The Scandal in Kissing an Heir (At the Kingsborough Ball #2)(40)
Author: Sophie Barnes

“I still don’t think that we should allow Grover to get away with this,” Rebecca said a short while later after finishing off a slice of buttered toast. “There has to be a way to make him pay.”

“I assure you I can think of several,” Daniel muttered. He’d barely touched his food, but he’d already drained two cups of tea.

Rebecca offered him a third. “I was thinking of something legal, Daniel.”

“Ah, well in that case I’m not sure a solution will present itself. As I said, there were no witnesses.”

“Hmm . . . it’s just . . .” Rebecca set the teapot down and returned to her seat. She hesitated for a second, not wishing to alarm him, but eventually decided to share her concern. “Sooner or later he will discover that he didn’t finish you off, and once that happens, he might come after you again.”

Daniel nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

Rebecca sighed. Lord, she was tired. “Then we must be prepared,” she said, “or better yet, we must preempt his next move by making one of our own.”

“Well, you’re the creative one, Becky. If anyone can think of a way to trap Grover, then I believe it’s you.” He yawned, placed his teacup on the table and slid down beneath the covers. “Let me know if you think of something we can use, and please . . . don’t do anything without talking to me first.”

“You have my word on it,” she promised.

“Good, because I’m telling you, the man’s unpredictable. If he shot me just like that on a street in the middle of London, then we can’t be sure that he won’t try to harm you as well. We must be”—he yawned again, and his eyes slid shut on the word—“careful.”

Rebecca nodded. Daniel was right. Grover had clearly gone mad if he thought he could murder the Marquess of Wolvington’s nephew in cold blood. She wondered if her aunt and uncle were aware of what he’d done. After everything they’d put her through, there was no telling what they might be capable of, though she wasn’t sure they’d go quite this far. One thing was for certain though, and that was that she detested Grover with every fiber of her being. As deep as her love for Daniel ran, so too did her hate for the duke. To think that he’d almost succeeded in taking Daniel away from her made her tremble with rage. She had to think of something— something clever—because she couldn’t possibly allow Grover to get away with what he’d done.

Chapter 24

“I believe I’ve just figured out how to trap Grover,” Rebecca told Daniel when he woke the following morning. “Don’t ask me how inspiration strikes, for I cannot possibly answer that,” she said, “but for now, we have two things working in our favor. First, Grover thinks you dead. I suggest we keep it that way. And second, we know that he has a sick obsession with me; we can use that to our advantage.”

Daniel couldn’t see how they were going to do that, but then again, he had lost a great deal of blood. “Go on,” he said simply.

“The other night at the opera, Landborough wasn’t the least bit subtle about his dislike of Grover. His hatred of the man was palpable, leading me to suspect that he might welcome the opportunity to exact his own revenge. If that is true, then he will prove a powerful ally for us.”

“You mean to pay a visit to Judy, I take it?”

“I do, and I also intend to call on your aunt and uncle, as well as your sister. They will need to be informed of the truth as well as of my plan, since I shall also be requiring their assistance.”

“I doubt my uncle will want to listen to anything regarding me,” Daniel muttered.

“Nevertheless, I must try.” She sighed as she patted his arm, a distant look in her eyes suggestive of rapid creative imaginings. She was plotting. “And then I shall go into mourning. As a widow with no enduring fortune, I have no doubt that Grover will be knocking at the door soon enough, offering his support.”

“You will not be entertaining Grover,” Daniel snapped. “If that is your plan, forget about it. It’s too dangerous and too . . . disturbing to even contemplate. There has to be another way, and if not, then we’ll simply have to accept that he got away with it.”

Her eyes ignited with passionate anger. “And give him the opportunity to make another attempt on your life? The man could have killed you, Daniel!” And then, in a softer tone, she added, “He almost did.” A lonely tear trickled down her cheek and she hastily brushed it away in a very businesslike manner. “No, I will not allow him to get away with what he did to you. It’s time for me to play another part, my love—that of the poor widow in need of a husband. Grover will rise to the bait, I have no doubt about that, and once he does, I shall lure him back to the scene of the crime.”

“And how on earth will that prove his guilt, Becky? It’s a public street that he could have any number of reasons for walking on.” Whatever she was thinking, he wasn’t seeing it.

“I assure you that he will have only one reason to go back there,” Becky said, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

“And what reason will that be?”

“Why, he shall be looking for something, of course.”

Of course?

“Something belonging to me, to be precise . . . something that was on your person when you were shot and has since gone missing—something that he will want to have because of how obsessed he is.” She paused for emphasis before adding, “My miniature.”

