Page 60 of The Art of Sinning
“With good reason.” Jeremy searched her face. “How can you be sure Samuelisn’tscheming to hurt you? Given his past behavior—”
“You don’t know anything about my brother,” she said tersely. “He’s not as awful as you think.”
Jeremy arched an eyebrow. “So you deny that he kidnapped Jane’s cousin. And got her maid with child.”
She colored. “Well, yes, he did dothosethings. And I admit that he... has behaved very badly in the past. But though Edwin can’t see it, there’s still some good in him. The very fact that Samuel wanted to provide for his child proves it.”
Jeremy eyed her closely. “What makes you think he ever intended to acknowledge his son, much less support him? The childisfour years old, after all, and his mother has presumably been in a brothel for some time. He took no steps to get her out.”
“That’s because he didn’t know until recently that she’d left the stage. He’d been living and working in York for the past few years. She was his mistress when he lived in London, but they parted before she bore his son. He told me he only later found out that she’d had a child by him.”
“And you believed him,” he said, highly skeptical.
“I did, and I do.” Reaching into her cloak, she pulled out a letter. “Because of this: it contains something that will help Miss Moreton care for their son. That’s why I’m here. To give her the letter and make sure my nephew is transferred to a better situation.”
“He asked you to deliver his missive. To a brothel. Knowing it would ruin you to be seen in one.”
“Well, no, not exactly.” She dropped her gaze to the envelope cradled in her hands. “He told me to mail it to the Covent Garden post office. He said he heard that Miss Moreton regularly calls for her mail there. When I pressed him for a better address, threatening not to send the letter at all unless he gave me her direction, he admitted that she now worked in a Covent Garden bawdy house. Which is why he said I should merely post it.”
“Well, at least the ass hadsomesense,” Jeremy grumbled. “But of course, you couldn’t leave it at that.”
Her head shot up. “No, I could not. Nor could I worry about the possibility that Samuel might be scheming against us. If there was even the smallest chance that my nephew was out there suffering—”
She squared her shoulders. “And apparently, my instincts were sound, too. Peggy Moreton has run off with Lord knows whom, and her child is now in another possibly perilous situation. So yes, I refused to abandon my nephew just because Edwin was being his usual cynical self.”
Then it hit him why this was so important to her. Why thechildmeant so much. She’d essentially been abandoned by her own father, and that wound ran deep. It made her all the more determined not to see it happen to some poor lad.
He softened his tone. “Still, to come here looking for the boy yourself is extreme. Why not hire someone to find him?”
“I suggested that to Edwin. He said he didn’t trust anyone to be discreet about it.” She made a face. “He’s worried that if more scandal erupts, it will keep me from gaining a decent husband.”
Jeremy saw the earl’s point.“Thenyoucould have hired someone. You know the Duke’s Men already, so you could—”
“Are you daft?” She seized his arm. “Promise me you won’t say a word to your relations. They’re sure to tell Edwin about it, and he willkillme.”
“He’s not as bad as all that,” Jeremy said.
“Oh, right, I forgot.” With a sniff, she released his arm. “You two have become quite chummy now that you’re starting a club.I should have known you’d side with him.”
“I’m not siding with anyone. I’m concerned about you, that’s all. This search is unwise and bound to ruin you before it helps your nephew. For one thing, don’t you think Mrs. Beard made note of your questions about the boy?”
She shot him a mutinous glance. “She’ll just assume I’m interested because I was Peggy’s friend.”
“Yes, the friend who seems more concerned about the whereabouts of Peggy’s son than about Peggy herself.” When Yvette blanched, he added, “Mrs. Beard is sure to find that suspicious. She’s probably also aware that the lad is your brother’s by-blow. She’s adept at ferreting out secrets to hold over her girls’ heads.”
“You should know,” she said irritably, “given your friendly association with her.”
He avoided her gaze. “I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not.”
“Right. All this time you let me believe you were the worst kind of whoremonger, when you were actually just using these women as your models. You and Mrs. Beard clearly have a very different sort of business arrangement than you led me to think.”
Thunderation. He’d hoped Yvette might ignore the girls’ chatter about his work. He should have known better. Every day she veered closer to knowing the real him. Every day she dug a little deeper, understood a little more.
It drew him in. It terrified him.
“Don’t let Sally fool you,” he said in a hard voice. “I’m no saint.”
“So you also bed those women, do you?” She pierced him with her too-knowing gaze. “In between painting sessions?”
