Foster’s eyebrows rose in query.
“Why is someone trying to hurt me? What have I ever done to anybody to make them hate me so much?”
“I don’t know, Missy. I don’t know.” He looked shaken. “Might be a case of mistaken identity, I suppose.”
“You mean they think I’m someone else, someone they want dead?”
“Or that you’ve unknowingly gotten in someone’s way,” he said.
“I think it’s time we call in a Bow Street Runner, like you suggested.” She hated to bring a stranger into her private life, especially since she was using an assumed name to conceal her real reason for being in London, but what other choice did she have?
“I’ve already done that.” He avoided looking at her. She had vetoed it when he’d recommended it a week ago.
But that was before the intruder climbed into the house and before someone tried to break into her carriage the other day. And it was before this rock-throwing episode.
“And…?”
“They have no men available to help us.”
“Oh.” Just when she decided to agree with him and hire an investigator, there were none available. “There must be a lot of crime in London to keep them that busy.”
“They offered to send someone over as soon as they were able, but I told them that wouldn’t do, we needed someone immediately.”
Viewing the set of his pugnacious chin, she was certain he’d had much more to say than that, the old dear.
“I asked ’em if they knew of somebody who did such work, private like, and they gave me the name of a man, Phillip Mason. I sent him a note and we met yesterday…” At her look of surprise, he retorted, “While you were busy with yon Gordon.” He flushed a little at her raised eyebrow. “And I hired him, I did. He begins tomorrow.”
She stared at him silently. He wriggled, a little shamefaced, but mainly it was a belligerent look she got back.
“And when were you planning on telling me? When he sat down to eat with us?” she complained. “And how are we to afford him?”
“We can’t afford not to hire him! I am going to pay for him.”
At her splutter of outrage, he talked over her protests, “Yer Great Auntie Ida left me well provided for, Missy, and I haven’t had the time or the chance to spend any of it before now. She asked me to take care of you until ye were well settled.” A gruffness entered his voice. “She’d expect me to do this for you.”
“But you can’t–”
“Can too.” He sounded like a child trying to win at one-upmanship. “You can always pay me back when that new attorney of yours gets yer money back from your brothers’ control.” A sly grin slid across his wizened face. “You won’t find me objecting.”
“Put like that, I suppose it makes sense.” She felt ashamed. Imagine borrowing money from your retainer? Not that she ever really considered Foster a servant. He was far more of a father to her than her own had ever been. Still, it went against all the rules. On the other hand, it was evident they needed protection… and someone to investigate. He’d only worry, if they didn’t. “Will he be able to live in?”
“No, he won’t be living in.”
“He won’t? After Mr. Gordon climbed in the window! Surely you explained we need his protection day and night until this is cleared up.”
“Tried to.” He folded his arms across his chest defensively. “He said he’d take care of it.” Foster looked self-conscious. “He sounded so definite and sure of himself, I didn’t argue. Didn’t want to rile him none. He might have changed his mind about helping us.”
Tally was puzzled. “Didn’t he want to help us?”
“Not at first.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her. “Why not?”
“Appears he picks and chooses only the cases he wants to take on and right now he has several other cases open.”
“Sounds awfully finicky.”
“I asked him to pretend to be a friend of the family, which would be the easiest way of explaining him to yon Gordon, and he agreed.”
“Will that work, do you think?” Some of these runners were rough-looking around the edges and Reed was very observant, she was learning to her detriment.
He nodded, with a smug little air. “He’s even a mite better than what we might have expected.”
“So he’s presentable, I mean, suitable?” Her luck had been so bad since coming to Town she had a hard time believing anything positive could happen. “I haven’t much hope of that, but if we can introduce him as a family friend, it would be so much easier.”
“We’ve been lucky, much luckier than if we’d waited for a Runner.” He paused, clearly about to enjoy a ‘ta-dah’ moment. “The man’s a flaming blue blood! Third whelp of a Scottish Earl.”
