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

by Alicia Quigley

  She turned at Alaric’s voice and saw that he had stepped away from the group and was beckoning her. Grateful for the chance to escape she shot one more frightened glance at Marguerite and then returned to her husband's side. He gazed down at her with a look that spoke volumes.

  "You should be at my side, my dear. I am sure everyone would like to hear your opinions of the paintings as well. Tell me, what do you think of this portrait? Sir Peter assures me it is a Rembrandt."

  Rowena regarded the painting, which represented yet another nude woman, this one admiring herself in a mirror, so that a fine view of both her front and back were represented. It was executed poorly, although with a great deal of enthusiasm.

  "Stunning," she said breathlessly, overwhelmed by the vast expanse of pink flesh.

  "My feelings exactly," said Alaric.

  Chapter 38

  Later that evening as Rowena sat in front of her dressing table in her petticoat and chemise, preparing for dinner, the adjoining door between her room and Alaric’s opened and her husband entered. He was dressed very elegantly in his customary sober black, his coat fitting tightly over his well-muscled shoulders, his crisp white cravat tied in intricate folds. She couldn’t resist a surge of excitement as she watched him approach her, and a pang of pleasure at the memory of their afternoon tryst.

  "Good evening, my dear," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Are you enjoying our visit?"

  "Very much," said Rowena. "You were very diplomatic this afternoon, Alaric."

  He sighed. "My reputation as a connoisseur will never survive Sir Peter’s reports that I admired his collection. But I suppose it is a small price to pay to clear your brother’s name."

  Rowena cast a warning glance at Lawson, who was on the opposite side of the room, fetching her mistress’s dress from the wardrobe.

  "Thank you, Lawson. I believe I can manage now. Lord Brayleigh will give me any help I might need."

  With a curtsey and a look of disbelief Lawson retired, and Rowena turned back to Alaric. "It is not only Malcolm we shall help, but you as well. People will no longer be able to suspect you of murdering Ingram."

  Alaric shrugged and picked up a diamond bracelet from the table. He idly turned it back and forth, watching the stones sparkle in the candlelight.

  "I have lived with that for twelve years. It doesn’t really bother me."

  Rowena smiled. "I know. Indeed, I think you like it. Tell me, Alaric, will you be sorry when your reputation for evil has been destroyed?"

  Alaric shook his head. "I was content to leave matters as they were when I thought Malcolm was guilty. But now that I know he is not, it is important to me that the true killer pays. It would not do to let a murderer go unpunished." He smiled at her. "And my wicked reputation will not be put to rest. There are plenty of other tales about me, you know, many of them true. And Society has a short memory. Soon the story of how I murdered Ingram will circulate again, and the true killer will be forgotten."

  "That is unfair," said Rowena indignantly.

  Alaric smiled gently. "I don’t care what the world thinks of me. But I do care what you think, Rowena. Perhaps we should discuss what happened earlier this afternoon."

  Rowena froze. She looked into the dressing table mirror, her eyes searching his reflected face. He looked very serious, but she could not tell if he was pleased or angry at the words she had allowed to slip out.

  "Oh, when I left you in the gallery to speak to Lady Bingham," she said hastily. "I am very sorry if I annoyed you, Alaric, but it was necessary. I was very convincing, you know. She truly believes that I am frightened of you and suspect you of murder. I almost laughed to see her congratulating herself on the success of her plan to bring Malcolm back here. It was quite ridiculous. I am sure she will give herself away. She thinks me a guileless fool."

  She paused for a moment, and Alaric placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "That was not--" he began, but Rowena took a deep breath and continued.

  "Malcolm will be very pleased when I tell him. And I promise you I will be very careful, Alaric. We are to meet in the solarium tomorrow afternoon, and you can stay close by and make sure that nothing untoward happens. But I cannot imagine that Marguerite will be dangerous. She cannot possibly carry a weapon about with her here at Brandfon Abbey, can she?"

  Alaric’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, and she stopped talking, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

  "I was speaking of earlier, when we were here in your room," he said softly.

