A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1)

by Alicia Quigley

  The door to the library opened and Ferguson appeared. "Charles Montfort is here, my lady."

  "Oh!" said Rowena. "Oh, my goodness. Show him in, of course, Ferguson."

  The moment the butler left, she turned hastily to Malcolm. "Hide," she whispered frantically. "Charles would surely recognize you."

  "Damn it, I’m not going to skulk around like some criminal," protested Malcolm, but he allowed himself to be led behind Alaric's desk. Rowena urged him down behind it.

  "Please be quiet. If you are arrested it will make our task that much more difficult," she said frantically.

  "Charles was a friend of mine," argued Malcolm. "He won’t do anything to hurt me."

  "But he is also Alaric’s cousin," answered Rowena. "Please Malcolm, for my sake."

  Malcolm subsided, grumbling, just as the door opened and Charles entered. He raised an eyebrow to see Rowena standing behind the desk, her cheeks flushed with agitation.

  "Dear me. Have I come at a bad time?"

  "No, not at all," answered Rowena. "I dropped my...a brooch, and I was looking for it."

  "Allow me to assist you." Charles took a step towards the desk as Rowena hurried out from behind it, almost colliding with him.

  "No, no, that is not at all necessary. Thank you, though. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

  Charles took her hand in his. "Is something wrong, Rowena? You seem quite agitated."

  "No, not at all," Rowena repeated. "Please, sit down. Did you want to see Alaric?"

  Charles seated himself in a high-backed chair. "I did want to speak to him, but I am glad to find you in as well. How are you, Rowena? I haven’t talked to you lately. Are you thriving?"

  Rowena cast an anxious glance at the desk, and then turned her eyes back to Charles’ face. "I’m fine, thank you, Charles. Shall I ring for Ferguson to fetch Alaric?"

  "My business with him can wait. Tell me, are you happy with my cousin now? I know that all was not well last week."

  "We are fine," said Rowena. "Alaric is an excellent husband. Please don’t worry about me, Charles."

  "So will you be blessing the house of Brayleigh with an heir soon?" asked Charles. "You will forgive me for saying so, but I know that was one of the reasons Alaric wished to marry."

  Rowena colored. "I hope to make Alaric happy," she murmured.

  "I am sure you do," answered Charles, looking at her closely. "I never thought to see Alaric so attached to one woman. You have achieved quite a feat, Rowena."

  "I have?" asked Rowena, wondering what he meant.

  "Of course. Alaric has shown no real interest in another woman since he married you. Despite Marguerite Bingham’s attempts to cause trouble, Society is quite agog to see my cousin so obviously attached to his wife. You are held to be quite a miracle worker."

  "I am?" said Rowena, surprised.

  "Certainly. All the ladies wonder how you did it. You are the talk of the town, my dear."

  Rowena opened her mouth to ask him more, but the door opened and Alaric stood in it, his green eyes glinting from under their heavy lids. He cast one swift glance around the room and then entered, an inquiring look on his face.

  "Charles. How good to see you. What brings you here this afternoon?"

  "Money," sighed Charles. "I will not hide it from you, Alaric. I am quite done up again."

  "What a pity. Really, Charles, you must become more provident. Soon you will be married and will have a wife and children to provide for as well as yourself." Alaric walked over to his desk and halted for a moment when he saw Malcolm crouching behind it. A sudden smile lit his countenance.

  "I know. I am sure once I am well and truly tied to Caroline I will change my ways. Think of this as the last fling of a bachelor. I am sorry to bother you with it, Alaric, but I should settle this debt before the wedding."

  Alaric nodded. "Very well. But I hope you will reform your behavior, Charles," he said mildly. "I expect I will very soon have my own family to provide for."

  He turned a warm smile on Rowena that made her heart lurch. He was so devastatingly attractive, she thought. She almost resented the way he made her feel as though she was melting whenever he looked at her.

  "That is my hope as well," said Charles. "Rowena and I have been discussing that matter ourselves."

  "Oh?" Alaric turned away as though bored. "How much do you need, Charles?"

