What You Propose (Anything for Love #2)

by Adele Clee

  His staff nodded, and collectively muttered 'Yes, Mr. Danbury' as they vacated the room.

  Marcus remained standing, his mind preoccupied with the night's events. Was Anna really in any danger? Or had the intruder used intimate knowledge of her situation to divert their suspicions away from his real objective.

  Bloody hell.

  After putting an end to many nefarious plots over the years, numerous men could have broken into his home as a means to exact their revenge. He had always known the day would come. Up until now he hadn't given the matter much thought. When one possessed a certain skill in the art of pugilism, was adept with a sword and an accurate shot with a pistol, there was no need for concern.

  So why did he feel like tracking down every suspect and stringing them up from the nearest tree?

  Anna.

  With no family, no responsibilities, he had never given a damn for his own safety. He had accepted his fate a long time ago. With his type of work, one never presumed they'd live to see the sun rise. In a perverse way, he almost wished the day would come. Indeed, should anything happen to him he knew his father would blame himself for Marcus' death. When the time came for him to draw his last breath, the knowledge would bring him comfort. Anything that caused his father to suffer was worth the pain.

  But now things had changed.

  Now he felt responsible for another.

  Not in the way he felt about Tristan — he would give his life for the man who'd been his loyal friend and constant companion. He would give his life for Anna, too, he suddenly realised. But as each day passed, the thought of living in the monastery without her, the thought of not having her in his life—

  Damn it all. Dane had a lot to answer for. Indeed, he made a mental note to punch him hard on the nose the next time he laid eyes on him.

  Pushing away from his desk, he picked up the candle and strode out under the shelter of the cloisters. With dawn fast approaching, there was little point sleeping, and so he retraced Anna's steps, searched for anything untoward.

  Just as Andre had said, Marcus found no sign of forced entry. Despite various reports to the contrary, he had never found any sign of a secret entrance either.

  Now, he would have to pursue another line of enquiry — one that left an empty, hollow feeling in his gut.

  A member of his staff had let the intruder into his home.

  It was the only feasible explanation. But why?

  With a heavy sigh, he trudged upstairs, hovered outside Anna's door not knowing quite what to do. He would not reveal his suspicion: primarily because he did not want to alert the culprit. And he did not want Anna to worry. She had spent years looking over her shoulder, not knowing whom she could trust. He would not have her living in fear, not in his house.

  No, he could not abide disloyalty and would secretly investigate the matter until he found the person responsible.

  As though sensing his presence, she opened the door ajar and peered around. "I heard footsteps. Is everything alright?"

  Damn. He did not want her to think he was insensitive, that he lingered with lascivious intentions in mind. "I have finished searching the house but couldn't sleep. Forgive me, if my prowling disturbed you."

  She smiled, opened the door a little wider, and he was somewhat disappointed to see her soft curves shrouded in a cotton nightgown. "I couldn't sleep, either. I keep thinking about what he said to me. How he knew my name."

  They stared into each other's eyes for a moment; his deep sense of longing reflected back at him, and he suspected their thoughts followed a similar vein.

  "If you want company, you only have to say." Being the first to find the courage to speak, he added, "We could sit in the chapter house and read. You can tell me why you think I should farm the land."

  Her eyes brightened. "Or you … you could come in. We could lie together, try to get a few hours sleep."

  Desire ignited, but he imagined dousing the flames with ice-cold water. She did not need him to fawn over her. She needed comfort, kindness, and a few hours of peace. "Very well," he nodded and she stepped back for him to enter.

  Later that night they rode down to the village.

  "By the sound of it, a large number of people have decided to venture out this evening." Anna glanced across the road at the bustling inn, noting the sound of jovial singing and the golden glow spilling out of every window. "Tell me again what we're doing here?"

  Marcus pulled her back into the shadows. Even in the dim light, his eyes sparkled with mischief, with a wicked sensuality. "We're here to enjoy ourselves, relax and have a drink."

