Jacques’s lips flattened at the bitter memories of his childhood spent on the fringes of French aristocracy. There had been no need to explain that as a son of a mere artist, no matter how talented Jean-Luc Gerard might have been, he would always be considered inferior to the prissy dandies who sashayed the streets of Paris.
“I am well aware of the laws of heredity,” he snarled. “Laws that I intend to ensure are destroyed in France.”
Harry waved an impatient hand. “You may do whatever you bloody well want in France, but in England there are very precise rituals that must be observed to inherit a title.”
“And?”
“I cannot simply appear among the House of Lords and demand the Lord Chancellor proclaim me the next Earl of Ashcombe just because my brother has disappeared.” Growing agitated, Harry paced across the room, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. “It will take years before they will agree to declare Gabriel dead. You know damned well how they all dote on him. No doubt the entire nation will be expected to go into mourning. And it will be years more before the Letters Patent would ever be offered to me.”
“There will be no need to have your brother declared dead,” Jacques assured him.
Coming to a halt, Harry regarded him with an insolent expression that made Jacques long to thrash him.
“You believe they will take my word for his untimely demise?”
Jacques straightened from the desk, his expression grim. “They will so long as you have his lifeless corpse to show them.”
“A corpse?” Harry blinked, his mouth hanging open as the implication of Jacques’s words sank through his thick skull. “You cannot…”
“Oh, come, Harry, there is no need to pretend such outraged shock,” Jacques drawled.
Snapping his lips together, Harry glared at him with impotent fury.
“It is no pretense, you bastard.”
“Of course it is.” Jacques arched a brow. “You must have known from the moment your brother discovered that you had bartered your soul to Napoleon that he would have to die.” He deliberately paused. “If you did not, then you are an idiot.”
“You have him captured. He is no threat.”
“I have already discovered not to underestimate your brother. So long as he lives, he will be a threat,” Jacques muttered with a grimace. “Besides, did you not just assure me that it would be impossible for you to take his place without a proper funeral for the current earl?”
Harry hunched his shoulders, as usual unwilling to accept that his choices had a cost that must be paid.
“There is no need for me to be the Earl of Ashcombe to discover another contact within the Home Office. I shall return to London…”
“Non.”
“What?”
Jacques heaved an impatient sigh. “Have you forgotten you are currently embroiled in a nasty scandal after having abandoned your bride at the altar and taken off with her dowry?”
He did not even possess the grace to appear guilty as he waved a dismissive hand.
“It will have passed now that my brother has wed Talia.”
Jacques rolled his eyes. Harry truly believed his sins had once again been swept beneath the carpet by his brother.
“And how do you intend to explain their mysterious disappearance?”
Harry was momentarily stumped by the perfectly reasonable question. But with the skill of a born prevaricator, he offered a ready lie.#p#分页标题#e#
“It must be known by Gabriel’s servants that Talia was kidnapped by you and that he traveled to France to rescue her,” he pointed out. “It will be assumed that he is still searching for her or he is captured.”
“Which will ensure that I am hunted by every British soldier in France.” Jacques shook his head. “Non, I thank you.”
The younger man scowled, predictably indifferent to the notion of Jacques being pursued by the entire British army.
“Then I will say that they have returned and have traveled to my brother’s estate in Scotland to recuperate from their ordeal.”
“And they took Lord Rothwell along as a chaperone?” Jacques scoffed.
Harry hissed with impatience, his face drawn with believable tension. Had Jacques not been so sadly familiar with the selfish cad, he might have been convinced Harry truly cared whether his brother lived or died.
“We can conjure some tale that will satisfy society.”
“I am not willing to risk our profitable arrangement on the hope you can deceive those who are already inclined to distrust you.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “And you cannot deny that your position as the Earl of Ashcombe would be worth a great deal more to me than a scapegrace younger son.”