Blame It on Bath Page 0,95
evil spells over a bubbling cauldron in the woods. “If you had been acquainted, you would know old Billy Ogilvie was the devil’s own spit. You would know he was likely to help an old woman across the street only so he could pick her pocket. Anyone who knew him at all knew not to turn his back on Billy.” Nollworth’s lips stretched in a gruesome grin. “But then, you’re a young fellow. Billy was before your time. He was much more of an age to know your father.”
A carriage drove past the house, the rattle of its wheels loud in the silence that engulfed the room. “Yes,” said Gerard evenly. “I expect he was.”
“It was quite remarkable to get a letter from a duke’s son. What on earth would such a person want with old Billy?” Nollworth’s eyes weren’t birdlike; they were a snake’s eyes, cold and hungry. “I’m not a hasty man. I took my time to see if I wasn’t being hoaxed. An hour reading the London papers was enough to make me think it was quite the opposite.” He leaned forward, his skinny neck stretching out. “Old Billy held the key to this Durham Dilemma, didn’t he?”
A muscle twitched in Gerard’s jaw before he could stop it. “If he had, you may rest assured it would have been allowed to go to his grave with him. My father wasn’t the sort to leave loose ends hanging.”
Nollworth gave a thin, wheezy chuckle. “But he left this one, didn’t he? One very long, very loose end. Dangling about, just waiting to snare his son by the neck.”
“I’m not convinced of that.” Gerard flicked his fingers. “But if he did, by some chance, my brothers and I are each prepared to snip that loose end cleanly off at the root.” He smiled in warning. “We are, after all, Durham’s own blood.”
His visitor’s lip curled. “A bit lax in your personal life, too, are you? I expect that don’t matter much to a duke’s son. Much is forgiven or overlooked in a son of nobility . . . unless he’s just a bastard.”
It wouldn’t take much to wring Nollworth’s thin, shriveled neck. Gerard’s hands itched to try it, just to shake that gloating, superior look off his face. “You might do well to keep that in mind.”
“Come now, young man, you don’t want to lose your temper with me.”
“Why not?” Gerard stretched out his legs and folded his arms, striving for a grasp on his temper that was growing more tenuous by the moment.
“Because I have something you might want very much.” Nollworth made a show of picking delicately at a mole on the back of his left hand. “Old Billy died and cost me a plump purse to bury. My wife, sentimental woman, kept all his things. His watch, his damned drawings, all his books . . .”
“Sentimental, indeed.”
“He kept ledgers, you know,” Nollworth went on almost idly. “Notebooks and diaries and all sorts of records. They go back . . . Oh, decades, I expect. He did harbor dreams of being a regular curate, once upon a time. If only he’d had the good fortune to marry a rich lady, he might never have been sent to the Fleet. So damaging to a man’s prospects, prison . . .”
Gerard let out his breath slowly, although his pulse leaped at the mention of ledgers and notebooks. Durham’s confessional letter mentioned signing his name in the minister’s register, in a tavern near the Fleet. If Nollworth had that register, or anything else affirming Durham’s clandestine marriage, Gerard had to get it, no matter what Nollworth extorted from him. “What are you proposing?”
“I’m sure there’s a fair value for something so important to your family history.” Nollworth laughed his dry, dusty laugh. “To you, or to someone else. I only offer you first rights to it because I’m a family man myself.”
He should be grateful for that pretense, Gerard supposed. “Very well. If you have anything of interest to me, we shall fix a price—as thanks for your discretion and consideration.”
Nollworth reeked of triumph. “I knew we could reach an agreement. I leave within the hour. Don’t be lazy.”
“Send these books. Should they prove . . . informative, I shall be very, generously, grateful.”
The old man’s face darkened. “Oh, no, boy. I’m not traipsing back and forth to Bath, and I’m not letting the ledgers out of my sight until we make our bargain.”
“You wish me to buy them sight unseen?”