"The day before I left London."

"His name?"

"Smythe. Edward Smythe."

"His direction?"

"I'm not certain."

He shook her and her teeth rattled. "I don't know," she insisted. "I’d asked the butler to recommend a translator and he gave me Mr. Smythe's name. I simply wrote a letter of introduction, enclosed the note, then gave the entire affair to a servant to be delivered. I do not know where it went."

Dark eyes bored into hers for several seconds. Then a growl of pure frustration burst from him. "I have more questions, but they'll have to wait. We must get away from here."

She lifted her chin. "I am not going anywhere with you."

In a blink, he released one of her arms and withdrew a small pistol from inside his jacket. He pressed the metal under her chin, his expression fierce. "You're going to leave here with me, and you're going to do so quietly. If you scream, I swear it will be the last sound you ever utter."

She swallowed painfully. "You would have a difficult time explaining away two dead bodies."

"Not at all. I shall claim the same ruffian who attacked poor Redfern returned and we were forced to flee. He grabbed you, and although I tried to save you, he absconded with you-to God only knows where. I'll wipe a bit of mud on my face, adopt a horrified countenance, and say, 'Indeed, I barely escaped the scoundrel myself " He shoved her in front of him toward the horse. Mounting swiftly, he nearly pulled her bruised arm from the socket yanking her up and settling her in front of him. She noted he tucked his pistol back in his jacket. If only she could get it away from him…

One strong, muscular arm encircled her waist, nearly cutting off her air, and he applied his heels to the horse's flanks.


*********

Robert sat on the settee, his forearms resting on his knees, and watched Michael pace before the fireplace.

"The man my mum married was named Nigel Hadmore. He was the second son of the earl of Shelbourne."

Stunned, Robert simply stared at him.

Michael continued, "This Nigel bloke came to Ireland as part of his Grand Tour, and he and Mum fell passionately in love. Of course, Mum wasn't a fancy lady, just the daughter of a tavern keep. Nigel decided to remain in Ireland with her, but, according to Mum, his father, a very controlling man, ordered him home. Nigel refused, and his father cut off his fancy allowance until he came to his senses and returned to England." He paused, staring into the flames.

"Did he return?" Robert asked.

"No. He'd apparently saved a decent sum and therefore wasn't worried about being cut off. Mum said that for the first time, he felt free of his father's suffocating control, and he joyously embraced life. He asked her to marry him, and she accepted. They married in Ireland without informing his family."

He turned toward Robert, his dark eyes stormy. "After the wedding-that's when the bastard showed what sort of man he truly was. Oh, at first he was happy in Ireland with his bride, even happier when Mum told him a baby was on the way. But after several months, his savings ran out. He quickly wearied of working in the tavern, and started to miss the life of luxury he'd left behind. By the time his son was six months old, poor Nigel couldn't stand it any longer."

Michael's upper lip curled with obvious disgust. "Where he'd once felt free, he now felt shackled. He couldn't understand how Mum was perfectly content with their tiny house out in the middle of nowhere, working day in and day out to earn only a pittance. Couldn't fathom why Mum didn't want more for herself or their son. He claimed to still love Mum and his child, but he just wasn't cut out to be a working man and live in such rustic conditions." Michael's tone turned more scathing. "He missed his clubs and glittering social gatherings. His fine clothes. Gourmet meals. Servants. He decided he would have to somehow make peace with his father and get his generous allowance reinstated."

"Was he able to do so?" Robert asked.

A look akin to hatred flared in Michael's eyes. "As it turned out, when he contacted his father, his father summoned him home. Seems Nigel's older brother had died, and Nigel was now the heir to the earldom. When Nigel arrived back in England, his father informed him that just before his brother's death, a marriage had been arranged between his brother and the daughter of a wealthy duke. The Hadmore family was facing financial ruin and desperately needed the duke's daughter's huge dowry. Nigel's father demanded that Nigel, as the new heir, honor the agreement and marry the duke's daughter in order to save the family name and the estate."

"Well, he couldn't very well do that," Robert mused. "He was already married."

Michael shot him an undecipherable look. "Yes, most men would be quite stymied by that, but not Nigel. No, he decided that he did indeed have an option. He realized that this marriage with the duke's daughter would have to take place quickly-before her father entertained other offers for her. There would be no time to arrange an annulment of his marriage to Brianne, and even if there was time, he had no grounds. And of course, divorce was out of the question. But…" Michael paused, his expression harsh. "No one in England knew he was already married."

