The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife

by J. Jade Jordan

  “I am glad to hear it.” She noted her companion’s self-satisfied smile. As if the Baron’s admiration of her father’s work reflected well on him just by being with her. How ridiculous! Then, she wondered. Was that the reason for his sudden interest in her?

  She searched for some pretext, to bring up a topic that might include Reed, so she might find a clue to his identity. In vain. Here was someone who had the information she desperately needed but she couldn’t ask without getting herself into hot water.

  “Well, my dear lady, it has been my pleasure to meet you, but I regret I have no time to further our enjoyable discussion about your father’s work. I have an appointment in,” he pulled his fob watch from a small pocket in his vest, “precisely twenty minutes, for which I am loathe to be tardy.” He nodded at Mr. Dubuc and, tipping his hat, bowed to her. “We shall meet again, Miss Lawton. I wish you both a good day.”

  Oblivious to undertones, Mr. Dubuc smiled contentedly on their ride home. Tally wasn’t as sanguine. The Baron’s parting comment had sounded remarkably like… perhaps not so much a threat, as a promise. Neither was reassuring.

  This morning, she’d finally cornered Mr. Mason — who had been illusive since the party — and asked him if he’d discovered anything about the Baron.

  He’d told her that Lord Morley knew everyone who was anyone. It seemed he was a bit of a rake, who was more apt to be the butt of salacious gossip than fear-inspiring. Not the kind to be involved in attacks on a woman.

  Mr. Mason never mentioned knowing the Baron. Could she have been mistaken? Had they sounded friendlier than they were?

  Nevertheless, she was reassured by his opinion that they didn’t have to worry about Lord Morley, that he was known to be more of a lover than a fighter. Even if Mr. Mason did know the man, he may have a good reason for not telling her. Perhaps the Baron was another client and Mr. Mason didn’t want to betray his trust.

  Mr. Dubuc spent the rest of the outing relating amusing stories of the ton. She enjoyed his sense of humor, even as she wished he could be less artificial, more natural. And, though he was all that was complimentary and warm, his marked attention made her a little uncomfortable.

  She no longer had the slightest urge to paint his almost perfect, angelic looks and that was not a good sign… for him. She had no wish to encourage his interest.

  Or anyone else’s, she assured herself. The love of her life was her art!

  She felt only relief when the curricle halted in front of her house. “Thank you, Mr. Dubuc…” Tally ignored his hiss of annoyance at her continued use of his family name. “Pray don’t leave your horses untended. I’m well able to make it into my house from here, and Joseph can help me down.”

  Accepting the wisdom of her suggestion, he said he’d be in touch soon. “I will do my best to get your missive to my uncle,” he assured her.

  She was glad of his promise, but hoped he wouldn’t be back too soon... unless it had to do with Monsieur’s return.

  Once down, she murmured quietly to the young boy, “You go on home now, Joseph. Your mother is going to be worried about you.” He was already later than usual.

  Mr. Dubuc waited for her to go inside, but she dallied as she went up the walkway to the door. What if Reed was standing in the hallway waiting for her and Mr. Dubuc saw him? His pair were prancing sideways nervously, so she waved and just as she’d hoped, he let his high-spirited horses have their head. She waited until he was well away and rounding the corner before knocking on the door.

  * * *

  Reed was waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs. He took her arm and pulled her into his room, locking the door behind him.

  What on earth!

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “I was gone but a short while.” A frisson of fear shuddered through her. Had his memory come back?

  “I always miss you when you’re not here,” he crooned.

  Heavens! Her legs felt weak.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “Not really. I learned nothing new. All I managed to do was to give Mr. Dubuc a letter to try to deliver to his uncle.”

  “He said he would do it?”

  “No, he said he would try to do it.”

  “Ah...” He sat in the armchair and shocked her by pulling her down onto his lap. She didn’t know how to sit, so she perched primly on the edge of his knees.

  “Did you meet anyone on your drive though the park?”

  Should she mention the Baron? Yes! It was time to jog his memory, if she could. “We only spoke to one gentleman, a Baron Morley.” She paused to see if he recognized the name. When his look remained the same, she continued, “He said he was at my sister’s the other night, but we didn’t meet.”

  “Hmmm...” He puts his arms loosely around her waist and pulled her back to lean against him. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

  “What are you doing?” Oh lord, she didn’t think she had the strength to resist him this time. Each kiss, each touch made her will weaker.

  “I mustn’t be doing it well if you have to ask!” Laughter laced his facetious comment.

  “But...”

  “I think that must be your favorite word, ‘but’.” His hand played with the bow that held her collar closed.

  “We can’t do this, especially not now!”

  “Why “especially” not now?” He continued his exploration of her gown and how it was fastened.

  “Because my grandmother could show up at any moment.”

  “And she would be shocked to find her married grandchild kissing her husband?” he mocked.

  It did sound flimsy when put like that, but what other defense did she have? Where was Foster when she needed him! “I told you. She doesn’t know we are married.”

  “And when are you planning on telling her?” His index finger circled her ear, causing her to shiver. “I thought you might like to know that I stopped taking the nightly laudanum you’ve been giving me a few days ago.”

  “I see. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Just as they feared. The timing couldn’t have been worse! Just when she needed him sedated and sleepy so he would stay away from her grandmother! At least he was still receiving the daytime dose. That should help him rest and keep him dull enough not to notice how strange their circumstances were. And out of Grandma Eva’s way!

