'I have no love for the Carlows. I've proved as much for you. Can you not lift the curse from the Wardales?'
'I tell you again, it is not for me to decide what happens. The curse is a test, Nathan. I have been called to administer it. You will pass or fail, according to your nature. If you are innocent, then nothing I do will truly harm you. There will be a period of hardship, and all will come right in the end. And perhaps it will bring me closer to my goal.'
Nathan laughed bitterly. 'I knew you once, Stephen Hebden. For that is who you were, though you wish to reject it. And I liked you. You were a kind boy, a good friend, and had things been different, you would have grown to be a good man. And now you are willing to destroy my life on a perhaps.'
The Gypsy shook his head. 'You give me too much power, Nathan. Only God can truly destroy a man, just as he created him. If I am not doing his work, then I cannot hurt you. It is up to him to decide your fate.'
'Small comfort. I will only meet my end if God thinks I deserve to. Any number of horrible things have happened to me when we were young. And I did not deserve a one of them. They made me into the man I am, a person I take no pride in being. Now, after life has driven all the goodness from me, you seek me out and hope that God will find me wanting, so that I may be punished further?'
The Gypsy gave him a wry smile. 'I'll take no joy in it, if that is the case. For once, I liked you as well. But take heart, Nathan. Whatever might occur, it will be over soon enough. For both of us.' He reached to pocket the book.
Nathan held a hand out for it. 'Here, then. If this will not end things between us, then give that back.'
The Gypsy shrugged, but returned the book. 'What do you mean to do with it? Confront Narborough?'
'That would make me no better than you. If you think my fate is in the hands of God, then I will take the thing to the authorities and see if they can make anything of the contents.'
Beshaley snorted. 'Because English justice has treated you fairly in the past?'
'Because it is the right thing to do. And what my father would have done, if he were alive.' Nate straightened his back. 'If I truly believe that he was innocent, then I had best start behaving so. If I think there is truth to be revealed, then I do not mean to skulk in the bushes like a common criminal. I will go to Lord Keddinton with it and let him use the information as he sees fit. He knew both our fathers and is well placed in the Home Office. He will have the power to follow through on this, if anyone does.' The idea had been but a stray thought when he'd mentioned it to Diana. But spoken, Nate knew the rightness of it. For suddenly, he felt more like the true Earl of Leybourne than he had since the day his father had died.
But Stephen was unimpressed. 'Good luck with it, old friend. I wish you success. I truly do. But if your father is innocent, you may find that the world is less interested in truth than you think.'
'I am Nathan Wardale. I wish to see Lord Keddinton, on a matter of business, please.' It had been so long since he'd used it, his own name sounded strange in his ears.
Perhaps the unfamiliarity showed in his tone. For the butler at Robert Veryan's country estate raised an eyebrow, as though doubting his word. Nate could offer no calling card to assure the man of his identity. So he stood his ground and gave the kind of cold stare that he might have given had he still been a peer, as though he was not accustomed to being kept waiting on the doorstep.
At least there was no sneering response to the name Wardale. The man was certainly old enough to remember the scandal, but too disciplined to show distaste for his employer's business. After a chilly pause, the servant stood aside to allow him entrance, taking him to a receiving room not far from the front door. A short time later, a footman came to escort Nate the rest of the way to Keddinton's office.
As he was presented, Nate resisted the urge to shift nervously on the carpet before the desk like an errant schoolboy called to the headmaster for punishment. Though Keddinton had been expecting him, now that Nate stood before his desk, the man kept him waiting in silence as the footman retreated, and continued to read the papers in front of him. It was a move designed to demonstrate that whatever business Nate might have, it could not be of sufficient importance to hold his full attention for more than a moment.
Nate smiled to himself and relaxed, as he recognized the gambit for what it was. While some might take it for a masterstroke of manipulation, it was really no better than the bluff of an inexperienced card player. When did a man with a good hand need to work so hard? Lord Keddinton was wary of him. Perhaps even frightened. And knowing that made the waiting much easier.