Chapter 40: Chapter 37

The entire household was in an uproar.

Charlie had entered moments ago, the knife clutched in her grip and hidden in her skirts. She was determined to see Greyson. To show him what she had found. Unfortunately, it seemed Greyson had found something rather intriguing himself.

Charlie came to the edges of Greyson's study and was shocked to see the dratted man standing at the window, one hand clutching parchment in his left fist, the other covering his right side, and if his wince was anything to go by, he was in pain.

Fury filled Charlie's breast, so thick it painted her vision in streaks of red. She set her bundle on a shelf inside the door and stalked across the room.

Disregarding their avid audience, or the way the room that had bustled only moments before had now become eerily quiet, Charlie planted her hands on her hips and for the first time in three days, gave Greyson her full attention.

"What the devil do you think you are doing?"

"I see you are no longer avoiding me," Greyson mumbled, his grip white knuckled as he tried for a look of nonchalance.

Charlie didn't know who he was trying to fool, but the bloody man wasn't fooling her.

Stopping next to Greyson she grasped his forearm, leading him to his chair. Charlie pushed on his shoulders until Greyson landed with a groan. "Well, if this is what you have been doing, more's the pity for you, Greyson!"

Thorne snorted a laugh, and Charlie cast a black scowl in the man's direction, before her ire returned to the appropriate outlet. "You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone standing about! Before you know it, you'll be languishing on the floor from the pain, and heavens knows, Thorne can't carry you up those stairs a second time."

Greyson snorted a laugh, his head falling back onto his shoulders. He peered at Charlie from beneath his heavy lashes. "Your sweet words astound me, Charlie," he grumbled, shifting in his seat. "They really do."

"I told him to sit down before he fell down too," Marianne said, coming to Greyson's side. "God knows he won't listen to me."

A stale scent bit Charlie's nose and she gave a dubious look to the steaming cup of liquid in his mother's hand.

"Ah ha!" Charlie turned to Greyson who was staring at her, his gaze triumphant. He pointed a finger towards Charlie. "And that's why I won't listen to the woman. She's trying to poison me."

Charlie wondered if the earl wasn't half wrong. She wondered how the devil Greyson hadn't gagged already from the foul odor.

"It helps with the pain," she interjected, a cross look passing over her features. Charlie had a feeling this wasn't the first time they had had this particular conversation.

Greyson straightened in his chair, making a show of poise and contentment. "I'm fine, Mother. Never felt better."

Marianne snorted, but placed the cup on his tabletop instead. Her worried eyes fell on Greyson. "What is the cause of the ruckus now, Greyson. You have delayed long enough."

All traces of humor fled Greyson and Charlie tensed. He unclenched his hand around the wrinkled paper, placing it on his desk and clearing out the wrinkles. When Greyson's eyes next met Charlie's, a bode of trepidation hit her at Greyson's bleak expression.

"What is it?"

Charlie leaned over Greyson's shoulder, doing her best to ignore the scent of bergomet that drifted from him. Her hand rested on his shoulder, noticing a touch of heat and dampness still lingered. She was going to make the bloody man return to his chambers postehaste.

The mule-headed man.

Thorne who had been watching from the corner of the study strode over, placing one hand on Greyson's desk as he leaned over on the earl's other side. "This is the reason we got Greyson from his bed. It seems your uncle dropped this the other day. It somehow became swept beneath Greyson's desk, and the staff found it just this morning."

Charlie's brow crinkled. "Oh?"

Greyson shifted uncomfortably. He turned his head, and Charlie met his stark gray eyes. "It's a correspondence between your uncle and his solicitor in London." He passed her the parchment, and Charlie's eyes roved over the paper.

She grasped the edges, bringing it beneath her nose as she read.

Lord C-

I have reviewed your request for information, and I must insist you call upon me in London at your earliest convenience. A few pieces of information have come to light which I think you will find most interesting and confounding.

