The Stranger She Married (Rogue Hearts Book 1)

by Donna Hatch

  Cole’s eyes widened.

  “And a few months before I married the baron, a poisonous snake lay in my path where I always walk. It bit me. The gamekeeper told me later that kind of snake is normally afraid of people. Also, it usually stays deeper in the forest. There is some bracken in the stand of trees where I was walking, but it seems odd that an adder had come so close to the formal gardens. And you may not know this, but my bed caught on fire only weeks after I married the baron.”

  “I did know,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “Then there was that odd highwayman attack where they asked for me. And now my Uncle Willard is dead. Doesn’t that all strike you as remarkably strange? Beyond coincidental?”

  He nodded grimly. “Quite suspicious.”

  “Then you believe me?”

  He paused and carefully wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Yes. I had already come to the same conclusion. Hearing of your mother’s riding mishap and the details of the carriage accident only confirms it. Nicholas and I have spoken and his servants have all been keeping you under guard.”

  She blinked. That explained rather a lot. “I have no idea who would want to kill any of us, much less all of us, or why. A magistrate would likely try to place the blame on someone within the family. Which leaves few obvious suspects. Robert. Hannah. Or me.”

  “I think we can safely eliminate you.” Amusement touched his mouth. “And no one in their right mind would believe it of Hannah.”

  “You can’t believe Robert is responsible.”

  “You said he was the most likely suspect.”

  Frowning, Alicia continued to pace. “Yes, but I’ve known Robert all my life, and he has never shown any signs of violent behavior. He doesn’t even have a bad temper. Besides, what possible motive would he have?”

  “I can’t explain why anyone would want you or your mother dead, but Robert might have wanted to eliminate your father and brother so he could eventually inherit their lands. His father squandered all the money on dubious business investments and excessive gambling once before. Perhaps now that the debts have been cleared, Robert feared there might be nothing left for him to inherit except for another mountain of debt if he waited for his father to die of old age.”

  She nodded slowly. “An investigator might have the same suspicions. That’s why I don’t want to go to one of them.”

  “I already have,” Cole said.

  She stared at him, her heart stalling. “What?”

  “My duel with Armand was arranged. The woman we dueled over confessed that someone paid her to coerce us into dueling. And Armand’s consequent death was too sudden. He was murdered. Clearly, Willard’s death is too coincidental to be a mere robbery gone bad. Someone is trying to kill everyone in your family. We need help uncovering the plot before it’s too late. You or Hannah might be next.”

  Anger flared through her. “You went to a constable?”

  “Not a constable—someone I trust to learn the truth. He will give this his full attention.”

  She stared at him, her fury mounting. “You have no right to interfere with family matters!”

  “I am involved. Someone manipulated me. I was the one who pulled the trigger that made Armand’s death too conveniently arranged.”

  Alicia flinched at an image of a deadly calm Cole firing a pistol at her twin, watching him crumple, blood spewing from his arm. “You still have no right to go to the authorities without my knowledge.” Her voice rose in both pitch and volume.

  “I have every right!” Uncharacteristic anger gave volume to his words and he leaped to his feet. “If someone is murdering everyone in your family, then you might be the next target. The killer already tried more than once. I have a responsibility toward you, and I’m not going to let someone murder you.”

  A responsibility? That’s all she was to him? That explained much. His kindness, his protectiveness, stemmed not from his feelings for her, but a result of feeling responsible for the sister of a man he’d dueled. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d said as much when he’d proposed to her before she married Nicholas.

  His words at the ball had been a lie, a means to seduce her.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m not your responsibility. Now that I am married, that burden has passed from you to my husband. He should be here looking after me, not you. If he cared, he would be.”

  His legs devoured the space between them and he grabbed her by the shoulders, his face only inches away from her. “If you gave him reason to care, he might!”

  Alicia’s hand flew of its own will and the resounding slap echoed in the room. Stunned by her own action, she felt the blood drain out of her face.

