Heath already knew who the culprit was.
Someone connected enough to be present at Society gatherings. Someone inconspicuous enough to fade into the background. Someone cruel enough to use the secrets she witnessed to line her pockets.
Someone who had made love to him not an hour earlier as if she had nothing at all to hide.
He stared blindly at the letters printed on the page. His head was already too full of words. Winfield. West Midlands.Nora.
There could be no mistaking that his intended bride was the villain he had sworn to capture. Nora was not the sweet country innocent she presented herself to be. She was Heath’s sworn nemesis. Theton’s worst enemy.
And she’d accepted his marriage proposal knowing exactly who and what she was.
He crumpled the parchment in his trembling fist.
She had lied to him. He had believed her because he wanted to believe her. Because he’d needed to believeinher. Because he loved her.
Or rather, loved the façade she’d used as her disguise.
He almost couldn’t think over the roaring in his ears.
The woman he’d just made love to was the self-righteous, anonymous coward who had been mocking Heath and his peers all Season.
The woman he’d just made love to was the arrogant caricaturist who thought nothing of exploiting the likenesses of Heath’s own family for her personal profit.
The woman he’d just made love to was a complete stranger.
Vibrating with disappointment and rage, he lifted his reins and turned his landau toward the Roundtree town house to confront his erstwhile bride.
He wouldn’t trust a word from Nora’s deceitful lips ever again. She had already shown her true colors. His body shook with anger. There would be no more lies.
It was time to unmask the caricaturist.
Chapter 26
Lady Roundtree was resting upstairs in her bedchamber when the butler strode into Nora’s sitting room. The normally orderly interior had just been turned topsy-turvy by none other than his esteemed highness, Captain Pugboat, who had determined thatsharingteacakes was for lesser pups right before he’d taken off in a flurry of wrinkled fur and cake crumbs.
“Mr. Grenville to see you, miss.”
Nora’s besotted heart grew giddy. “To see me? Not Lady Roundtree?”
“You, miss.”
“Please, show him in.” She should not be so surprised. He had proposed to her, after all.
It was perhaps unusual to pay a second call so soon after the first, but she could not bring herself to care about adhering to such protocols. Not only was Heath Nora’s future husband—he was also her first gentleman caller. He was here forher.
It took all her self-control not to fly into his arms the moment he entered the disordered drawing room.
“Such wonderful timing!” she said with a laugh. “I was trying to teach new tricks to—”
“I don’t care.” Heath’s countenance was dark and angry. Those were not storm clouds brewing in his eyes, but entire battles being waged. And all of it was focused on her.
Nora’s smile died on her lips.
The wacky story about Captain Pugboat frolicking on the tea tray amongst the lemon cakes no longer seemed very funny.
“What is it?” she stammered. But of course, she already knew. There could only be one answer.
“You.” He stared at her as if she were a specimen to dissect, a moth in a butterfly collection, something to be pinned through with a sharp needle and never looked at again. “I had no idea I was in the presence of such a popular artist.”
