“Yes.”
“Indeed, threats have been made against Charles Brightmore’s life.”
His eyes narrowed. “Threats against his life? How do you know this?”
“I overheard Lords Markingworth, Whitly, and Carweather speaking at my father’s birthday party. They spoke of wanting to see Charles Brightmore dead, and of an investigator they’d hired to find him. ‘Tis now clear to me that this Mr. Carmichael is the man they hired, and tonight he nearly succeeded in his mission. Again.” She met his gaze. “I am Charles Brightmore, Andrew. I wrote the Guide and published it under a pseudonym.”
Whatever reaction she’d expected, it wasn’t this… unwavering calm. “I must say, you do not look very surprised.”
“I confess I am not, as I had my suspicions. Your verbal slip the other night set my mind wondering. I paid Mr. Bayer a visit this morning before departing London.”
“My publisher?” she asked, stunned. “But surely he did not identify me as Charles Brightmore.”
“No. I knew he would not, nor did I wish to tip my hand by asking him outright. However, when I casually mentioned your name during our conversation, Mr. Bayer turned an interesting shade of pink. And when I mentioned another name, he turned positively red.”
“Another name?”
“Clearly you didn’t write the Guide alone. You couldn’t have, not based on the number of ‘firsts’ we’ve shared. Someone else was involved… your friend Mrs. Ralston would be my guess.”
Dear God. The man was too clever by half-an admirable trait, but in this case also alarming. “Since both you and Mr. Carmichael were able to ferret out Charles Brightmore’s true identity, it’s only a matter of time before someone else finds out and all of London knows.”
“Whether Carmichael was investigating for someone else or on his own, I cannot say, but he isn’t the man hired by Lords Markingworth, Whitly, and Carweather.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I am the man they hired.”
Catherine actually felt the blood drain from her face, and she suddenly recalled why she’d never been fond of surprises. It was because they were so damnably… surprising. If she’d been able, she would have laughed at the irony.
She cleared her throat to locate her voice. “Well, my confession just made your mission a great deal easier.”
His brows rose. “Actually, it places me in a very awkward position. I was very much looking forward to collecting the reward they’d offered me.”
“Reward? How much?”
“Five hundred pounds.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. “That’s a fortune.”
“Yes, I know.” He dragged his hands down his face and heaved a long sigh. “I had plans for that money.” Before she could ask what sort of plans, he continued, “Of course you need not fear that I will reveal your identity.”
“Thank you. But I fear the point is moot, as Mr. Carmichael clearly also knows.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened. “If he knows about you, it’s likely he also knows about Mrs. Ralston’s involvement.”
Catherine pressed her hands to her cheeks as guilt slapped her. “How could I have forgotten to consider that? Genevieve is in danger as well. We must warn her.”
“I agree. But you’re not leaving here, and I’m not leaving you. Milton can relate tonight’s happenings and warn her and her staff to be on guard. He can take a footman and Fritzborne along for protection.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll return in a few minutes. Warm yourself by the fire, and-”
“Don’t unlock the door until you return,” she finished with a weak smile.
He returned ten minutes later, and said, “They are on their way to Mrs. Ralston’s cottage.”
Relief lessened a bit of Catherine’s anxiety. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, back to your involvement with the Guide-I take it the book was Mrs. Ralston’s idea?”
Catherine nodded. “She told me she wished to write a book, but the crippling pain in her hands physically prevented her from being able to do so. I offered to be her hands.”
Unable to remain still any longer, she began to pace in front of him. “Writing the words that Genevieve dictated, being involved, was so exhilarating. It had been years since anyone other than Spencer had needed me, and I reveled in feeling useful. And as for the content, I found it fascinating. Stimulating. And all too much of it unfamiliar. It greatly gratified me to know that I was helping to provide women with information that I wished I’d known before I married. And, I confess that I took a perverse pleasure at the thought of setting the ton on its hypocritical ear. I relished the thought of anonymously doling out a rebuke for the cruel way so many of them had treated Spencer.”
She paused, then whirled to look directly at him. “Do you know what people I’d considered my friends whispered behind my back after Spencer was born? What my own husband said to my face?” Her hands curled into tight fists. “That there was no hope for him. That his deformity was hideous, and that no doubt his brain would be malformed as well as his foot. That he didn’t deserve to inherit the title. That it would have been better if he’d died.” Her voice broke on the last word. She didn’t even realize that tears ran down her face until a drop fell on her hand.
He came to her and cradled her face between his palms, brushing her wet cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry you and Spencer had to endure such unspeakable cruelty.”
“All I saw was my beautiful, sweet child,” she whispered, “his eyes filled with pain that had nothing to do with his infirmity each time some other ‘esteemed’ member of Society rejected him.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “But never in my wildest imaginings did it ever occur to me that by penning the Guide I would be placing myself, and therefore my son, in danger.” She raised an unsteady hand and rested it against his cheek. “And you, Andrew. Obviously Mr. Carmichael meant to harm me tonight. When you got in his way, he attacked you. You might have been killed.”
He turned his head to place a fervent kiss on her palm. “I have a very hard head. And clearly so does Carmichael. I thought I’d knocked him out.”
“Carmichael,”she repeated, frowning. “Is he not the man who identified the person who shot me?”
“Yes. A bit of a coincidence, that. And I’m not a great believer in coincidence. Based on his attacks tonight, it’s clear to me that Carmichael was involved in the shooting. In order to cast suspicion elsewhere, he claimed to be a witness and identified someone else as the perpetrator. The man taken into custody has repeatedly protested his innocence.”
A shudder ran through Catherine. She stepped back from him and wrapped her arms around herself. “I cannot believe that the Guide, scandalous as it is, would drive a person to murder. You saved my life.”
“I cannot tell you how relieved I am that it worked out that way. I could very well have killed us both.”
“What do you mean?”
“If that water was a few feet deeper, I’m afraid things would not have gone so well. I… I can’t swim.”
Catherine stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can’t swim. Not a stroke. Spencer offered to teach me. During our one lesson, it took nearly the entire time to coax me to simply stand in the water.” He paused, then added softly, “My father drowned. I’ve always feared the water.”
The area surrounding Catherine’s heart contracted then expanded. “Yet you didn’t hesitate to jump in for me.”
He reached out and lightly grasped her shoulders. “My darling Catherine, have you not realized by now that I would walk through fire for you?”
Her throat swelled. Yes, he would. It was all right there in his eyes, his emotions naked for her to see. Emotions she was not prepared to see. Emotions that frightened her. Terrified her.