You are right in one regard, however. The gentlemen you list have all seemed to have similar deaths and/or disappearances. Their carriages were noted with similar damage, and most were waylaid in the evening hour coming or going from their favorite haunts. While it might take time to link them to your Mr. M -, from my slim investigations thus far, I have no doubt that it will lead to the correct culprit in the eventuality.

I beg you to take into account the role of the messenger in this case. You have become quite embroiled in matters that, I believe, go deeper than a simple gambling debt or a twist of fate.

In regards to your other inquiry, I am sad to say that there have been no other leads as of yet. It appears the...baggage never arrived in Northumberland. I will continue to look into the matter as I await your audience.

Your humble servant,

T-

Charlie's head turned so quickly to Greyson her neck protested with a streak of pain straight to her head. Her hands fell to her sides and all of a sudden, the corset was much too tight, leaving black spots to dance on her eyelids. Her lungs billowed for whatever meager air she could draw into her lungs, and then Georgianna was there, leading her to the other side of Greyson's desk.

"What is in the letter?" Georgianna asked, retreating to a seat on the only other piece of furniture available.

"It appears," Greyson said, "that Charlie is in as harrowing a predicament as I."

A plop resounded as Charlie sat heavily, one hand coming to her forehead.

"A gambling debt?" Charlie asked. "Do you think this all started from a game of chance?"

Greyson growled, his fists clenched on the desk. "It appears you are the aforementioned "baggage" that Henry has lost in the interim." His head shook as he grunted in disbelief. "It seems whoever this Mr. M- is, Henry knows what is at play here. What was always at stake. And what was his solution?"

Marianne took the paper from Greyson's hand, interupting his diatribe. Lost in their thoughts, it was Marianne who finally broke the quiet. "Are you thinking that all these events are all connected?" Her eyes were on Greyson as she continued, "Perhaps Charlie's uncle was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, a by-producet - when he was after Benjamin."

"My uncle was there?" Charlie asked, a foreboding prickling the hairs of her arm. "When was this?"

"The night my Benjamin died," Marianne said. "I knew from the investigation afterwards, the reports that your uncle had been at the same table with him. They had been at Tanner's."

Charlie's brow furrowed. "They were both there?"

"Benjamin had a soft heart for your father." Lady Marianne's voice was soft as she halted behind Charlie, one hand on her shoulder. "When he heard of William and Arabella's sudden death, he headed straight to London. Some sense he had I suppose, some need, to comfort. Benjamin knew Henry wasn't on the best of terms with his brother."

Charlie's mind turned over the new developments, her laugh bitter as she related, "My parents never talked about him. Henry was almost a taboo topic."

"I am not surprised. He held a tendre for your mother."

This shocked Charlie and she cast a glance over her shoulder, jaw dropped. "Henry? For my mother?"

"Oh, yes," Marianne said. Her hand lifted from Charlie's shoulder and she clasped them in front of her. "A little known secret, I am sure. Benjamin only knew because he had been friend's with your father. Saw how it had nearly destroyed them both."

Charlie was left feeling a hint of sadness for her uncle. Charlie wished she had noted much else besides her own grief that day. Perhaps he had only appeared so cold because he had not only lost his brother, but the woman that still held a piece of his heart.

Was that why - was that how - he had wasted away in that club all evening? An easy target made vulnerable?

It astounded Charlie, the secrets one kept so close to one's chest. What else was she not aware of, she wondered.

"No one could have predicted their deaths," Lady Marianne said. "Carriages can break and -"

"Is that how they died?"

Greyson's voice broke through their quiet conversation, and Charlie's gaze went to his.

Charlie nodded. "That's what uncle told me the day after, when he had arrived as the new marquess. Their spindle broke -"

"Goddammit!" Greyson lifted from his chair and Charlie followed suit, rounding the table. He picked up the parchment again, his eyes scanning the short letter. "Here," he said, pointing at the paper. "This solicitor says here, "their carriages were all noted with similar damage."

