away. “I’ll give it away.”
“That is your privilege.”
She gave him a look of such searing contempt Garrick felt it all the way to his soul.
“Damn you,” she said distinctly.
Garrick thought of Harriet Knight. There was quite a queue of people wishing him in perdition. Interesting that he had cared not a jot for Harriet’s dismissal of him. It had left him utterly cold, whereas Merryn Fenner’s scorn raked him more deeply than he would have liked. He inclined his head. “Quite so, Lady Merryn.”
“I think,” Alex interposed, “that we had best discuss this matter in private.” He stood up. “Mr. Churchward.” He shook the lawyer by the hand. “We will be in touch. Thank you. Farne …” His nod was a shade more cordial than it had been at the beginning of the meeting.
“You will not buy me off,” Merryn said through her teeth.
“Come along, Merryn,” Joanna said, sounding like a governess.
They went out. Garrick could hear Tess Darent’s voice fading away as she chattered to Joanna about the new winter wardrobe she would purchase with some of her thirty thousand pounds. He saw that Churchward had overheard Lady Darent, too. The lawyer grimaced.
“The late Lord Fenner’s daughters are all very different from one another,” he murmured.
Garrick thought that of the three, Tess was actually the one most like Stephen Fenner. Stephen, too, had been blessedly short of moral scruples when it came to money. Joanna, he rather suspected, had hidden depths. She might appear to be a society butterfly but she could not have attracted and held the love of a man like Alex Grant without some substance. As for Merryn, well, she was as transparent as glass, painfully honest and demanding the same integrity from all those that she met. He winced as he remembered her disillusion on hearing Tess’s response to the deed of gift. Life could be very cruel to idealists. Which was another reason why to tell her of her brother’s true character would be wantonly cruel.
He stood up, stretched, feeling the tension drain away from his body.
“Thank you, Churchward,” he said, shaking the lawyer by the hand. “I appreciate your support.”
“One hundred thousand pounds,” Churchward mourned. “You are sure you will not change your mind, your grace?”
Garrick laughed. “Too late. Lady Darent will already be spending her share, I feel sure.” He sighed, straightened. “Please let me know as soon as Lady Grant responds formally to the offer and please have all the estate papers ready to send over to her.” He smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Churchward.”
He went out. He felt a huge wash of relief to be outside in the fresh air. He resolved to ride out that afternoon. His ducal duties could wait a little. He needed space and speed and the opportunity to outrun his ghosts. Merryn Fenner filled his consciousness with her vivid passion and the sharp awareness that undercut every one of their encounters.
You will not buy me off …
He had not for one moment thought that he could.
“HAVE YOU A MOMENT, GUV’NOR?”
The man who had stuck his head around Tom’s office door was Ned Heighton, one of the men who worked for him picking up information in the rookeries and coffee shops of London. A former Army Provost, Heighton had fallen from grace through some misdemeanor and been court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from the army. Tom had never inquired into the cause of his disgrace, although he suspected it was drink-related. Heighton could be a little too fond of the bottle. Still, the army’s loss was Tom’s gain. Heighton was a very sound man.
“What is it?” he asked, as the old soldier came in and shut the door.
“Your six o’clock appointment is here,” Heighton said. “Nice-looking lady.”
“Mrs. Carstairs,” Tom said. “Her husband has absconded and she wants to find him.”
Heighton shook his head. “Best leave him be. He’ll have run off with an actress, like as not.”
“Or he is at the bottom of the Thames,” Tom said, reaching for a file from his drawer, “if my inquiries into his financial affairs are anything to go by.” He raised his brows. “But you did not call in to act as my secretary, did you, Heighton?”
“No, sir.” Heighton scratched his forehead. “There’s something I thought you should know, sir. Someone has been asking questions. About her ladyship, sir.”
Tom waited. Heighton always took his time in divulging information. Also he had a love-hate relationship with Merryn, whom he thought too grand to work for an inquiry agent. Heighton had strict ideas about rank. Interesting, Tom thought, that despite his disapproval the old soldier seemed to be on Merryn’s side now.
“A rich cove,” Heighton added eventually. “Titled, probably.”
“The Duke of Farne,” Tom said softly. Garrick Farne, it seemed, had not wasted any time.
“Nice clothes,” Heighton said. “Expensive. But not a soft lad, oh, no.”
“Soft lad” was Heighton’s ultimate insult for any man whom he thought a bit of a dandy. Tom repressed a grin. “Go on,” he said.
Heighton sighed. His eyes looked sad, like a dog left out in the rain.
“Took his business to Hammonds,” he said dolefully, mentioning Tom’s most successful rival.
“Well,” Tom said, “he wouldn’t come to us if he wanted information on Merryn, would he?”
“Might do,” Heighton said surprisingly. “Looked the sort of cove who wouldn’t mess around. Dangerous, if you ask me. He carried a pistol, Jerry said.”
Jerry was one of Heighton’s most useful informers and was correct nine times out of ten. Tom sighed. This was precisely what he had feared. Farne had got wind of Merryn’s activities and was out to find out about her and, no doubt, scupper her plans.
“Any idea what questions he was asking, Heighton?” he said, a little wearily.
Heighton shook his head. “Jerry couldn’t hear. Only heard her ladyship’s name—and the sound of money changing hands. Big money, Jerry said.”
“All right,” Tom said. “I’ll warn Merryn to be careful. Thank you, Heighton.”
The old soldier paused. “One other thing, sir.”
Tom looked up at the note in the man’s voice. “Yes?”
“The rich cove—the Duke—was asking after you, too, sir.”
Tom put down his pen very slowly. “Me?” he said. His voice did not sound quite right, even to his own ears. He could feel cold fear crawling up his neck. “He was asking about me?”
Heighton was looking at him with concern. Tom swiftly rearranged his expression. “I expect,” he said, “it was only because I employ Lady Merryn.” He picked up the pen again,