  Cole blinked at her in astonishment. He pressed his lips into a thin white line as the red mark on his cheek became more visible every second. His face hardened into granite.

  Alicia put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Cole, I’m—”

  “Don’t.” He shoved her away and left the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed.

  Alicia went to the window as he sprinted athletically around the side of the house.

  “How long have you been in love with him?”

  Alicia whirled around. Robert leaned against the doorway. Bathed, shaven, and dressed as impeccably as Cole, thanks to Stephens’s care, Robert appeared clear-eyed and sober, but the grief he bore weighed upon him. Losing Armand and his father in less than two years must be difficult to bear. Alicia understood all too well.

  She sighed. “What gave you that ridiculous notion?”

  “Only lovers fight like that.”

  “I am not his lover!”

  “Perhaps not in body, but you are in love with him.” His head nodded toward the window.

  Alicia glanced over her shoulder as Cole, astride his favorite white horse, André, galloped away from the house. She turned back to Robert. “I am not. I could never love that… that…” At his look of sympathy, she gritted, “Be silent, you fool.” She brushed past him, stormed up the stairs without aplomb, and slammed her door.

  Dinner was a silent affair. Cole ate dutifully, barely tasting the fare and trying to ignore the hollowness in a place food would never touch. He glanced at Alicia. Her posture rigid, her eyes downcast, she merely pushed her food around her plate. He couldn’t believe she’d slapped him. He never would have believed it of her. Her hatred must run deep. He was fast losing hope that she’d ever forgive him, much less care for him.

  Robert drank more than he ate, but he still seemed to notice his guests’ lack of enthusiasm over dinner. “Cook’s meal not to your liking, cousin? My lord?”

  Alicia raised her head. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s very good,” Cole said dully.

  Alicia rallied. “I’m sure it tastes better when your palate hasn’t been numbed by strong drinks, Robbie.” Forced levity colored Alicia’s voice.

  Wearing a half-smile, Robert saluted her with a glass of wine before turning his attention to Cole. “My Lord Amesbury, after dinner, can I interest you in a game of chess? The billiards table, among other things, was seized months ago, I’m afraid.”

  Robert’s frankness and unabashed admission at his period of poverty surprised Cole.

  “My man of business tells me I need to make a few more prudent investments before I start refurnishing or redecorating the place. I feel like I live in a monastery with such Spartan furnishings. Despite the baron’s best efforts, Father didn’t leave me with much…” His voice trailed off and stark grief crossed his features. He emptied his wine glass.

  “I enjoy chess,” Cole replied easily. At least, he hoped it sounded easy.

  After dinner, they sat down together across the chess board. Alicia flitted about the room before finally settling down in a chair by the window.

  “It’s raining,” she commented lifelessly.

  A servant knocked and delivered a missive to Alicia.

  “Thank you, Dobbs.” She frowned at the seal on the envelope. “It’s from the
baron. Ah, I mean, my husband—Nicholas.”

  She had probably added the last for his benefit, due to his comment about her never using her husband’s Christian name. She broke the seal and opened the letter.

  “He’s coming. He apologized for his absence but he will arrive shortly. That was thoughtful.” Her voice betrayed her lack of enthusiasm.

  Cole nodded slowly and glanced at Robert, who watched him with his brow raised. His eyes flicked between Cole and Alicia as if awaiting reactions.

  Keeping his face devoid of expression, Cole said, “Then I will take my leave as soon as he arrives.”

  Alicia straightened. “You’re leaving?”

  “As you said. It is for your husband to look after you. Not for me to do. I will remain to watch over you until he can take over that duty. I have responsibilities elsewhere.”

  And if the person who wanted the Palmers dead thought they were only guarded by a few elderly servants and a cripple who couldn’t even sit a horse, then all the better. The murderer would attempt to strike when he perceived them most vulnerable. Cole would remain hidden and could protect them better.

