An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,104
done that if he wanted to steal my money?”
“Did he hire them?” Varnham gave her another pitying look, this one so grave that his lips tightened into a thin line. “How do you know?”
Stop looking at me like that! She certainly deserved to be pitied, but not for what he was claiming. Because it wasn’t true. None of it! It simply couldn’t be.
Because if it was, then the last seven years had been nothing but a horrible, humiliating lie.
“That’s what I used to blackmail your brother. Not any of those charges that Charles had him arrested for, but what he did to you. You alone have the power to destroy him, his spinster younger sister.” A chuckle rose on his lips. “Your brother’s more frightened of you than he is of any accusations of political corruption.” He smiled tightly as he slumped against the compartment wall in a casual posture that belied the monster beneath. “Now, don’t you feel like a fool for trying to save your brother, when you’re the last thing in the world he cares about?”
She pulled in a deep breath of fierce resolve to keep from spilling tears. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing them.
“You shouldn’t feel ashamed for believing his lies. After all, you’re certainly not the first woman who’s had her fortune swindled away by a male relative. It’s just that your brother did it with so much more flair.”
The smile of admiration that curled on his lips twisted her insides, and she swallowed, hard, to keep from casting up her accounts. He was a monster.
Apparently so was Frederick.
“Your brother has spine, I have to say,” he muttered to himself. “If his scheming wasn’t solely directed at his own gain, he might have been a valuable asset to acquire within our ranks.”
“You mean Scepter?” she challenged, fighting to keep the quavering from her voice. As if a veil of fog had been lifted, she saw how all the pieces fit together now…her marriage, the trust, Scepter.
His expression darkened to a chilling hardness. He returned her gaze for a long moment, then he began to drum his fingers against his thigh where he rested his hand. She could feel the tension radiating from him with every rotation of the carriage wheels beneath them.
“My brother has caused problems for me by having yours arrested,” he told her quietly. “That wasn’t at all part of my plan. I honestly did want to arrive in time to stop it.”
He tugged at his neckcloth, untying the disheveled knot that he’d put there himself before he arrived home. Or by the woman he’d been with…the woman whose presence had convinced her to step inside the carriage with him. Fresh fear licked at the base of her spine. Not his cousin. A lure.
She glanced out the window. The carriage was headed in the wrong direction for Westminster, traveling east instead.
“Howard’s useless to me now,” he muttered, almost to himself, letting the neckcloth dangle undone around his neck. “But there’s someone else of value whom I can use to put those last three men into place.”
She held her terrified breath. “Who?”
“Lord Sandhurst. I’m certain he can be convinced to push through the trust in the next few days before Parliament’s session ends.”
“He won’t.” Of that, she was certain. She doubted Frederick and everything he’d told her, doubted her father and all of Papa’s concern for her—but she would never doubt Pearce again.
“Oh, I think he will.” Varnham rubbed the tight muscles at his nape. When he pulled his hand away, he slipped off the unwanted neckcloth. “After all, I have a way to make certain of it.”
“What is that?”
“You.” He lunged for her.
Twenty-four
Pearce strode into the Armory, not caring that the iron door rattled so loudly in his wake that it jarred bones all the way to Cheapside.
Merritt glanced up from the billiards table, remaining bent over the table as he lined up his shot. For once, he and Clayton Elliott were battling it out over billiards instead of with swords. Which could only mean one thing—
Marcus Braddock was here. Thank God.
“General!” Pearce’s shout echoed off the stone walls of the old building and caught Merritt and Clayton’s attention. Enough that the two men interrupted their game, waiting for an explanation.
“What is it?” Marcus stepped out of the training room, unwinding a long piece of cloth from his left hand. He wore only a pair of breeches and the cloth that protected his knuckles from cuts and bruises when