Page 47 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Nathan said calmly, rising to face the other man. “I will not brook someone threatening those close to me. And surely you know my reputation is that of a marksman. I could make my point without shooting you through the heart. I believe there are other parts of your anatomy that matter to you more.” Nathan gave a careless shrug of one shoulder. “Besides, the subject of my insult to you would inevitably get out, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about. You must already be in your cups,” Arden said. “It’s time you left.”

“What I’m on about is that you hired those two men to attack Mrs. Billingham. And I cannot allow that to stand.”

“What?” Arden’s eyes widened a fraction. “I did not hire anyone to attack your little paramour.”

Nathan grabbed a handful of Arden’s shirt and shoved him back into the corner formed by the wall and a bookcase. They were partially shielded from the view of the rest of the club, but at this moment Nathan didn’t care if everyone could see them.

“Do not insult Mrs. Billingham,” Nathan said, his voice hard as granite. “Don’t come near her. Don’t send anyone after her. If you do, I will ruin you.”

Arden had paled, but he attempted a sneer. “As if you could do that.”

“Don’t tempt me. Look around you.” Nathan nodded toward the rest of the room. “This place, these men—you enjoy being a part of that, don’t you? Are you willing to risk being banished from your club, unwelcome at any gathering, all for the sake of some petty revenge? Because that’s what will happen if I tell everyone about your blackmail schemes and the sexual perversions you engage in at your other club. I told you: I know about you. I saw your membership token to the Devil’s Den.”

Arden’s jaw dropped in surprise. “It was you who took—”

“Yes, it was I.” Nathan let go of the other man’s shirt and took a half step back, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “Lady Lockwood would be the first person I’d tell about your secret activities. That should ensure that all the ton would know.”

Arden narrowed his eyes. “You have no proof of any of this.”

Nathan smiled. “I don’t need proof. You know that. All I have to do is say it.”

Nathan saw frustrated acknowledgement flare in Lord Arden’s eyes. Arden might be of higher rank, but he hadn’t the liking or reputation in the ton that Nathan had.

“I won’t do anything to your—Mrs. Billingham,” Arden growled.

Nathan turned to leave, and Arden sent a last parting shot after him, “I never did in the first place.”

Nathan didn’t give the other man the satisfaction of pausing or turning back to question him. It was pointless; the man would only lie. And Nathan couldn’t prove Arden had hired the men any more than Arden could prove he hadn’t.

He continued out of the club, frowning in thought. Arden was the most likely culprit. Nathan didn’t trust him, but on the other hand, Arden’s eyes had shown the faintest flicker of surprise when Nathan had accused him of sending his men to attack Verity. His reaction was slight; Arden was good at hiding his true self. But had Nathan been mistaken?

If he had just warned off the wrong person then all he had done was put “Mrs. Billingham” in Arden’s sights. And Verity was still in danger.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

VERITY WENT TO her office the next morning. She told herself that she had been neglecting her business the last two weeks, and she needed to catch up on reports and requests. However, when she arrived, instead of heading to her desk, she dropped into a chair beside Mrs. Malloy and said, “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Mrs. Malloy’s eyebrows went up. “With a case?”

“No. Well, I mean, I haven’t accomplished anything there, either. But it’s about Nathan.”

“The man himself?”

“Yes. You see...well, yesterday I had him followed.”

“Why? Do you think he’s lying to you?”

“No, never that. He—I better start at the beginning.” Verity launched into the entire story, starting with the attack and running all the way through rescuing Nathan and Sloane.

By the time she finished, Mrs. Malloy was laughing so hard she had to take out a handkerchief to dab at the tears in her eyes. “Oh, I’d have paid a penny to see that.”

“It was rather amusing,” Verity agreed. “But that’s not the problem.”

“Ah. Mr. Dunbridge’s manly pride.” The other woman nodded in understanding. “It’s a devil of a thing to deal with. Was he angry?”

“He wasn’t angry about the rescue, that just embarrassed him. But he was annoyed that I’d had him followed. We quarreled a bit, and, well, the long and short of it is that I told him I cared about him.”