Jeremy looked at him blankly, not the most ardent reader. “Nevertheless, that is what I’m hearing.”
A beat.
“Thesource?” Gideon asked.
“A former army officer. Not one of our lot,” Jeremy answered, referring to the regiment in which he had served, “Somerset Rifles,steady enough bunch. Had them on my left flank at… now where was it?”
Gideon's palm cracked against the table. Jeremy blinked.
“I am grateful for your legwork, old chap,” he muttered, and meant it, though the words came out clipped as a whip. “But let us dispense with the scenic route and get to the destination.”
“Quite right. No scones, straight to the bacon, eh?” Jeremy's grin was brief and sheepish. “The man talks freely enough—particularly when well lubricated, which is to say…frequently. To silence him permanently, however...” He let the sentence hang, eyebrows lifting in a way that was entirely too practiced to be innocent. “Fundswill be required.”
Now, his eyes were sharp. Watchful. Gideon held his gaze for a long beat, then crossed to the bellpull and gave it a single, decisive tug. He waited by the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the grey morning press itself against the glass. McKay appeared with his usual silent efficiency.
“Pen, ink, and a check,” Gideon commanded, not turning.
The butler withdrew and returned swiftly with the paraphernalia. Gideon wrote quickly, leaving the amount blank, and held the paper out without looking at it.
“Take it. And speak no word of this to anyone else. Whatever it takes to shut this man’s mouth.”
“You have my word, old man.” Jeremy took the check, tucked it away with a casualness that did not quite reach his eyes. “You can rely on me.”
When he left, Gideon allowed himself to sit for a moment. He took a cup of tea and drained it in one long swallow, pouring another immediately. McKay returned with the morning’s post. Two letters lay upon the tray. Gideon opened the first without looking at the envelope. It was short.
You cannot hide forever. I will see you soon. There will be a reckoning over name and inheritance.
He picked up the letter, knocking it to the floor in his haste. McKay bent to pick it up. There was no address, only a name.
“It can only be for yourself, of course, there are no other Tarnley’s here. But I noted that the name was incorrect,” McKay announced.
Gideon frowned, about to question the statement, when he realized. It was addressed toGideon Tarnley.
“And… did no one see it delivered?” he asked.
“Idid not. I have not had the time to question the other staff, but I shall.”
“Do so. Please.”
“Right away, Your Grace.”
McKay clicked his heels together and marched from the room.
I am threatened. Someone seeks to intimidate me. Well, I have been threatened by experts. This jackanapes will discover I am no easy meat!
The second envelope bore the hand of Sir Obadiah Threnthorpe. His written language was very like his spoken word. The letter read like a direct transcript of a conversation. Its content did nothing to lift the weight from Gideon’s shoulders. He wrote that another investor had approached him, eager to join their venture. Sir Obadiah urged Gideon to consider the man as a partner.
The investor’s title? The Earl of Stafford.
The letter crumpled in Gideon’s fist.
So, the enemy comes closer still.
CHAPTER 22
Catherine stirred, and for the first time in many days, felt herself truly awake. Weak, but somehow no longerbound.
The fever had dissipated. Her limbs trembled with weariness, but they did not ache. Her head felt clear and her heart light. The curtains were open, as was the window. Soft air drifted into the room, carrying a pleasant nature-esque chill that contrasted with the warm, enveloping glow of the fire.
