“But I am the firstborn son.”
Vincent shrugged. “A matter of a few minutes. Is that fair?”
“It is the way of the world. I am happy to share my life with you, although it won’t make up for what you’ve suffered. Where are we?”
“The tunnels beneath Rosecroft Hall.”
“How did you find a way inside?”
“Later! I need your identification papers. I’ve searched your chamber and the library here and turned up nothing. I tried to get you to tell me in Hampstead, but you were out to it. Tell me now.”
“For God’s sake, Vincent. This is madness. Sit down and we’ll talk.”
“Non!We shall just waste time. I need those papers!”
“I lost them when your men attacked me in the woods. I fell off my horse. But what good will they do you while I live?” Guy swallowed as the enormity of what Vincent planned became clear to him.
“I’ll need them later. But first I must supply the British government with a body, so the authorities will stop searching for me. Once I convince them that this dangerous spy who has been masquerading as the baron is dead, I can become you,” he waved his hand. “And take over your charmed life. We are identical, but for this. He touched the scar. And that I can fix.”
Guy whistled through his teeth. “So, it’s you in the documents Forney showed me!”
Vincent’s mouth stretched in a wry grin. “Oui.” He looked down at the pistol in his hand. “Once you are dead, I will be accepted as the baron. But I must have the proof.”
Vincent didn’t have the papers. That meant his portmanteau was still out there somewhere.
“Let’s go and search for them together?”
Vincent’s eyes burned fanatically. “No, I think not. You are tricky, Guy, and might find a way to escape. You rode directly from London. I know where you were attacked. I shall find them after you are dead.”
“You can’t mean to kill me!” Guy searched for a sign that Vincent’s determination might falter. His dry scratchy throat made his voice rasp. “Can I have some water?”
Vincent jerked his head toward a barrel in the corner.
“I rode away from the attackers before I fell. They could be miles away. I doubt you’ll find them. I knew better where to look, and I failed.”
A metal cup lay alongside the barrel. Guy scooped up water and swallowed thirstily. It was icy, and chilled him through to his very marrow, but the dryness in his throat eased. An ache thudded cruelly behind his eyes. “Even if you found them, your plan won’t work, Vincent. You cannot carry off such a deception.”
“After Pierre died, it was useful to take on your identity in France. To all intents and purposes, I am the baron. Vincent Valois died years ago.”
“Weren’t you afraid you’d come across me or someone who knew me?”
Vincent gave him a sly glance. “You were arrested with other hapless people and thrown in prison.” He grinned. “I expected your head to roll at the guillotine like many others.”
Guy frowned. “You didn’t try to help me?”
Vincent shook his head. “You disappeared after they released you. I was told you’d left France. Where did you go?”
“Spain.” Guy wrestled with the fact that his brother had known where he was at some point and never approached him. “It won’t work, Vincent,” he said. “There are many who know me well here in England.”
“You refer to Mademoiselle Cavendish.”
At hearing Hetty’s name on Vincent’s lips, anger and fear tightened his gut. He curled his hands into fists. “Leave her out of this.”
“I might, and I might not. That depends on the lady. I’ve come a long way and there’s much at stake.”
Guy welcomed the anger. It energized him. “If you hurt her, my friends will come after you.”
“I want nothing from her. If she accepts the engagement is at an end, it won’t be necessary to deal with her.”
