He sat motionless for the space of two breaths. “Why me?”
“Because you alone of Society know her sordid history, and no other can be allowed to possess such information. If thetonlearned the truth of her recent past, it would never suffer her presence long enough to accept her as an equal.”
He swallowed hard. “My deepest apologies, but I cannot. The task is too tall for the elite of London, let alone for the exiled second son of a country earl.” He withheld his primary reason for declining—his desire to be free from the web of lies that threatened to render true every dire prediction his brother had made of him. “Besides, I am expected at Bow Street for duty in the morning.”
“I will send a letter to Sir Nathaniel. As a dear friend, he will most certainly grant you leave.”
“With all due respect, I have no inheritance. I must work if I am to eat.”
She leaned toward him, driving him into the sofa cushions. “I will pay you handsomely for your efforts.”
He considered the disrepair of the house while harboring doubts about her means. “Any sum I accepted from you would be no better than blood money, tainted by my inevitable failure to accomplish the task.”
In response, the duchess performed a remarkable act, one Henry had not thought possible. She sat beside him on the sofa with her hands in her lap and begged.
“Please, I implore you. If only you realized what is at stake for Lucy, then you would understand my desperation.”
His curiosity mounted. He sensed in the plea a profound secret and the woman’s desire to disclose the truth. His morbid interest overcame good sense.
“Perhaps if you explain the stakes, then I might know better what game you ask me to play.”
“Indeed. Indeed. I suppose I owe you that privilege, considering what I ask of you.” She stared ahead, not looking him in the eye. “My son, Edwin, whom I loved dearly and whom we cultivated to inherit the dukedom, was always passionate and impulsive. He often spoke inappropriately and acted without considering the consequences.”
“That describes someone else we know.”
The duchess smiled briefly. “Yes, it does. Despite his shortcomings, Edwin seemed poised to accept the mantle of his duties. However, he met and married a common bar wench, rendered her with child, and fled to Italy to escape the wrath of his father. The duke was livid. He tried to disinherit Edwin in favor of our younger son. Edwin returned to England to convince members of the Committee of Privileges to deny my husband’s request. But his actions proved moot when he drowned returning to Italy. And then…”
Henry waited in silence before prompting her. “Then what?”
She turned her face toward him, eyes filled with regret. “Then his younger brother died a year later, from fever. My husband shattered. He was gone within six months. However, since our granddaughter was never found, he poured his last ounce of hope into his written will. Should she return and marry someone appropriate and approved by the age of one and twenty, his will settles on her a sum of one hundred thousand pounds.”
Henry whistled in awe. “Your granddaughter will inherit a fortune if she marries before the age of one and twenty?”
“Yes.”
“And if she does not marry by then?”
“She inherits nothing. The dowry reverts to the estate of the new duke, the scoundrel.”
He nodded grimly. “I see. How old is she now, if I might ask?”
The duchess grew grimmer still. “She is twenty and will reach her next birthday in a little more than three months. So, do you not see the stakes and urgency of the situation?”
He nodded, overwhelmed. “I do.”
“You will help her, then?”
“It depends. What did the duke mean by ‘appropriate and approved’?”
“Born of a British family in good standing with the Crown and in possession of a royally bestowed title, or heir to one.”
He clenched his jaw with mild frustration. “I see. In other words, Lucy must be prepared to impress a class of suitors likely to ridicule her in her current state.”
“That is how I interpret the situation, Mr. Beaumont.”
Henry pressed a fist into his chin as he considered the mounting challenge and his dire personal situation. Despite Lucy’s lofty new station, his very association with the ward of a criminal would serve only to drag him toward an unwelcome destiny. And yet, he could not simply abandon her. Visions of Lucy sailed through his mind. Her courage. Her determination. Her intelligence. And her seeming inability to understand how beautiful she was. With some reluctance, he came to a decision that would surely prove disastrous on every level.
“Agreed, then. I will devote my energy to the task, but I can spare only two weeks. This is a perilous affair fraught with inevitable ruin. I cannot squander what little reputation I have on such a risky project.”