His eyes met Charlie's. She stumbled on her way to him, her heart rate rocketing until it was nothing but a persistent throbbing in her chest. "You think their deaths were no accident."

It wasn't a question.

Greyson bit his tongue, his face equal parts pale from his weakened state and reddened in anger. "I am saying that it seems like a coincidence."

Greyson's eyes swept over his shoulder at Thorne. His friend had taken up residence at the window. He kept his vigil, but his voice was clear as he said, "And you don't believe in coincidence."

"Life has taught me not to," Greyson said.

Georgianna shifted and Charlie's eyes drifted to her. Her face appeared frozen as she stared at Thorne's back, her hands gripping each other in her lap.

Charlie bit her lip, turning back to Greyson only to find his eyes on her. Something flickered in his eyes that sent Charlie's pulse racing. As if her appearance in his life hadn't been coincidence either. That everything had entangled them for a reason.

Perhaps a touch of fate?

A sheen of sweat popped onto her brow and her breath stalled. Her eyes swept over each contour of his face.

"So," Charlie said, clearing her throat, and temporarily breaking whatever hold Greyson had developed on her, "this changes everything. Someone at that club would have had it out for someone at the table -"

"Henry could have been the ultimate culprit," Greyson said now. "Perhaps this Mr. M- knew of your uncle's weak and vulnerable state at the death of his brother and his sweetheart. He went off, half-cocked, thinking a good, stiff drink would dull whatever meager pain he was feeling. Henry allowed himself - at least from what we can gleam from this correspondence," he said, pointing at the piece of paper on his desk, "to sink into a gambling debt so deep he had no other option than to take up business with this Mr. M -"

"Perhaps," Charlie interrupted, turning to Greyson, "but my uncle was still new to London. If Henry was the supreme target, why was your father killed but Henry wasn't? Why would Mr. M- want uncle to do his work when he was new to the marquessate? Wouldn't he have gone after my father instead who already had his position established?"

Charlie shook her head, beginning to pace as she turned over each possibility. "No, I don't believe he was the main target, but perhaps as your mother said, an advantage that dropped into Mr. M-'s hands."

"It appears that way on the surface at least. That would leave another gentleman at the table as the target or -"

"My father." Greyson finished his sentence with a rush of air, settling heavily back into the chair behind him. He ran a hand through his hair dishevelling the locks.

Silence abounded in the room, and Charlie cast a lingering glance at the room's occupants. Thorne looked just as angry as Greyson, a tic beginning to beat ruthlessly in his jaw. Georgianna was silent, not once allowing a hint of emotion to show through her features.

Marianne was the most livid, her eyes snapping gray fire. "Who the devil is behind this whole appalling business?"

"The letter states there were other gentlemen," Charlie interjected. Greyson still hadn't looked up from his position, his elbows on his knees, as he held his head in his hands. It took effort for Charlie not to give him the comfort she desperately wanted to give him.

"What do you mean?" Greyson's head finally came up.

"The correspondence. They aren't referred to as commoners or others from the streets. It specifically says "gentlemen."

Greyson's brow crinkled as he looked back to the letter. His shocked gaze met Charlie's. "I'll be damned. It does."

Thorne twisted from the window, glancing at the paper in question before he too, cursed.

"If this Mr. M- was after your father then it sounds as if he was after many others -"

"And having your uncle in his debt would open up circles to him that Mr. M- wouldn't normally have -" Marianne finished.

"If Mr. M- is as conniving as we think," Charlie said, coming to a stand as the pieces began to fall in place, "and like you assume," she said, bringing her gaze to Greyson's, "that my parents' death was no accident, then couldn't it be possible that Mr. M-...?"

"Hell," Greyson said, his back leaning into his chair.

"Heavens, Greyson," Marianne said, standing behind Georgianna and laying her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "This man -"

"Saw Henry as a pawn that only happened to become more useful."

