A Heartless Design (26 page)

He went to Neville’s office immediately, and thanked him for sending the note about Hartley.

Neville was pleased to hear that the meeting was useful. “New idea that the Zodiac has been trying. Too often, intelligence gets trapped in routine paperwork in different channels. Crucial information never gets shared. We’ve been working to fix that.  Your question about steel was ideal to test our work. We never would have found Hartley’s report if you hadn’t thought to consider steel purchases.”

Thorne nodded. “Of course, we still have to link the shipyard to Hayden.”

“We’ll get there. The primary concern is that we hold all the necessary plans for the
Andraste
.” Neville picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “That reminds me. Here’s something else you wanted to know.”

“What’s this?”

“You asked for the name of Miss Bering’s bank. She uses Child’s.”

“Excellent.” Thorne had to learn more about the true state of Cordelia’s finances. More subterfuge and lying, just as he’d done for years as he worked with the military to learn troop movements and discover secret alliances. England was beginning to feel more and more familiar.

As soon as he could, Thorne headed to the City, where the bankers and businessmen congregated. He chose his clothing to be as nondescript as possible, all grey and black, and a plain white cravat over a plain white shirt. He even thought bland thoughts on his way. He wanted to vanish behind his facade.

When he stepped into Child’s Bank on Fleet Street, he went to the nearest teller. He explained that he needed to speak to the officer who had charge of Miss Cordelia Bering’s accounts there. Thorne apologized for not having the officer’s name at hand.

The teller nodded as if this was not unexpected. He left to look up the name, and then returned a few minutes later.

“You will wish to speak to Mr Abbott. What name should I give him?” the teller asked.

“Jackson Bourne,” Thorne replied.

Moments later, another man appeared. “Mr Bourne, is it?”

“Good afternoon,” Thorne said, offering a hand. “You must be Mr Abbott.”

“I am. I was not aware Miss Bering had decided to relinquish control of her accounts. I have received no communications to that effect,” he said, nervous that he had let something slip by.

Thorne smiled inwardly. He knew exactly how to play this man. “If we can speak in your office?”

“Of course, of course.” He led the way. He offered Thorne a seat and sat opposite, looking anxiously at him.

Thorne took a moment to start speaking, knowing that the man was worried. He wanted to exploit that. “There is no need for alarm. I am sure Miss Bering is as satisfied as ever with Child’s.” Abbott sighed in relief, and Thorne knew he had him. “But I am her new man of business, and I wish to verify all accounts and figures.”

“Certainly, certainly. Only…I don’t recall Miss Bering having an old man of business. She was always most insistent on conducting all transactions herself.” Abbott wrinkled his nose just slightly, unable to keep his distaste for her preferences totally concealed.

Thorne used Abbott’s prejudice against him. “As you say. When I said I was her new man, I meant precisely that. Since she had no previous man of business, I could not consult with anyone but the lady herself. But I seek a trustworthy source. She is, you might have noticed, rather independent on some matters.”

Abbott nodded. “To say the least. If I may say, I am glad that she has seen fit to engage you, Mr Bourne. Women should
not
take on such burdens themselves. They do not have the mind for facts and figures.”

Thorne thought that Cordelia was smarter than twenty Mr Abbotts, but he merely nodded as if he agreed.

Abbott went on, “It is very good that she has realized this at last.”

“I knew you would understand.” Thorne spent a few more minutes buttering the man up, promising to submit all formal paperwork within days. And when he left the bank, he had gained not only Mr Abbott’s esteem, but also copies of all Miss Bering’s finances for the last decade.

He took the materials straight to his St James home. It made for fascinating reading. He learned about the details of Alfred Bering’s will, the deeds to the houses Cordelia now owned, and her bank records from before her father’s death to the present.

As he read, a picture emerged that he did not like. According to the will, Cordelia ought to have an income of about three thousand a year. Not a pittance, but not enough to support the lifestyle she appeared to live. Either she wasn’t paying for some of those expenses—in which case, someone else was—or she had some sort of income this bank was unaware of.

