Alexandra took his hand and led him to the desk. She was shaking and he longed to take her in his arms, but this task was important and they had to work fast before they were discovered.
Alexandra crawled underneath the desk, Nicholas squatting beside her, roving his hand over the smooth woodwork as if divining a drawer to magically open. “I don’t feel a thing.”
“I remember my father holding me on his lap, and as young as I was, saying, ‘Alexandra, very important.’”
Nicholas glanced at the door to the library, did not hear any movement from the rest of the house. Good. At this late hour, the servants slept. His father had come through as promised, and secured an invitation for Lady Sutherland and Willean to a soiree at the Banfield’s, and then the Duke and Duchess of Somer’s ball for the next night. They would be staying at the Sutherland townhouse in London for the weekend. Rutland guards were posted there to keep them updated on their movements.
He eased upward, lit a lamp and lowered it to the floor.
“Won’t the light alert Ursula’s guards outside?”
Nicholas patted his gun in his belt. “They will have enough headache to last them a long time. They were taken care of. I’m very thorough. I do not want to put you at any more risk than necessary.”
Alexandra ran her fingers all around. Nicholas followed. Smooth, satiny moldings, flat surfaces. Not one catch. Not one depression. Not one trip-lever. “Nothing, Alexandra.”
Her fingers shook. “I have come so far and refuse to leave without proof. I know it’s here.”
He hated hearing the pleading in her voice.
“I will not go until I’ve found the proof of who I am. My father and Molly will have not died in vain. This is my obligation to them.”
“Enough. We have been here longer than we have allotted.” He grabbed her arm.
She jerked back, and then fell to her knees, probing, poking, crying. “I cannot leave.” Footsteps pounded in the outer hall.
“Hell. Had his men missed a guard posted in the house?”
As Nicholas rose, he leaned on a brass knob. Click. He stretched his hand beneath the desk. A farthing-sized button protruded. With certainty, there was a correlation with the pressure he put on the brass knob and the button. That’s why no one had figured it out. He unclasped a door and a drawer slid out.
Alexandra grabbed papers, held them up to the light. “This document speaks of my inheritance. This is the evidence I’ve been looking for.”
He stuffed the papers in his shirt, blew out the lantern. The door swung open. He jerked Alexandra to her feet, hauled her to the window. Too late. A light shone on them.
“Lady Lucy Sutherland. Is it really you…not a ghost?”
Alexandra turned and blinked. The elderly gentleman had called her by her mother’s name. She remembered him. Her father’s butler, Andrew Baines, older now, his cheeks furrowed and writhen like rain-washed crags. He had always been kind to her. “Bainey?”
“My God. Is it you, Lady Alexandra, all grown up?” He lifted his light and the rays spread across a portrait above the fireplace. “You have your father’s eyes but you are a mirror image of your mother.”
Nicholas cursed. “By God, if that isn’t evidence enough.”
Bainey placed the light on the desk, his mouth gaping. “I thought you had been kidnapped and died. Where have you been all these years?”
“Molly and Samuel Elwins hid me away to protect me from Ursula.”
“Lady Ursula is an evil woman, mistress. I must tell you, I believe your father had suspicions of your stepmother before he died, and informed me you were the heir. Years later, your stepmother, Lady Ursula and Willean were in their cups. They were toasting each other, and she bragged how she had poisoned your father to make Willean the heir, telling him where she kept the bottle of poison in case he ever needed it.”
Alexandra sobbed. “She killed Molly, too.”
Bainey swore. “I overheard Lady Sutherland saying something about killing Molly. She was a good woman.”
“Why didn’t you come forward sooner?” Nicholas asked.
“Lady Ursula caught me eavesdropping on her poisoning the Baron. She blackmailed me, knowing I stole silver from a former employer and threatened to have me sent to Newgate. Recently I’ve been told by a doctor I have tumors and have months to live. I’d like to do what is right by you, Lady Sutherland, before I meet my maker.”
Nicholas stepped forward. “I’m Lord Rutland. We need you to come with us to attest to Lady Ursula’s crimes. You will be under my protection.”
