Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order 3)

Chapter 18

The figure stood swamped in a black greatcoat. A wide-brimmed hat pulled low over a plague-doctor mask. From his height and build, from the arrogant clip in his tone—a self-assurance born to all aristocrats when held over the font and anointed with holy water—Evan knew the devil was Charles Sloane.

“’Ere, put the letters in the b

ox, place it on the floor and step away.” Charles attempted to alter his accent, but a long stint in the workhouse couldn’t rid this man of his breeding.

“You may as well take off the mask, Charles. No doubt, it’s hard to breathe.” Evan glanced at Vivienne and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Just do as I say.” He took the small tea chest and opened the lid. “Place the letters inside.”

Her hands trembled as she folded the letters and quickly placed them in the chest. “If we give you the box, what then?” she said. “You’ve one shot in that pistol, and you might miss your target.”

“Then I shall be sure to aim at you, Miss Hart. Sloane won’t give chase. He won’t leave you to die alone.”

Though his tone lacked conviction, Vivienne clutched her cloak to her chest and failed to suppress a whimper.

“Remove the mask, Charles.” Evan kept his temper. “I cannot take you seriously while staring at that ridiculous white beak.” And he wanted to look the blackguard in the eyes when he broke his nose and knocked him on his arse.

As expected, the comment roused the viscount’s ire. “You should damn well take me seriously.” He jabbed the pistol in Evan’s direction. “I’ll not hesitate to shoot.”

Evan doubted Charles Sloane had ever taken a life. Agents of the Order thought twice before shooting murderous blackguards. A coddled fop was unlikely to pull the trigger. Still, Evan could not risk losing Vivienne.

“There’s a reason Livingston buried the incriminating letter in a box beneath this tree. He could not betray his brother. Just as Miss Hart has always known about the contract, you’ve always known the letter naming your grandfather Cecil Sloane as a traitor was hidden somewhere on this estate.”

Charles threw his hat to the ground and tugged off the mask that made him look like a sideshow clown, not a man intent on murder. The burning question was, how had the devil come by the mask?

“My father made me swear an oath to find that damn document, to make sure it never saw the light of day, to destroy the lies written by a pirate to gain his mother’s sympathy.”

His mother’s sympathy?

Past events became clearer.

Lady Sloane reverted to her maiden name to distance herself from Cecil, not Livingston. She must have known Livingston served the Crown, must have begged him to keep his brother’s secret. It certainly explained why Evan owned Highwood, why he had inherited the lion’s share of her fortune.

“You were right when you said Lady Boscobel wanted to divide the family. But it had nothing to do with Livingston. She wished to separate the son who served the Crown from the son who turned traitor.”

Charles took a step forward, his agitation evident. “Livingston lied, lied, I tell you. My grandfather inherited the viscountcy from his uncle. Why in blazes would he want to betray his country?”

Evan recalled the vast sums of money listed in the letter. “If we examine the Leaton estate accounts, we can prove whether Cecil was innocent or guilty. He was already married when he inherited the crumbling seat in Cheltenham. So where did he get the money to restore the property to its former glory?”

“Lady Boscobel-Sloane gave her support,” Charles snapped.

The fool. He’d said exactly what Evan hoped. “Excellent. Then there will be a record of the transaction amongst the accounts.”

Panic flashed in the viscount’s eyes. “Just give me the damn box. What does it matter now?”

If it didn’t matter, Charles wouldn’t be waving his pistol.

“There are other letters naming your grandfather,” Evan lied, “though we’ve yet to find them. Shoot either of us, and the agents of the Order are instructed to search for the hidden documents. What will you do, Charles, slaughter every one of them? Become a murderer as well as the grandson of a traitor? Is it not better to lower the pistol and accept we cannot change the past?”

Like a cornered animal, Charles Sloane bared his teeth and growled his frustration. “You know how it works. One word of this and I shall be shunned from society.”

“That depends on the man. Even the grandson of a pirate can command respect.”

Charles snorted. “Give me the damn box.”

Evan considered all that had happened since this adventure began. Why had Livingston constructed a mysterious game of secrets? What was his objective, his goal? Vengeance? No, he chose not to send the letter incriminating his brother. And why sign a contract and expect strangers to marry? Evidently, he trusted Lucian Hart to raise respectable offspring.

Kindred souls in heart and deed.