“An Earl’s son! And he’s going to work for us? Who ever heard of such a thing?” She pressed her fingers against her aching temples. Oh, why did everything seem to be conspiring against her?
“According to one of the Runners I asked, after Mason got back from war, he was bored by too much inactivity. He comes highly recommended by the head man at Bow Street. He said Mr. Mason has an impeccable reputation and has never left a case unsolved. He’s even recruited a couple of his friends, former army men, to work with him.” Foster was proud of his coup. “I had to convince him of your need and it took some doing, I can tell you. He’s mighty particular about what he takes on. I think, in the end, it was the mystery of us not knowing who might want to kill you or why, that got him interested. He likes solving puzzles.”
“Hope he’s good at it, and fast too. If possible, I’d like him to solve this before they succeed,” she quipped wryly. “Did you mention Mr. Gordon?”
He nodded. “I told him that he was your husband, but since he just took a bad fall and awoke hours later having forgotten everything, even his own name, that he won’t be much help! And that it complicates matters because you don’t know if the attacks might have something to do with him or his business.”
She nodded her head in approval. She was pleased he had thought to say that. It would tie the two predicaments in together.
“That way, he can look into yon Gordon’s dealings while investigating who is trying to harm you.”
“That was smart of you!”
Glowing with pleasure at her compliment, he added, “I made it all sound part of the whole. I didn’t want him charging us more, once he knew there were two separate problems.”
Tally couldn’t help grinning at his parsimony, given he was generously offering to pay to resolve her troubles.
“That was the other thing that lured him in, I think. He was curious to meet a man who’d lost his memory.”
“Yes, I can see how that would be well nigh irresistible for someone who enjoys a good poser,” she retorted dryly. She didn’t find the conundrum quite so amusing, since it involved a stranger living in her house and attacks on her life. “So Mr. Mason will be arriving tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
“Good.” By now, she had forgotten all about reading the note that was still clutched in her hand. Gazing down, she noticed it and read the end of the sentence. “It says, ‘due to an illness in the family.’ Does that mean he’s gone back to France? I don’t think he has any other relatives here, in England, does he?”
“None, aside from the two I know of.” He responded. He knew Monsieur from long before Tally was even born. They’d met when Foster was working for Great Aunt Ida during the years she had offered a home to Monsieur and his family, to help them get on their feet. “His sister died last year, remember? So there’s only her son left, over here. And he lives in London, so Moreau wouldn’t need to go away if the nephew were ill.”
“The nephew….” She was annoyed she hadn’t thought of contacting him sooner. “Maybe I could locate him through the Royal Academy,” she said. “I may not want anybody to know I’m in London, but I can’t help feeling that Monsieur is in trouble and may need our help. His
disappearance may be connected to these attacks, and I won’t feel right until we know what’s happened to him.”
They arrived home a few moments later. She was relieved. Right now, it was the only place in London where she felt somewhat safe.
Entering the front hallway, she was astounded to hear Reed in the drawing room. Talking to someone! She looked at Foster in alarm.
He returned an ‘I-told-you-we-should-have-chucked-him-out-on-the-street’ shrug.
She glowered fiercely back at him. That was no help! Who was Reed talking to and why wasn’t he upstairs in his bedroom? Up until now, with the laudanum, he’d been too weak to do more than sit up for a meal.
“You heard right.” Her fake husband sounded composed and utterly confident. The epitome of a gentleman, in fact. Courteous yet firm.
She was just thinking it might not be so bad after all, when she heard him say, “I am Talia’s husband.”
Chapter Eight
A whirling dervish entered the drawing room, taking Reed aback. Foster limped in behind.
Talia! The energy emanating from her almost crackled. Her prime objective seemed to be to stop him from talking to Mr. Al… Allerton…
Damn, but he was having trouble focusing.