  "Another two thousand should do it."

  Rowena and Charles watched as Alaric wrote out a draft and sanded it, handing it across the desk to his cousin.

  "Thank you, Alaric. I will try not to bother you in the future."

  "It is no bother, Charles. I simply think that you need to be more circumspect."

  "I will try." Charles grinned cheerfully and pocketed the draft. "Will I see you at Lady Buckley’s masquerade next week?"

  "Sadly, no," said Alaric. "Rowena and I have agreed to go to Brandfon’s house party. It will be a sore trial, but I believe Rowena might benefit from the country air."

  Charles raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I was invited, but I declined. Perhaps I will reconsider my decision."

  "We would love to have you there." Alaric walked around the desk and put his arm around Rowena, drawing her close. "The Brandfons are terribly trying. It would be nice to know that you would be along to alleviate our boredom."

  "Then I will go," said Charles genially. "I look forward to seeing you there."

  He bowed to Rowena and left, calling his thanks out again cheerfully as he did so.

  "Whatever did you invite him along for?" Malcolm arose from behind the desk and gave Alaric an aggrieved look. "And did you have to step on my hand?"

  Alaric’s lips twitched. "I apologize for my clumsiness, Wroxton. I trust I did no permanent damage?"

  Malcolm looked at his wounded hand. "No, but it wasn’t for want of trying. And it’s a shame Charles will be at Brandfon’s. He was a good friend of mine; I will have to be careful that he doesn’t recognize me."

  "Precisely," said Alaric. "It will be an extra warning to you to be very careful. I don’t like the idea of taking you along, but I’m aware that if I don't bring you with me you will probably show up on your own. This way I can at least keep an eye on you, and Charles’ presence will keep you out of the house."

  "Dash it, I don’t think I like this, Brayleigh. Don’t you trust me?"

  "Not at all," said Alaric. "I don’t doubt your bravery, Wroxton, but I know you were sadly hot-headed twelve years ago and you seem to have changed very little. We will play this game my way, or not at all."

  He fixed Malcolm with a steely gaze, and there was a moment’s silence. Finally, Malcolm’s eyes dropped.

  "Very well, Brayleigh. You came out of this with a whole skin twelve years ago, and I suppose I must trust you now. But I won’t have Rowena injured in any way. If there is the slightest danger of that, you can be sure I’ll take care of her."

  "There will be no need," said Alaric flatly. "Rowena will be under my eye every moment."

  Chapter 36

  Rowena frowned at the roll of silk that was spread out before her. She fingered it gently, absently admiring the gossamer texture of the rich lapis blue fabric, but was unable to concentrate on the design of a new dress.

  "It would make a lovely ball gown, my lady," the modiste urged her. "I have seamstresses who could make it up for you immediately."

  "I am not at all sure that the color would become me," murmured Rowena.

  "You look wonderful in blue, my lady."

  "Perhaps." Rowena touched the material again, tracing the finely woven pattern of tiny, silvery hummingbirds that sprinkled it, but could not make a decision. Her thoughts were centered on the coming days at Sir Peter Brandfon’s house party and her fervent hope that soon Malcolm and Alaric would both be free of suspicion. It seemed ridiculous to be pondering the fabric for a new dress when the futures of the two men she loved the most were hanging in the balance.

  "I will think about it," she said
vaguely.

  The modiste, too familiar with the vagaries of titled ladies to argue, began to roll up the cloth. She would put the material away until Lady Brayleigh came in again; she was certain that my lady would soon realize just how perfectly the blue silk became her fair complexion.

  Rowena turned away and gazed next at a richly embroidered silk shawl without truly seeing it. She was aware of Lawson standing nearby, her impatience palpable. Rowena sighed. She had best get back to the house and see if Alaric was about. At least she could share her anxiety with him.

  The door to the shop opened and another woman entered. Rowena stepped aside to allow her to pass without looking up, but was brought up short when a musical voice addressed her.

  "Lady Brayleigh. How delightful to see you. It has been some time since we last encountered each other."