“A pleasure, milord. I’ve burned to see Lady Ursula pay for what she has done for a long time. What might be helpful is that I swapped a similar bottle and kept the original in safekeeping for evidence.”
“Nobody’s goin’ anywhere because what I ‘ave to say goes.”
Damn. Nicholas whirled around, shoved Alexandra behind him. His stomach rolled, obviously a guard Ursula had posted inside the house. So much for his man’s reconnaissance.
The man gestured with his gun to Alexandra. “’er ladyship thought you’d show up.”
Definitely East Londoners. They didn’t bother to pronounce their “t’s” and “h’s.” They were large men, dressed the same, in dirty breeches and purloined frock coats. They smelled the same too. Eau de Rookeries. They both had hats. Comical. Formal top hats jammed on dirty heads. They were both bow-legged, probably from malnutrition when they were young, yet boasted an intimidating air. One had a scar down the side of his left cheek and his companion boasted a scar down his right cheek. They could have been twins.
The two men moved into the room, stopped six feet in front of him. Nicholas pulled his gun from his belt. One against two wasn’t bad except he had Alexandra to protect. Not good. His father’s men outside, too far to help.
Bainey froze, his hands up, a scared man, resembling an unhappy mastiff. Not much help there.
Both thugs grinned like gargoyles. “You can shoot one of us, your lordship, but you still ‘ave the ot’er bloke to deal wit’.”
Nicholas flexed his left shoulder, ran some muscle tension up through his back and shoulders. “Not if I dispatch both of you first.”
They both laughed. The thug on his left moved closer, waved his gun. Nicholas followed to his left. A candlestick was within reach of Bainey. Would the old servant show courage? He needed a distraction. Keep talking.
“I can double Ursula’s pay. No questions asked. You gentleman could set yourselves up nice in a country house. Take my deal now. You won’t have regrets.”
Right scar laughed. “We’re doing just fine, gent.”
“So, let me guess. You’ll tie us up. Deliver us to Lady Sutherland, and then hide in the Colonies.”
“Brilliant, yer lordship.”
“I have matchless deductive powers, able to read minds, and from time to time, give patronage to idiots.”
Left scar edged closer. “Ye think ye’re funny.”
Nicholas flexed his muscles, he itched for some hard-knuckle fighting. “I am funny.” He moved a little closer to tighten up the triangle. Bainey reached for the candlestick. The ancient butler had more mettle than he thought.
Right scar lowered his gun. Nick hooked a right, thrust Right scar’s arm up. The pistol fired, the round hitting the ceiling. Plaster showered over them. Right scar’s only chance.
An object flew past Nicholas’s ear. The crack of glass against bone. Left scar went down. Effective, whatever it was.
“He’s mine,” Nicholas growled and dove for Right scar. He clubbed his fist into Right scar’s face, drove it through his cheek, toppling both to the floor. Right scar lay limp beneath him, out cold. Nicolas twitched his nose, lifted off Right scar’s body. He brushed off plaster. The lingering odor from Right scar stayed.
Bainey fetched the two guns. Nicholas took them from the servant’s shaking hands. “Two guys. Two guns. Three seconds.”
Nicholas did a double-take. Black liquid po
oled around Left scar’s head. She had laid the wretched scum low with an ink bottle?
Alexandra threw her hands up. “What was I supposed to do? Wait until you got around to clubbing them?”
He wiped the sweat from his head, and then wrapped his arm around her. She would always be his Alexandra. “Let’s go before there are any more mishaps. My carriage is beyond the tree line.”
Chapter 27
Alexandra entered the ballroom, her gaze darting, hands fidgeting at her side. Her mouth fell open at the opulence, from the painted mural of the crowned Apollo and his drawn bow, joining forces with Poseidon punishing the people of Troy. Huge chandeliers of gold and crystal flashed like tiny suns, the polished floors reflecting the candlelight. White marble columns lined-up along the walls, like soldiers reaching for the vault of heaven.
The Duke and Duchess of Somers had spared no expense and the evening was trumpeted to be the marquee event of the year. Flanked by Rachel and Aunt Margaret, and waiting to be announced, Alexandra stood at the top of the stairs looking over the lords and ladies whirling about the ballroom in a colorful array of silks and satins.
