Page 59

Dixon gathered himself and took a deep breath. “I must begin by saying Lord Selwyn—or Mr. Ross Selwyn, as he was once known—is a man of great cunning and diplomatic skill, and considerable charm when he wishes to exhibit it. He was the nephew of the Earl Selwyn before his uncle and cousin died and he became the new lord. I don’t think he expected to inherit, as the previous earl and his son were both still young men, hale and hearty. It was a boating accident, I believe. Quite shocking to all the family.”

“How do you know all this?” Angelique’s eyes narrowed on him.

Dixon edged away from her. “I was his private secretary at the time. I managed his household and business affairs, and knew every minute of his days.”

The words seem to hang in the air, like the puff of smoke from a pistol shot. Nate almost felt the reverberation in the air around him. Selwyn hadn’t mentioned that, not at all. He’d acted as if he’d never heard the name Jacob Dixon in his life.

“When?” Nate asked quietly.

“Nearly twelve years ago now. He had inherited a sizable fortune from his mother and married a local squire’s daughter. He was a gentleman of property and leisure, respectable but not the highest society. The English, you know, are very conscious of their class at all times, and Mr. Selwyn was a mere gentleman. But when the earl died, he changed. It was as if a feast of ambition and power had been laid before him, and he meant to taste all of it.”

Angelique put up one hand. “I suspect you are about to accuse the Earl Selwyn of something dreadful, even criminal. You do know this tale you tell had better be true in every particular?”

“I most assuredly do,” he retorted. “But I’m not wrong. Remember that I am not doing this lightly or even happily!”

“Talk,” Nate growled at him with an impatient gesture. “We’ll decide how to punish any lies or omissions later.”

A nervous scowl knit Dixon’s brows, and his gaze swung between the two of them. “I am not lying,” he insisted in a low, furious voice. “Lord Selwyn has reason to want me dead. For all I know, you are both aware of this and have simply come to do his bidding!”

Angelique leaned forward. “If we had, would you still be alive now?”

Dixon paled. He looked fearfully at Nate, who put his hand on Angelique’s arm. She sat back without looking at him, but laid her own hand over his for a moment. Nate saw how the thief’s eyes fixed on that touch, but he didn’t shrug her off. “Why does Selwyn want you dead?”

“His Lordship had a son at the time of his ascension to the title,” said Dixon. For all his nervousness, he was clearly determined to tell his story in his own way, at his own pace. “There was something wrong with the child. He was kept mostly in the nursery, but I saw him enough to know he was…different from most children.” Nate frowned and raised one hand in uncomprehending impatience. “The boy always walked on his toes, pitched forward like a ship into the wind,” Dixon went on more quickly. “He flapped his hands like a bird, and would do the same thing for hours on end. He didn’t talk at all, but made strange grunts and noises. The lightest physical touch by some people would send him into a shrieking fit. Mr. Selwyn—who became Lord Selwyn—was distressed by it and sought the opinion of several doctors, all very quietly. He didn’t want anyone to know of his son’s condition. But the doctors said there was no cure and recommended the child be declared an idiot and put away in an asylum.”

Nate recalled a child in Boston who had exhibited behavior like Dixon described. People there had whispered about demon possession, and the boy disappeared; sent to relatives in the country, according to rumor. Somehow he doubted the people of England were much more forgiving—particularly not proud, ambitious men. Dixon’s next words didn’t surprise him at all.

“In cases such as these, it is not unusual for the child to suffer an unfortunate accident,” said Dixon with a significant look. “No one wishes to have an idiot in his family, but the child was generally sweet-tempered and Mrs. Selwyn especially was devoted to the boy. Even Selwyn himself seemed resigned to his son’s condition and was gentle with him.” Dixon drew a deep breath. “But then he inherited his uncle’s earldom, and that changed. This boy was his heir, the next earl—unless he predeceased his father.”

Nate and Angelique shared a glance. “Selwyn wants you dead because he doesn’t want you to reveal the truth about his son?” Nate asked. “How can he hide it, if the boy’s as affected as you say?”

Dixon’s face grew cunning. “No, no. You mistake me.”

Nate looked at him in disgust. “You know he killed the boy.”

This time the thief’s smile was triumphant. “On the contrary. Selwyn wants me dead because I know he did no such thing.”

For a moment Nate and Angelique stared at him. “If you’re going to tell lies,” Nate said, “better be certain they at least make sense.”

Dixon shook his head impatiently. “Then listen, if you will know. Selwyn wished the child dead, but Lady Selwyn loved her son. For all his…unusual habits, he was a sweet, good-natured child. They argued passionately about it.”

“In front of you?” Angelique asked in astonishment.

“Madame, I was a very efficient secretary,” Dixon said with some affront. “I knew everything. It was my idea, in fact, which carried the day. His Lordship could not countenance the child as his heir, and his wife would not permit him to be harmed or put away. It would have been quite messy, until I suggested an alternative. Lady Selwyn and the child could go away together. Lord Selwyn would pay for their support and maintenance, anywhere but in England, on the condition that she never return or reveal her true identity. To England and to him, they would be dead. I helped them slip out of the country unnoticed and set up the funds for their new life. I … ahem … then procured a young woman’s body—a common prostitute, I believe—similar in stature and coloring to Lady Selwyn⁠—”

“Procured,” Angelique repeated in a cold voice.

Dixon cleared his throat. “Anything can be procured, for the right sum. As one might expect, Lord Selwyn was prepared to spend quite freely.” Angelique tightened her lips but said nothing. Dixon glanced nervously at Nate, who just stared flatly back. “Yes. As I was saying, I arranged for the body to be found washed up on the rocks near the Selwyn estate with a broken boat. Selwyn identified her as his wife, declared the child swept out to sea and lost, and publicly mourned them both. The body was buried in the vault as Lady Selwyn.” He paused, then added delicately, “At that point, Lord Selwyn and I agreed it was best that I seek my further good fortune in America.”

Nate’s head began to throb. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled wearily. “So you committed fraud—among other things—and Selwyn paid you to go away and keep the secret.”

Dixon hesitated. “Yes, I suppose one might look at it that way.”

“Good God,” muttered Nate.

“It could be worse,” Dixon went on with some glee. “Without an heir apparent, Selwyn may have been tempted to remarry.”

Angelique sucked in her breath. “He would be a bigamist, and his children bastards.”