Page 89 of The Secret of Flirting
“Because you told him you were an investigator from London interested in implicating my mother. You knew that would make him provide an alternate view of the crime.”
“I knew that would make him tell the truth.” Danworth drew himself up. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. You can’t prove I did anything wrong—you’re just lashing out because I’ve uncovered your nasty little secret.” He strode up to Gregory with a menacing smile. “You’ve heard my terms. If you wish to continue in your present career, then you must advocate for Leopold when we return. Otherwise, I will reveal to the world the truth about how your father died. And what your part in it was.”
Gregory desperately wanted to tell the arse to go to hell, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t just he who would suffer. It was Mother. And Monique, if she chose to marry him.
“Well then,” Gregory said noncommittally, “I suppose I have a decision to make.”
“You do, indeed. Just be sure to make the right one, my lord. Or I swear I will make you and yours regret it.”
And with that, the arse walked out.
Twenty-One
As Mr. Danworth left the study, Monique slid behind a massive ornamental display case in the hall and prayed he wouldn’t notice her. Fortunately, the man seemed too caught up in what had just occurred to pay his surroundings any mind. That wasn’t surprising, given what he’d said to Gregory. Clearly, Mr. Danworth thought he held all the cards.
And perhaps he did. She had come up here after leaving the drawing room, hoping for a chance to continue this afternoon’s discussion with Gregory in private. Instead, she’d heard Mr. Danworth threaten him most appallingly.
Waiting until the wretch disappeared up the stairs, probably headed for his bedchamber, she slipped into the study.
The moment the door closed, Gregory said, “What now? You wish to blackmail me into something else?” He turned, then started. “Oh. It’s you.” He tensed and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What are you doing here?”
Her heart ached to see him looking so lost. “I came to talk to you, and I overheard—”
“What Danworth said?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How much did you hear?”
“Most of it, I think.”
That seemed to deflate him. “Wonderful. So I suppose I can add you to the list of people who despise me.”
His acid words broke her heart. “Don’t be absurd. I could never despise you. But I don’t understand how he could threaten such a horrible thing. Clearly, he is cobbling together a bunch of nonsense—”
“I wish he were.” Gregory went to pour himself some brandy from the decanter on his desk. “Sadly, he is not.”
That shocked her. She’d been sure that Danworth was simply taking advantage of an accidental death to strike out at Gregory. “So what he claims, what he threatens to expose—”
“Is the truth. Yes.” Twirling the glass he held in his hand, he stared down into the amber liquid. “You might as well know it. The world will hear it soon enough.”
Her blood clamoring in her veins, she walked up to take the glass of brandy from him. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said firmly. “I’ll reveal the truth about my masquerade, and that will be an end to it. You will champion Prince Leopold, who will become king of Belgium, thus ensuring that none of your secrets come out.”
“And you will be forced into poverty with your grandmother?” A faint smile curved up his lips as he faced her. “I think not.”
“I will not save Grand-maman at the risk to your future... and that of your mother. I refuse to see your family embroiled in scandal on my behalf. Grand-maman and I will manage somehow. You have far more to lose than we ever did.”
His confident demeanor faltered a little at that. “You’re amazing, do you know that?” he said in a voice wrought with emotion. “You just heard that I am a murderer, yet here you are, springing to defend me.”
I am a murderer.
No—she couldn’t believe it. With her heart pounding, she laid her hand on his arm. “I know the situation can’t have been as cut-and-dried as Mr. Danworth implied.”
Now he looked desperate. “Ah, but it was.” He dragged in a shuddering breath.
She had to know it all. “Tell me about it,mon coeur. How did it happen?Whendid it happen?”
He gazed off across the room. “When I was twelve.”
When he said nothing more, she prodded him. “What were the circumstances?”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he drew himself up as if preparing for an onerous task. “I had just come home from Eton for the holidays. My father was drunk and in a foul temper. He lashed out at my mother as always, and I defended her, as always.”
