Merritt eyed him with a confused frown. “Vaguely. Why? What has that impertinent little chit got to do with this?” As soon as the words left him, his jaw dropped. “No.”
Nash lifted his glass in a toast. “Yes. That impertinent little chit is now my wife in all her beautiful, fiery-haired glory. And while she and the duchess are similar in stature and shape,Sophie’s hair gleams like the finest polished copper, whereas the duchess’s hair shines like ebony.”
Shaking his head as though to clear it, Merritt took another sip of his brandy, then frowned again. “Telling them apart would be possible, then. Even by torchlight.” He thoughtfully ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “You said your wife, her mother, and the queen are all targets of this blackmailer. What do the three have in common that the suspect is trying to use against them?”
“My mother-in-law is none other than Lady Rydleshire, one of the best agents ever to serve the monarchy and the founder of the elite Rydleshire Academy, which trains the Crown’s current spies.” He paused and arched a brow. “I believe she is also one of the closesttruefriends of Queen Charlotte. So close that when she gave birth to a daughter after her husband’s murder, and no heir was left to inherit the Rydleshire title, Her Highness delicatelylooked the other wayand occasionally smoothed circumstances for the dowager countess’s propagation of a fictitious son to prevent the title from going extinct and reverting to the monarchy for King George to mishandle. Once Sophie became old enough to join in on the scheme, she too supported the farce of the fake Earl of Rydleshire and took it upon herself to raise the estate to a glory it had never previously known. I have not become privy to the ledgers yet, but from what I understand, my wife is as brilliant in business as she is in horsemanship and archery.” He wet his mouth with another taste of brandy. “And you remember how I always complained about her besting me in both?”
“A fake peer.” Merritt’s frown furrowed even deeper. “They could be hanged—or beheaded, depending on Prinny’s mood.” He barely tilted his head to one side, still looking confused. “That does not explain your sudden nuptials, though. By special license, I presume? Since I heard nothing of this until today.”
“The blackmailer sent several notes and also received several payments, but in the face of the fiend getting bolder, Lady Rydleshire took the matter to the queen. Especially since the last missive from the devil specifically threatened Her Majesty with the exposure of her part in the scheme to Parliament and theton. Therefore, our wily queen put a counterattack in motion.”
“Which was?”
“My marriage to Lady Sophie. The fake Earl of Rydleshire’s unexpected demise, which will take place and be announced within a few days, and the prince regent’s proclamation naming me as the fifth Earl of Rydleshire. Her Majesty’s ability to persuade her son has apparently returned to her in full force.”
“As if she ever really lost it.” Merritt snorted.
“True.”
Merritt shifted in his seat, finished off the last of his cognac, then held out the glass. “Perhaps one more while you explain why our good queen selected you for this monumental and extraordinarily questionable task.” He shook his head. “The legalities alone—gads, man! I understand how letters patent often leave women facing the direst of straits, but to falsify a peer? And now you yourself are in the thick of it?”
“I know.” Nash allowed himself a disgruntled snort as he refilled both their glasses. “Three summers ago I happened to be at Kew when the king had one of his more violent attacks. It terrified the queen and her daughters. So much so that, without thinking, I jumped in and attempted to divert His Majesty by asking his advice on harvesting crops, seasons for planting, and the breeding of animals. I referred to him as Farmer George until he calmed enough to allow me to take the scythe away from him on the pretense of checking the sharpness of the blade. I handed it off to a servant, telling His Majesty that it was in dire need of repair or the barley harvest would surely be damaged.” He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “We talked for hours, he andI, and the sad thing was, he made perfect sense about everything to do with farming. It was as though he had never been king and was quite happy about that fact.” He lowered himself to a chair across from Merritt. “That day sealed my fate. The queen forbade me from ever traveling farther than a day’s ride from her and her family. Gone was my hope to defend my country by land or sea. I am called upon whenever His Majesty’s days are more difficult than his staff can manage. She cannot bear to see him handled as roughly as was required before I arrived on that fateful day.”
“And as an earl, you would usually be right here in London. At her call year round, if need be.”
“Exactly.”
“And now you are well and properly leg-shackled. No good deed goes unpunished.” Merritt gave him a sad smile. “Isn’t that what your father always said?”
“Yes.” Nash decided not to share that his marriage to Sophie had turned out to be the silver lining of the complicated storm cloud he was now a part of. As astute as his friend was, Merritt would eventually figure that out for himself.
“What information can you give me that will assist my investigation?”
“All the demands were posted through different offices. The postal stamps attested to that, and yet each of them required the same amount of postage to receive, postage for a distance of fifty miles.” Nash tried to remember everything Sophie had told him about the letters, since he had yet to examine them at his leisure. “Same handwriting. Blunt, aggressive wording, of course. And, according to Sophie, knowledge of names, dates, and circumstances that few would be privy to.”
“Have thosefewbeen interviewed?”
“I honestly do not know, but I cannot imagine either my wife or her mother leaving something as simple as that to chance.”
“Perhaps I should start with Lady Rydleshire. If she would be up to it this evening, of course.” Merritt tossed a glance at the bedroom door into which the lady had disappeared. “Handsome woman and yet she never remarried?”
“I do not ask those questions, and if you value your life, you will not ask them either,” Nash advised, remembering the fate of the malodorous French courtier. “From what I have surmised, the dowager lost the love of her life when her husband was murdered and has never considered the possibility of another.”
“And some ghosts never rest.”
“Most definitely.” Remembering the malevolent spirits creating the barrier between himself and Sophie, Nash couldn’t agree more. But he was determined to exorcise those foul memories and lay them to rest. He and Sophie could find happiness. He felt it in his bones.
Chapter Nine
Sophie pricked herfinger again. She popped it in her mouth and held her tongue against it to stop the bleeding and keep from staining her embroidery even more. Her poor little bluebirds were already so spotted with blood they looked as though someone had shot them several times.
“Perhaps you should discard that piece and start again,” her mother gently suggested, with a sympathetic pat on her shoulder.
“Perhaps I should be out and about doing something productive rather than sitting in the parlor playing at these silly things I have never cared about nor been able to perfect.” Sophie stabbed the needle into the square of material and tossed the tangled mess aside.
Maman pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head as though she were still a child. “Remember, we are in mourning and must be the epitome of propriety. And besides, it has only been a week since the attack. Mere moments ago you said you still suffered from some soreness.”
“No worse than the soreness one gets from overexerted muscles.” Sophie rose from the settee and paced around the room. “When did Nash and Mr. Wethersby say they would return?”