"It all helped to draw out your father," Charlie said.

She was breathing hard now, her chest squeezing painfully as the truth of it struck her. Her parents? Gone, because of this man. Her uncle? In debt, being played as a fiddle, because of this man. Greyson? His stables burned half to the ground, because of this man.

And Charlie?

What was her role in all of this? A pawn moving about the board as easily as her uncle?

That was when something else struck her.

Charlie gasped out loud, straightening in her seat.

The room's undivided attention fell upon her, but Charlie didn't see anyone else in the room. She went back to the night of the ball. To the figure cloaked in black that always seemed to show up at the most troublesome times.

The disguised man that Charlie and Sophie had almost come upon as he trod away from her uncle's study.

At the inn, the man that had been seated a few table's from her, and Charlie had tripped over his cane, before Charlie had come upon the thieves.

Then at the earl's stables when Lady Marianne and Lady Georgianna had arrived. A man garbed in all black had collided with her shoulder.

Her attacker with the knife. Again, garbed in all black.

"What is it?" Charlie blinked away her thoughts at the sound of Greyson's voice. He was kneeling before her, eyes concerned, as he grasped her hands between his palms. Charlie watched his thumb stroke her skin, a steady rythm that propelled her to speak.

"He's always watching."

Greyson's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, sweetheart? Who is always watching?"

Charlie looked to the knife that had been left forgotten on the bookshelf and she walked over, grasping the bundle in her hands. She turned to find Greyson's gaze going from her to the mysteriously wrappings.

She trusted this man, she realized. She counted on him.

Her lack of courage for the last few days receded into nothing. She had acted the coward. She had run, thinking if she didn't fully accept it, then it wasn't true. That she didn't have to give heed to it.

What if questions bombarded her.

What if she had never left her uncle's townhome?

What if Mr. M- had gotten to her there first? Or what if Mr. M- had lost all interest in her uncle and Charlie had accepted her fate for what it was? Always believing the worse of her uncle and by comparison, every other gentlemen in her limited acquaintance?

Why, even now, Charlie could be within her marriage chambers, Greyson nothing but a vague recollection, a brief moment when she had met an earl. She would smile at the way her tart had squelched when it met his evening finery.

A hint of breathlessness at the way his warm breaths had puffed on her cheeks, the height and breadth of his body so close as she challenged him, and he delivered it back tenfold.

But that would have been it, Charlie thought, amazed at the way her whole life had changed.

It wasn't what ifs now, but she would nevers...

She would never have gotten to know the reclusive earl. Never gotten to know the grumpy earl that would hold her to his chest, use his greatcoat to protect her from the rain.

Never gotten to know the man who, despite having his father taken away so early, was the most protective and loving man of her acquaintance. He cared more for his sister and his mother and her - and hell, even his best friend, Thorne, though the stubborn man would never admit so - than he did for himself.

Never have seen the undivided loyalty he absconded with from his tenants. Even now, Charlie imagined the stableyard was filled with all ages, banding together, working dawn until dusk, for a man who deserved it.

Charlie knew she hardly deserved him, but she was going to damn well make sure she tried. For, Charlie knew that with the unpredictable muddle her life had become her life, she had gone and fallen in love with him.

Her father's words came floating back to her.

The queen protects the king.

It was time she made this true.

***

Unfortunately for Charlie, it seemed the knife wasn't the clue she had been hoping for. No one recognized the black and gold filigree designed into its handle.

Greyson had been the first to break the tense silence. "I will send a letter round to some blacksmiths I know. Surely someone will recognize this. It is a custom design."

Lady Marianne nodded. "And why don't you," she asked, turning to Thorne, "see to finding out who else was at Tanner's that night. I know it was a long time ago, but perhaps..."

Thorne nodded, already sweeping past them. "I will ask to look at their books, and I'll speak with Mr. Lynch, the proprietor. I am sure that as big a loss as what Henry would have had to face was noted somewhere."

