Vergette sighed as Alex got into the coach and plonked down on the opposite seat. “Really, my lord, it is quite unnecessary to waylay me in this fashion.”
He ignored this. “She saw you yesterday, didn’t she? What did you tell her?”
He could see the lawyer watching him, his expression hard to fathom in the uncertain light within the interior of the coach. Alex guessed he was assessing the odds and promptly raised them. “I ain’t leaving until you satisfy me, Vergette, so you may as well cut line.”
He saw the fellow’s shoulders relax, and his anxiety reduced a trifle.
“Since my errand was to you, my lord Dymond, it can do no harm to give you the facts. Whether it will do the slightest good, however, I strongly doubt.”
“Talking in riddles, man. Did you or did you not burden Miss Greenaway with some tale or other to make her fly from me?”
The lawyer’s head went back. “What an extraordinary way of putting it, my lord Dymond. Yes, if you must have it, I told Miss Greenaway what she wanted to know. I did, as you suppose, surmise that it would have the effect my client hoped for. More so than if I had told you, I now perceive.”
Alex began to cherish a wish to plant the man a facer. “For the Lord’s sake, speak plainly man! What’s the tale?”
Vergette gave another of his resigned sighs. “Miss Greenaway is the natural daughter of my client. She was adopted by Greenaway at the behest of my client’s father, who also set up the trust.”
“Apple’s grandfather then?”
“Just so.”
Alex was a little surprised at his own lack of reaction. He’d known it, or guessed it, almost from the first. “Who is this client of yours? Some duke or marquis?”
The inevitable conclusion, given Vergette’s involvement. But the lawyer refused to be drawn. “That, my lord Dymond, I may not disclose.”
A bitter note entered Alex’s voice. “Fellow wanted you to warn me off. Afraid of scandal, eh?”
“I think, my lord Dymond, you must see his point of view.”
Possibly, but that made it no better. A niggle surfaced and he gave it voice. “Yes, but this don’t add up, Vergette. If this duke or marquis of yours gave some girl a slip on the shoulder, why should his father take the trouble to set up a trust? Only have to pay off the female to be rid of the business.”
Vergette’s urbanity was fully back in place. “My dear Lord Dymond, I am sure your keen intelligence must give you the answer. The lady in the case was of genteel birth, and my client was already married at the time.”
Fury scorched Alex. “Scoundrel!”
“Just so. Fortunately, his sire, who is no longer with us to my regret, was a man of integrity and vision.”
“He made provision for Apple.”
“Or, should the outcome have been different, for a young fellow who needed to make his way in the world.”
“And you told her all this?”
“The bare bones, I do assure you.”
Which was enough. Alex remembered his last glimpse of Apple’s face when she’d left him last night and almost ground his teeth. “Now we have that straight, where is Apple, Vergette? Did she head for Portsmouth? Back to those vultures? And don’t pretend you don’t know.”
His eyes had adjusted to the gloom and he saw the lawyer smile.
“My dear Lord Dymond, I should not dream of pretending anything, but the fact remains that I do not know.” He held up a gloved finger. “Except that she was adamant she would not return to the Greenaways.”
Worse yet! Where the deuce was she then?
“And you left her to her own devices? Don’t believe that for a moment. I know her too well.”
“Then you are better placed to locate her whereabouts than I.”
“Are you telling me she didn’t beg a lift from you? Or that you weren’t careful enough of her reputation to offer to bring her with you to London?”
