Bride for a Night(105)

“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.

“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.