Ever since he’d awakened without his memory, a perpetual fog had been lodged in his brain. What little memories he had recovered seemed hazy at best. He ran frustrated fingers through his hair. Now, what had he been telling the young man? He gripped the back of an armchair to steady himself. He was so dizzy, it was hard to think straight.
His wife greeted the newcomer in an over loud and surprised voice. “Spencer!”
Was the man hard of hearing? He hadn’t appeared so when he’d presented himself at the door a few minutes ago, asking to see Miss Talia Lawton, which showed how little he knew her when he couldn’t even get her name straight!
A very ordinary-looking fellow. The visitor was of slight build, had mousy brown hair and a pale countenance, nothing remarkable about him at all. Reed tottered off-balance and had to clutch the armchair to stay upright. Al... Aller... whatever his name was, was all that was average, other than the shocked look in his nondescript brown eyes, when… When what?
“What are you doing in London? You never said you were thinking of coming to Town.” His wife was obviously on familiar terms with the man. Reed wasn’t sure how he felt about that. She rushed over to greet the young man, sounding more agitated than pleased to see him.
He was irked at how quickly she took the chap’s arm and all but dragged him across the room, away from Reed. If his legs weren’t feeling so wobbly, he’d march over there and assert his rights as a husband. Surely she should have greeted him first! And then to physically maneuver this man away from him! Was that normal behavior?
Why wasn’t he certain of that? Why wasn’t he certain of anything?
Foster came to stand beside him. The butler was looking uncomfortable and unsure what to do next. A rare moment of uncertainty for the tough old fellow.
“What made you venture out of Evesham?” Talia’s voice sounded odd. He’d swear she was trembling, and she looked unusually pale. Or was that his muddled perception again? His eyeballs felt as if they were unattached and rolling about in their sockets, making it difficult to focus on his wife’s face. She appeared to have an identical twin glued to her side, every bit as agitated as she was.
Was this inoffensive-looking young man distressing her?
Reed began to move across the room to support her, but Foster’s hand clamped onto the sleeve of Reed’s dressing gown and pulled him to a halt. He was so shaky on his feet, he almost toppled over. Annoyed, he turned an angry look on the gnome-like little man.
Foster whispered gruffly, “Best not. Best we get out of here and let her deal with him.” He yanked on the sleeve again, urging Reed to follow him out of the room. “Come on. I’ll explain upstairs.”
He resisted, though he was tempted. These days it was rare that any one offered to explain anything to him! But he was positive his wife was in trouble and needed his help. She looked upset by this man’s arrival. He felt sure that in his right mind, he’d never allow anybody, especially not another man, to vex his wife.
He strained to hear the visitor’s reply.
“I heard Mrs. Plimpton was making the journey and resolved to escort her here. For her protection, naturally.” Then in a more aggrieved tone, the young man said, “But this man…”
Talia cut him off. Again. “Mrs. P’s here?”
“Yes,” Allerton, (Ah, that was his name!) begrudgingly replied. “She’s getting settled in the kitchen.”
His wife cast an inquiring glance at Foster, but the butler studiously avoided looking her way.
“Talia.” Allerton was becoming insistent about capturing her attention.
He called her by her first name? They must be close friends, even if he hadn’t got her surname right. Swaying slightly, feeling as if he was trying to walk on a ship being pummeled by huge waves on a stormy sea, he reached out to grasp Foster’s shoulder to stay upright. The butler shot him a sharp look, then, steadied him by gripping Reed’s elbow with surprising strength for his age.
Reed must have made a sound because, suddenly, Talia turned to look at him. She didn’t look happy to see him. He swallowed his disappointment.
“What are you doing downstairs?” It sounded like an accusation.
Didn’t a man have the right to go where he wanted in his own house?
Shooting a look at Al…, her friend, she came across to take Reed’s arm and, with her servant’s help, walked him… urged him... toward the door. He wanted to resist, but wasn’t solid enough on his feet.
In a low voice, she said, “Why did you come down? You shouldn’t even be up and moving about yet.” She indicated the dressing gown that fit well enough but was old and well used. Not suitable for greeting people.
