Lord Davies opened it. “Mr. Wickham and Mr. Hayes are leaving,” he told the butler. “Please see them out.”
“Very good, sir.” Saunders bowed and allowed the detective and the solicitor to precede him before he withdrew from the study and closed the door behind them.
Lord Davies waited until the others had left the room before he turned to Colin and asked, “Is there anything else you’d like?”
Colin placed his empty whisky glass on the drinks table. “A reprieve.”
The baron laughed. “After all the trouble I went to in order to force your hand? Not bloody likely.”
“The blackmail of an innocent man is troubling business,” Colin retorted. “But you were quite up to the task.”
“Only because you made it possible,” Lord Davies answered. “You allowed it. Had you not agreed to meet with me this afternoon, I would still be engaged in the hunt for the other, more elusive Colin Fox.”
“Unfortunately for us, you were much more likely to damage my work and bring harm to my colleagues with your persistent probing than locate the impostor and put an end to his nefarious ways.” Colin exhaled. “I took a calculated risk that I could prevail upon you to end your search, and I failed.”
“You failed because I have as much to protect as you,” Lord Davies said. “And equal justification for doing so. I can’t allow your impostor to continue to victimize my daughter or other young ladies of good family. You understand the risks and the rules of the games you play. The young ladies your impostor preys upon did not. Don’t they deserve the same measure of protection and secrecy you and your colleagues enjoy?”
“Yes,” Colin replied. “And I entered into a personal contract with you in order to insure they have it.”
Lord Davies smiled. “Doesn’t the fact that I’m willing to guarantee you profit handsomely from our personal contract mean anything?”
“Of course it does,” Colin answered. “It means I’m going to profit handsomely from blackmail.”
“Take heart, my boy,” Lord Davies encouraged. “You’re being blackmailed, you aren’t committing it.”
“I might as well be,” Colin said. “Because I’m profiting from it just the same.”
“Think of the advantages, not the disadvantages,” the baron advised.
“I have,” Colin told him. “The advantage is that I’ll be wealthy enough to insure my family no longer has to suffer the consequences of my father’s misdeeds.” He looked the baron in the eye. “The disadvantage is that now, your daughter will have no recourse but to continue to suffer the consequences of hers. She made an error in judgment, Davies. And forcing her to marry a man she doesn’t love so she can hold her head up in society won’t necessarily correct that error or make for a long and happy union. It would be far better for the both of us if we were permitted to choose.”
“She chose her first husband,” Lord Davies said. “That’s how we found ourselves in this predicament. My choice is the better one.”
“You can’t know whether it is or not.”
“I’ll stake my life on it.”
“Easy for you to say.” Colin snorted. “You don’t have to live with me.” He turned and measured his steps back to the window overlooking the immaculate garden. “You’ve only to look at my sire to see that I’m not exactly cut from quality husband cloth. So tell me, Lord Davies, are you willing to stake your daughter’s life on whether you’ve made the better bargain, or shall we call the whole thing off?”
“I know I’ve made the better bargain,” Lord Davies said. “You’ve shown more concern for Gillian in an horn’s meeting with her father than that bounder did after three days of marriage to her.” He walked over and clapped Colin on the shoulder. “Be patient, my boy, and love will come in time.”
Colin snorted once again. Love will come in time. Would it? And if so, for whom? Gillian Davies had already demonstrated her love for someone else. And Colin had sworn not to love at all. If love decided to make an appearance, it would spell heartache for both of them. “When do you propose the wedding take place?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Lord Davies answered. “Have you a special license or should I procure one?”
Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have one.”
He had purchased a special license to marry when he’d begun working in the War Office. Not because Colin wanted to marry—Free Fellows avoided the parson’s mousetrap at all costs—but because Colonel Grant had suggested it. A special license enabled the bearer to marry any place and at any time, and clandestine operatives never knew when it might be handy to have one. Colin hadn’t expected to use it for years. He certainly hadn’t expected to use it on the morrow. But it appeared that his luck had run out.
“Then we’re all set,” Lord Davies pronounced. “I’ll notify the vicar and have the household prepare a breakfast.”
“What about your daughter?”
“What about her?” the baron asked.
“Do you intend to notify her before the wedding?” Colin’s pointed question gave Lord Davies pause. “Or do you intend that it should be a surprise?”
The baron flushed bright red. “I confess to taking the coward’s way out and thinking it might be best to break the news before breakfast tomorrow morning.”