Robert looked at Frederica’s face. She didn’t look too upset. In fact, she looked almost gleeful.
He tucked his pistol in his coat pocket, but kept his hand on the grip.
Wynchwood hobbled forwards. ‘There you are, Frederica. You will return home at once.’
‘Now see here,’ Snively said, bristling.
A half smile curved her lips as she caught Robert’s eyes, the elfish little smile that had enchanted him almost from the first. His heart contracted. He kept his face calm, refused to acknowledge the longing to go to her. Instead, he drew back against the wall, ready to act should any of the Wynchwood clan attempt to take her against her will.
‘First I must tender my apologies to Miss Bracewell,’ Mr Bliss said in a wheezy voice. ‘One of my clerks thought to line his pockets by informing Lord Wynchwood of the existence of a very important document held in this office.’
Snively glared. ‘Glad to hear you admitting to blabbing and not blaming me.’
Bliss inserted a finger in his cravat and tugged. ‘Fortunately, no harm was done, Mr Snively. The terms of the payment to you are not affected by this unfortunate occurrence.’
Snively nodded grimly.
‘What does the document say?’ Robert asked.
Frederica smiled at him. He grinned back.
‘This is all very irregular,’ Wynchwood said. His tongue swiped his dry lips. ‘This young woman is my ward. I demand she return home with me at once. I have the law on my side.’
‘Not any more, Uncle Mortimer. Today is my birthday. Mr Bliss has confirmed that your guardianship ended at midnight.’
Lullington, who had ranged himself beside Robert, nudged him with an elbow. ‘Spirited girl.’
‘Why the hell are you chasing her?’ Robert asked, confused.
‘Young Bracewell is a friend.’
‘Like hell,’ Robert said, ire a burning ember in his chest. ‘You saw a way to line your pockets.’
The viscount’s cheek muscles flickered. ‘You heard your mother, I was doing it for Maggie.’
‘Very altruistic. You might fool Maggie and my mother, but I’m no green ’un. You plotted the false kidnapping charges. Why?’
‘You deserved it after what you did to Catherine.’
The women they had fought over years before. Robert had won. They’d been idiots to even consider losing their lives over a woman, but Lullington had hated losing and Robert had fuelled his temper by gloating. They’d been enemies ever since. But Robert had never realised how much Lullington’s resentment had festered.
‘What about your cousin? Are you harbouring ill will about her too?’
The viscount gave a hard laugh. ‘When your brother showed her his blunt, she admitted it was all her fault.’
Robert stared at him. ‘Charlie?’
‘He dragged her before her parents and forced the story out of her. She’d planned it all, hoping to bag a duke. The family married her off with a very nice settlement provided by your brother.’
Righteous Charlie had come through for him. Believed him. What a surprise? ‘Glad to hear it.’
‘I’d wager you are, since once more you came out of it scot-free.’
Hardly. Robert was about to take issue, when Mr Bliss put his pincenez on his nose and cleared his throat dramatically.
The room fell silent.
Bliss unrolled the scroll.
A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Frederica bent to pick it up. She unfolded it.
‘Oh,’ she gasped.
Robert couldn’t see what it was.
She glanced up at Snively. ‘This is one of my drawings.’ She touched it with a fingertip. ‘Of a pigeon? How did it get here?’
‘Your father saw you walking in the village one day, the day he set me to watch over you,’ Snively said. ‘You dropped it. He kept it with him until the day he passed on. He was also an artist. Some of his pictures of India received acclaim.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He came looking for me?’ she whispered.
‘Ahem,’ Bliss said, drawing attention back to him. He glared at the assembled company over his spectacles.
Read the damned document, Robert wanted to yell. He held his tongue and assuaged his impatience by keeping a close eye on Wynchwood.
‘I have already relayed the gist of this to Miss Brace-well, but she wanted you all to hear it too.’ He looked around. Robert bunched his fists but managed to remain still.
‘Her father, Lord Abernathy—’
A ripple of disbelief ran around the room. Wynch-wood’s jaw dropped.
Abernathy? Her father was a lord? Robert combed his memory. Wasn’t he…the richest of all the Indian nabobs? Richer than Croesus of Greek mythology. His name was still mentioned in the clubs with awe and envy.
His throat dried.
Bliss raised a silencing hand. ‘The Earl of Abernathy left his entire fortune to his daughter. Miss Frederica Bracewell has proved her identity. Unfortunately, Lord Abernathy was unable to claim his daughter in his lifetime. The circumstances surrounding their relationship are unfortunate and not to be described here.’ He glared at Wynchwood. ‘But as a younger son with no prospects, he was shipped off to India. Only later did he inherit his title. By the time he received word of his daughter’s birth, her mother was dead.’
‘Should have let him marry the gel,’ Lord Wynchwood muttered.
‘Should have consulted a fortune teller,’ Lullington murmured.
Robert barely restrained himself from strangling the bastard.
Bliss clapped his hands for silence. ‘Because of the guardianship arrangements made by her legal father, Abernathy could do nothing until those arrangements ended. He feared when the Bracewells learned of his plans to leave her his fortune they would find a way to spend it.’ He glared at Lord Wynchwood, who turned the colour of a beetroot. ‘It seems he was right.’
Misty-eyed Frederica placed a hand to her throat. ‘I still can’t believe my father was a nobleman.’
Robert could see that she was happier about discovering her father was a worthwhile man than about the fortune she’d inherited. She really was a remarkable woman. She deserved a good man.
He felt as if someone had knocked him down and run over his chest with a coach and four.
He was not that man.
Bliss smiled at Frederica kindly and handed her the roll of parchment. ‘The details are all in here.’
Wynchwood groaned. ‘I should have married you to Simon years ago.’
‘Too late, I’m afraid,’ Frederica said.
At that moment the outer door opened and young Simon barged in. ‘Uncle,’ he cried. ‘I have brought the special licence. We can marry tomorrow.’
Lullington cracked a laugh. ‘Always behind the time, young Bracewell.’
Robert returned a grim smile to this sally. He could not let Lullington know what this meant to him or the viscount would have a field day.
Simon’s smile faded as he stared at his uncle. ‘I say, what is going on?’
‘Ingratitude is going on,’ Lord Wynchwood proclaimed, his face drained of colour for once. He looked