthew linked his fingers across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Since I’d heard there was a man living in New York that resembled me, I couldn’t stop until I met him. Now I know you’re my brother, I must say I’m quite disturbed.”

“Naturally so, since you were told I had died.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. I’ve prided myself in being my own person and not following the dictates of my family and friends.”

“I commend you for that.”

“I hope it’s not a great shock to inform you I’d rather not share that with my brother.” He sat forward, resting his palms on the desk. “I don’t want two of me running around where people can see and judge.”

Marcus almost laughed aloud. He couldn’t count how many times he’d thought that very thing about his own double life. “I do understand, Matthew.”

“So, how much will it take to pay you to move away from here?”

“Pardon?” Marcus stepped to the desk and slapped his hands on the top, making his brother jump back. “Do I hear correctly? You want
me
to leave New York?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Slowly, Marcus shook his head. “Has it slipped your logic that I was here first? That I have a shipping company and cannot just leave at the drop of a hat?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “I’m aware your shipping company will have to remain in New York, but I’m prepared to offer you a large amount of money in exchange.”

Marcus blinked, still not believing his brother. “You want to buy my company and pay me to move?”

A faux smile crossed his brother’s face. “Splendid! You understand perfectly.”

His brother must not have a brain or conscience. Why would he suggest such a ridiculous idea? Marcus didn’t know what to say, although he entertained an extremely tempting vision of shaking Matthew by the shoulders. Actually, beating him to a bloody pulp was more tempting.

“So how much money do you think is an adequate amount?” Matthew gave him a nonchalant smirk.

Marcus balled his hands, wanting nothing more than to slam his fist into his brother’s nose. The imbecile was insane, but more so because he actually believed Marcus would settle on an amount.

“My dear, misguided brother.” Marcus shook his head. “There’s not enough money in this world to make me want to sell my shipping company and move.”

“Impossible. Everyone has a price. Name yours.”

“Don’t waste your effort, Matthew. It won’t work. I’m
not
for sale. It appears you’re the one who needs to leave New York, not I. After all, you’ve only been here a few years, whereas I have been here longer. In fact, why don’t you return to England? I’m sure you have been greatly missed.”

Matthew growled and pushed away from his desk. “You cannot be serious. I’ll not leave. I like it here. My wealth and title mean more to me here than in England. Women adore me now.”

Once more, Marcus ran his gaze over his brother’s bad taste in clothes. Women adored him? Not likely. They probably settled for him because of his wealth. “Then I suppose we’re at a standstill.” He shrugged. “Because I have no plans to leave, either. I have a life as well, whether you want to remember that or not. I’m well respected as Marcus Thorne, owner of Thorne Shipping. For once, people accept me, and Father cannot ruin my life again.”

The other man’s glare darkened as he marched toward Marcus. Lesser men had cowered beneath Matthew’ glare, of that Marcus was certain, but he refused to be one of them. He would remain firm and strong. This was something his brother wasn’t going to win.

Matthew stopped mere inches from Marcus’ face. “I’ll not allow both of us to be in the same place. I have most delicate, but important deals transpiring as we speak. I cannot have them interrupted because my brother refuses to see logic.”

“Indeed? What deals? The underhanded kind you learned from Father?”

Matthew hitched a breath, his eyes widening. “I shall give you one last chance. Leave now, Marcus.”

“And what will you do if I refuse?”

Without warning, Matthew pulled a pistol from behind his back, pointing it right at Marcus’ heart. He froze, fearing what his brother would do if he made a move for the weapon. For the moment, he’d remain calm and collected. He had nothing but his wit to fight back with.

Obviously, whatever underhanded deal his brother had going on was very important and more than likely illegal. This might be something Captain Hawk could use to his advantage.

Slowly, he raised his hands, hoping to show his brother he was no threat. “Now Matthew, you’re not thinking this through. New York is large enough that we could both live here and not have to see each other at all. After all, you’ve been here for two years and we have never met.”

Matthew shook his head. “You don’t understand. There’s too much at stake having another man in town look like me. I cannot risk my life for that, but I can take yours. Besides, you were always the sickly brother. No one would think twice if you were to die.”

“On the contrary, Matthew. I’ve made a lot of influential friends over the years. If you were to kill me, you’ll be hanged. I assure you my kind of friends will avenge my death.”

Matthew cocked his head, holding the pistol steadier. “I suppose you believe that. Unfortunately, I don’t.” He cocked the barrel. “I cannot say it was nice seeing you again. Perhaps we’ll meet up again in hell.”

Matthew’ eyes narrowed on his target as a gunshot blasted through the room.

Chapter Twelve

Marcus stood still, waiting for the pain to hit him as the smoke of the pistol hung thick in the air. The shot still rang through his ears like a cannon blast.

But no pain came. No blood. Nothing.

Instead, blood coated Matthew’ chest as his face drained of color. His brother looked down at the red liquid soaking his clothes, then lifted weary eyes to Marcus. Matthew’ mouth opened and closed soundlessly as bewilderment filled his eyes.

Marcus reached for his brother just as he collapsed to the floor. Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but words didn’t come. Indeed, there wasn’t anything to say to the man who just tried to kill him. Slowly, life slipped away from his brother as his eyes closed. Matthew’ body fell limp.