  "Earlier?" Rowena feigned confusion. "Oh, when Charles interrupted us. That was a great pity, to be sure, but it was just as well. I had a chance to speak to Lady Bingham, after all, which is our main purpose here."

  "Do you remember what you said to me?" Alaric tried to catch Rowena’s eye again, but she resolutely looked away, taking the diamond bracelet out of his hand and clasping it about her wrist with shaking fingers.

  "Did I say something?" she asked. "I said I should obey your commands, I remember, but you must not hold that over my head. Women will say strange things in the heat of passion. I do try to be good, Alaric, but I’m afraid I will never be a perfect wife."

  "You are the perfect wife for me," said Alaric softly. "Do you truly not remember what else you said?"

  Rowena looked up at him, surprised by his gentle tone. Her eyes locked with his, and she drew in her breath at the tender light in his eyes. Was he trying to tell her something? She paused, but then her courage faltered. Alaric had made his opinions on love very clear to her.

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said hastily. "Goodness, is that the dinner bell? Quickly, I must put on my dress."

  "I didn’t hear anything."

  Rowena dove for her gown and buried herself in it, trying to pull it hastily over her head. "I am sure I heard the bell. Is this on straight?"

  Alaric walked over to her and viewed her silently, reaching out to twitch the rose colored silk into place, and adjust one sleeve minutely, then fastened the tapes at the back with precision. "You look beautiful."

  "Thank you," she gasped, picking her fan up off the dressing table. "Shall we go down?"

  Alaric shrugged. "Of course." He drew her arm through his. "Come along, my dear."

  Chapter 39

  Rowena shifted restlessly on a brocaded settee, her fingers playing nervously with her fan. The ladies had retired to the drawing room after dinner while the men lingered over their port, and she was finding the conversation of Lady Brandfon and Mrs. Brenderby trying. It seemed to consist mostly of a detailed comparison of their dressmakers’ skills, and Rowena could not keep her mind from wandering.

  Marguerite sat across the room from her, supposedly reading a book, but occasionally casting a curious glance at Rowena’s nervous countenance. At least, thought Rowena, her obvious anxiety must serve to convince the baroness that she was truly afraid of Alaric. In truth, however, she was far more nervous about confronting Alaric later than she was about her upcoming talk with Lady Bingham. She could handle Marguerite, she was sure, but her husband was another matter altogether.

  She stood up and wandered to the French doors, gazing out into the garden. Moonlight flooded the view, casting weird shadows from the elaborately-sculpted shrubbery, and Rowena thought sadly how very romantic it looked. It would be wonderful to stroll there with Alaric and perhaps share a kiss, forgetting all the problems that beset them.

  Rowena jumped when the shadow of a nearby shrub moved, and Malcolm emerged from behind it, beckoning to her. She shook her head hastily, but he continued to gesture, and she decided that he would not go away until she joined him. She looked back over her shoulder at her hostess, who was still rapt in conversation.

  "I’m feeling a bit warm," she murmured. "I think I’ll take a turn in your lovely gardens."

  Lady Brandfon glanced at her and smiled. "Certainly, my dear. It is a beautiful night."

  Rowena smiled and slipped out the doors, hurrying a
cross the gravel path to where Malcolm stood. She pushed him hastily back behind the hedge and followed him, shaking him slightly.

  "What are you doing? Anyone might have seen you. If someone did, they will think I’m having an affair with my groom."

  Malcolm grinned unrepentantly. "I never thought of that, by Jove. That would put Brayleigh’s nose out of joint, wouldn’t it?"

  Rowena gave him an exasperated look. "Annoying Alaric should no longer be part of your plans, Malcolm. What is it that you want?"

  "Well, I can’t help it. He’s so damned self-righteous, ordering me to stay out of the way. I have a right to know what’s going on."

  "Is that why you came up here? You want to know what’s going on? Malcolm, you could get yourself into terrible trouble. It’s not worth it. What if you were caught?"

  "Don’t read me a lecture, little sister," he answered sulkily. "I can’t abide sitting about in those stables, wondering. There isn’t even any decent liquor about. I should have brought my own. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to go looking for Brayleigh?"

