Page 57 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

After what felt like an eternity he saw his quarry enter the club, handing off his hat and decorative cane. Nathan looked back down at the paper in his hands as if absorbed, intending to look up at the last moment and recognize Douglas.

However, Mr. Douglas started the conversation himself before Nathan could do so. “Good day,” he said cheerfully. “Mr. Dunbridge, isn’t it? We met at Alan Grant’s not long ago.”

“Yes, of course.” Nathan stood up to shake his hand, offering him a friendly smile. “I remember quite well. Do sit down.”

“Thank you, sir.” Douglas settled into the chair across from Nathan’s, and for a few minutes they exchanged casual remarks about the weather.

The butler brought Douglas a cup of tea, and in the lull after the other man took a sip, Nathan asked, “I believe you were awaiting your nephew’s visit when I saw you last.”

Douglas nodded. “I was. But he never came. I don’t suppose you’ve run into him anywhere, have you? As I remember, you were looking for him, were you not?”

“I was indeed. It’s too bad.” Nathan feigned a look of disappointment. “I’m thinking of purchasing a cottage in Scotland, and Alan told me your nephew was born in a picturesque spot. But he couldn’t remember the name. I was hoping Malcolm could tell me.”

“Gairmore?” Mr. Douglas’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Are you sure? It’s just a little spot in the Highlands where the family was...um, visiting for the summer.” His normally open and gregarious expression shifted and he glanced away.

“That’s exactly the sort of place I’m looking for,” Nathan said with delight. “A pleasant summer house where I can retreat when summer in the city becomes too much. Did they own a house there?”

“No. Margaret and her mother, um, just happened to be there. Taken by surprise a bit, you see. It sounded to me like a rather primitive place. Well, no matter.” Robert smiled brightly at Nathan. “I’m sure your friend was talking about the family estate, not far from Aberdeen. They live in Edinburgh most of the time, but the estate is where the Douglas heirs are usually born.”

“Yes, no doubt I misunderstood,” Nathan replied smoothly.

“Now, that is a lovely spot. Excellent fishing,” Douglas went on, and Nathan joined him in a discussion of hunting and fishing and the best locations in Scotland for doing either of those things.

After a long enough time to conceal that his motivation had been only to ask about Malcolm Douglas’s birthplace, Nathan took his leave of Robert and returned to Verity’s house. Verity had not returned yet, but the housekeeper let him in and offered tea while he settled down in the front room to wait for her.

It hadn’t been long since they’d last been together, but after checking his pocket watch for the fifth time in less than a half hour Nathan had to admit that he was eager to see Verity again. He had already felt oddly close to Verity and after the night they spent together there was now a vague sense of unease in his gut when she wasn’t nearby. As though he’d forgotten something or was missing a cherished heirloom he was accustomed to wearing every day.

Not, of course, that he would have told Verity that. Her teasing about being as important to him as his favorite pair of cufflinks would be relentless. And she was so much more than that to him. It was simply such a new feeling that he knew no better way to describe it.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was already used to him being here. Nathan reflected that the housekeeper was beginning to treat him like a member of the household. And with all the time he’d spent here lately, the place was beginning to seem almost like home.

He decided not to continue that line of thinking. With Verity he could have only the present. No plans, no future. He thought again of her adamant rejection of marriage. It wasn’t that he wanted to marry her, either, but still, her words had stung a little. Nathan had to wonder if she truly did not want to marry...or if she just didn’t want to marry him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

VERITY SAILED OUT of the house not long after Nathan left. It was irritating of course, that she couldn’t join Nathan in questioning Robert Douglas, but she felt too cheerful this morning to let anything dampen her spirits. Besides, she figured she should avoid her Mrs. Billingham character, as well as any place that Lord Arden might frequent. Verity still suspected that Milsap, the Bow Street Runner who was sniffing about, had the most chance of finding her through the Bankwater case.

Verity had almost told Nathan yesterday about what she had learned in the park despite her decision not to—the man seemed able to take down her walls with ease. She was thankful the clerk had interrupted her—given the tremendous blow the marriage records had dealt Nathan, he certainly hadn’t needed to be loaded down with her problems, as well.

Indeed, it would be quite selfish of her to tell him about Stanhope now—especially since, as she looked back on the scene she had witnessed, Verity suspected that she had reacted too strongly. She’d let panic overtake her. All she had really learned was that her stepbrother had thought her dead years ago, or, at the least, tried to find her years ago, and was now looking for her again.

But she didn’t know what he wanted: revenge, justice, jewelry that he thought should have been part of his inheritance? One thing she was certain of was that he could not have been the one who set those two men upon them the other night. He didn’t even know whether Verity was alive, let alone where she was.

So Stanhope currently presented no danger to Nathan and was utterly irrelevant to his case. However, that could all quickly change if Nathan thought Stanhope was a threat to Verity. Then Nathan was all too likely to go after the man himself—and a Stanhope was always more dangerous than they seemed on the surface. She couldn’t let Nathan become part of a vendetta against her.

No. It was the best course to keep Nathan out of the situation. She would take care of the problem herself—it was, after all, the way she had always handled everything. She would just have to be more careful than she had been of late. She would be on the alert whenever they went out, and she would avoid the ton as much as she could. As she had done yesterday, she decided to wear a plain brown dress and she wound her hair up in tight braids, taking the extra precaution today of topping it off with a mobcap.

As Verity dressed, her mind wandered back to Nathan. Waking up beside him had been so—well, she didn’t have a word for the feeling. Nice? Wonderful? Sweet? They were all too vague and colorless to describe the thrill that had run through her when she looked over at him, sound asleep, his chest bare, his hair delightfully rumpled, and to know that she could smooth her hands over his body and kiss him awake, and they would once more have that soul-shaking experience, that lovemaking that seemed to tear her apart and put her back together again.

But it hadn’t been only desire that stirred in her. There was the simple pleasure of having breakfast with Nathan, talking and laughing as they made plans for the day. She wasn’t sure why it warmed her deep inside to see him comfortable and at ease there in her bed—hair tousled, jaw stubbled, without his perfectly arranged neckcloth and exactly correct attire. There was a certain intimacy to it, a closeness that she had never shared with anyone.

Verity admitted few people to her house, and even fewer men to her bedchamber. She suspected that Nathan thought she was worldly wise and experienced when it came to sex. She was, she supposed, compared to the ladies of Nathan’s world—girls innocently virginal till their wedding night. But the truth was that Verity had not been with many men—only a few brief affairs, usually in the heat of some dangerous adventure.

She was quite adept at flirting and pretending interest she did not feel. She had enticed more than one man with behavior that promised more than she would ever deliver, but that had been part of whatever role she was playing. None of it was real, and she never traded her favors for information despite her spymaster urging her to do so.

Her mother’s marriage to Lord Stanhope had given her a poor view of men and marriage, and her first lover had tried to betray her to the French—she had Sloane to thank for stopping him from doing so. For several years thereafter she had sworn off men altogether.

She had learned to split herself into two parts: the person that she presented to the world and the secret self she hid, the true Verity. Men belonged solely in that first world. And it had operated well enough.