Page 84 of Romancing the Scot
Stealing Grace from the clutches of Jo and his mother, Hugh led her toward his study, where the travelers were waiting. On the way, he explained to her what information he’d gathered about the two men.
“Sir Rupert Elliot, a career diplomat, is serving as an envoy to the Netherlands. He’s stationed in Brussels,” Hugh told her. “The other man, Captain Thomas Rivenhall, has served in many capacities since the war with Napoleon ended. Formerly an officer on Wellington’s staff, he now has some vague position in the Foreign Office. His explanation to MacKay was imprecise regarding his exact responsibility at the present, but my father believes he’s been employed to dig skeletons out of closets.”
“Lovely,” she said uneasily. “But what could my father possibly have had to do with them?”
Hugh understood her discomfort. “The only way to know is the speak with them.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “But it appears they needyou.And regardless of whether you can help them or not, I plan to use their influence to expedite the pardon I’ve sought from the Prince Regent. Both of these men are in a position to make that petition move forward.”
He took Grace’s cold fingers into his hand and brought them to his lips.
“Also, it’s possible they can shed some light on the motivation for the attack on you.”
She drew a deep breath. “Lead me to them.”
* * *
Grace was happy that Hugh was with her in that meeting. He was still concerned about her safety. His presence bolstered her confidence. Still, she had spent a lifetime learning how to deal with men of power, especially politicians. Sitting and listening to these two begin, Grace found that she was perfectly calm.
MacKay, Hugh’s clerk, was asked to wait outside because of the privileged nature of the conversation, and Captain Rivenhall hinted that Hugh’s presence might be questionable, as well. After receiving a deadly glare from the viscount, however, the two men exchanged a glance and proceeded, obviously deciding it would be futile to pursue that course.
“Our deepest condolences, Miss Ware, on the death of your father,” Sir Rupert offered solemnly. “Dreadful business in Antwerp.”
Grace had so many questions for these men regarding what had happened to the remains of her father and their servants. She wanted to know where were they buried and how these men had learned of the attack. But she followed Hugh’s example. Burying her emotions deep within, she donned a mask of indifference and waited. First and foremost, she needed to know what they were after.
Captain Rivenhall addressed the issue first. “As you may already know, this past winter, Colonel Ware directed two letters to our respective offices in Brussels and in Westminster.”
“The two missives were identical,” Sir Rupert added. “The colonel did not want any bureaucratic foolishness to hinder his message from reaching the proper authorities. He didn’t want his offer to be missed.”
“Your father’s letters were not missed, Miss Ware,” Captain Rivenhall said. “They attracted our immediate attention.”
“So you knew of Colonel Ware?” Hugh asked.
“Naturally,” Rivenhall replied. “It is in the greatest interest of the crown to keep track of those closest to Napoleon’s family. The colonel’s military record was well known to us, as was his continuing service to Joseph Bonaparte, the king of . . . theformerking of Spain and Naples. His letter drew the attention of the highest levels of our government.”
“Why did the colonel contact you?” Hugh asked.
Captain Rivenhall hesitated to reply, but Sir Rupert did not. “Colonel Ware was seeking a pardon for himself and for his daughter.”
“A pardon?” Hugh asked.
Rivenhall spoke up. “Yes, he wanted an unconditional pardon, along with the return of properties belonging to himself in Ireland and to his late wife’s family in Scotland.”
Grace stared at the men. How was it possible that her father had actively pursued this and not spoken with her about it? They said he sent the letters during the winter. She thought about the wound to his leg. It was already worsening.
It wasn’t for himself that he was requesting the pardon, she realized. He knew he was dying. He was doing it for her.
“What was Colonel Ware giving you in return?” Hugh asked. “He wasn’t so naïve as to think the crown would grant him a pardon without offering something of value in exchange.”
“You’re correct,” Rivenhall replied. “He had in his possession something of interest to us.”
Grace thought of the diamond.
“Whatexactlyare you looking for?” Hugh demanded.
“A letter,” Rivenhall replied after a long pause.
A letter. Not the diamond. All along, she’d thought the jewel was the cause of her father’s murder.
“A letter containing what?” he pressed.