Tonight, was especially important. Nicholas and his father had been gone for the better part of the day. She had no idea what they had arranged, receiving a note at noon that she was to attend the Somer’s ball with Aunt Margaret and Rachel, and that everything was in place.
Butterflies flip-flopped in her stomach.
Aunt Margaret leaned over and spoke low and confidingly. “In addition to other planned events tonight, we must remain within the boundaries of polite society. Remember, only two dances with Nicholas, no more. And only one dance per each gentleman. The subtlety conveys your coming out, and hints Nicholas is your intended, a strong statement to the rest of the world.
Alexandra was announced as Lady Alexandra Sutherland. She halted at the top of the stairs, forcing herself to step down in a graceful manner, attempting a ladylike glide toward the bottom, instead of running like she did down the mountain on the island. Was everyone in the room scrutinizing her because of her name?
“They are looking at you because you are the mystery woman who spent time on the island with Lord Nicholas,” confirmed Rachel. “With the powerful Duke of Rutland’s nod and Nicholas’s, I predict, you will be asked to dance many times.”
Alexandra resisted the urge to tug her new gown upward. “This neckline is scandalous. I must look like a courtesan.”
“Look at Nicholas,” Rachel angled her head. “The desired effect is devastating.”
She scanned the crush for Nicholas. His dark head was bent low as he listened attentively to a portly gentleman beside him. He laughed at something the man said, but he watched her beneath hooded eyes and caught her anxious glance. A reassuring smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
As prophesied, Alexandra danced and danced. A legion of gentlemen’s faces blurred. Beneath her lashes, she studied Nicholas, leaning indolently against a marble column. Dark formfitting evening clothes hugged the lean, taut lines of his body. Pale grey breeches clung to the defined curves of his strong thighs like a besotted lover. The clothing’s restrictive elegance somehow enhanced the untamed, earthy quality that radiated from him. She giggled remembering his torn breeches on the island, and then sighed, admiring everything about him, from the easy way he wore his elegant clothes to his sophisticated charm.
For a fleeting moment, the memory of the way his mouth had felt moving over hers tingled through her, causing a misstep. She begged her partner for refreshment.
Alexandra allowed the gentleman to escort her to the side. Her breath hitched. She faced Nicholas’s uncle, the Duke of Westbrook. His clothes were beautifully made and fit him well, and he possessed the pale petulant look of a true aristocrat.
“Good evening, my lady.” His tongue darted over his lips.
Alexandra inclined her head in acknowledgment. How he watched her like a falcon does a rabbit. Intense, single-minded, and she, like the prey grasped within a peregrine’s claw, kicking and screaming to get free. She shuddered, and then gratefully accepted a dance from a flaxen-hair gentleman.
An hour passed and Alexandra grew more distracted, looking for Ursula and Willean. So far, they had not appeared. Had they returned to her ancestral home? No. Duke Richard had verified they were coming. Oh, how she wished she had been able to talk to Nicholas earlier. What had he and his father schemed?
With Aunt Margaret and Rachel, Alexandra repaired to a dressing room. An altercation of some sort preceded their arrival. A younger woman shouted and cursed an older woman. The older woman’s hands covered her face, reduced to tears.
“Lady Dabney…” said the younger woman, “…everyone in the ton knows you are penniless because or your drunken, profligate husband. He has squandered away all your son’s inheritance. And your husband owes my father thousands. To think your unfortunate manor is not enough to pay all your husband owes my father. Well, I guess you will be spending time in debtor’s prison when your husband dies.”
The hackles on Alexandra’s neck went up. She had heard enough of the conversation to glean the bullying tactics of the younger woman especially when the older woman’s humiliation existed from her husband’s sins and out of her control.
“Excuse me,” Alexandra said.
The younger woman whirled, her hands clenched in tight fists. Alexandra stared back. Lady Susannah Tomkins, Nicholas’s former fiancée. Never did she expect a woman whose beauty rivaled most women would be so unkind. “What a cruel, unfortunate creature you are. How dare you?”
Lady Susannah scowled, her face contorted. “Oh, I dare. And to whom do I have the misfortune of speaking with?”
“You already know the answer to that question. You were practically falling out of your opera box, glaring daggers at me.”
