Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover
Page 72

“Show it to me.” Tremley was nervous.
West was growing more excited by the moment. It was true. This was it. He was going to gain his freedom. He cocked a brow. “I think it is time you offer me breakfast after all, don’t you?”
Tremley was furious, darkness and shadows coming over his face as he placed his hands to the edge of the desk. “Your proof.”
“Letters from Constantinople. From Sofia. From Athens.”
The earl stilled. “I should kill you.”
“And the threat of murder to top it all off.” West laughed. “You are a prince among men. No surprise why His Royal Highness is so very beholden to you… But he won’t be for long, will he? Not after this is revealed.” He paused. “I wonder if you’ll be hanged in public?”
Tremley’s eyes had narrowed to slits. “If I hang, you hang right alongside me.”
“It’s doubtful, that,” West said. “You see, I haven’t committed high treason. Oh, it’s quiet, nearly undiscovered high treason, but it is high treason nonetheless.” West paused, loving the look of vitriolic fear on Tremley’s face. “Don’t worry, though. I shall be there when they hang you. You may look into my eyes at the end. It would be the least I could do.”
Tremley regained his confidence, clearly deciding that he should soldier on. “If a breath of it gets out – I ruin you. I shall tell everyone who will listen about your past. Coward. Runaway. Thief.”
“I’ve no doubt you would,” West said. “But I am not here to destroy you, however much I would like to do just that.”
Tremley’s gaze went curious. “What then?”
“I’m here to offer you a trade.”
The earl immediately understood. “My secrets for yours.”
“Precisely.” The thrill of the win shot through him.
“Tit for tat.”
He’d last heard the phrase on Georgiana’s lips. He hated hearing it on Tremley’s. He inclined his head. “However you would like to define it. I prefer to call it the end of your dominion over me.”
Tremley looked at him with thorough vitriol. “I could kill you now.”
“You should have killed me years ago,” West said. “Your problem is that you enjoyed using me.”
“No one would ever doubt my innocence if I did it,” Tremley pointed out.
“Killing me would never free you from the fear of discovery. You see, I am not the only one who has the proof of your transgressions.”
There was a long silence as the earl considered the possible identities of West’s coconspirator, shock finally flashing when he realized the truth. “Chase?”
West did not reply.
Tremley swore harshly, then laughed, shrill and humorless, the sound unsettling. Duncan did his best to remain still, to affect a state of utter calm. “You think you’ve won,” Tremley said. “And perhaps you would have if it were merely you and me in the game.” He paused. “But you brought in a third player. And in doing so, you’ve lost everything to him.”
The words sent a chill through Duncan, but he said, “I doubt that.”
Tremley laughed again, the sound turning cold. Humorless. “You’ve made a terrible mistake getting into bed with Chase. Sharing information with him. You think he won’t hesitate to destroy me if need be? Hell, if he has even an inkling to do so? When has Chase ever hesitated to end a man?” Duncan heard the truth in the words. Knew instantly what came next, but could not understand how he had not seen it before. “Our fates are intertwined now, by your design,” Tremley said. “If Chase ruins me, I ruin you.”
Christ.
“So you see, you may no longer have to worry about me,” said the earl, “but now you must worry about Chase.” He looked down at the floor, seeming suddenly much more comfortable with the events of the morning. “And he is not the kind of dog easily kept on a leash.”
When he returned his gaze to Duncan, it was to issue a dark, cold-blooded order. “Now he is the enemy, Jamie. He is the one who must be silenced.”
How had he not seen it?
He collected his coat and hat from the Tremley butler, and headed for the door, prepared to exit the town house and head to his office to spend the day researching Chase.
How had he not seen it?
How had he been so very off his game that he had not recognized that the information Chase had offered him had the power to destroy even if Duncan himself never used it? Had he been blinded by power? By the heady promise of freedom?
He’d like to say yes. He’d like to say every moment – every step of this plan – had been in service to a vengeful, blinding god who wanted nothing more than for Duncan and Cynthia to be free of Tremley and his horrifying hold. Certainly, that would have been the reason a year ago. A month ago. A week ago.
But as a man who lived lies so well, he did not care much for lying to himself, and so he admitted, there, on one side of the great door of Tremley House, that he hadn’t seen the logical flaw in his reasoning because of the woman who was so exquisitely tied to this particular exchange of information.
She was exquisitely tied to Chase, as well.
Chase, the puppet master, who set them all to dancing on his whim.
I do not like it when you do not share.
Even the words in the note, delivered with a parcel of information that Chase could never have imagined existed, made certain that West knew who was in control of their partnership. And now that Chase had the information on Tremley, it was only a matter of time before he either decided to use it or wondered why West wasn’t using it.