  "This time, I do not need to pretend to be your mistress." She felt her face flame as the words left her lips. The memory of their coupling warmed her heart. The memory of the hours spent sleeping in each other's arms warmed her soul.

  "Don't say it like that." His tone held a hint of reproof. "You're not my mistress, Anna. The word implies something undignified, something shallow and self-serving, and in no way defines what we've shared."

  Her heart fluttered at his response. Was he trying to be kind or had their joining meant something to him too? Could he ever care for her the way she cared for him?

  "I simply meant things are different now." She refused to say anything more. To explore the topic of conversation might lead her to divulge her true feelings and she couldn't think about that now. "Besides, I thought we were here to investigate. I thought you were desperate to discover the identity of the intruder."

  "We're here to relax and observe. To wait for the culprit to reveal himself."

  "I doubt he's going to jump up, throw his hands in the air and confess all," she said as they stared at the stone building. While she saw the logic in Marcus' plan, the likelihood of finding the comte's accomplice sitting in full view of half the village was minimal at best.

  "Obviously not, but I've often found the criminal mind to be rather predictable. Where best to find information than an inn full of loose-mouthed drunkards?"

  Anna gasped. "You think Victor's accomplice has been staying here, that he has talked to the villagers?" How she managed to get the words out without shrieking was a mystery. The blackguard could have been watching her for days. The thought caused her to shiver, and Marcus drew the edges of her cape tightly across her chest, rubbed her upper arms.

  "We don't know if the intruder is Victor's accomplice." He raised his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "I know what you're going to say, that he must be, else how could he have known your name, your previous occupation."

  "Exactly," she said with an element of frustration. "There is no other explanation."

  A frisson of fear shot through her as she realised the gravity of her words. A man, just as cold and as callous as Victor, had come to seek his revenge.

  Marcus raised an arrogant brow. "There is always another explanation, and more often than not it is glaringly obvious. We've missed a vital piece of the puzzle and tonight a casual conversation will lead us to the culprit."

  "You seem mighty confident. I just hope you're right."

  "I'm always right," he said with a chuckle. "Besides, if you think about it logically, the accomplice would have had to have been in London on the night Victor died. He would have had to have followed you here."

  Anna tried to recall the events of the night she stabbed Victor. For her own sanity, she had hoped never to revisit them. Lord Danesfield had been busy arranging her departure. He had ridden alongside the carriage, stayed with them until they'd set sail. Fragments of memories flashed through her mind. Had they been followed? She didn't think so. Then again, her thoughts had been in a state of constant disarray.

  "I don't remember seeing anyone lurking about, but I'm certain Lord Danesfield would have noticed."

  Marcus nodded. "Precisely. Dane would have known the moment someone started trailing your carriage. And if the accomplice did follow you here, why wait three weeks to reveal himself? You've been down to the village numerous times on your own.
He's had every opportunity to approach you before now."

  Anna pondered his words. "I suppose it does sound a little far-fetched. But there is another option. What if he came looking for Victor at Labelles, heard of Lord Danesfield's involvement from one of the girls and found a way to read his letters?"

  Marcus massaged his chin, the furrow between his brows growing more prominent. "It's nigh on impossible. The letters were all stamped with Dane's crest." He paused. "Unless he stole one, intercepted it on route somehow."

  She had not thought of that. "So you believe there is a possibility the man in the stable could be Victor's accomplice?"

  He stroked her cheek, the affectionate gesture calming her racing heart. "Look. We must not jump to conclusions. We must study the facts as they present themselves. I've written to Dudley Spencer, Dane's associate, and asked him to investigate the matter of the comte having a business partner. But it could take weeks for him to write back with news. In the meantime, we must see what we can discover for ourselves."

  Anna forced a smile. Regardless of her earlier reservations, she trusted his decision. Besides, she enjoyed his company and the thought of spending a few leisurely hours with him was reward in itself.

