Page 85 of How to Tempt a Duke

Evander settled back in his chair, with no interest in the food before him. “Our fathers were men without honor.”

“Not both of our fathers were,” Charles replied evenly.

“Both of our fathers.” Evander steepled his fingers and touched his forefingers to his lips in contemplation before speaking. “They stole their treasures. They looted the wealth of poor countries without any means to stop them. Reaping treasures from religious and holy sites. One of the other members of the Adventure Club was apparently exceptional at discovering artifacts in a way they were not. They stole from him as well.”

Charles slapped the table and set the wine glasses trembling. “Ridiculous!”

Eleanor stared in shock at her new husband. After some of the hideous entries she’d read in the journals she possessed, Evander’s claims did not seem unlikely. Unfortunately...

Evander regarded Charles. “I assure you it is not ridiculous. I followed the path detailed in one of the journals I had with me. There were many villages with starving people whose temples had been plundered.”

Charles simply stared at Evander.

“You know the truth of it even if you don’t want to accept it.” Eleanor’s brother gave a wry twist of his lips. “I was trying to rebuild my family’s fortune, but I could not bring myself to take what belongs to others. I dealt primarily in the purchase of spices and silks—a task made difficult with the war, which appears to have finally ended now that I’ve established enough wealth.”

“My father was honorable. A man determined to bring ancient cultures to London for all to experience,” Charles countered. “He was admired for his relics...for the care he took with them.”

Eleanor knew that Charles had also admired his father, and held him in the highest esteem. Therefore she also realized it was not rage behind his words, but fear.

And with good reason.

From what she’d read in their own hand, their fathers had not been good men.

If Evander had other journals here, and if he gave them to Charles, Eleanor had a strong suspicion that in getting exactly what he most wanted Charles would also be learning exactly what he most feared.

Charles no longer had an appetite. Who could with such dinner conversation?

Westix pushed away from the table and rose, giving up all pretense of attempting to find interest in his own food.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Somersville, but our fathers spent more money on acquiring their treasures through bribery than any profit they might have generated. Tell me, did you not encounter the situations of which I speak in your own travels?”

He pulled his glass from the table by its rim and strode toward the window to stare out into a field of vibrant green.

Charles knew the Earl was giving him a moment to contemplate what he’d said. It was true, there had been great poverty in the foreign countries where Charles had traveled. And there had been rumors of treasures taken from those countries. But those had been by thieves—not English gentlemen. And certainly not Charles’s father, whose acclaim had grown with each unique discovery.

Charles himself had acquired treasures on his travels, all accumulated through morally correct avenues. Indeed, there had been the opportunity to bribe, but Charles had not permitted himself to be drawn into such temptation. He’d assumed his father would never have engaged in such immoral actions.

“I have something to show you,” said Westix.

He opened a drawer in a large chest near the window and withdrew a journal. Its battered binding was of similar appearance to the ones Eleanor had given him in London.

She sat higher at Charles’s side. “You do have them here...” she breathed in wonder.

His heart smacked his ribs. Damn him for not having brought the key.

Westix tossed the book unceremoniously on the table beside Charles. “Look for yourself.”

He turned and requested the footman bring more wine.

Charles picked up the journal. The script within was choppy, written in the same hurried hand as the one Eleanor had shown him.

“That’s the handwriting we need,” Eleanor whispered. “Get the key.”

“I don’t have it,” Charles muttered.

“Read it.” Westix nodded to him.

Charles ignored Eleanor’s questioning look and read aloud. “‘Avarice has pervaded the Adventure Club, rendering it rife with treachery and perfidy. What was once a group of morally sound men has descended into a group of men committing the sins of debauchery, bribery and blatant theft. The taking is done without regard to the owners, or to the deficit such losses will press upon the cultures they have plundered. It is ironic that the greatest offenders are none other than the esteemed men of good breeding who conspired to instigate the club’s institution—a certain earl and duke whose names I will not put to paper.’”