Jonathan’s approach was more cautious. He wore a frown that seemed permanently etched into his face as his gaze slid over Catherine.
If he’d had any doubts regarding where Jonathan’s affections lay before, he now had none. His cousin was apparently besotted with the lovely Catherine, blinded by her looks as he himself had been—at first. Likely, Jonathan had fallen prey to her expertly plied charm, too. That had not worked nearly so well on Teddy, though he’d enjoyed teasing her for her efforts—something she had not appreciated one bit.
He couldn’t help himself. He’d had years of practice discerning the genuine article from the counterfeit. Everyone wanted to be associatedwith him. Oh, not because of who he was inside, not even because he had been born with more than his share of physical gifts—but because of the title to which he would one day accede, and the affluence which went alongside it.
He pictured Georgina, eyes aglow as she lay beneath him. She had not been thinking of his title, or the wealth he had at his fingertips. No, indeed. Her liquid-silver eyes glowed with an overabundance of love.
By God, he knew the difference, and she had not been faking. He’d stake his life on it.
But one thing at a time. He returned his attention to the matter at hand.
He considered reminding Catherine of the heated words she’d tossed at him the day before he departed for Spain—when she realized he had no intention of contracting an offer of marriage with her before leaving. She’d told him in no uncertain terms she would not wait around for him, more than implying she would be spoken for by the end of the next parliamentary season.
He wondered what had gone wrong? Not enough to waste time digging for an answer, however.
“Lady Catherine, as pleasant as it’s been to see you after all this time, I require a private chat with my cousin.”
Her cupid’s bow mouth opened in obvious affront. The lady did not appreciate being dismissed.
Jonathan, it seemed, did not take kindly to it, either. “Anything you wish to say to me you can say in front of Lady Catherine.”
“Is that so?” Teddy asked, then turned his gaze on Catherine, curious how she would respond to his cousin’s inference that the two were on the closest of terms.
Catherine did not disappoint. Her expression conveyed the perfect blend of shock and bewilderment. “I don’t know why you would say such a thing, Jonathan. We are friends, certainly, but I am hardly privy to your most intimate secrets.”
Jonathan’s cheeks flamed scarlet.
“Nevertheless,” Teddy said, “as Jonathan wishes you to stay, what say the three of us adjourn to my father’s den, where we can converse in private?”
Not waiting for either party’s assent, he turned, moving at an easy, confident gait toward his father’s office. Once inside, he headed for the massive, carved desk situated before the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking his father’s pristine gardens.
Standing with his back to the window, he folded his arms over his chest and waited as each settled into the armchairs facing the desk.
Then, he sent them his best headmaster grin. “Let us cut to the chase, shall we? I’ve consulted with the physician you brought in to treat first me, and then my father. I confronted him about the so-called tisane he prescribed for both of us—by the by, the earl is coming out of his drug-induced stupor, as I’ve taken him off the poison.”
Catherine gave a gasp and turned to Jonathan in wide-eyed horror.
Ted went on. “He made a full confession, admitted to basically poisoning the earl and me, and claimed he was acting at your behest. As to your motivation for ridding yourself of my father and me, I could wager a guess. But I thought it better to put the question to you. Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?”
Catherine no longer looked on Jonathan with horror, instead she aimed her haughtiest gaze at him, as if she, too, awaited an explanation.
Jonathan’s mouth worked several seconds before any words came out. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“No? Allow me to jog your memory. You brought in a doctor—unknown in social circles, as my father specified, then had him prescribe for me a toxic hallucinogen, after which you arranged to have me locked up in a madhouse.”
Face ruddying, Jonathan sprang to his feet. Even so, he was forced to look up at Ted. “I arranged nothing. You were behaving erratically.You tried to kill yourself, in point of fact, several times.”
Teddy felt a familiar anger rise within him. Still, he maintained an icy calm. “I did no such thing, but you convinced the earl otherwise. Tell me. How did you manage to weaken the railing outside my bedchamber and see that I went over? Bad luck for you, in any case, that the hedges beneath my chamber were particularly healthy and provided a cushion for my fall.”
“You leapt in a fit of despair,” Jonathan insisted. “Afterward I had no choice but to find a place where you could recover while we could be assured of your safety.”
“How kind,” Teddy said dryly.
“It was a kindness—for your own good. And it was hardly my decision alone, nor did I conceive the plan. That was all your father. Ask Catherine.”
Teddy arched a brow at the lady in question. “Lady Catherine, do you concur?”
A considering look came over her face, as if she was giving serious thought to how best to answer in order to achieve the desired result.
