How To Seduce A Sinner

this was a female’s domain. “Shall I make inquiries to the Aldertons regarding her tenure in their employ?”

“Good God, no! Alderton is a buffoon with a taste for gossip. He would like nothing better than to spread these horrific lies about me.”

“If you don’t wish to investigate this woman’s past, then we should investigate Roddington.”

“I’ve already done so.”

Carter’s eyes jerked up to meet his father’s. “So soon? He told me he spoke with you this morning.”

“Yes, well, it actually wasn’t the first time he has darkened my doorstep.”

The duke walked to the sideboard, poured himself a generous measure of brandy, and took a long swallow. When Carter declined a portion, the duke refilled his own glass and took another long drink.

“He first appeared about ten years ago,” the duke continued. “A gangly lad with a fiery temper and an outrageous tale to tell. I hired a Bow Street Runner to try to learn what I could, but he turned up very little. By then the boy had disappeared, so I thought the matter closed.”

“But Roddington has been back in London for weeks,” Carter said. “He’s been in this house, he’s escorted Dorothea to various social events. Hell, he came to my wedding.”

“I barely caught a glimpse of him, was never formally introduced. How could I make the connection between that boy and the man everyone simply referred to as the major?” The duke closed his eyes and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I am too weary for all of this, Carter.”

Carter blinked in surprise, then took note of the deep lines around his father’s mouth, the slight dishevelment of his hair. “I am here to help,” he said quietly.

“Thank you.” The duke lifted his head. “I want you to contact Roddington. Offer him a substantial bank draft and send him on his way.”

Carter stared at his father, shocked by his words. “Why?”

“Because that is the easiest and surest way to be rid of him.”

“It seems illogical to encourage a man to engage in what amounts to nothing more than blackmail,” Carter said. “Especially if there is no merit to his claim.”

The duke’s nostrils flared as a flush spread over his cheekbones. “I’m not a fool. Clearly the major’s motivation is money. And while it is personally distasteful to succumb to such tactics, it is also the quickest way to solve this problem.”

“He told me he has in his possession a document that will prove his claim.”

A powerful emotion flickered over the duke’s face and for a moment Carter thought he would break down. “The major is an opportunist looking for an easy way to make some money. I’m a wealthy man. If this is what it takes to be rid of him, then it is well worth the price.”

A sharp pain shot along Carter’s temple. His father never backed away from a confrontation, especially when he believed he was right. So why was he so eager to let Roddington best him?

“Giving him money will lend credence to his claim,” Carter insisted. “I think it is a grave mistake. If he senses a weakness he will exploit it.”

“He wants a scandal. I will do anything necessary to prevent one.”

“Let him have his scandal,” Carter argued. “We can weather the storm, brazen out the gossip, the snide, telling glances. The Season has nearly ended. By the time it begins again next year, this will no longer be such a juicy tidbit. The matrons of the ton will have found something new to draw their censure and disapproval.”

The duke’s expression turned distant. “I need for this to end.”

Carter could see a bead of sweat forming on his father’s neck. His eyes seemed unusually bright. Tears? Impossible. Unless…?

“I will go to Roddington today,” Carter responded. “He claims not to want any money, but I think I will be able to persuade him to take it.”

The duke looked at Carter, his steely gray eyes sad and unfathomable. “I’m sorry you had to be involved in this mess.”

“It affects you, Father. Naturally it would also involve me.”

Dorothea was waiting when Carter emerged from the duke’s study. She took one look at his ashen face and wordlessly took his hand, leading him to the drawing room. He heard her shoo away the footmen and leave instructions that they were not to be disturbed.

“It’s true, then.” Her words were a statement, not a question.

“He denies it.”

She grasped his arm. “Yet you don’t completely believe him, do you?”

“I don’t know what to believe.” Carter rubbed his forehead. He found it difficult to think with his mind so full of contradictions.

She slid her hand comfortingly up his arm and onto his shoulder. “How does the duke plan to handle this… um…delicate matter?”

“He wants to pay him off. Or rather, he wants me to pay Roddington off.”

“Will it work?”

“Put yourself in Roddington’s place. If you believed the duke was your natural father, would you take his money?”

Dorothea gnawed on her lower lip. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll speak with Roddington, as my father requested.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No!” He grabbed her hands. “I need to do this on my own.”

“I’m scared, Carter.” She tore her gaze from his, her expression strained. “I’m worried that things might escalate into violence if you two are alone. My presence should keep the conversation civil.”

“No.”

“Carter, please.”

Carter squeezed her hands, not liking that stubborn tone in her voice. “I promise I shall do nothing to incite Roddington’s anger. And no matter how I am provoked, I will keep my own temper in check.”

He could see she was not entirely convinced, so he kept his expression firm. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” Then she hesitated, looking down at their clasped hands. “Though the major is only half the problem, as you very well know.”

Two hours later, Carter found himself knocking on a door in a run-down London neighborhood. It had not been difficult to find Roddington’s direction.

“Yes?” A stoic, unfamiliar face peered out of the half-opened door.

Carter gazed levelly into the face of a man whose direct stare and stout bearing suggested military service. A comrade or servant? Honestly, it didn’t much matter. Carter presented his card.

“The Marquess of Atwood to see Major Roddington. Is he at home?”

Revealing his identity put the man on even higher alert. He straightened his already squared shoulders as his mouth crumbled down in a frown. “The major’s not here.”

“Is he expected back soon? My business is of a personal nature and rather urgent.”

“Ah, so now after all these years, it’s urgent, my lord?” He favored Carter with a cold, appraising stare that Carter returned with equal measure. The question hung in the air.

The man blinked. “I’ll let him know you’ve been here,” he said gruffly.

Carter gave him a curt nod and turned around. He ducked his head under the low doorway as he exited the building, his mind in turmoil. For a full minute he stood on the street, trying to decide his next move. It was not a particularly fashionable neighborhood, but he had seen worse. Perhaps the duke was right, though. Perhaps all Roddington did want was money.

“Out slumming, Atwood?”

Carter relaxed at the familiar male voice. “Benton, what brings you to this part of Town?”

The viscount grinned. “I’ll agree there’s not much to recommend the area, but there is a superior tobacconist a few blocks away that I frequent.”

“By any chance is there a decent tavern nearby?”

“I might know of one or two.”

Carter grimaced. “Well, lead on, my friend. I find I have a great need for some strong libation.”