“He would have no way of knowing where to look for it unless he was aware of where the shooting took place, and the only way he would know that is if he was there,” Daniel muttered as the idea began to take root. It was brilliant if it worked, but the idea of Rebecca being near that man again made his skin crawl. “I don’t know . . .” he murmured, feeling tired once again. He needed to sleep.

“It’s the only thing I can think of that won’t require an outright confession from him, and since he’s not a fool, I doubt he’ll ever give us one willingly.”

“Very well then,” Daniel said. “But you will not be alone with him at any time, Becky. Promise me that you will keep other people close to you when you meet with him. He’s unpredictable and clearly willing to do whatever it takes to have you for himself. You mustn’t take any chances.”

“I promise,” she said, bending to kiss him lightly on the forehead. “You look tired. Why don’t you get some rest while I pay a visit to your aunt and uncle. I won’t be long.”

He nodded, his eyes already beginning to close. “I love you,” he whispered as he slipped lower beneath the covers.

There was a rustle of skirts as she moved across the room. He heard the door open, a pause, and then, very softly and with so much warmth, “I love you too.”

Half an hour later, Rebecca was comfortably seated in one of the drawing rooms at Wolvington House. “I can certainly see what he sees in you,” Lord Wolvington said. His tone was gruff but not unfriendly.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, deciding to take that as a compliment. She turned toward Lady Wolvington. “And thank you so much for inviting me to stay for tea. I must admit I was worried you’d turn me away.”

“Yes . . . well . . .” Lord Wolvington grumbled, not giving his wife a chance to respond. “You must forgive us for not calling on you to congratulate you on your marriage, but the thing of it is that—”

“We caused quite the scandal and you wished to distance yourself from us so it wouldn’t affect your own good standing?” Rebecca asked, looking to each of her hosts in turn. Both nodded with some surprise, no doubt because of her bluntness. “I completely understand. After all, you, my lord, are a marquess. I’m sure you must hold a very important seat in Parliament that you would not wish your unruly nephew to affect with his thoughtless escapades. And then of course there is his sister to consider, and her family. By cutting Daniel off you effectively told Society that you thoroughly disapproved of his actions, thus saving yourself, your wife, your niece and her son from being tainted by his scandalous behavior. You washed your hands of him, so to speak, and I am sure that the ton approves of your decision.”

The Wolvingtons were now gaping at her as if she’d been a complete lunatic who’d recently escaped from Bedlam. Well, time was of the essence—no sense in beating about the bush, as it were. “However, whatever your opinion of Daniel may be, I would like to inform you both that he saved me when he helped me flee from Grover. Had it been possible to do things differently and without journeying all the way to Scotland, we would have done it, but I was under my aunt and uncle’s guardianship and they were determined that I should marry the duke. They had a lot to gain from that union.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you left your fiancé to elope with another man,” Lord Wolvington said. “An act which is viewed as most dishonorable, to say nothing of the embarrassment you have caused Grover as a result.”

“I know that this is how it appears, but surely you must realize that things are not always as black and white as all that. In this instance, Daniel is the one who did the honorable thing by helping me escape marrying a beast of a man.”

Lord Wolvington’s eyes widened and Lady Wolvington gasped. “You are speaking of a duke,” Lord Wolvington told Rebecca sharply. “He may not be the most likeable sort, but he is a million miles above you on the social ladder even if you are the daughter of an earl. I will not allow you to speak of him with so much disrespect.”

“And what if I were to tell you that he tried to kill Daniel?” She gave Lord Wolvington the hardest stare she could manage, hoping it might help melt his stern exterior and force to the surface some of the affection he surely felt for his nephew. If the Wolvingtons didn’t care for Daniel, they never would have demanded that he abandon the rakehell lifestyle he’d embraced since losing his parents, of this she was certain.

“Wh-what are you saying?” Lady Wolvington asked, the pain in her eyes a confession of the deep love she felt for Daniel.

Rebecca smiled with gentle reassurance. “The doctor says that he will be fine, but he is in a great deal of pain. He was shot by Grover and left for dead in an alley.”

“Bloody hell,” Lord Wolvington said, eyes flashing with the onset of rage. “I’ll kill the bastard myself, and I daresay it won’t take much to snap that neck of his. Why, I . . .” His words trailed off as he looked at his wife and Rebecca. “Please forgive me, ladies, but even if Grover’s feathers have been ruffled, it does not give him the right to murder my heir.”

“I am in full agreement with you, my lord,” Rebecca said, “though I do believe I have a better solution to the problem—if you’ll allow me to explain.”

When Rebecca left Wolvington House again, it was in the company of the marquess and marchioness, who had both decided to escort her on her visit to Daniel’s sister, after which they made another stop at the Landborough residency. “So what you’re saying is that Grover tried to kill your husband and you’d like my assistance in making him pay?” the Duke of Landborough asked.