Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order 3)
Lucian Hart had hired Mr Golding to oversee all legal matters, though his elderly son now dealt with issues concerning the contract. Before Mr Sloane posed his next question, Vivienne knew the lawyer would be on the gentleman’s list of suspects.
“So, Mr Golding knows about the clues and the treasure?” Mr Sloane asked, his smooth voice slathered in suspicion.
Vivienne explained her family’s long-standing relationship with the firm. “Mr Golding knows of the legacy and the clauses we must sati
sfy to obtain our inheritance. That makes him a suspect. Greed consumes the best of men, does it not?”
“Indeed. But Mr Golding must be in his dotage.”
“He’ll soon turn seventy. His nephew, Mr Wicks, dealt with most clients but has been relegated to the role of clerk. And yes, before you say anything, we must add Mr Wicks to the list of potential villains, too.”
“You’ve given the matter considerable thought,” he said with admiration. “Have you added anyone else to your list?”
Vivienne had thought of nothing else since the night the intruder ransacked her home. “Two people. My father’s friend, Mr Ramsey. He was rather attentive to my mother during her final months and has developed a sudden interest in my welfare.”
Mr Ramsey often arrived at her home without invitation. He’d asked personal questions about her financial affairs—merely out of concern, of course. Buchanan didn’t like the man and made his feelings known.
“And the fourth person?” Mr Sloane asked, listening intently.
Vivienne cleared her throat before broaching the delicate subject. “The fourth person is Charles Sloane, the current Viscount Leaton.” Before he voiced his objection, she added, “I believe Lady Boscobel’s eldest son would have known about the contract she destroyed. She must have forewarned him. Therefore, it stands to reason your relative is aware of what we might gain should we marry. And based on the fact your family believe Livingston Sloane is guilty of piracy, the lord might feel he has a right to claim what should be legally his.”
Looking somewhat impressed, Mr Sloane said, “Miss Hart, should you ever tire of playing a wallflower, perhaps you might like to work as an enquiry agent.”
“Are you mocking me, sir?”
“Mocking you? Madam, you have me on the edge of my seat, hanging on your every word. Indeed, I am beginning to wonder why you need me.”
It was easy to offer a few insightful comments. Not so easy to tackle a cunning villain alone. But perhaps the gentleman needed reminding why she’d sought him out.
“I need you to marry me, sir, so we might obtain the last clue. I need your power and influence so we might catch the villain, so I might sleep easily at night, so I might travel the roads without being shot at by a lunatic in a plague mask.”
“And you need money.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He smiled. “If they awarded titles for persistence, Miss Hart, you would be a duchess.”
“I would make a terrible duchess, sir. I’m wild and unruly and say inappropriate things.” London life was not for her. It had taken a tremendous effort to loiter in the background, watching his every move. No, she was more at home roaming the Highlands. “But rest assured, once we’ve pledged our troth, you need never see me again.”
Mr Sloane straightened. “Is that a promise?” His amused grin belied the regretful look in his eyes. “If so, let us make haste so I can be rid of you for good.”
“You might miss me when I’m gone,” she teased.
“I doubt I shall miss the antics of a wildcat.”
So why did he sound unsure?
Chapter 6
“I cannot dig if you persist in standing so close, Miss Hart.” And the fact her shapely thighs filled Monsieur Lamont’s silk breeches played havoc with Evan’s concentration.
There were many things a man might do with a woman while alone at the bottom of a secluded garden—scrambling about in the dirt wasn’t one of them. Evan contemplated pulling the lady behind the apple tree and kissing the last breath from her lungs. That would stop all ridiculous talk of marriage. He contemplated kissing her just to see her confidence falter, and to sate the damnable craving that hardened his cock whenever she opened her delectable mouth.
“I am trying to prevent you from getting wet.” Miss Hart kept her cloak raised above their heads to shelter them from the chill wind and drizzling rain. “Heaven forbid you take ill and I’m left to face the blackguard alone.”
“Yes, heaven forbid I no longer prove useful.” Evan plunged the shovel into the damp earth. The sudden thud as he hit something hollow brought instant relief. “It’s unwise to keep a wooden tea caddy buried in the ground. It’s likely to rot.”
“It’s not in the ground but hidden inside a brass-mounted trunk. Your task isn’t over yet, I’m afraid. You must dig a much larger hole. Should I call Buchanan?”