Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order #3) - Adele Clee Page 0,57
worthy beneficiaries should inherit. Not everyone agrees.”
Vivienne wondered again about Charles Sloane. Resentment radiated from every fibre of his being. Had he not alluded to the unfairness of Evan inheriting indirectly from Lady Boscobel?
“Do you know who would wish to harm Mr Golding?” He seemed like such a sweet man. Whatever wickedness had befallen him had to stem from his knowledge of the contract. “Do you know who might wish to harm us?”
Mr Howarth suddenly stepped forward and gripped her hand. Evan looked ready to grab him by the throat and throttle him, but the gentleman’s concerned mutterings eased the tension.
“Be wary of everyone, my dear, everyone. This is a test of loyalty. A test of integrity. A test that will push you both to the limits of your sanity.”
She might have thought the man overly dramatic had it not been for the devil in the plague mask. The fact the villain had not shot at them again or found another means to attack them proved worrying.
“Everyone knows Livingston amassed a personal fortune. Everyone knows he left nothing but land in his will. It’s a matter of public record, available to read for the price of a shilling.”
“How is it you know so much about my grandfather?” Evan said in the quizzing tone of an enquiry agent. “How did your father know Livingston Sloane? Be trusted by him to keep something so important?”
Mr Howarth shrugged. “I seem to recall they met by chance in a tavern. Both had parents who tried to force them in certain directions. But Livingston helped my father finance his first optical instrument shop. Helped Golding’s father, too. Yes, Livingston Sloane believed all men might rise to greatness if given a helping hand.”
Vivienne stole a glance at Evan Sloane. Chin raised and wearing a satisfied grin, he appeared rather proud of his grandfather. The excited flutter in her chest had nothing to do with Livingston’s benevolence. She cared only about easing Mr Sloane’s pain.
Mr Howarth took a moment to study Evan Sloane, too. “I met your grandfather a couple of times as a boy. You have inherited his confident bearing. The question is, have you inherited his generous heart?”
On the subject of hearts—and the fact Evan Sloane had captured hers—it was time to press on with their investigation and discuss their wedding.
“Mr Golding said he must witness our marriage before we can receive the clues to finding our legacy. We cannot proceed until we find him.” Vivienne withdrew the sealed letter from her reticule and handed it to Mr Howarth. “Should anything untoward happen, Mr Golding urged us to give you this note.”
Taking the letter between bony fingers, the gentleman hurried to the lamp on his desk and examined the seal. He took hold of the quizzing glass dangling from a gold chain around his neck and studied the red wax.
“Yes, this bears the correct mark.” He broke the wax and peeled back the folds, the lines between his brows deepening as he read.
“Does the note reveal anything of Golding’s fears?” Evan asked.
“I’m afraid not. Rest assured, there are a few places where I might look for him.”
“Assuming he has not met a tragic end.”
“Just so. Just so.” A weary sigh left the man’s lips. “Well, I am instructed to inform you there has been a change of plan. There is no need for you to marry, and it seems pointless if Golding cannot bear witness. No. We will proceed as if the deed has been done.”
No need to marry?
No need to marry!
Vivienne clutched her hand to her chest. It took tremendous effort not to stumble back in shock. No need to marry? My, she felt the pain of those words like a stab to the stomach. She had got used to the idea of waking next to Evan Sloane each morning—if only for a short while.
“Pointless?” Anger and disbelief warred in Evan’s clipped tone. “But if we do not marry, I cannot honour my grandfather’s debt. I cannot … I cannot—” He broke off, his wide eyes searching her face, gauging her reaction.
Mr Howarth looked almost apologetic. “On that, I cannot comment. I am simply instructed to give you your wedding gifts.”
“Do you not want to check Golding’s office, confirm we speak the truth?”
“The fact you’ve asked the question tells me I can trust you, Mr Sloane.”
Mr Howarth folded the letter. He dangled the end over the lit candle in the brass stick on his desk. Like the prospect of becoming Mr Sloane’s wife, the