  They crossed the road to the inn. Marcus opened the door for her, and they walked inside. As she suspected, the place was full to bursting, every table occupied, the boisterous throng all singing along with a minstrel strumming his lute. Various smells flooded her senses: wood smoke mingled with stale tobacco, sweat and beef stew. It took a tremendous amount of effort not to cover her nose and gag.

  Nodding to the few people who offered a greeting, she scanned the room. "Did you know it would be this busy?"

  "One of the minstrels stayed on after the fair. I heard he has developed an affection for Lenard's sister."

  Anna cast him a sidelong glance. Was that the reason for their visit? Was Marcus distrusting of the stranger amongst their midst?

  "Well, he's certainly brought some life to the place," she said deciding not to broach the subject of the intruder again.

  Just being in Marcus' company made her anxieties disappear. She tried to imagine what his life would be like without the thrill of an assignment — safer, predictable, rather dull? As much as she'd been keen for him to abandon his dangerous pursuits and farm the land, she felt he would need a purpose, a cause worth fighting for if he was to be truly happy.

  An idea popped into her head, as illuminating as a hundred candles in a dark room. Wonderful! She knew just the thing. Indeed, if Marcus showed no interest in the project, she would fund it herself. All she needed—

  "Madame Tullier is beckoning us to her table," Marcus said, tapping her on the arm to disturb her reverie.

  She followed Marcus' gaze to the middle-aged woman sitting to their right in the near corner of the room. Anna watched her take an empty chair from the table next to her before looking up and waving vigorously enough to fan a spark into a flame.

  Pushing past the people standing, they made their way to the woman whose pastries were so delicious they would sell for a shilling a piece in London. Born and raised in Whitechapel before marrying a Frenchman at the tender age of sixteen, Madame Tullier had lived in the village for thirty years.

  "Sit 'ere," she said with some excitement. The woman liked talking about England, but usually, it took a few sentences before she reverted to her natural dialect.

  "I shall go and get a drink," Marcus said pulling out a chair for Anna to sit.

  Anna looked up at his handsome face. "I think that would be wise considering the number of people in here tonight."

  "I'm so pleased for Lenard," Madame Tullier said when Marcus left them alone. "Fate has a way of bringin' an answer to all our prayers."

  Anna nodded as she offered the woman a warm smile, suddenly realising that the same was true of her situation. "I couldn't agree with you more, madame."

  Fate had brought her to Marcus Danbury, to the delightful monastery where she had discovered the true nature of the person hidden within — the person she had buried beneath a false facade for far too long.

  "Lucy, you must call me Lucy." She nodded to a point beyond Anna's shoulder. "Antoine had the same idea about the drinks though it's been a while since he's looked at me the way Mr. Danbury does you. You can always tell the look of a gentleman in love, I say."

  Anna swallowed deeply. All the blood rushed to her cheeks, and she pressed them with the tips of her fingers. The woman had obviously mistaken a friendly countenance for something far more meaningful.

  "My, it's hot in here," Lucy said giving her a knowing wink as she removed her shawl. "It's so hot it's made my heart all aflutter."

  "Mr. Danbury mentioned the minstrel had brought people out this evening," Anna said in a desperate attempt to change the subject. Removing her cape and draping it over her chair, she asked, "What made the minstrel decide to stay? Mr. Danbury thought it had something to do with Lenard's sister."

  Lucy nodded. "Juliet? She was widowed last spring. But for a woman with her warmth an' natural beauty, I'm not surprised she's found love again. That's why I'm so pleased for Lenard. He's such a good man and deserves some happy news."

  Anna pitied the woman's naiveté. If only she knew the man she spoke highly of was planning to ship contraband across the sea.

  "Well, I'll be surprised if he doesn't run out of ale tonight," Anna said in a neutral tone.

  Lucy Tullier shrugged. "I'm sure he won't mind. No ale means a pocket full of coin and he needs it more than anyone. Bless his soul."