  He’d sent a letter by express courier to Grant, telling him of the events Alicia had revealed, and asked for Grant to come help watch over the house. He also sent a message to Jared and asked for his help, in the off chance he was still in London. With his brothers’ help, he could keep better watch over Alicia.

  “Check.” Robert grinned at him.

  Cole snatched his thoughts back to the game. He countered and tried to clear his mind, but his whole body thrummed with awareness. Alicia remained tantalizingly close and yet, more out of reach than ever. She resumed her pacing, the firelight and shadows playing hide and seek with her soft, womanly contours.

  “Check.”

  Blast! Focus, Amesbury.

  He countered again. Alicia carefully folded the letter and rewrapped it in the envelope.

  “Checkmate.”

  With a sound of disgust, Cole pushed away from the table. “Forgive me for not providing much sport. You played very well. And now, I believe I will retire.”

  They said their good nights and he headed upstairs, weary deep in his soul.

  Silk rustled behind him and Alicia called softly, “Cole.”

  He froze. Alicia’s voice, gentle, full of regret, nearly undid him. She did not speak until she came within arm’s reach. He folded his hands behind his back and looked at her lovely, guileless face.

  With childlike vulnerability, her eyes probed his. “I’m sorry. My action was uncalled for. I can’t believe I slapped you. Please accept my apology.”

  “Apology accepted,” he replied more abruptly than he meant.

  She winced and moistened her lips. “You were right about everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. And I’m sorry for becoming angry that you went to an investigator. I feared if we brought in an outsider, that he might implicate Robert. Cole, I know he didn’t do it. It’s not possible.”

  He looked down at her pleading face and gentled his voice. “I don’t believe he’s guilty of murder, either. And trust me, I said as much.”

  Relief sweetened her face and she touched his arm. He swallowed hard and clenched his hands.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry. I seem to be continually trying to find sinister motives for your actions. I see now that it was only out of a sense of duty that you’ve been helping me. I am grateful.” Her voice sounded oddly choked.

  Duty. That did not begin to touch his motives. Best if that’s how she saw it, despite his earlier blunder at confessing he loved her. No doubt she thought he used the words merely in his attempt to seduce her.

  “I’m happy to be of service to you. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Inside his room, he waved away Stephens and sat by the fireplace, wondering if there would always be so much left unspoken between them. Or if he would ever be free to tell her the burning desires of his heart. First, he had to keep her safe. He paced, casting about for ideas, solutions, turning them over and discarding them.

  Then he plotted how he might lure the killer to strike again. This time, Cole would be ready. With his own kind of justice.

  Chapter 26

  Alicia sat in the drawing room, trying to focus on her sewing but her thoughts kept scattering like dry leaves in the wind.

  “The Baron’s coach is here,” Dobbs announced as she entered the drawing room. “I’ve prepared the bedroom that you requested.”

  At the head housekeeper’s words, Alicia stood to go greet the baron. Nicholas. She needed to think of him as Nicholas.

  But his arrival meant Cole would leave now.

  Heavy of heart, she followed Dobbs downstairs to greet her husband. The baron’s valet, Jeffries, barked commands while others swarmed in the entryway. When the baron entered, the servants faltered, as unnerved by him as she’d been at first. But his enigmatic form evoked warmth and tenderness in her. He was not someone to fear—had never been. She moved to his side.

  Jeffries nodded to her. “Milady.” He drew himself up importantly and turned to the baron. “Your room is prepared, my lord, and your things will be situated to your satisfaction.”

  “Thank you, Jeffries.”

  Alicia smiled up at his masked face.

  “Alicia, my love. You have become even more beautiful since I last saw you.”

  She smiled more broadly at his soft, muffled voice. She’d missed him but much remained to be said between them. “It was kind of you to come, my lord.”

  “I came the moment I knew of your loss,” he said in that familiar muffled voice.

  “You did?”

