Page 50 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

Something like a growl sounded low in her throat, and Verity steeled her spine. This was her problem. Her danger. She’d been fighting her own fights all her life, and she wasn’t about to stop now. She had no doubt that Nathan would feel he ought to protect her if she told him, but he had enough of a burden as it was, trying to protect his family’s reputation. And she refused to appear weak in front of him—that was not the woman he knew. Not the woman she wanted him to know.

Verity walked briskly out of the park, keeping careful watch for Stanhope or Milsap to turn back even as she began to logically consider the problem.

The rumors of Verity’s death that Asquith had planted had worked in the past if a hunter as renowned as Milsap had believed them. But would that subterfuge still hold? Even though she now used a false last name and was frequently in disguise, Verity had been in London long enough and engaged in enough cases that she was known to many people. She, too, had a reputation.

It had been a mistake to keep the name Verity; it was not a common one. A mistake, too, to have worn so little disguise in her role as Mrs. Billingham. She had been overconfident, too certain that her past was well behind her, and it had been sheer self-indulgence to move among the ton looking like herself.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. She wasn’t going to waste time in regret. The question was how likely was Milsap to discover her, given those missteps on her part?

The fact was that very few people knew her by her real first name, and those who did would never betray her. And the truth of her past was something she had entrusted to no one. Well, except for Nathan. But there was no one more honorable; he would be silent.

She owned her home under a different false name, and she had kept its location secret from Mrs. Billingham’s suitors. Though she had met Malcolm Douglas there. Verity was noticing a distinct connection between her recent lapses of letting her guard down and her further involvement with Nathan. Was she really becoming as frothy-minded as the ladies she had belittled in the past?

However, Milsap was not going to be moving among the people of the ton asking questions. His milieu was the criminal world, where Mrs. Billingham was unknown. Unless, of course, he happened upon Lord Arden during one of his blackmailing schemes. She could only pray Arden was unaware of her involvement with stealing back the Bankwater brooch. If he knew her, even as Mrs. Billingham, Lord Arden would be in a position to undo all her secrets in one fell swoop.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NATHAN APPROACHED VERITY’S front door with some unease. He had the distinct impression that she would not appreciate his warning off Lord Arden this morning, so he had to be careful not to give that away. And he found it damned difficult to hide anything from Verity. She didn’t pry usually. And it wasn’t that he was an abysmal liar—after all, he was quite adept at politely denying that a dress was wildly unflattering or agreeing that the excessive padding in a man’s jacket looked natural. And he had never given away anything told to him in confidence.

But somehow, he found himself wanting to tell Verity all sorts of things. Memories from his childhood. Things he liked or disliked. Random notions that popped into his head. He was sure that they held no interest for her. And yet somehow he wanted her to know. Almost as much as he wanted to know Verity. Which was another thing he didn’t quite understand. He’d always been interested in people, but he’d never been as curious as he’d been about Verity—even from the beginning, when he thought she was Annabeth’s peculiarly rude maid.

It was as if she was one of those Russian dolls—when opened, one found another inside and another after that. It was always that way with Verity—another layer, another piece of her to fit into the puzzle, another conundrum to figure out, until he reached the core of her. Although he wasn’t quite sure he ever could.

After what had happened last evening between them—the heat that had swept them, the awkwardness as they parted—he wasn’t even sure how to act with her. Should he be more formal? Or would she interpret that as aristocratic coldness? He’d vowed not to pursue a romantic relationship, but he had serious doubts about his ability to keep his eyes from drinking her in.

Then he walked into the parlor and saw her, and all his thoughts flew away. She looked a bit subdued in a plain brown carriage dress—well, as plain as anything Verity would wear—and her flaming hair was bound in braids and wrapped around her head in a conservative style. And still the sight of her sent his pulse racing. Clearly he was going to have a problem keeping his vow.

He greeted Verity, pleased that his voice conveyed nothing of the messages his senses were sending him. She was so lovely. She smelled so divine. His fingers itched to caress the satin-smooth skin of her cheeks. He curled his fingers into his palm and said lightly, “I’m eager to hear your news.”

“What?” She stared at him, startled. “How—what do mean?”

A little taken aback, Nathan said, “Yesterday you said you had something to tell me. Something you’d learned about the case, I thought.”

“Oh!” Verity said. “Yes. Of course. Yesterday when I was visiting Lady Lockwood, she told me—”

“Good Gad, you had to suffer Lady Lockwood yesterday too? Searching the streets of London must have seemed quite peaceful after that.”

She grinned, the little dimple beside her mouth making its appearance. Nathan remembered kissing that spot.

“Oh, she’s not so bad,” Verity said. “You just have to take her as she is. That’s where I saw Annabeth. I met your mother and aunt, as well.”

“Did you like them?” Nathan asked. Not that it should matter.

“I think it would be difficult not to like your mother,” Verity replied. “But the part that pertains to you is that Lady Lockwood told me that marriage records are supposed to be sent to their diocese’s office.”

“So you think the London diocese would have them?”

“Yes. If they exist. Though I have to warn you that she also told me that some churches were careless in that regard.”

Nathan waved that away. “It’s a chance. Let’s go.”

“I already ordered the carriage brought round.”

It took a bit of talking to get the clerk at the diocese to search for the records from thirty-five years ago, but finally he turned and went back into the shelves behind him. They waited for him in silence.

Nathan watched Verity as she glanced about, then fiddled with the buttons of her gloves. It occurred to him that it hadn’t been merely her plain clothes and hairstyle that had made Verity appear subdued. During their ride over here, she had been unusually quiet, spending most of the time gazing out the window, and he had had to repeat a statement to her a time or two. Then there was that way she had reacted when he asked about her news—overly surprised, almost alarmed—and he was sure that it had been relief he saw in her eyes when he explained his question.

“Verity, is there something wrong?” Nathan asked. “You seem...distracted.”