Two
HART AND SUMMERS, SOLICITORS, LONDON—APRIL 10, 1817
DAVINA
This was a properly terrible idea.I knew that. Anyone with even the slightest bit of intelligence could see that. And Mr. Summers was a good man; he would almost certainly help me without the ruse. But…
That was the problem, the but. The what-if hung there in my head, floating ominously over the near certainty I felt of his assistance.
I could not risk Xander’s secret, his very life, on a but.
Not until I was assured Mr. Summers had as much to lose as I did, as much at stake as Xander.
This wasn’t the proper way to go about it either, kidnapping—abduction, apparently. For years my half-hearted disguises had bamboozled theton. But I was fairly certain Mr. Summers hadn’t been fooled for a second. His willingness to play along with my charade lent further credence to my suspicion that he wouldn’t betray us.
With a sigh, I settled back into his usual chair. It was an ugly green shade, though more comfortable than the ones he left forvisitors. Perhaps, when all this was finished, I could redecorate these abysmal offices. That might be a sufficient thanks.
I yanked the top drawer open. Nothing of interest: a seal and red wax, a stamp, some paste, and a few wrapped hard candies thatIwouldn’t be testing.
The next drawer was more interesting. Neatly labeled folders were packed tight, vertically, within easy reach. Some familiar names gave me pause, but even I could not bring myself to look at private documents that didn’t belong to me. The one withmyname, however, felt appropriate.
The Lady Davina Hasket folder was thick but neatly organized by date, beginning with my adventure at Decker’s and ending with the evening at Wayland’s last June, when I won a tidy sum. Behind that was the settlement Xander had prepared for my eventual dowry—not that I would ever need it.
What I hadn’t known about was the living Xander had arranged. Dated a mere ten months ago, the document showed that Xander had arranged to provide me a living of at least £2,500 per annum when I reached the age of five and twenty. Mama, too, had an immodest £25,000 to live on in her lifetime. Anything remaining on her death would go to me. The settlement was separate from my ostentatious dowry.
How Xander had managed to keep the funds from me after I reached majority was most likely Mr. Summers’ doing. But the efforts my brother had undertaken to ensure my comfort solidified my determination to help him now.
Xander had sacrificed a great deal for me. Money, property, dignity, the promise of love—all were tossed away in favor of my health, safety, and happiness. And now, finally, I could do the same for him.
Dressing up as a pirate and dragging a solicitor to Scotland was an easy price to pay for Xander. He’d undertaken worse for me, had done, in fact.
The irritating bell above the door jangled to announce Mr. Summers’ return, as promised, overstuffed portmanteau in hand.
He took one look at me and sighed. “Tell me you’re not sifting through private documents.”
Before I could move to stuff the folder back in the drawer, he reached my side. He flipped the folder closed and slapped his hand atop it.
“What are you— Oh, that’s fine,” he muttered.
Indignation rose instinctively before the actual understanding did. “So Lady Davina is not deserving of privacy?”
The expression he shot me was so unlike him and so very like one I used for Xander when he was being particularly dense that I had to bite back a laugh.
Not fooled even in the slightest then.
“Must we continue with this ridiculous charade? The Rosehill carriage is nowhere to be seen, and His Grace would never hire staff that would encourage this nonsense anyway. Presumably you intend to hire a hack. How do you propose to do so dressed like this?”
“When did you figure it out?”
“Sometime between the bell ringing and the pronouncement that you intended to kidnap me,” he replied, tone droll.
“And you went along with it?”
“It was amusing. I usually arrive after your adventures have gone sideways. I wanted to experience the entire effect.”
“And?”
“You’ve reaffirmed my belief that thetonis full of dullards and dimwits,” he said, his gaze flicking up and down my frame.
