The weight of gold from the moneylender made his coat pockets sag. He’d hated taking the two sacks from those greasy fingers, had quivered like a blancmange at being warned of violent retribution if he failed to repay the loan—plus a hefty interest—within a fortnight. Somehow he had to come up with five thousand pounds by the end of two weeks.

It might as well be five million.

A hazy thought took shape in his head. It had lurked like a dark shadow at the edge of his mind ever since he’d visited Clayton House the previous afternoon. The sinister plan involved his nephew. Audrey’s son.

Mama had admitted to him that Leo was likely the earl’s grandson and must eventually be given an inheritance. It was enormously unfair since Audrey had cut herself off from the family by eloping to America with that missionary. Richard had few fond memories of his pious half sister. Ten years his elder, she’d been forever with her nose in a prayer book. Who’d have ever thought her whelp would be Richard’s key to collecting five thousand pounds?

If, that is, he dared to put the scheme into motion.

His gut churned. If Clayton got wind of the plan, he’d be more fearsome to face than the moneylender. Only look at how he had nearly throttled Richard for insulting Miss Fanshawe. As much as Richard loathed his cousin, he didn’t relish another confrontation.

He desperately needed an accomplice. But who?

Then inspiration struck. He knew just the ruffian to handle the dirty work. Recently, he’d spotted the fellow lurking at the racetrack in Newmarket.

Bert, his former groom.

Heading toward his carriage, Richard smiled for the first time in days. How perfect. Clayton had dismissed the groom for trying to kiss Miss Fanshawe. Hiring Bert for this job would be a way for Richard to thumb his nose at the duke.

And to take revenge by confiscating a tidy chunk of his wealth.

Chapter 22

As Wymark was laying his plans across town, Leo went missing again.

Natalie had spent most of the day in the duchess’s suite, writing out invitations while Hadrian’s mother and sister enthusiastically discussed all the details for the ball. It was dusk before she finally headed up to the nursery. There, she found the two maids in a dither, Mrs. Tippet wringing her hands and Flora with tears in her blue eyes.

The girl ran straight to Natalie. “Oh, miss! Master Leo has vanished!”

Natalie’s heart lurched. “When? What happened?”

“’Twas just a few minutes ago. He was playing with his mail coach when I went down to the kitchen to see about his hot cocoa. The footman never brung it, you see, and Tippy said maybe there was something wrong with the bell rope. But I wasn’t gone long!”

“’Tis my fault,” Mrs. Tippet admitted, shame-faced. “I dozed off over my mending. Still, I don’t know how I didn’t hear the child leave!”

Natalie knew from experience how quiet he could be. In the last rosy rays of sunset, she saw the abandoned coach with its tiny horses on the floor. The pot of cocoa and a cup sat on one of the small tables, while a cheery blaze burned in the hearth. She felt a twist of alarm, for there was no telling where the inquisitive boy might have gone.