The Mistress of Hanover Square. Anne Herries

a wicked thing that Michael did to you—to us…’

      ‘I ought to have known you would elope with me, despite what your brother said when he had me beaten,’ Gerard admitted. ‘I suppose I was humiliated and angry—even bitter. I was not certain that you loved me enough to defy him. At that time I did not expect to be my uncle’s heir. He had a son who should have inherited. Had my cousin not died of a putrid chill, I must have made my living as a soldier. Perhaps your brother had some right on his side, Amelia.’

      ‘No, he did not,’ she contradicted at once. ‘Your lack of fortune meant nothing to me, Gerard.’

      ‘I am no longer a pauper. I have worked hard and my business ventures prosper. However, your own fortune surpasses mine these days. I well remember that you had nothing when I asked you to be my wife.’

      ‘I did not expect that to change. It was a surprise when my greataunt asked me to live with her—and when she left everything to me. She had told me that I would have something when she died, but I had no idea that she was so wealthy.’

      ‘It was a stroke of luck for you, I suppose.’

      ‘Yes…though it has its drawbacks. My brother and sister-in-law are resentful of the fact that I inherited a fortune they believe should have gone to them. Michael has been unpleasant to me on more than one occasion since my aunt died.’

      ‘They had no right to expect it. Lady Agatha might have left her money anywhere.’

      ‘Indeed, she might,’ Amelia said. ‘I believe her deceased husband also had relatives who might have hoped for something—but they at least have not approached me on the matter.’

      ‘And your brother has?’ His brows arched, eyes narrowed and intent.

      ‘Several times,’ Amelia said. ‘It has been the subject of endless arguments between us. Michael thinks I should make most of the money over to him. I have no intention of doing what he demands, but it has made for bad blood between us.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I have not spoken of this to anyone but Emily—but his last visit was almost threatening. I was a little disturbed by it, I admit.’

      ‘Sir Michael is of a violent temperament…’

      Amelia was silent for a moment, then, ‘You are thinking it might have been he who tried to have me abducted at Pendleton the summer before last? I believe you thought it then?’

      ‘It is possible, but I may have been mistaken. My own encounter with him may have coloured my thinking. If it was him, why has he not carried the threat further? Why stop at one attempt?’

      ‘I do not know. For a long time I thought that there might be another attempt, but nothing happened.’

      ‘It is puzzling. The likely explanation seems that it was actually Susannah who was the intended victim and you were mistaken for her. As you know, there was some awkwardness between the Marquis of Northaven and Harry Pendleton at that time.’

      ‘That is one possibility, and yet I cannot think that we are alike. Emily is convinced that my brother means me harm. She overheard something he said to me some months ago and she suggested that he would benefit if I died.’

      ‘Would he?’

      ‘At the moment he is the largest, though not the only, beneficiary.’

      Gerard nodded. ‘It might be wise to change that and let it be known that you have done so, Amelia.’

      Amelia’s expression was thoughtful. ‘I cannot think that Michael would wish to see me dead—even for a fortune. My brother is bad tempered and arrogant, but I would not have thought him a murderer.’

      ‘It would not hurt to take some precautions. I could arrange for you to be watched over—as I did once before. And changes to your will might help if you would consider making them.’

      ‘Yes, I may do so after the New Year. We are to attend Helene and Max’s ball at Coleridge. Shall you be there?’

      ‘Yes, I believe so,’ Gerard said. ‘As you know, both Harry and Max are particular friends of mine.’

      ‘And their wives are good friends of mine,’Amelia said. ‘I should be grateful if you could arrange some kind of protection, for Emily as well as me. I have no idea how it may be done and it may not truly be necessary. I shall, of course, pay the men myself.’

      ‘As you wish,’ Gerard said. ‘The breeze is very cold. I think we may have some snow. Should we return to the house before we freeze to death?’

      ‘Yes, perhaps we should,’ Amelia replied.

      She had the oddest feeling that he had been on the verge of saying something very different, but at the last he had changed his mind. Nothing more of note was said between them, and they parted after returning to the house. She pondered on what might have been in Gerard’s mind as she went in search of her hostess.

       It was good of him to say that he would find suitable men to protect her if he thought her in danger from her brother’s spite. If, of course, it was her brother she needed protecting from…but who else could it be?

      ‘What made you think I would be interested in such an outrageous proposition?’ The Marquis of Northaven looked at the person sitting opposite him in the private parlour of the posting inn to which he had been summoned that evening. He had considered ignoring the note sent to his lodgings in town, but curiosity and a certain intuition had brought him here. However, to the best of his knowledge he had never met the gentleman before. ‘Kidnapping is a hanging offence…’

      ‘I had heard that you have a score to settle with a certain gentleman.’

      ‘Where did you hear that?’ Northaven was alert, suspicious. The other man’s features were barely visible in the shadows, his face halfcovered by the muffler he wore to keep out the cold.

      ‘One hears these things…of course there would be money once the ransom was paid.’

      ‘Money…’ Northaven’s mouth curved in a sneer, a flash of hauteur in his manner. ‘I have not yet run through the inheritance my uncle left me.’

      ‘Then forget I asked you. I had thought you might care to see Ravenshead brought down, but if you do not have the stomach for it there are others willing, nay, eager to do my bidding.’

      ‘How would this bring Ravenshead down?’ Northaven asked, eyes narrowed, menacing.

      ‘He imagines he will marry Amelia Royston. I do not wish to see that happen. Once I have finished with her, she will marry no one!’

      The Marquis of Northaven shivered, feeling icy cold. He had done much in his life that he was not proud of, but something in the tone of the person who was asking him to arrange Amelia Royston’s downfall was disturbing. Northaven had seduced more than one young woman, but contrary to what was said and thought of him, he had taken none against their will. Indeed, they usually threw themselves into his arms—and why should he say no? Handsome beyond what many thought decent, he had an air of unavailability that made him irresistible to many ladies. He was by no means a white knight, but neither was he the traitor some thought him. He might cheat at cards when desperate; he might lie if it suited him and would not deny that he had sailed close to the edge a few times, but a cold-blooded murderer he was not.

      Northaven had been angry with the men who had once been his friends. He had hated the holy trilogy, as he was wont to call Harry Pendleton, Max Coleridge and Gerard Ravenshead. He hated them because they despised him, believed him worse than he truly was, but with the turn in his fortunes of late much of his resentment had cooled. He would have dismissed the proposition being made to him out of hand, but he was curious to hear more.

      ‘Supposing I were interested in bringing down Ravenshead,’ he said. ‘What would you be willing to pay—and what do you plan for Miss Royston?’

      ‘I was thinking of ten thousand guineas. Her fate is not your affair. All you need to do is to deliver her to me.’