Ah… she was worried about him and about what others would think of him. “I heard knocking, but no one was answering the door.” He rocked back and forth unsteadily. He tried to think. “I looked out my bedroom window, but I was unable to see who was there. It might have been you, locked out.” His mouth felt stiff and numb, as if he’d just come in from being outside on a frigid day. “So I came down but, by then, Joseph was just arriving from the back of the house.”
The young caller again interrupted, more belligerently this time. “I insist you tell me what’s going on!”
The butler hissed impatiently.
Suddenly a loud, good-humored voice said, “Tea everyone?”
“Mrs. P, I’m so glad to see you.” Talia went to the woman and hugged her warmly.
Well, that was more welcome than he’d gotten! Reed grumbled to himself.
“Foster and I have probably each lost a stone without your excellent cooking,” Talia said with a wry look.
He heard the old codger beside him mutter, “Amen to that.”
The woman’s face was wreathed in smiles. She glanced his way coyly, then back to her mistress with a wide grin.
Talia ignored her cook’s arch look and said, “You shouldn’t have bothered with tea. You must be tired from your journey. Why don’t you let Joseph show you to your room so you can unpack and get settled. We won’t be needing anything special for supper.” She motioned to Foster to explain where Joseph should take the cook, then, turned to Allerton.
“Where are you staying?”
To Reed, it seemed that Talia was intent on making sure her friend didn’t ask his question. Odd, and not like her. Usually she was kind, attentive and eager to let the other person do most of the talking.
“I have an uncle who lives in Town.” He didn’t say he was staying there. “But…”
Reed decided he was capable of being open-minded. He staggered forward a few steps, watching the floor carefully so as not to stumble. “You can stay… with… with us. Any friend of my wife’s is welcome.” He had to concentrate very hard to issue the invitation
and once he had, he felt totally drained.
When he raised his head to look at Allerton, he was surprised to find that Talia had moved behind the man and was now vigorously shaking her head.
Oh oh, what had he done now? Since he’d awakened without his memory, it seemed he could do nothing right.
Allerton spluttered angrily, “Wh...who is this man?”
True, they hadn’t had time to be properly introduced, had they? Reed wasn’t sure. His mind was jumbled and getting more so by the moment. He’d swear the walls were moving. They began to spin in an alarming fashion. “I… I…”
He was going down. Fast!
Damn! He hoped he didn’t hit his head again. He couldn’t afford to lose what little memory he’d recovered.
Both Foster and Talia rushed to his side. Talia grabbed his arm and held him up, while Foster slipped his arm around Reed’s waist to steady him. To prop him up, really.
“Your little escapade has worn you out.” She no longer sounded angry with him, he was pleased to note, but she did sound worried.
She glanced over at the butler with her speaking eyes. “Foster, get Joseph to help and please assist Mr. Leighton upstairs, before he falls down!”
“Come along, sir. We need to get you back to bed. You aren’t well enough to be up yet.” Foster signaled Joseph, who came running and stood uncertainly on Reed’s other side, before taking his arm. Together, they began leading him toward the door.
“Oh, I don’t think…” Reed’s shoulders slumped. He hated to admit it but he was almost too tired to stand. The effort of rushing downstairs to open the door had used up what little strength he had, and his brain was as groggy as if he’d downed a bottle of Blue Ruin.
“Thank you, kind sirs. I will indeed avail myself of your assistance.” With their help, he walked slowly toward the door. Talia kept pace behind him in case he fell backward, he supposed. He glanced back over his shoulder and nodded his adieu, “Allerton.”
His interfering servant stopped at the door to observe aloud to Reed, “I’m afraid your generous offer of hospitality is not possible, sir.” He looked back toward Talia and Allerton, before once again addressing himself to Reed. “With us just arriving, we haven’t finished setting up house properly, nor have we hired servants yet, and with your health problem, we’re having difficulty keeping up as it is.”
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 9