The Emperor's Conspiracy (30 page)

“I’ll take it to his lordship. You supervise the loading of my carriage.” Edward hefted the box, but there was no movement inside. No clue as to what was within.

Clavers allowed himself the luxury of a small smile. “Certainly, sir.”

Edward walked back down the passage, and he could hear Hawthorne slamming down his cane over and over on the floor. “Clavers! Clavers!”

“Clavers has a little job to do for me. Is this what you were looking for?” Edward stepped into the room and held the box up with one hand.

One look at Hawthorne’s face, and he knew this would contain something to damn his stepfather.

“Give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m taking it with me. That and all the papers from your study I had Clavers pack up for me. He’s helping the footmen load them now in my carriage.”

Hawthorne’s face twisted, and Edward took a step back at the sight of the hate in his eyes. He wondered if Hawthorne could live much longer. He was sure to give himself an apoplexy.

“Damn you, Durnham. Give me my property!” Hawthorne’s voice was guttural.

Edward turned and walked away, and even when he reached the front door, he could still hear his stepfather’s stick, beating the floor in frustration.

35

W
hen Charlotte stepped into the house, it was quiet. Greenfelt let her in and told her Lady Catherine had returned from her evening out, and was now in bed.

She heard the censure in his tone. Not for the late hour, or that she had been off somewhere by herself, but because Catherine would be worried about her.

She took the criticism with a bow of her head. “I’ll go up myself, but don’t call Betsy. I can manage on my own.” She was wearing Betsy’s own clothes, after all.

Greenfelt hesitated, as if he wanted to say something. She waited him out, but he merely drew himself straight and gave a nod before melting back into the gloom that led to the kitchens.

She was halfway up the stairs when the knocker sounded. Loud. Almost defiant.

She ran down and hauled at the heavy door with one hand, the candle Greenfelt had given her held high in the other.

Luke stood on the doorstep, the angles of his face sharp in the flickering light. He’d always been lean, but Charlotte realized now he was thin. Almost as thin as he’d been when they’d lived by their wits on the street.

“Going to let me in?”

She yielded wordlessly, drawing back so he could enter.

“You’ve never come before.”

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” He stood in the entryway and looked around. At the sweeping staircase, the black and white tiles on the floor. The rich cream walls.

“Come this way.” She indicated to the withdrawing room, her tone oddly formal, even to her own ear, and he gave her a look, and a slight smile, as he entered the room.

Even in his ill-fitting clothes, with his hair too long and his face slightly stubbled, he owned the room in a way that would have made many noblemen of the ton jealous. He had presence.

“No wonder you never wanted to come back. I could never compete with this, could I, Charlie?” Luke took it all in, the blue silk and the velvet drapes, and she raised her head to look him in the eye.

“Don’t play that game with me, Luke.” She would not rise to his taunts. Especially ones like these. “You could have competed with this any time you liked in the last five years. You know it was never about the money.” She crossed her arms. “And when were you planning to tell me about the blunt you managed to ramp out of Hawthorne?”

He sucked in a breath. “So he told you about that?”

She gave a tight nod. “And you should have known I’d wish you all the best with it. There was no need for secrets. Why make it one?”

He gave a shrug, but it was not so nonchalant as he’d like it to appear. She saw his fingers were stiff against his thighs, and he looked away. “It was just after I got out o’ the Hulks, and you were living here with Lady La Di Da.” He turned to Charlotte, then, almost pleading. “I had to get you back, Charlie. An’ I couldn’t compete with what you had ’ere. I didn’t have the strength then, nor the money.

“So I went to him. And he was at a tricky stage, round that time. Didn’t want anything bad comin’ out ’bout what he’d gotten up to way back when.

“There were some letters. Your ma’s old neighbor told me about ’em. Begging letters your ma sent to him, asking for help. I told Hawthorne I had ’em. I knew he’d sent ’em back without an answer, but they were long gone. The neighbor probably burned them herself. Not that he knew that. And he gave me some money to make me go away. Gave me my start, so to speak. A leg up.

“I never ramped him again, but I kept him in my sights, and he knew it. Felt good, you know? Keeping him a little scared.” He turned away, walked toward the window. “God, I hate him. I hate the lot of ’em.”

There was nothing to say to that. She’d always known it. Tried to soften it. But it shaped his life, and kept him shackled worse than Ashcroft or the Old Bailey or even the Hulks had ever done.

“How different are things now, Charlie? Tell me straight.” He spun around to face her from across the room, and she felt her mouth go dry at what she saw in his eyes. “Will things ever go back the way they were?”

She shook her head, and a lump of charcoal seemed to lodge itself in her throat, making speech almost impossible. “I’ve seen things—patterns I’ve been caught in, that weren’t helping anyone, least of all you and me. We can’t go back to you terrorizing every man who looks at me, and my pretending I don’t really exist.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And this is Lord Nob’s doing?”

“No.” She choked it out on a cry. “It’s
my
doing. Me.
I
have come to this. I’ve been stumbling along so long with my eyes on the ground, Edward simply jolted me, made me look up and see where I was. And I didn’t like the place at all.”

He stared at her for a long time, tapping his fingernails against the desk just to the right of him. “And what was that place?”

“Nowhere. I wasn’t with you, and I wasn’t truly in the world Catherine made for me. Limping along trying to please everyone, and pleasing no one.”