  She could hear the smile underneath his mask. “I did. I’m your husband. I should be at your side in times such as these.”

  Touched, Alicia could barely utter, “Thank you.”

  Cole came downstairs and greeted the baron. “Glad you could make it.”

  “How could I not?” Her husband said softly.

  They exchanged a meaningful stare that left Alicia faintly alarmed.

  Cole stepped away and cast a brief glance at Alicia before going out the front door.

  After taking a moment to compose herself, she turned her attention to her husband and saw to it that he settled comfortably in the room next to hers. Somehow, it seemed right to put him in Armand’s old room.

  “The trip has tired me, my love. I believe I shall rest before dinner.” The baron—Nicholas, she corrected herself—sat heavily on his chair inside his room and allowed Jeffries to remove his boots.

  Alicia left his room. As she passed Cole’s open door, she paused to watch his valet carefully packing everything into a trunk.

  “Is he leaving so soon, Stephens?” she asked the valet, pausing at the doorway.

  “I’m afraid so, my lady,” he replied soberly. “He has his reasons.”

  Alicia nodded, heaviness settling over her. What a tangled mess. She wanted both men in her life, and yet refused to allow either one of them to love her. She hovered in the doorway while Stephens packed Cole’s clothing. “You are fond of him.”

  Stephens’s mouth curved upward in a lopsided smile, brightening his already striking Romany features. “Aye. I’ve known him a long time. We served on the same ship. He saved my life more than once.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  He nodded. “He’s a good man. A good friend. One of the few who looked past my half-Romany blood. After we came home, he offered me a position and was patient while I learned it.” He looked as though he wanted to say more and chewed his lip in indecision, his handsome, dark face pensive. “There is much more to him than people see.”

  She nodded, heaviness deepening. “You’re right. They see a scandalous libertine, but he is not that at all. There is much more to him.”

  “Aye, it’s true.”

  Alicia wondered how much of her relationship with his master Stephens knew. Probably much. “Take care of him.”


  “Count on it, my lady.”

  After donning her bonnet, she went to walk in the gardens. The summer was waning and soon autumn would arrive. She greeted the gardener bending over his “lovelies” and admired the flowers still in bloom. She made her usual circuit, passing, without a qualm, the place where the adder had bitten her, and completed the circle back to the house.

  Cole, astride his white horse, cantered toward the stables. From her viewpoint in the gardens, Alicia imagined him as a knight of old riding his destrier, with a sword strapped to his hip and chain mail under his tunic, her favor tied around his arm, returning from slaying enemies or another noble quest.

  He dismounted and led his horse toward the stables. He glanced her way, did a double-take and halted. As if he fought some inner battle, he stood motionless. Then he moved toward her, looking wholly, dangerously male, but his face was solemn, and his blue eyes were shielded.

  Alicia moistened her lips. “Stephens tells me you’re leaving now.”

  He nodded, his body stiff and guarded.

  “It’s already late afternoon,” she protested with rising alarm. “You won’t get very far today.”

  “There are plenty of inns along the way where I can lodge.”

  “You could stay here tonight. Begin your trip back in the morning, or in a few days.”

  His smile saddened, and she caught a glimpse of the hurt inside him. “It will be better this way. Without me reopening old wounds, perhaps you can begin a real marriage with your husband.” He quickly kissed her cheek and left without giving her an opportunity to reply.

  She remained motionless in an attempt to sort out her thoughts. She failed, and fled back to the house out of fear of missing his departure.

  While Cole’s servants loaded his baggage into the coach, Alicia hovered in the foyer and tried to think of something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. Or proper. Or honorable.

  He stood at the top of the stairs next to the baron’s cloaked form, conversing in terse whispers. They clasped hands. The baron turned and went back down the corridor to his room. Cole descended the stairs. His eyes softened as his gaze locked with hers and his lazy grin reappeared. Still, underneath it, that hint of inner pain remained. Or was it resentment?