  Rowena sighed. "Very well. I spoke to Lady Bingham and we are planning to meet in the solarium tomorrow afternoon. She is going to tell me the truth about my husband."

  Malcolm gave a hoot of laughter. "I’d love to be a fly on the wall during that encounter. Good work, Rowena. By this time tomorrow maybe I’ll be cleared."

  "I certainly hope so," said Rowena pettishly. "All this deception and skulking about is fraying my nerves. I’m hardly myself anymore. And Alaric--well, Alaric is being most trying. I don’t know what to do about him, Malcolm."

  Malcolm looked at her shrewdly. The misery in her eyes told her tale. "Did something stupid, did you?"

  "I told him I love him," she whispered.

  Malcolm sighed at her. "What did you want to go doing a damn fool thing like that for? Saying something like that to your husband is bound to make the man uncomfortable. Very bad form, Rowena."

  "I couldn’t help it," said Rowena miserably. "I’ve been in love with him since before we were married." She sniffled as tears threatened to overwhelm her.

  "Lord, don’t cry. I can’t abide tears." Malcolm patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Well, if you’ve gone and done it, there’s nothing more to be said. But don’t go telling the man again. It won’t make him happy, I promise you."

  Rowena hastily wiped her eyes. "You don’t think he’d like to know?" she asked softly.

  Malcolm looked dismayed. "No man wants to think a woman's in love with him, much less his wife," he assured her. "The minute they fall in love it’s all demands and tying you to the house, and tears...like now. A man like Brayleigh can’t abide a woman weeping at him."

  "Perhaps he’d like to know that I care."

  "Maybe if he was one of those poet types, always mooning after some female or the other." Malcolm grimaced. "But Brayleigh’s a man of the world. He's had enough of love and hysterics and all that with his mistresses over the years. He wants his wife to respect him, but love isn’t something he’s interested in. Much too messy an emotion. Take my advice, Rowena. Stay mum about this."

  Rowena nodded slowly as she considered Malcolm's words. The tender way Alaric had behaved earlier had almost convinced her to confide in him, but surely her worldly brother would know the best way to behave. After all, he had known Brayleigh for many years.

  "You’re probably right, Malcolm. He’d only despise me for being so weak." She swallowed. "Thank you. I might have gone and done something stupid without you to advise me."

  "That’s what brothers are for, hey?" said Malcolm jovially. He gave her a suspicious glance. "You’re not crying any more, are you?"

  Rowena gave a watery chuckle. "No." The sound of an owl hooting in the woods made her jump and look nervously over her shoulder. "I have to go back inside, or they wonder what has happened to me. It wouldn’t do to give ourselves away when we’re so close to our goal."

  "Well, you just be sure that I’ll be nearby tomorrow afternoon. I’m not going to let you get into any danger, Rowena. Your husband thinks I’m reckless, but I’ll show him I can take care of you."

  "Please Malcolm, be careful. If you were to give us away, it would be terrible. It is very important to be circumspect now that we are so close to our goal." Rowena grabbed his arm and squeezed, willing him to understand her.

  "I’m the soul of discretion. Don’t you worry about me," said Malcolm cheerfully. "I’ll show you that it isn't only your husband who can take care of you."

  Rowena eyed him doubtfully. "Do be cautious, Malcolm."

  "As though I would be anything else. When have I ever been indiscreet?"

  "Well, coming up here was very rash of you." Rowena began to tick her points off on her fingers. "Coming to England at all was folly. And to think of all the things you have done over the years, from running off with Marguerite after Ingram was killed, to gambling away the Pearl of Sirsi, I think I can be forgiven for being somewhat nervous."

  "Well, I like that. You’re becoming as depressing as Brayleigh. The two of you are well-matched." Malcolm shook his head. "I never thought you’d grow up to be such an old sober-sides, Rowena. I'd best head back to the stables. Believe me, I’ll take care of you whether you think I can or not."