In any case, there was more to her than what appeared on the surface. Sebastien’s  guts were cold, and his head was getting rather hot. He didn’t want to believe it, but what other conclusion could he reach?

He invited Cordelia over to explain the matter herself. For both their sakes, he hoped she was convincing.

Cordelia read and reread the
short letter in her hand.
I must see you tonight. Please come as before.
It was not signed, but the bold handwriting might as well have been a portrait of Sebastien.

She folded the note and slowly tore it up. No one watching her would have known that her heartbeat had accelerated sharply. Even at the memory of the last time she’d gone to see him, her skin flushed. He wanted to see her. She knew exactly what he wanted to see her for.

She was not his mistress, she reminded herself. They had made no promises to each other, and certainly had not come to any sort of arrangement. He surely didn’t think she’d fly to him just because he called her.

And besides, she had no intention of repeating the events of that one night. She had enjoyed it, yes. But unmarried ladies like Cordelia did not conduct affairs. No. To even consider it would be madness.

Aunt Leona swept into the drawing room, wearing an evening gown of ice blue.  “What do you think of this, dear? I bought it from Madame Eugenie in Bruton Street last week and the alterations were just completed.”

Cordelia hurriedly dropped the scraps of the note into her teacup. “It’s lovely. You should wear light colors more. But where do you intend to wear it? We have no parties to attend for a week, I think.”

“Dunham has invited me to join him at the opera this evening.”

“Is that so?” Cordelia asked. She straightened up in her chair. If her aunt was gone…

“Yes. The opera, and then probably a late supper. You must think me quite silly for getting so excited for a show.”

“I think that you have every right to enjoy yourself,” Cordelia responded easily, then caught herself wondering why she did not seem to have that right. She’d be thirty years old in a few years. When could she expect to enjoy herself? Of course, Aunt Leona was a widow, not an unmarried woman, and as such, her status was rather different.

“Well, Dunham is a charming companion, so I expect the evening will fly by.”

“I will probably be in bed by the time you return,” Cordelia said slowly. Not her own bed, perhaps, but it wasn’t a complete lie. When Leona left the room, Cordelia summoned Bond and told her she was going out as before.

Bond plainly disapproved of Cordelia’s decision this night, but she promised to help as she had the previous time. “He’s turned your head,” she worried. “Oh, I knew this would happen.”

“My head is the same as always, Bond,” Cordelia said, a little coldly.

“Then what of your heart?”

“My heart?” Cordelia asked.

Bond looked earnestly at her. “I know it’s not my place to say, ma’am. But I see how you turn toward him whenever he’s around. You must know he never intended to court you. He’s been after the papers since the day he met you.”

“And I gave them to him, or at least a version of them,” Cordelia argued. “He certainly could have cut me off since.”

“Oh, but the business is not concluded. And won’t be till he’s satisfied. Do you think he suspects the plans are flawed?”

Cordelia frowned. If he did, he might wish to punish her for deceiving him. Luring her to a house and compromising her would be an excellent way to do it. But she didn’t want to believe that. “I must go anyway. What if he has learned about Hayden’s whereabouts?”

“Then he could inform you via a letter.”

Cordelia shook her head, knowing that Bond was being rational…and she was not. “I will go. I feel I must.”

“He has seduced you then,” Bond said sadly.

“Perhaps. But why should I not enjoy the fall?”

Once again, she arrived at Thorne’s secret home in the dark. Feeling like an incognitas, she rapped lightly on the door. It was opened instantly, and she slipped through.

Sebastien closed the door behind her. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“You implied that it was vital.”

“It is,” he said, but didn’t add more. He looked her over slowly. “You’re beautiful, Cordelia.” For some reason, he sounded sad.

Confused, she asked, “Why am I here?”

“I need you to look at something. Will you go up to the study? The papers are on the desk.” His expression was closed, but he helped her off with her cloak, very properly.

“I should go up alone?”

“I must lock up. I’ll follow you in a moment,” he said, his words either a promise or a warning.

She went up. The study desk was large, but it was clear of everything except a small pile of ledger papers. She had expected to see designs, or an engineer’s notes, so she picked up the pages in some perplexity.

