Jason had employed the few minutes while he was alone to consider that. The answer was too dreadful to voice. “He’s a forger, Lizzie. And he doesn’t work alone. I suspect this Barrett is in league with him. He’s most likely the artist behind the works.”
“But still, it doesn’t explain...” Her face grew pale, and she bit her lip. “Once we married and he took me away, he could take control of my fortune, couldn’t he?”
“Yes, he could,” he said gently. And heaven only knew what the nasty piece of work would do to Lizzie when he had complete control over her. Jason tamped down his wrath and moved to the sofa to comfort her.
She took his proffered handkerchief and blew her nose. “How dreadful,” she murmured. “And to think I believed him. How gullible am I?”
“I thought he might be a fraudster, but never for one moment suspected this. I will deal with him. You will never see the man again.”
“You’re probably right that I shouldn’t see him. But how much I would like to. If only to spit in his eye,” Lizzie said, with a sharp intake of breath.
“That’s the Lizzie I know,” he said with a smile. He was pleased to see she still had spirit.
Charlie came into the room. “Is everything all right?”
“Sit down, Charlie,” Jason said. “Your instincts have been proven right about Bianchi.”
After dinner, when Charlie had taken himself off, Jason sat with Lizzie in the library.
“I’d forgotten to ask you about Lady Diana Kinsey,” Lizzie said. “Since we’re invited to her debutante ball on Saturday evening, I hope that, at last, you might be considering what you reluctant gentleman term the parson’s mousetrap.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “No. Not Lady Diana. Lady Helen. But she has refused me,”
With a concerned huff, Lizzie frowned. “She refused you? For what reason? I’m surprised any woman in her right mind would do that.”
“Well, thank you, Lizzie,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “But alas it is true. Do you know Lady Helen?”
“I have met her. She came out a year or so after me. She was one of the more interesting debutantes, amusing. I remember her first Season. Very sad business.”
“How so?”
“You don’t know?”
“Evidently I don’t. Are you going to enlighten me?”
“Apparently, that rakehell, Albert, Lord Lawley ravaged her in the Chillinghams’ garden. She hit her head and was taken home to the country concussed. I last saw Lady Helen at Lady Newley’s ball, just before Greywood died. She seemed very much changed, quite subdued, and, to my knowledge, didn’t dance.”
“Lawley, you say? Jason growled.
“Yes. His father was furious. Lawley left England shortly afterward.”
“How wise of him.” He thought for a minute. “Godwin at Horse Guards was a cohort of his. They were known to hunt in a pack, picking on vulnerable women. Nasty pieces of work the lot of them. I wonder…”
She eyed him carefully. ‘What will you do about Bianchi? You are not to call him out, Jason. I couldn’t bear it.”
He sighed with frustration, wanting to take the man apart piece by piece. “Very well. I don’t have the authority to arrest him. I’ll notify the Bow Street magistrate. He’ll invite Bianchi, or whatever his real name is, and his accomplice, in for questioning. I’ll alert Mr. Gillies, whom I expect will want to learn of this and give evidence if required. Mr. Smith, the foremost expert in art forgery, might be willing to inspect the rest of the works, although I suspect many would have been sold.”
When Lizzie, who seemed more relieved than heartbroken, left the room, Jason, at last, allowed his thoughts to dwell on Helen. Learning what had happened to her all those years ago explained so much. He intended to broach the subject with her. He would have the truth. Was it because of her past that she wouldn’t have him? He could deal with that, for although he was in a murderous rage at what had happened to her and would happily run the man through, it didn’t matter a damn to him if he wasn’t the first. But if she did not love him, he would have to accept it. Strange, how his once-wished-for, quiet life now seemed so dashed unpalpable.
Chapter Seventeen
On Friday, Mama arrived home with Toby. “Kinsey!” She rushed into Papa’s arms in the entry where Helen and Diana stood waiting to greet her.
Papa enveloped her in a hug. “How is Alexander?”
“Healing well. He prefers to remain with his grandfather, and I thought it wise not to make him endure a journey in the coach.” She leaned back to scrutinize him. “Have you been wearing your hat? You’re as brown as a nut.”
He laughed and swung her around in his arms. “And you are even more beautiful than I remember.”