  Rowena looked up and saw to her dismay that Marguerite was standing in front of her, a mocking smile on her lips. Fighting the urge to brush past her enemy, she paused and pondered the possibilities. Now would be an excellent time to bait the trap she hoped to spring this weekend.

  "Indeed it is, Lady Bingham," she said with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "I must confess that I have been wishing we might encounter one another."

  Marguerite’s eyes widened. She had hoped to drop a few unkind comments in Rowena’s ear, but had not expected to be greeted enthusiastically.

  "And why is that?" she asked. "I thought your husband had forbidden you to have dealings with me."

  Rowena hung her head. "He would be very angry if he were to know of it," she said, dropping her voice. "But I need to speak to you urgently. I am so confused. Alaric is...well, so different than he once was. I thought that perhaps you...well, that you could help me to understand some things."

  Marguerite gave a little laugh. "I am considerably more experienced than you, particularly when it comes to your husband. What is it that you wanted to know?"

  "We cannot talk here," murmured Rowena. "I am told that you will be at the Brandfon’s house party. Brayleigh and I will be there also. Perhaps we can meet and discuss this privately."

  Marguerite allowed a triumphant smile to spread across her face. "Certainly, my dear. It is a shame that you did not heed my warnings before you were married, but I will be only to glad to help you in any way possible. I am sorry if you are in distress."

  Rowena willed her eyes to water, and she fished a handkerchief out of her reticule. She dabbed the corner of her eyes. "Please, do not speak of it now," she begged.

  Marguerite patted her arm consolingly. "I will do my very best to help you. I look forward to our talk."

  Rowena seized Marguerite’s hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," she whispered. "You cannot imagine how grateful I am." Pretending to be quite overcome with emotion, she dashed out of the shop, her bewildered maid in attendance.

  Out on the street Rowena allowed herself to savor the moment, pleased with her performance. Marguerite was malicious enough to seize the opportunity to attempt to meddle in Alaric’s marriage without questioning what Rowena’s motivations might be. Surely someone that self-involved could easily be tricked into over-playing her hand. Rowena felt a glow of satisfaction. Soon everything would be settled. Malcolm could return home as the Earl of Wroxton and she could try once again to make Alaric love her. That, it seemed, might be the most difficult task she had set herself.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden clatter of hooves and an anxious stirring in the crowd that surrounded her. She heard a man shout and the frightening sound of galloping horses echoed in her ears. She looked around as Lawson gave a squeal of alarm and saw a carriage, the horses completely out of control, heading in her direction through the throng. People shouted and fled as the horses thundered towards Rowena as though they were seeking her out. She froze for a moment, watching in terror as the huge animals bore down on her, and then with a cry of dismay she flung herself out of their path, seizing the petrified Lawson and pushing her with her as she fell to the ground. She could hear the ominous creaking of the wheels and the snorting of the horses as the carriage passed within inches of her, throwing up dust and dirt everywhere. Then there was silence, broken only by the sound of an hysterical woman screaming.

  Rowena looked up cautiously and found herself at the center of a circle of people, all regarding her with concern. The screams came from Lawson, who lay half-underneath Rowena, her eyes shut and her hands clenched into tight fists.

  "Hush, Lawson. We are unhurt." Rowena spoke sharply, trying to quiet her maid’s shrieks. She could tell by looking at Lawson that sympathy would only make her cry harder.

  Rowena looked about for help, and saw that although her dress was ruined where the wheels had brushed against it, she was otherwise undamaged. The circle of people about her parted suddenly, and Rowena saw with relief that Charles Monfort was pushing his way toward her.

  "Rowena, are you hurt?" Charles kneeled down next to her, his concern evident. "I noticed you in the crowd just before the accident, and tried to grab you before the carriage passed, but I was unable to reach you in time."

  "I am fine," said Rowena firmly. "Please help me up. I feel a fool, lying here in the middle of the street."

  She took Charles’ proffered hand and rose, trying unsuccessfully to shake the dust from her skirts.

  "Whoever was in that carriage should not be allowed to drive in public," she said angrily. "Any number of people might have been hurt."