  Intrigued by the comment, Anna glanced over her shoulder before turning back to her companion. "I would imagine he makes a decent enough living here. I didn't realise he was struggling financially."

  Lucy Tullier leant across the table, the wooden surface supporting her large bosom. "Don't say it was me as told you, but his daughter has got this problem with her bones. The doctor said he's got to break her leg and reset it else she'll not walk properly again."

  "But I didn't even know he had a daughter. I mean, I've never seen her about the village."

  "She stays in her room mostly. Lenard confided in Antoine but don't mention—" Lucy Tullier stopped abruptly as Marcus and Antoine returned with mugs of ale.

  Lost in thoughtful contemplation, Anna jumped when Marcus tapped her on the arm.

  "They've no wine, so I bought you ale," he said sitting in the chair beside her. "I can take it back."

  "It doesn't matter. I'm sure it will be fine." She shook her head, offering a smile to reassure him. Besides, her mind was too preoccupied with a moral dilemma to worry about her own needs. Lenard's involvement with the smugglers was a means to fund his daughter's care.

  "It's good to see everyone enjoying themselves," Marcus said after taking a sip of his ale. "I know almost everyone here, except the man propped up against the wooden pillar." Marcus jerked his head. "The one with the wavy black hair and long side-whiskers."

  Both Lucy and Antoine glanced covertly at the stranger. Anna stared too, doubting the scrawny excuse for a man could be Victor's accomplice.

  "Do you mean Samuel? The man smoking the clay pipe?"

  Marcus nodded.

  "Ah, but you must know Samuel," Antoine said with some surprise. "He has been working in Lyon these past few years, something to do with Italy and the silk trade. I have seen him about a few times this week and assumed he'd come home to stay."

  Marcus shook his head. "I have a reasonably good memory, but I can't recall ever meeting him before."

  Antoine threw his hands up in the air. "Ah, you must have. Samuel Lessard. His sister Selene is your cook."

  Chapter 17

  "Is everything alright?" Anna said as they entered the chapter house. She removed her cape and draped it over the chair. "You hardly said a word on the ride home. Indeed, you've been quiet ever since Antoine mentioned Selene's brother."

  Marcus could think of nothing other than Samuel Lessard. The man had left the inn short
ly after their arrival. His return to the village and the fact his sister worked at the monastery could not be a coincidence. Marcus suspected one of his staff had caused the disturbance which caused Anna to leave his room to investigate. Despite his suspicion, he could not imagine Selene would have either the courage or the cunning required to achieve the task.

  "I'm curious to know more about any newcomers to the village. But I was thinking about what happened here last night. I've been replaying the event over in my mind." He lit the candelabra and gestured for her to sit. "Tell me again what you heard, what you saw. Do not leave anything out. Tell me everything, even the insignificant details."

  He sat back in the chair behind his desk. The distance would allow him to focus on the task. Being alone with Anna always caused desire to flare, and he was forced to banish all thoughts of seduction.

  She sat in the chair opposite. "I heard footsteps pacing the corridor outside your room."

  She had only just begun and a question popped into his head. "When you say footsteps, be more precise. Were they heavy like the dull thud of boots, or light like the patter of bare feet?"

  She pursed her lips, the lines on her brow more prominent as she glanced up at the ceiling. "They were light, so light I almost missed them."

  Marcus nodded. The revelation did not bode well for Selene. "And you didn't think to wake me?"

  "You were tired." She shrugged, and a tempting smile played at the corners of her mouth. "You were sleeping so soundly, and I am used to leaving my room in the middle of the night to check on the girls, to console and offer words of comfort."

  Marcus swallowed down the hard lump in his throat as he imagined her dealing with all sorts of distressing scenarios. "You said you heard whimpering. Was it the sound of someone in pain, or more a mournful cry?"

  She glanced at the floor in silent contemplation. "I'm not sure. I remember thinking it sounded sorrowful, but when I saw the apparition, then it became more a grieving wail."