“Lucian, please… take care,” she said, sounding sincere.
“I will,” he replied. “You take care as well, love.”
Then, feeling a numbing chill, he turned on his heel and quit the room.
Brynn stood where he had left her, fear and fury gripping her. Gray never had answered any of her letters questioning his dubious behavior during his visit some weeks ago, but she no longer had any doubt her brother had betrayed her. He had lied to her about the ring, claiming he needed the Wycliff seal to authorize transporting a load of brandy so he could elude the tax revenuers. Instead he had orchestrated an enormous theft, stealing a fortune in gold to smuggle to his country’s enemies!
Even worse, his crime could implicate Lucian in treason. Dear God…
Her mind and heart in chaos, Brynn returned to her own bedchamber, where she began pacing the floor as she tried desperately to think what to do.
Lucian was determined to apprehend the traitors. If he couldn’t find the gold in Dover, he would look elsewhere. And the trail might very well lead to Cornwall and Gray…
Brynn shuddered to think what would happen when Lucian confronted her brother. He would show no mercy. His duty was almost an obsession with him. Her brother would be arrested and possibly hanged… Or what if Grayson resisted Lucian as Giles had? It was an easy leap to imagine the two of them locked in mortal combat like in her dark dreams. But this time Lucian might not escape with his life. Or her brother might not.
An icy rivulet of fear ran down her spine. It terrified her to think of either one of them dying.
She didn’t want Gray to be hanged, yet if he had committed such a crime, he deserved some measure of punishment. He was still her brother, though. Her flesh and blood. She had to try to save him if she could. But how?
She couldn’t throw herself on her husband’s mercy. Even if she were to plead with Lucian to save her brother, she couldn’t believe he cared for her enough to sacrifice honor and duty for her sake. He had killed one of his closest friends who had committed treason, so why would he spare her brother?
And in any case, Grayson had to be stopped. She didn’t want the stolen gold to fall into French hands any more than Lucian did.
Sweet heaven, why had she not tried harder to stop Grayson weeks ago? She would never be able to assuage her own guilt. She was to blame for giving him access to Lucian’s private study. She should have insisted Gray return the ring at once, even if it had meant making a scene in front of her husband. At least then she could have prevented it from being used for treason.
She had to do something. If only she could persuade Gray to abandon his plan and return the gold-
Brynn stopped in her tracks. That was the only possible way. She had to try to reason with her brother, to convince him to change course.
Shaking herself into action, Brynn turned to tug the bellpull for her maid and another for the butler, intending to summon a traveling carriage. She would have to go to Cornwall at once; there was no time to lose.
She couldn’t divulge her true destination, however. Lucian would be suspicious if he discovered where she had gone. She would have to make up some other story-perhaps that Theo was ill. That was it. That lie would have to serve: she was going to Theo’s bedside. By the time Lucian learned of her absence, she would have confronted Gray-
Brynn felt another shiver sweep through her. She didn’t want to think about how Lucian would react when he discovered what she’d done, or what would happen if she failed.
Her sense of desperation rising again, she went to the clothespress and drew out a traveling costume.
Farther along the darkened street, Lucian watched his residence from the shadows of an unmarked carriage. Stone lay where his heart belonged, yet he was driven by the sick need to learn the truth. To know whether or not Brynn would reveal herself as a traitor. With all his soul, he wanted to believe her innocent.
He hadn’t long to wait before she emerged from the house and ran down the steps to the waiting Wycliff traveling coach. As it drew away from the curb, Lucian rapped on the roof of his own vehicle, ordering his driver to follow.
He held his breath as they wound their way through the dark streets of Mayfair. When Brynn’s conveyance eventually turned southeast onto the London Road, Lucian had to concede she was making for Cornwall.
He gritted his teeth, his emotions twisting from savage pain to raw fury. Fury at his lovely, scheming countess. Fury at himself.
He had allowed himself to be bewitched by Brynn’s exquisite beauty. By the powerful sexual attraction that burned between them. By his growing feelings of love for her.
He had wed a virginal young lady, hoping to sire a son. But Brynn wasn’t what he’d thought her to be, wanted her to be.
He didn’t know the beautiful deceiver at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Cornwall
Dusk was falling when Brynn arrived home. Although weary and travel-stained after the long journey from London, she immediately sought out her brother, fervently hoping to end the dread that had knotted her stomach for the past three days.
She found Grayson in his study, staring morosely into a meager hearth fire.
When she spoke his name, he gave a start of surprise. “Brynn? What the devil are you doing here?” He came up out of his chair. “Is something wrong? Theo…?”
“Theo is well, to my knowledge,” she replied, her tone grim. “But something is definitely wrong, Grayson.”
He stared at her a long moment.
Studying him in turn, Brynn realized his face was flushed as if he’d partaken of too much wine. “As for my reason for being here,” she added more quietly, “I came to stop you from committing treason.”
Gray made no reply, merely raised a hand to his forehead and sat down again wearily.
Her heart contracted with pain. “You don’t deny conspiring with the French against your country?” she whispered, praying she was mistaken, that her brother would refute her terrible accusation.
“No, I don’t deny it,” he said dully.
“Dear God, Grayson…” Crossing the room, Brynn sank down onto the sofa, sick with disbelief. “How could you?”
His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “To be honest, I’m not certain of that myself. God knows, I never intended to become a traitor.”
“What… how did it happen?”
Gray gave a heavy sigh. “Do you really want to know the sordid details?”
“Tell me,” she murmured hoarsely.
Before speaking, he took a long swallow of wine, as if seeking courage. “It began nearly a year ago. I was approached by a gentleman who offered me a large sum to rendezvous with another smuggling vessel and transfer a cargo. At the time I was desperate for funds. You can’t have forgotten the dire state of our finances then. How crushing our debts were? How we stood to lose this house? I feared being unable to pay and being thrown in debtors’ prison. And then what would happen to you and the boys?”
She hadn’t forgotten those dark days when they’d faced their father’s increasingly relentless creditors. “So you accepted the offer, even though you knew it to be suspect?”
“I suspected shady dealings, I suppose, but I rationalized that breaking the law smuggling unknown goods was better than being incarcerated for debt and leaving you all to fend for yourselves.”
“Gray, was the cargo government gold?”
“Yes… although I didn’t realize it then. I didn’t want to ask. Later… they used it to blackmail me. They vowed to expose me as a traitor if I didn’t follow their orders.”
“They?”
“An unholy alliance of spies and smugglers. I know little about them, except that some of the members are Englishmen of high social standing. The leader is supposedly a nobleman.”