“And you’ve chosen what? To finally throw yourself into afternoon calls and the season?” His voice dripped with contempt.

“No. I’ve chosen to be myself. To follow my own heart for a change. I don’t think I ever have.”

“And that’s a path straight to Lord Nob, am I right?”

She hesitated, saw him spin away from her again. “Luke! I
cannot help loving you, but I will never love you the way you want. I don’t know what will happen with Edward and me. But I want to be free to see what
can
happen. I haven’t been free, and I’ve just realized it.”

He stood with his back to her, leaning against the desk with one hand. “I’m not blind. Lord Nob is going to snatch you up as soon as he can. He can barely keep his eyes away from you.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her response was soft. “But it makes me glad to hear you say it. I hope it’s true.”

He turned slowly. “You mean that. You really mean it.”

She nodded.

“Then my hate is all I have left, Charlie. The only bit o’ me that loved was the bit you held.”

“I still hold it. I’ve never let it go!” She dashed tears away that sat, fat and hot, on her lower eyelashes. “Don’t you understand, I love you in a way that doesn’t change with who you are, what you do? I love you like I would a brother. You’re my family, Luke, you and Catherine. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that, but I’ll say it to you as many times as you like.”

He ran a hand down his face, then rubbed his cheeks with both palms. He stood still, eyes closed, hands on his cheeks, his head down, then suddenly reared up, as if coming to a decision. “I don’t know if I
can
accept it. I just don’t know.” The small clock on the mantel softly chimed the hour, one o’clock, and he stared at it. “I didn’t realize it was that late. I’ve got to be going.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled
out a sheaf of papers. “Mind how you use this, Charlie. It was my undoing, seems to me. Make me proud with it.” He walked toward her and gave her the neat bundle, his step only slightly off, just the hint of a limp. He lifted his hand and curled it around the back of her head, pulled her toward him, and kissed her forehead.

She stood still in his embrace. Breathed in the familiar, the oh-so-familiar scent of him. Wool, the faintest hint of brandy, and something that was pure Luke. Then he stepped away and she watched him walk out of the drawing room, heard the front door open and close.

She looked down at the bundle in her hand and a thought crept up on her. She began to fight with the cord that tied the papers together, then finally went to the desk and cut it with a pair of scissors. She lifted the first sheet with shaking hands and scanned the page.

It was Luke’s proof. His hard-won evidence. A bill of exchange, some signed by Frethers, others by Hawthorne. She had no doubt the bundle contained everything he’d managed to get so far. Hawthorne would never be able to snake his way out of what she had in her hands.

And then she saw it.

There were two people who would be damned by this evidence: Hawthorne, but there in the corner, smaller, but most definitely there, was Luke’s name, too. He couldn’t bring down Hawthorne with what he’d given her, unless he also brought down himself.

He’d be a hunted man, if the Crown got this evidence. He
must have known it. That’s why he’d kept going, looking, always looking, for something that would damn the nobs and not point to him. But he hadn’t had the time.

Because of her.

Which meant only one thing. If he’d given this to her, he planned to take Hawthorne himself. Not lead the newspapers to him, and make a point. Luke would take his revenge personally.

And he thought there was a chance he wouldn’t be coming back.

36

E
dward set another box aside with a sigh. The little wooden box had contained the evidence his stepfather had manufactured against him, but the papers he’d taken from Hawthorne’s office were not damning enough.

He pulled the next box closer and then frowned at the sound of a knock at the door. It was past one in the morning. He got to his feet and walked through, but his butler had beaten him to it.

“Lord Dervish, my lord.” Jasper’s hair was standing on end on one side, and he wore slippers rather than his day shoes, but he stepped back and presented Dervish with a flourish.

“My thanks, Jasper. That will be all for this evening.” He eyed Dervish with surprise. “Thought you’d still be in Kent.”

“I’ve come straight from there. Brought the carriage here directly.” Dervish followed him into the library, stripping off his gloves. “We got them, Durnham! We got them dead to rights. Five thousand guineas and barrels of brandy and silks,
all hidden in the caves on Geoffrey’s lands.” Excitement and the thrill of success came off him in waves. He smiled, and Edward realized it was the widest smile he’d ever seen on Dervish. “It’s a serious blow to the whole operation. Whoever we didn’t arrest will have to find a new hiding place. We’re winning. I never thought we would.” He stopped in the center of the room and frowned at the boxes piled around Edward’s desk.

“There have been some advances in the case from this side, as well.” Edward waved a weary hand to the boxes, then sat down on the edge of an armchair. “It appears the man behind this plot is my stepfather, Lord Hawthorne.”

Dervish sat himself. Heavily. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, at a loss.

Edward lifted the brandy decanter to Dervish inquiringly, but he shook his head. Edward considered having a small glass himself but set the crystal bottle on its silver tray, unopened. He leaned back, massaging his neck. “Of course, Hawthorne’s involvement explains Geoffrey being mixed up in this like nothing else can. It also explains why they originally thought I would be easily bribed. But Hawthorne won’t confess to anything. He won’t so much as speak a name. So I confiscated his papers and I’m going through them.”

“And?” Dervish eyed the pile with more enthusiasm.

“Nothing.” Edward rubbed a hand down the bridge of his nose. “Yet.” But he’d seen Hawthorne’s face when he’d realized Edward had his papers. There would be something useful here.