  Rowena watched him stalk off, the straightness of his spine indicating his wounded pride. She stifled a giggle. She couldn't imagine two men more different than her husband and brother, and yet she loved them both.

  The thought immediately sobered her, for her love for Alaric was an immediate problem. The words that had slipped so carelessly from her tongue earlier in the afternoon assumed gigantic proportions in her imagination. Malcolm was surely right. Alaric would only be disgusted if she displayed such unseemly emotions. He expected her to be a good wife, to supply him with a son, and to cause as few ripples as possible on the serene surface of his life. She had already driven him away once, and it would kill her if she did so again. The subject would have to be avoided until Alaric forgot it. Surely in the excitement of catching Marguerite the next day his thoughts would turn to other matters.

  She retraced her steps to the terrace and slipped back into the drawing room. The men had rejoined the ladies and Alaric stood on the far side of the room, his head turned slightly to catch the words of Lady Brandfon. He smiled briefly when he saw Rowena enter the room, and in a very few moments he detached himself from his hostess and came to her side.

  "Let me guess," he whispered. "Malcolm came up to the house."

  She glanced up at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

  "With your brother, such behavior is inevitable. I find it no surprise that he got himself into so much trouble, and only regret that it is necessary to rescue him for your sake." Alaric smiled to soften the words.

  "You would have done far better not to have married me," she said, trying for a light tone.

  Alaric shook his head. "On the contrary, I would not be nearly so amused as I am now. While it is occasionally uncomfortable having my world turned upside down, at least it is not boring. I was very bored before I met you, Rowena."

  Rowena’s heart jumped nervously. It was not a traditional compliment he had just paid her, but she felt that it was sincerely meant. She looked up at him, her attack of nerves returning. If he kept being so charming, she was sure to let her tongue slip again.

  "I...I think I should go to bed now," she said rather abruptly, anxious to get away. "It will be a busy day tomorrow."

  "I will come with you," said Alaric promptly, squeezing her hand. A wicked light gleamed in his green eyes. "Perhaps we can continue our discussion of this afternoon."

  Rowena caught her breath. "I have a terrible headache, my lord," she said. "I think I had best go alone. I...I wouldn’t be very entertaining, I’m sure."

  Alaric’s heavy eyelids dropped, shielding his eyes. He bowed politely to her, raising her hand to his lips. "By all means. I would not wish to trespass if you are not feeling well."
r />   "I...I’m sorry," she murmured.

  "You cannot avoid me forever," he said softly as she moved away.

  Rowena gave him a nervous look over her shoulder, but couldn’t be sure if she had heard him correctly. As she made her apologies to her hostess, she turned Alaric’s words over in her mind. Why did he seem so anxious to pursue the topic? Perhaps he was still annoyed with her for her deception and was seeking to punish her. It would be sweet revenge, she supposed, if she were to admit she loved him. She bit her lip, silently vowing to reveal nothing to her husband.

  She said a quiet good night to her hostess and slipped out of the room, knowing that Marguerite was gazing at her speculatively. At the very least, her nervousness was surely convincing the baroness that she was truly afraid of her husband. It must be obvious to everyone watching that she was as jumpy as a cat when she was around him.

  Rowena went quietly up to her room and undressed without summoning Lawson, slipping between the sheets of her bed with a sigh. She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but rest eluded her. And it was not thoughts of tomorrow’s encounter with Lady Bingham that haunted her, but rather thoughts of her husband and the mistake she had made that afternoon.

  When she heard the door adjoining his room to hers open an hour later she hastily closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe steadily and quietly. Alaric’s footsteps approached the bed, and he stood next to it for a moment, gazing silently down at her. In her mind she could see him, his dark hair curling about his forehead, his velvet robe wrapped about his muscular body. She almost opened her eyes, knowing that he would come to her, but she resisted temptation. She was far too embarrassed to face him tonight.

  After a long pause, she heard Alaric retrace his footsteps and close the door between their rooms. With a sob Rowena rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. She would deal with her feelings for her husband later, when she had accomplished her task of clearing his name.

  Chapter 40