Page 21 of The Truth Serum
Fletcher shot him an annoyed look. “I found something. Maybe.”
“What?”
“This isn’t the place to discuss it. Meet me at my club—”
“No.” Ras straightened up next to the mare. “This is more private than—”
“I told you!” Fletcher retorted. “I don’t object to the profit. If a man finds himself short of funds—and I’ve experienced that here and there when Henry gets prickly with my allowance—then that man gets desperate to find a solution. If he’s smart, he knows how to make coin. And if the worst happens and that Corsican wins, then you’ve got a way to make sure your family survives.”
Ras arched a brow. “By making up to Napoleon?”
Fletcher held the stall door open for him to step out. “He’s a monster, but sometimes monsters win. The families that survive take the long view.”
Or the traitorous view. “Did you find evidence of smuggling?”
“I know something,” Fletcher hedged. “I don’t know all.”
“Tell me—”
“You picked the better lady when you selected Miss Petrelli over Lady Zoe, but are you sure of her loyalties? She seems awfully fond of Lord Nathaniel. Sure, you’ve fallen head over heels for a woman. We’re all stupid now and then. But you wouldn’t be the first man to reconsider while waiting for the banns to be called.”
The first banns would be called next week and each successive week until they married in a month’s time. He had absolutely no intention of calling off the wedding. He was morein love with Kynthea every day. But Fletcher was hinting at something, and Ras wanted to know what that was.
“You want me to throw over Kynthea? Why?”
“If she’s a traitor to the crown, you have to throw her over—”
“What the devil are you talking about? Kynthea’s no traitor and I’ll call you out if you say such a thing again!”
Fletcher abruptly backed up a step, his hands raised in surrender. But even as he appeared apologetic, his slanderous words continued.
“Of course, she isn’t. Of course not! But what if Nathaniel is? What if he’s right now tempting her with easy money. She doesn’t have any, you know, and a woman likes to come into a marriage with something to offer her husband. Perhaps she just wants to buy you a bridal gift. Where is she going to get the money but—”
“Stop it.” There was only so much Ras could take, even in the name of getting information out of Fletcher. “I will hear no more of this. Do not ever speak of Kynthea again, to me or anyone else.”
Fletcher bowed his head. “Of course, of course. I am only looking out for you. You’re a duke and so many people will lie straight to your face.” He put on a winning smile. “Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about that with my sister. You don’t know her well because she’s been with my mother at home. But she’s here now. A good woman. Beautiful, refined, and knows when to listen to wiser people.”
That was not how Nate described Lady Rebecca.
“I’m sure she’s a fine woman,” he said, merely because polite responses had been drilled into him from the cradle.
Fletcher smiled. “You haven’t seen her in a while. We should head back and let you do the pretty with her.”
Ras looked at the man, seeing that he was all smiles and what appeared to be genuine warmth. And it was because Fletcherwas so good at that—at seeming to be genuine—that Ras gave an honest answer.
“I will not throw over Kynthea.”
“Of course not! You’re too honorable a man to do that. But if Nate is leading her astray—”
“Suggest that again—to anyone—and I will destroy you.”
Was there a flash of annoyance in the man’s eyes? It was hard to tell. Whatever emotions flitted through Fletcher, they were quickly gone. The man’s eyes softened, his expression grew fond.
“Of course, Ras. I would never hurt someone you love. But it’s good having someone look out for you, isn’t it? Just like I used to?”
They started walking back toward the house as Fletcher reminisced about the things they’d done when Ras had first gone to Eton. Fletcher was older by a year and had taken the young, future duke under his wing. Everyone had known who he was. They’d either wanted to cozy up or skewer him, depending upon their nature, and Fletcher had been a welcome bulwark against all that confusing attention. It was thanks to Fletcher that he’d survived his first year. And thanks to him that he’d passed Greek, because he was bollocks at ancient languages.
But then Ras’s father had died, and Fletcher couldn’t seem to handle the emotions that blew like storms through the boy he’d been. Nate had, though. They’d been roommates at the time, and Nate had stood by him through every raging moment.