They stared at each other in utter silence for several seconds. Robert shook his head. "You cannot mean-no, it's impossible."

"If only it were, my friend."


********

Geoffrey forced himself to take deep, calming breaths to stem the panic threatening to overwhelm him. Blinding pain thumped behind his eyes, and it took every ounce of his will to concentrate on guiding the horse through the woods.

Her words beat through his mind. I gave the note to a language translator. Relief surged through him. If the note was indeed written in a foreign language, the chances of other people being able to read it were lessened. But was Alberta telling the truth? Or just attempting to save herself? His jaw clenched. He'd find out soon enough.

They moved swiftly, deeper into the woods, farther away from the house. After a quarter hour, he spied a clearing surrounding a small lake. An outcropping of large rocks surrounded the area. Perfect. Just the sort of place he could claim the same ruffian who'd killed Redfern had set upon them in their attempt to escape the scoundrel. Far enough from the house to do what he had to do. Drawing the horse to a halt, he slid from the saddle.

"Get down," he said.

She silently complied, and the gelding immediately moved toward the water to drink. Alberta faced him squarely. "What do you intend to do now?" she asked.

He considered for a moment. How to best determine if she'd lied? How to get what he wanted from her? An idea popped into his mind and he inwardly smiled. Ah, yes… appeal to her feminine sympathies.

Feigning a sheepish expression, he said, "Actually, I want to apologize for brandishing a firearm in your presence. It was imperative we departed, and I sensed I would not have had your quick cooperation without… incentive. However, I want to assure you I have no wish to harm you. All I want is the note from the ring box. It belongs to me."

Wariness crossed her features. He could almost see her brain working inside her pretty head, trying to figure out how to escape him. Grudging admiration filled him. There was no doubt she was brave. And clever. Indeed, under other circumstances, Alberta and her quick mind and luscious form could have appealed to him very much.

"I've told you, I do not have it."

"Tell me, Alberta, what sort of man is your father?"

A mixture of surprise and suspicion filled her eyes at the abrupt question. "A very fine man. Kind. Hardworking."

"Do you have siblings?"

"Two brothers and a sister."

He nodded. "I grew up an only child. Many people ask me if my lack of siblings proved lonely, but I always enjoyed not having to share my possessions, or my father's affection, with anyone. I worshipped my father as a boy. Of course, I did not see him often. Mother and I lived on the Cornwall estate, while Father spent most of his time in London. Those precious few weeks every summer when he visited were the highlights of my childhood."

A flicker of what might have been pity flashed in her eyes, filling him with unexpected warmth. Perhaps he really could make her understand. What his life had been like… until that day. He quickly continued, "As the heir to the earldom, my life, my existence, my identity was defined from the day of my birth. Every lesson, every thought, was focused on preparing me for my future role, which I would step into upon my father's death. It was a role for which I was well prepared. It was his death that I could not accept."

He paused to draw a breath, and hatred, hot and fierce, rippled through him, for the man he'd worshipped. The man who'd betrayed him in the most unforgivable of ways.

"Actually, it was more his deathbed confession that I could not accept," he said in a voice he could not quite keep steady. Reaching out, he grasped her hands, his gaze intent upon hers, willing her to see the depth of his pain. The magnitude of his need for that note. "Do you know what my father told me on his deathbed, Alberta?"

"How could I possibly know such a thing?"

"So you haven't read the note?"

"No. I told you, it was written in a foreign language." She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. "Please let go of my hands. You're hurting me."

He ignored her plea. "He confessed to me that he had another son. An older son. By another woman. Another wife." A bitter laugh escaped him. "My noble, proper father had married some trollop he'd met in Ireland on his Grand Tour. He was a bigamist, which meant, of course, that I was not legally his heir. Then, to add insult to this grievous injury, Father had the gall, the temerity, to request that I find this missing half brother and make certain he was financially taken care of." A bark of outraged incredulity pushed past his lips. "I could not fathom that my father would ask such a thing. I'd worshipped him my entire life, believing him to be the epitome of strength, but he was nothing but a weak fool. And if there is one thing I cannot abide, it is a fool."