The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers 4)

The sleepy footman standing duty took his outer garments and answered his rapidly fired questions.

Yes, Lady Traherne had arrived several hours ago, along with the Ladies Skye and Katharine and Lord Jack.

Yes, the doctor had come and gone.

And yes, Lady Traherne had retired upstairs to sleep.

Quinn also learned t

hat much of his family was presently staying at his house. Besides Skye and Kate, Jack had returned with his wife Sophie. And Ash had arrived with his wife Maura and their baby son, having driven through the night from the Beaufort family estate in Kent in response to Quinn’s summons. No doubt they all wished to be of service and remain close by rather than repair to their own London homes.

More concerned about Venetia, Quinn took a candle and climbed the stairs. Just as he suspected, she was in her own bedchamber, not theirs.

He quietly opened the door to her room and shut it behind him, then approached her silently, needing to assure himself that she was safe. She was dressed in a long-sleeved nightshift, the covers drawn up under her arms, her dark hair flowing down her back.

As he moved to stand beside her bed, Venetia slowly rolled over to face him. She looked so delicate and vulnerable that Quinn clenched his jaw.

Remorse filled him anew. If she had been killed, if he had lost her…a shudder ran through him.

When she blinked at the soft glow of candlelight, he spoke in a murmur. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was not asleep. I didn’t wish to be drugged with laudanum.”

Although her voice was rather toneless, at least it was stronger and less raw than before, Quinn thought. “Did Biddy examine you?”

“Yes. He tended my cuts and bruises and gave me a powder for my headache. I am to rest for a day or two. Skye and Katharine also took excellent care of me, as did Lord Jack.”

She sat up slowly, arranging the pillows behind her back. “What did you learn from Montreux?”

The note of interest in her voice encouraged Quinn a small measure. Setting the candle on the nightstand, he drew up a chair beside her bed and sat down. Perhaps it was best to start with something less intimate than the fate of their marriage—the tale of how fourteen years ago, Montreux had carried out his scheme.

“I believe I told you that after the Revolution, the de Chagny family treasure remained hidden for years, and that following the Peace of Amiens, my parents went to France to reclaim it? What I didn’t know was that Montreux was a passenger on their return voyage.”

Venetia seemed surprised. “He was actually a passenger on the Zephyr?”

“Yes. He pretended an eagerness to visit England again, and asked to accompany my parents home.”

She frowned, deep in thought. “And all the while he bore them a tremendous hatred. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Indeed,” Quinn said grimly. “Their gullibility allowed him to carry out his scheme without suspicion. The rumors were true: The yacht’s sinking was indeed sabotage. Aided by a trusted cohort, Montreux set fire to a keg of gunpowder and escaped by rowboat with the treasure.”

Venetia raised a hand to her mouth in revulsion. “He murdered them for both greed and vengeance,” she whispered.

“Yes. He wanted my mother’s jewels and sought revenge against my father.”

When Venetia stared at Quinn in appalled silence, he continued. “Last night you managed to gain a partial confession from him, or we might never have learned the truth.”

“What happened after he escaped the Zephyr?”

“He used the treasure to stake his gaming career and rebuild his fortune. Losing the pendant to Bellamy was his first serious mistake, though, for it eventually initiated my investigation. My original letter to Montreux alarmed him. If it came out how he had regained his wealth—by stealing the de Chagny jewels—he would be ruined. Then he learned of my inquiries into the Zephyr’s fate and feared I might ferret out the cause. He would hang if his guilt could be proven.”

“So he hired Armand Firmin to kill you.”

“Yes. Last night Firmin confirmed much of the story in a futile attempt to save his own skin.”

Her mouth curled in disgust. “Montreux actually boasted about his plans to murder you. And he was livid that you foiled his henchmen’s attempts three times.”

Quinn nodded. “After that, Montreux grew desperate. And when I wrote to him a second time, asking questions about Bellamy and the Zephyr, he came to England himself to rectify the failures.”