From the doorway, the floor creaked, and Marcus swung his attention to the person entering the room. Gabe walked in, still holding a smoking pistol. Anger touched his creased brow as he narrowed his gaze on Matthew.

“I hope he’s dead,” Gabe snipped.

“Yes. You killed him.” Marcus shook his head, not yet recovered from the drastic turn of events. “But how… How did you know?”

Gabe knelt beside Marcus and squeezed his shoulder. “Because today while trying to collect information about him, the bloke tried to kill me for being curious. You left the office before I could deliver a message to you, so I thought I’d wait around the house and make certain he didn’t try to do you in as well.”

Taking a deep breath, Marcus closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. He glanced at his friend and nodded. “Your instincts were correct. If you hadn’t have come, I’d be the one lying dead in a pool of my own blood.”

Gabe jumped up, hurried to the drawing room door, and peeked out into the hall. He pulled back in, closing the door, locking it.

“Makes me wonder why the servants aren’t running to see what happened.”

Marcus stood and walked to the window. Nothing seemed out of place outside. No heavy footfalls beat on the second floor to alarm them of any danger. Indeed, why were the servants not worried and coming to see who was shot?

“I suspect my brother’s servants knew what to expect from today’s meeting.”

Gabe lifted an eyebrow. “Someone dying, perhaps?”

“Precisely.”

“So do you think we should leave without informing any of them?” Gabe questioned.

Marcus’ mind ran with ideas, none making much sense. Instead of answering his friend, Marcus paced the floor, even picked up the half-empty bottle of brandy and took a hefty swallow. The burning sensation sliding down his throat cleared his mind.

With Matthew out of the way, this presented a whole new opportunity for Marcus. Here was a man identical to him. A man who had British connections. A man who had underhanded connections… with a title to hide behind.

Marcus stopped and knelt beside his brother again, studying his pale face. He pulled off his wig. Same color of hair, except Matthew kept his shorter. Clean-shaven and dressed in expensive clothes, even as ridiculous as they appeared. Marcus knew how to pretend well since he’d done it for several years. Most of his life, in fact. So why couldn’t he play his brother’s role?

Confused, he stood and raked his fingers through his hair. What possible reason would he have to step into his brother’s role? The connections Matthew had with the Royal Navy would be a great reason. Somehow their father was involved, so why not Matthew?

Was fate finally opening a door?

“What’s on your mind, my good friend?”

Gabe’s question was so soft Marcus didn’t know if he’d heard him. Then again, he argued with his mind, which made it impossible to hear anything. “I cannot believe I’m thinking this, but what if…” He met Gabe’s curious stare. “What if I became Viscount Lockwood?”

His friend’s eyes widened and mouth hung open. Eyes blinked a couple of times before Gabe shook his head. “Why would you want to do that?”

“To discover secrets.”

“Secrets?”

Marcus held up his hand as he began his pacing. “Listen first before you pass judgment. I know Lockwood and Commodore Stanhope were in some kind of deal together. I mean, why would a wealthy, titled man like my brother, sign a betrothal agreement when the bride has little to no dowry? Stanhope didn’t have lands, or a title.”

Gabe’s face brightened with a smile. “I see where your intelligent mind is taking you. Very good, indeed.”

“Do you think it’s something I could pull off?”

His friend laughed. “Of course you can. Look how long you have lived your other secret. Why not one more?”

Nodding, Marcus walked to his friend and stopped. “I’ll have to put my highwayman’s life to rest for a little while. At least until I’ve figured out this game Stanhope and my father has some connection with the Royal Navy, and I can guarantee it’s not good.”

“I agree.”

He glanced at his dead brother again. “We’ll wrap him in the rug and bury him.”

“Aye. I’ll get a few men to help.”

Marcus slapped his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “But I’ll need you to work for me here. Do you mind?”

A grin stretched across his friend’s face. “Not at all. In fact, I look forward to it—my lord.”

Laughter sprang from Marcus’ throat before he could stop it. “
My lord
? Oh, my good man, do you know how long I’ve wanted to be called that?”

“You know,” Gabe’s voice lowered, “now that your brother is dead, you’re indeed a lord. You are really Viscount Lockwood—the next living heir.”

Groaning, Marcus swiped his hand down his face. “Oh, no! What have I done?”

Gabe grinned. “You have changed your life. From now on, things will only get better. Mark my words.”

* * * *

Numbness spread through Isabelle as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her life was over. Literally. She didn’t even have enough funds to return to England yet she couldn’t remain in New York, either.

She and Mrs. Winters had traveled the town for several days searching for her inheritance. All she discovered was how deceitful and crooked her father was in his business dealings. Many men hated Commodore Stanhope. The thought of the man she’d adored as a child treating other people so rudely left a bitter taste in her mouth.

It wasn’t until they met someone who personally knew her father that Isabelle’s dreams crumbled. The man told her he knew about the betrothal agreement between her father and Viscount Lockwood. Apparently, her father promised a large amount of money to the viscount upon their marriage. The day her father left New York to sail back home was when the viscount discovered the lie. Her father had not the funds to pay the viscount. Nothing of significance was left in her father’s name, not even the house she stood in. The solicitor illegally owned it, yet he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Isabelle had the law on her side, but nothing could be done unless the man was found and brought to justice.