Page 55 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

Brothels and lightskirts didn’t appeal to Nathan. He’d dallied with tavern maids when he was at university, but he’d given that up as he became an adult. His friends had joked about him being a romantic, wanting love instead of simply a willing body. But the truth was that he’d found the transaction demeaning—on both sides.

Over the years he’d had short affairs mainly with widows—women wise to the world who, like him, expected nothing more than some nights of pleasure. However, he had never actually spent the whole night in their beds; instead, he had left before dawn in order to preserve the woman’s reputation.

But last night, when he had finally forced himself to leave her bed, Verity had, as always, laughed at his concerns for her reputation and had proceeded to convince him to stay in a most enjoyable way.

Nathan linked his arms behind his head and gazed up at Verity’s ceiling as he considered how very good he felt. He was far too happy, really, for a man who had discovered the day before that he was illegitimate and was suddenly out of a house or, indeed, even money with which to live.

The door opened and Verity sailed in, carrying a large tray. “Get up, slugabed. I’ve brought you food.”

“Mmm. You’re a jewel.” Nathan sat up to inspect the goods on the tray she set on the bed, but his eyes lingered on her first.

She wore a dressing gown which was not in any way immodest, but Nathan wanted to slide his hands across the smooth, shining satin and under the lapel. He wondered what she had on beneath the robe.

“Uh-uh,” Verity laughed. “You’re not leading me astray.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Nathan protested, feigning indignation.

“I knew what you were thinking,” she replied lightly and sat down on the bed beside the tray, curling her legs under her. “I’m a detective, you know.”

“And an excellent one.” Nathan took a piece of bacon from a plate and devoured it. “Tell your cook she’s a gem.”

“I thought I was the jewel.”

“Oh, well, you are, of course. Of an entirely different sort.”

“A diamond?” Verity asked, tearing apart a roll and slathering it with butter.

“No, you’re much too rare for a mere diamond.” He considered the matter. “An emerald, I should think. Cleopatra wore them, you know.”

“Goodness. I am impressed. You know your jewelry.”

Nathan chuckled, shaking his head. “Not in the least. I have simply spent far too much time in the presence of Lady Lockwood.”

“Now I’m impressed by your fortitude.”

“I haven’t seen that you are very much in fear of her ladyship,” Nathan retorted.

“Not in fear,” Verity agreed. “More in awe.”

They continued to eat in silence, but Nathan noticed that Verity glanced at him more than once, a thoughtful look in her eyes, but said nothing. He had the suspicion that she wanted to talk about his situation but hated to spoil his mood. His stomach dropped. He hoped Verity was not about to tell him that with what they had learned at the diocese the case was all wrapped up. It still seemed unfinished. Though Nathan had to admit he was less upset about the possibility of her closing his case than he was the idea that might also end this exceedingly brief affair. However he felt about last night, it didn’t mean Verity necessarily felt the same.

With an inward sigh, he laid down his fork and said, “What? I can tell you’re thinking of something.”

“I’m not certain that this case is solved.”

Her words were so far from what he expected that he could only stare at her for a moment. “What do you mean? It seems very clear cut to me. We saw the record—my father married Margaret.” He managed a faint smile. “Are you sure it isn’t just that you don’t want to admit you’re wrong?”

“Well, that does take some getting used to—it so rarely happens.” Verity sent him a twinkling glance. “But all my instincts told me Mr. Douglas was lying, and my instincts are very good. I have trouble believing that Malcolm Douglas wasn’t here to extort money from you. Everything about him—his gestures, his voice, the things he said—all seemed so memorized. Rehearsed. I’ve known a number of liars and mountebanks, and he fit the role.”

Nathan looked doubtful. “I don’t know...”

“I’m not relying only on my feelings. There are several peculiar things about this whole matter. Why does he go by the name Malcolm Douglas instead of Malcolm Dunbridge? I realize that his family hates the English, but surely that’s better than being thought illegitimate. Why did he slip out of the inn where he was staying and disappear? And if he has a legitimate claim as the heir, why didn’t he hire an attorney to press his claim in court? Why come to you with these hints about coming to an understanding?”

More than hints. Nathan thought of the thinly veiled threats the man had made to him privately. But even those threats didn’t disprove the man’s paternity. “Maybe...maybe he just didn’t want to get embroiled in a scandal. If his uncle is any indication, he comes from a family with a good name. He might not have wanted to embarrass them.”

“If he wanted to avoid a scandal, all he had to do was not make the claim at all. As you said, his uncle seems upper-class and with some degree of wealth. It’s not as if Malcolm really needs the money. And speaking of his uncle, why did Malcolm not tell his uncle what he was doing? Why did he not stay with him or at least let Robert know he was in the city?”

“Maybe he thought his uncle would disapprove.”