He disappeared around the corner and Lady Marianne bustled toward the door. "I will look further through Benjamin's books and correspondence. Now that we know it will be a "Mr. M- I'll see if he noted any business transactions with the man..."

"I'll help you, Mother."

Lady Georgianna followed the swish of her mother's skirts, and then it was only Charlie and Greyson.

A tense silence filled the room, and then Greyson's chair was slamming back and he was coming towards her. Something in his eyes had her coming to a stand as well. Charlie was prepared for a tongue lashing for her avoidance of him. Perhaps some mention of her weak-willed uncle, or mayhap a reprimand for not taking up residence within his guest rooms when he had asked.

He did none of those things.

One moment he was walking towards her and the next, Charlie found herself drawn against his body, and then Greyson was kissing her.

One hand swept around to the back of her head, cradling it. "I almost lost you," he murmured, his mouth tilting as his tongue swept in. A wet lick and then gone, leaving her gasping for another brief taste. "God, I'm sorry."

"I am sorry," Charlie whispered, meeting his kiss with one of her own. "I can't...I don't know...I think I love you, Greyson."

"By God, Charlotte," he whispered shortly, voice strained.

Everything erupted then. Whatever tension had been building endlessly the last few days. Greyson clutched her harder, and Greyson's injury was forgotten.  For his tongue and lips and teeth demanded she answer. His shoulders were hard beneath her hands, his big body shuffling her back until she was against the door.

The kisses slowed, and Charlie's breath mingled with Greyson's, his arms tight around her middle. Charlie's head lingered in the crook of Greyson's neck and shoulder, watching tufts of his dark hair shivering with her ever exhale.

Her feet touched the ground slowly, and she heard Greyson's soft curse. Shaking off the delightful numbness of her lips, Charlie took in Greyson's pale features.

"Damnation!" Charlie grumbled. "I shouldn't have let you do that." Burrowing her shoulder beneath his arm, she headed across the study, Greyson's soft chuckle in her ear.

"Worth it."

Charlie shook her head, wondering how she had fallen in love with such a stubborn ox of a man.

But as she settled him back into his chair, Greyson looked at her through his lashes, a grin stretched across his cheeks and his hair mussed making him look so damned young and...happy, it caused an ache in her chest.

She unbuttoned his coat, and when Greyson made no protest, she checked his wound, grateful to see that wound had closed, only a slight tinge of redness remaining on his skin. In another day or so, they could very well take out his stitches.

Charlie smiled softly, closing the ends of his coat as she fixed the ends of his hair that twisted in every direction. She opened her mouth, the confession on the tip of her tongue begging to release itself. A snore broke from his lips, however, and Charlie glanced down finding the earl out cold.

She huffed. "Of course you listen to me now and go back to sleep."

Another snore was her answer, and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Greyson."

Silence met her words, but it comforted her. Knowing this was simply the first of many. Lud, but Sophie would find this quite humorous, indeed. The woman bent on being so independent had fallen quite spectacularly. And partly while she was dressed as a stable hand, no less.

It wasn't until later, after she had asked the servants to help Greyson back up to his bedchamber; after she had replayed every moment with the earl, her body arching with the need to do it again; and after she had begun to undress for the evening, that the forgotten piece of parchment scratched against her bosom.

She would later wonder how everything could change so quickly.

**A/N**

Looooong chapter, folks! Hope you enjoyed :)

Now, no more author notes for the rest of the novel so I thought I would say a few things. And yes, that means only a few more chapters/updates left!  :*(  I will still reply to your comments/questions so please let me know what you think!

Also, You all got me back to #2!!!!! I have a couple announcements I was going to hold off on until I had the rest of my story posted, but if I can get to #1 I will release some exciting news early!! Get that clicker finger ready and press "vote!"

YOU ARE THE BEST! :)))***