  "Unfortunately, there were no identifying marks on the carriage," said Charles. "I fear we shall never know who it was."

  "It’s just as well. Alaric would surely wish to wreak revenge on him. It is probably better that the matter is allowed to rest."

  Charles looked at her admiringly. "You don’t seem shaken at all," he said. "What spirit you have."

  Rowena shook her head. "My knees feel like jelly," she admitted. "But I wouldn’t want to have hysterics in front of so many people, especially when Lawson is doing it for me."

  Charles laughed. "May I take you home? I think perhaps it would be best if you had an escort."

  Rowena smiled gratefully. "If it would not be too much of a bother, I would appreciate it. I don't think Lawson will be of much help. My carriage is waiting for me at the end of the street."

  "Alaric would never forgive me if I didn’t."

  The pair turned their attention to calming Lawson as the crowd dispersed, the people wandering away when it became evident that no one was injured. Charles clasped Rowena’s arm and led her slowly to her carriage, helping her settle herself, and making sure her numerous packages were properly stowed as well. He then assisted the shaken Lawson into the carriage and eased himself down next to Rowena, ordering the coachman to return home.

  "It’s shocking the way some of these fellows drive," he observed. "It shouldn’t be allowed. It’s a lucky thing you weren’t injured; Alaric would have my head for not protecting you."

  "Don’t concern yourself with it," said Rowena. "I am unhurt and there is no harm done."

  "You were very lucky. You could have been killed."

  "But I was not. Really, Charles, you seem to be more alarmed than I am."

  "I am concerned. If you don’t mind my saying so, your marriage to Alaric has made him so much more human. If something were to happen to you I fear he would once again become the forbidding fellow he was before you wed him."

  Rowena colored slightly. "Alaric is an excellent husband," she murmured. "But I think you are over-estimating my influence on him."

  "Not at all," answered Charles. "You cannot imagine the change you have wrought in him. We all despaired of him ever marrying, much less as contentedly as he seems to have done. I imagine Brayleigh now looks forward to the day when he will have a son. Only a few months ago I would never have believed it possible."

  "That is, of course, one of the reasons he married," said Rowena, her heart sinking slightly as Charles’ words called to her mind Alaric’s determination to fa
ther a son.

  Charles gave her a searching glance. "I look forward to hearing the good news."

  "You will be the first to know," answered Rowena lightly. She looked up as they approached her house. "I hope Alaric is not too furious when he hears of this."

  "It is hardly your fault, so if he is angry, it cannot be with you." Charles climbed down from the carriage and assisted Rowena out of it. He escorted her carefully up the stairs and into the house, where he ordered Ferguson to fetch the Earl.

  "No, please allow me to go upstairs and change my clothing," said Rowena. "I would really rather tell him later."

  "Nonsense. We will await him in the library, Ferguson." Charles took Rowena into the library, and seated her in a high-backed chair.

  "Really, Charles, this is not necessary," protested Rowena. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I am not an invalid."

  "I know that if I do not make certain Alaric knows of this, he will probably not be told. You are far too eager to shield him, Rowena."

  "Shield me from what?" Brayleigh stood in the door, his elegant presence filling the room. His eyes flicked briefly over Charles’ face and then turned to Rowena, taking in her disheveled appearance immediately.

  "What happened?" he demanded, and hastened to Rowena’s side. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

  "Your bride was almost killed by a run-away carriage," said Charles. "Luckily, she had the presence of mind to save herself and her maid."

  Rowena blushed. "It was nothing so dramatic. Why, any number of people were almost injured and my experience was not at all remarkable. I am completely unharmed, and so there is nothing to be concerned about."

  "Who was driving the carriage?" Alaric looked up at Charles.

  "It was unmarked, and moving far too fast to make any identification. It seems as though the horses were maddened by something."

  Alaric raised an eyebrow. "How unusual that something of this sort should happen in the middle of Bond Street."

  Charles shrugged. "It was probably one of those young men who fancy themselves whips when they can barely handle a gig. He probably bought some horses he couldn’t handle."