Blame It on Bath Page 0,106

sure my good father would wish no less!”

“Martha, quiet your mouth!” Nollworth turned on Gerard, practically spitting in fury. “I’ll have the money now, then.”

“I’ll write you a draft on my bank.”

“Hard coin,” snapped the older man with a baleful glare. “Now.”

Gerard’s jaw tightened. “I haven’t got ninety pounds in coin in my pocket. I’ll send my man back with it from Bath.”

“You think me a fool? You’ll not take so much as a page until I have the money in my hand. In fact,” he went on, growing louder, “go on back to Bath. I can see you’re not interested in these books. I’ll just see if someone else might have a fancy for them!”

“Mr. Nollworth,” exclaimed his wife, jamming her hands on her hips. “You’re shaming us both! Ninety pounds!”

Carter cleared his throat. “I would be glad to ride to Bath and bring the funds.”

Gerard tore his seething gaze off Nollworth. “You don’t mind?”

His friend glanced at the Nollworths. “Not at all. It would be my pleasure. We’ve done twenty-mile rides many a time for Wellesley.”

“ ’Tis nearly forty miles to Bath and back.”

Carter lowered his voice. “And a day well spent if it puts an end to this.” He raised his eyes to Nollworth. “I’ll leave at once.”

Gerard exhaled. “Thank you.” One more day, then he could return to Kate.

When he reached Queen Square two long days later, Gerard was hot, filthy, tired, and desperately eager to see Kate. He leaped up the step and let himself in, leaving Bragg to take the horses. He carried the notebooks in one hand. In the time it had taken Carter to ride to Bath and back to fetch the funds, Gerard had pored over the notebooks. Like many disreputable parsons, it appeared Ogilvie conducted his illicit weddings in several establishments, from taverns to the front parlor of a brothel. Each notebook had been assigned to one location, so the dates were all intermixed and sometimes not specified at all. The ink had faded to a pale yellow on the old paper, and in many cases the faint writing was illegible even under strong sunlight. An hour’s reading was enough to make one’s eyes burn and one’s head ache fiercely. It would be quite a job to comb through them for one particular entry.

But the notebooks were his, thanks to Kate. She pursued the question of Ogilvie when he thought it hopeless. If Durham’s clandestine marriage showed up in the pages of these books, it would be invaluable, either for proving the marriage illegal or for affording him the chance to destroy the only tangible proof of any connection between his father and Dorothy Cope. The London solicitor had said there were a few ways to affirm a marriage, whether it satisfied every legal requirement or not; a record of any sort was one. One way or another, there would be no record of any legal marriage when Gerard finished with the books. And he owed it entirely to his wife.

“Where is your mistress?” he demanded of the footman, Foley, who came running as he stood stripping off coat, hat, and gloves.

“M’lady left, sir, but His Grace has been waiting since yesterday.”

“What?” Gerard stopped in shock. “His Grace?”

Foley nodded, looking a bit anxious. “Yes, my lord. The Duke of Durham.”

Blast. His hands dropped. What was he doing here? “And milady is out?” he asked again, then sighed. “Where is His Grace?”

“In your study, sir.”

Putting aside his disappointment that Kate wasn’t at home, he strode to his study and pushed open the door. “What do you want?”

His eldest brother looked up from his book and smiled sardonically. “A pleasure to see you also, Gerard.”

Gerard ran his hands over his head and prayed for fortitude. Charlie sat in the chair behind his desk and was the picture of indolent elegance, from his languid posture to the elaborate tea tray sitting at his elbow. “Of course it’s a pleasure to see you—a very unexpected one.”

Charlie’s lips twitched. “So I see.” He closed his book and set it down. “Edward sends his regards.”

“Where the devil is he? I specifically asked him to come.”

“Yes, I know. I did warn him you would be cruelly disappointed by the substitution.” His brother drew out a letter from his waistcoat pocket and made a show of unfolding it. “ ‘Edward, come to Bath with all haste. I require your help most urgently. I have the blackmailer’s description, and may have discovered the minister’s records, but cannot pursue both,