He pressed his lips together. ‘You’ll be sorry.’
Pieces of a puzzle fell into place in her mind. ‘You said you went to see Mr Bliss because he could arrange an account on which I could draw. It isn’t true, is it? He is the lawyer who wrote to my uncle.’
He tugged mightily at his stock. ‘Yes.’
‘Then where is the money for the drawings?’
‘Waiting for you at the publishing house,’ he squeezed out.
‘Then we don’t need to see this Mr Bliss. I will book passage to Italy immediately.’
‘Don’t, miss. Please. You must read the document Mr Bliss has for you.’ His jowls wobbled. He dabbed at his brow. ‘Sworn to secrecy, I was. But I assure you, you will not be sorry.’
‘I’m sorry I trusted you.’
He gazed at her with hurt eyes.
‘Dash it. If my father wanted to contact me, he could have done so years ago.’
Snively cringed. ‘It’s all explained in the letter.’
She huffed out a breath. ‘I don’t even know his name.’
‘He swore me to secrecy.’
Because of who she was? She felt sick. ‘I don’t need to know and I need to be on a ship before Uncle Mortimer finds me.’
‘You’ll regret it,’ he said.
She glared at him.
He let out a sigh. ‘Joshua Snively don’t blab. Not with a thousand pound on the line. And Bliss will not see it paid to me if I say one word. Your father trusted me. Now so must you.’
Life had seemed much simpler less than a week ago. Did she really want to know the identity of her father? Lady Radthorn’s talk of her mother’s wildness before her marriage meant this man could be anyone. A shiver ran down her spine. Perhaps the man was a criminal. Or married and ashamed. Or…what? And why should she care when her father had never paid her the slightest heed until now?
Should she trust in Snively’s assurances that all would be well or her own instinct to run?
This was like one of Shakespeare’s plays where everyone pretended to be someone else. The only thing she knew for sure was that if she didn’t leave England she might never have her chance to learn her craft. And yet Snively had always been a good friend and right now he looked terribly upset.
She huffed a sigh. ‘Very well. I’ll wait one day to read this letter. But no matter what happens, I am leaving right afterwards.’
‘Fair dos,’ Snively said, looking hugely relieved. ‘I’ll go find us a ship. In the meantime, lay low.’ He pushed to his feet with a grunt.
‘Thank you.’
He rubbed his chin. ‘Your pa paid me well for this job, miss. But after all these years watching over you from a distance, I’ve come to think of you as one of my own.’
She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Snively. I do wish you’d tell who my father is so it won’t come as too much of a surprise.’ Or a horrid shock.
‘I gave my word. Tomorrow is soon enough, never you fear.’ His dark eyes twinkled. ‘Now when have I ever steered you wrong?’
She took a deep breath. Tomorrow it would be.
‘Radthorn!’
On his perch at the back of John’s curricle, Robert cringed at the sound of his mother’s voice. His heart plummeted. ‘Pretend you don’t see her,’ Robert hissed in John’s ear, careful to keep his head low.
‘Can’t,’ John muttered, neatly pulling into the curb on Bond Street. ‘Take their heads, Parks,’ he said in a louder voice.
Robert leaped down, and, keeping the horses between him and the diminutive lady on the footpath, ran to the bridles. He shifted so he could see his mother as she raised her face to look at his friend. She looked elegant as always, but beneath her jaunty red-plumed bonnet her face seemed more lined than Robert remembered. More careworn. Damn Charlie. Or was it the girls running her ragged? He prayed she didn’t look hagged because of him.
‘I didn’t think you were due in town for another week, John?’ she said, her voice calm and cool. ‘How is your grandmother?’
‘Very well, your Grace.’
‘And you, Robert?’ she said, raising her voice. ‘Why have you not called to see me?’
Startled, Robert jerked the bridle. He must have been mistaken. She couldn’t possibly recognise him like this. He patted the horse’s flank.
‘You jobbed at the bits,’ Mother scolded, appearing at the curb in front of him.
John’s rueful chuckle carried above the noises in the street while Robert drank in the sight of his beloved mother’s face, her fine grey eyes holding sadness and pleasure, her lips curved in an encouraging smile.
His throat burned and his arms longed to hug her slim shoulders. ‘Father won’t like it if you acknowledge me,’ he said roughly, bitterly.
Her eyes widened. She drew in a quick breath. ‘I knew you’d had an argument, but I thought it was you who left in a temper. Charlie hasn’t looked me in the eye since.’
Charlie wouldn’t. He’d agreed with Father. ‘You had best move on,’ he said, seeing her footman lingering a few yards farther down the pavement.
‘Come home with me, to Meadowbrook, and I’ll talk to the Duke. Sort it out.’
A lump rose in his throat. He swallowed and shook his head. ‘Please go, your Grace, before someone sees you talking to a groom and gets suspicious about the low company you keep. I certainly don’t want another episode like the one at White’s.’
Her gaze took in his garb and her eyes filled with pity. He felt ashamed to cut such a disreputable figure in her presence. ‘I’m so angry with your father,’ she said softly. ‘How you must have suffered. Come home. I’ll make him put it right.’
He stiffened, the events of that day rushing through his veins like poison. ‘What happened was my own fault, Mother. I must be the one to make it right. But what Father said…well, I’m sorry, it was unforgivable.’
‘As proud as ever.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘We cannot talk here. Your father is still at Meadowbrook. I came to town to visit an old friend who is ill. Call on me in the morning at the town house.’
‘I’m in a bit of a scrape. I will not bring more disgrace to the family.’ He couldn’t help his smile. ‘Are the girls well? How is Hal?’ The youngest son, born long after the other children and most beloved by his father.
Her eyes misted. ‘All are well. They miss you.’
His throat felt raw and full. ‘I miss them too. And Charlie?’
She shook her head. ‘He went to Durn on business.’
‘Good God.’ Durn was the gloomiest of the Duke’s properties, located in the wilds of Yorkshire. No one ever went to Durn willingly.
Mother smiled wearily. ‘I worry for him. He is not happy.’
A chill entered Robert’s chest. ‘I’m supposed to feel sorry for him?’ He headed back to his seat.
Mother looked up at John over the horses’ backs. ‘I’m glad you found him for me, John. Keep him safe.’
‘Always at your service, your Grace,’ John said. He flicked his leader with his whip and the curricle moved out into the traffic. Robert stared straight ahead, not daring to look back in case he did something rash like leaping down and giving her a hug. No doubt some bright spark would take him