Nicholas’ mouth twisted in disgust. “By all accounts, they were lovers for a time. Their affair began two years after Robert married.”
“Lovers? Your mother told you that?”
It was not something a lady would reveal to her son, except perhaps during one of her pensive episodes.
“No. Charles Holland approached me three months ago because he has evidence to suggest … to suggest he’s my mother’s son. My elder brother.” Nicholas spat the last words out like a rotten piece of fruit.
His brother! Helen’s chin almost landed in her lap.
“What evidence does he have?”
Nicholas drew his hand down his face. “Love letters written to his father. A bill for a midwife. A property rented in my mother’s name but paid for by Robert Holland. All dated five months before Charles was born. A letter Robert wrote to his barren wife, begging her to raise the child. And his housekeeper’s testimony that she helped his mother fake a pregnancy.”
Too many to suggest forgery, then.
That said, why would Mr Holland lie?
“And you have kept this to yourself for three months?” She imagined him pouring over the information, the heaviness in his heart dragging him down into the depths of despair. No wonder he looked tired.
“I would have kept the secret had the scoundrel not followed me here. The man follows me everywhere. It’s not a coincidence that he’s also Lady Brompton’s guest. I only discovered the fact fifteen minutes ago.”
“He wants you to recognise him as your brother, then?” What other reason could he have for coming to Grayswood Folly?
Nicholas swallowed hard. “Holland is blackmailing me. Threatening to reveal the truth about my mother.” His tone turned dark, deadly. “I would kill him before I’d let him call her a whore.”
Alarm thumped a rapid beat in her throat. Having seen how he’d attacked Mr Parbrook, she didn’t doubt his word.
“How much does he want for his silence?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand!” Good heavens. Mr Holland clearly had no shame. “But the truth will mean admitting he’s illegitimate. Mr Holland has much to lose and little to gain.”
“He was his father’s only heir. The estate was unentailed and drowning in debt. Holland would rather thetonlearn the truth about our parents than lose his family home.” Nicholas’ mouth curled down in disdain. “He wants ten thousand for each document, for each piece of evidence.”
But that was a preposterous sum.
What if he continued to produce more damning information?
“The need to protect your mother is admirable, but you cannot risk your future in the hope he will honour the bargain.”
When Nicholas spoke, his voice was quiet, wistful. “It’s not my mother I want to protect. It’s the man who suffered years of pain. The man who strived to make everyone love my mother as he did. I cannot let Charles Holland destroy the thing that mattered most to my father.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand, but—”
“I do understand.”
Love made a person irrational.
Love made a person take untold risks.
She understood that more than most.
Nicholas considered her carefully, but said nothing.
Though her heart raced faster than a Derby winner, she used the moment to gather her thoughts. The path forward seemed clear. And there was but one solution to the problem.
“You need help, Nicholas. And as we have two cases to solve, I am promoting you from assistant to partner. We must work together to catch the crazed coachman and teach Mr Holland a lesson.”
He managed a weak smile. “I am honoured you hold me in such high regard, Miss Langley. But short of committing a crime ourselves, I am not sure what we can do about Holland.”