She gazed at the numbers for a moment before realizing what they represented. Then she felt like the very floor shifted below her. How had Sebastien gotten this information?

“Are those figures correct?” His cool voice came from the doorway behind her.

Cordelia turned around, the papers still clutched in her hand. “Why do you have these?”

“Never mind. You know what those mean?” he asked.

“No. No.” She was flustered. She did know, of course, but he should not have these documents.

“They’re your finances.” His voice was flat; the predator was back.

“How did you…” she began to say, then stopped, her emotions too rocky to sort through. Did it matter how he’d gotten hold of her private records?

He stalked toward her. “You have a lot more money than you should have. You’ve been selling your father’s work after all.”

“No! I haven’t!” she almost shouted. He could not believe
that
.

“Then where is the rest of your money coming from?” He pinned her to the spot without so much as putting a hand on her. Perversely, she was more frightened by his lack of overt violence.

“It’s nothing underhanded,” she said quickly.

“Then why do you hide it?”

“I’m not hiding…” she trailed off before she could finish the lie.

“Did you think that by sleeping with me, you’d protect yourself? That I’d turn a blind eye after finding out what you really were?”

“No,” she said desperately. “Please, Sebastien. I haven’t done what you’re accusing me of!”

“Then what have you done, Cordelia?” He stepped closer, looming over her. “I should warn you that I’m getting just a bit annoyed at your deviousness.”

“There’s no point in telling you,” she burst out. “You won’t believe anything I say at this point anyway!”

“Damn it, Cordelia. Do you think I’m blind? After all we’ve done, after you claim to trust me, you’re still holding out on me! What’s more, you’re still scared of something. Tell me what it is.” He reached up to touch her cheek, but she turned her head away, actually ashamed of the tenderness in the gesture. “Please, Cor. I want to help you.”

“Not even you can help me.”

He pounced on her words. “So you do need help.” 

She shook her head. “Once this is over…this madness over the
Andraste
…no one will care. And you don’t need to know. Trust me.”

“How can I trust you when you’ve already admitted that you deceived me?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

“It’s complicated.” She looked up at him, willing him to understand her dilemma. She saw only his hardened gaze, and then snapped, “Oh, why should I explain? I was just an inconvenience to your search, wasn’t I? You had to waste time on me. Hoping I’d give in easily, fall for your
charm
. And I did, didn’t I? And you had to pretend I mattered…”

She didn’t have a chance to finish her diatribe.

Sebastien leaned in to kiss her. “Of course you matter.”

Once his lips touched hers, Cordelia almost believed it. She reveled in the sensations, feeling her body relax against him and then grow tense in anticipation of more. As she responded to the kiss, she knew her moves affected him too, and she delighted in knowing that he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, and soon he made it clear that he would bring this to its inevitable conclusion if she asked him to.

Cordelia was deeply confused. She no longer even knew what she should ask him for. She would lose either way. If she told him her secret, he’d stop making her feel so lovely. And if… “Wait,” she whispered. “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what you’re hiding, sweetheart.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll stop.”

She did not want him to stop. But that meant…she wasn’t sure. She knew only that she wanted him to need her.

“I am…” she began.

“You’re what, beautiful?” He kissed her again, on the neck, and she thought she might cry.

“Lear,” she whispered.

“What about him?”

“I am Lear,” she said, struggling to put the words together. “
Please
, Sebastien. Let me say this.” What had happened to her? Hadn’t she just been warning him to stop asking her? “I am Lear.” She sighed. “There. Now you know my secret. You win, my lord. Congratulations. You defeated me.”

He held her closer. “I don’t want to defeat you, Cor. I want to understand you. Please tell me what the hell you mean by saying that you’re Lear.”

“I mean I use the name of Lear to make a living. And everything with Lear’s name on it was actually done by me. Are you satisfied?”

He stood back, looking at her. Oddly, he smiled then, as if some burden had been lifted. “I knew it had to be something insane,” he murmured. “But you have to tell me the whole story.”