Lady Susannah made a little moue of her mouth. “Oh, Nicholas’s whore from the island.”
Rachel gasped and so did the older lady. Blood rushed to Alexandra’s face. She was at a disadvantage, an unfamiliar feeling with which she was unaccustomed and did not like.
Aunt Margaret squeezed in front of her. “What is the rumor about Arthur, your stable master? And then, the gardener and onto a variety of young men around London. You are a very busy girl, Lady Susannah.”
Lady Susannah paled.
Aunt Margaret didn’t just shoot arrows, she hit with the full onslaught of a hundred cannons. Lady Susannah’s mouth worked up and down. She poked a gloved finger at Aunt Margaret. “I’ll get even with you.”
“Lady Susannah, you don’t even want to attempt such a feat. By the way, what happened with that circus performer last week?”
“He was an actor,” Lady Susannah snapped, then slapped her hands on her face, tricked into revealing her latest indiscretion. Her face beet red and her neck veins popping, she turned on her heel and huffed from the powder room.
Rachel fanned herself. “I have to say you did right, Aunt Margaret, knowing how you hate to be wrong.”
“Wrong? I wouldn’t know. I’m not familiar with the phenomenon.” Aunt Margaret smirked.
Alexandra laughed. “You surrounded her like General Washington did to the Hessians at Trenton. You were brilliant.”
Aunt Margaret smacked her lips in distaste. “Surrounding the Hessians was an easy endeavor. All Washington had to do was play on their arrogance.”
“Exactly,” Rachel contended.
“I’m not arrogant. I’m confident,” snorted Aunt Margaret. “As to my nephew, Nicholas, he was never smitten with Lady Susannah, nor was he blind to her faults, but he was duty bound. I never liked the girl. Plotted against her. She never had a chance. Not that I needed to scheme against her. Quite accidently, I came upon another weapon.”
Rachel laughed. “And what weapon was that, Aunt Margaret?”
“Why our girl, Alexandra. She has him eating out of her hand.”
Aunt Margaret wobbled to the settee and sat next to the weeping older woman. �
��You can live in my home, Lady Dabney. It has been vacant for some time and needs the tender company of an occupant.”
Alexandra gasped. Lady Jane. “Did I hear, right? Are you Lady Jane Winthrop Dabney? Captain Sharp’s, Lady Jane?”
Lady Jane clamped a hand to her chest. Was the old woman about to swoon?
“You know John? I mean, Captain Sharp?”
Alexandra took hold of the woman’s hands. “Lady Jane, it is an honor to meet you. Please call on me tomorrow for tea. I have something very important to discuss, but I can’t tell you now. Sleep well tonight. You and your son’s fortunes have been changed.”
Alexandra left behind a bemused Rachel and an intrigued, Aunt Margaret and returned to the ballroom. Duke Cornelius abruptly moved in front of her, and bowed. She opened her mouth to protest when he took her into his arms for a waltz. In no way did she like how he manhandled her into the dance without her permission, but was reluctant to be at odds with someone Nicholas considered family. She had to admit, his dancing was flawless as he whirled her around the ballroom.
“Would you like to visit my home?” said Duke Cornelius and Alexandra snapped her eyes to his. His invitation seemed improper. “I promise not to bite,” he joked.
He was so charming that Alexandra raced through possibilities that she had been wrong about her opinion of him. Perhaps she had been unfair in judging him from the start. He had only showed kindness to Nicholas and his family and to her. But the familiarity of his voice nagged her.
“Of course, when Nicholas is free, we would love to visit.”
He bestowed her with a tight smile, obviously not liking her response. No, that was ridiculous. She was imagining the worst.
“Of course, with Nicholas. I presumed—”
“Presume nothing, Lord Westbrook. I beg your pardon, but my nerves are raw tonight.” She relaxed a notch.
“I understand. A young lady making a sensation on her first introduction can be allowed to have emotion.”
Why did his teasing possess the same discord as a bow that slipped off the strings of a viola? And where had Nicholas disappeared to? Alexandra’s shoulders dipped in disappointment. He had not claimed a single dance.
Only You: Duke of Rutland Series III Page 22