  “And I’ve stopped the second dose too, now that I’ve realized how it was being administered.”

  “Oh.”

  He took in her dismay silently. “If you were hoping to weaken me, stunt my will to live, you haven’t succeeded.”

  Her head jerked up, shocked by his accusation. She hopped off his lap, standing there wanting to stay yet needing to escape. “I never wanted that!”

  “Then what did you want?”

  “I... You have no memory of who you are. We have no …” she stopped before she said the wrong thing. “Dr. Graham said you needed to rest a great deal in order to recover it.”

  He shook his head.

  He didn’t believe her! She couldn’t live this lie anymore! “I needed to know why...”

  When he reached for her, she fled across the room away from him, heading for the door. She knew she wasn’t making much sense.

  “Why what?”

  “Why you climbed into my bedroom window!” She looked over her shoulder in a hunted manner. She unlocked the door and opened it. Just before she ran off she added, “Was it to kill me?”

  * * *

  “Missy.”

  “Yes, Foster.”

  “There are two callers in the drawing room that I think you should see.”

  Something about these visitors had unsettled her butler. Rather than send Joseph, he’d come up himself to tell her. And he was looking uneasy. She joined him to go downstairs.

  “Not Grandma Lawton or any of her entourage, I hope?” That would explain his unusual caution.

  “No! I’d have warned you!” Lowering his voice he said, “These a
ren’t yer normal callers, Missy.” He handed her their cards. “They could be trouble.”

  Trouble? “Where is Mr. Mason? Will we need him?” She was still shaken from her... encounter… with Reed.

  “Heh...heh... When I told him about your grandmother moving in, Mr. Mason said not to expect him until late tonight. I don’t think we’re going to have to warn him to avoid Lady Lawton. He’s already doing it!” He came closer to lower his voice. “I didn’t mean that kind of trouble.”

  “Then what kind of trouble could they be?”

  “It’s just... There’s something mighty familiar about them.” He seemed reluctant to say more.

  She glanced at their cards. “Charles (“Chase”) Eames. And this one says, Francis Eames.” She stared at the cards as if they could tell her more about who her visitors were. She’d never heard the name. “Brothers? Do we know anyone of that name?”

  “No.” He squinted his eyes. “But I still say they’re going to be trouble.”

  As she moved toward the drawing room door, he said in a gruff whisper, “Them’s gentlemen, Miss Tally.” His hushed tone warned her to be careful.

  She entered the room to find two tall men, standing with their backs to her, gazing out the window.

  She admired their equally square shoulders, which owed nothing to padding, she was convinced. Her fingers itched to grab a piece of charcoal and sketch the two from behind. They already looked like brothers just from their physiques and stances. Indeed, they resembled Reed from behind.

  They turned to greet her and all notions of sketching them scattered.

  Could be trouble! Something familiar! Foster had vastly understated the matter. These men resembled Reed more from the front! They were relatives — close relatives — of his, that much was obvious! One of them was easily his twin, except for the eyes. This one’s were golden brown! The other one, though he looked less like Reed, had the same sea-colored eyes and both had his dimples.

  Oh my god, what was she going to do? She couldn’t tell them about Reed being here. Not when he had no memory and thought he was married to her. He’d probably introduce her as his wife! She felt she’d just entered a horrific dream from which she wasn’t sure she would ever awake.

  “Good afternoon.” Catching her breath to calm herself, she advanced into the room. “Won’t you sit down.” They seemed about to refuse, so she gave them one of her rare smiles and said, “I’m rather short and when I look up at tall people, it makes my neck ache.”

  One chuckled, the other gave a little grin, but they both obliged by sitting on the settee facing her, one beside the other. She’d chosen the armchair for herself, hoping for that very outcome. She wanted to observe both their reactions, at the same time. One talent she had acquired as a painter was knowing where to place subjects.

  What if Reed came in while they were here? She wished that dreadful notion hadn’t occurred to her. The whole debacle her life had become was poised to blow up in her face. He’d told Foster he was going to walk to the market with Mrs. P and Joseph. Please let them take their time!

  “How may I help you?”

  The more convivial of the two, the one with Reed’s eyes, said, “I’m Francis Eames and this is my brother, Charles Eames. We’re looking for our older brother, Reed Gordon Eames, Viscount Selwich. Our father, the Earl of Merkvale, is worried about him.”

  Viscount! It took enormous control to keep her expression steady and polite. Reed was not just a gentleman, now he was a peer!

  He continued, “He owns this house.”

  It kept getting worse and worse! Aloud she maintained her calm facade and said, “My butler must have told you that we’re merely renting it for the Season?”

  “He did indeed. The problem is our brother wrote us that he intended not renting it out this Season. That he planned on living here when he returned from his travels. Indeed, he should have arrived by now.”

  She was dismayed at the slightly accusatory tone of the man’s voice.

  She knew she looked shocked, but not for the reason they probably imagined. Heavens! Reed had been climbing into his own house! A house he had every reason to believe was uninhabited.

  And she had shot him! A Viscount!

  The quieter, brown-eyed one spoke up for the first time. “Do you know why the house has been rented to you? It was not supposed to be available.”

  Neither one of them believed in beating about the bush, it seemed. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. All the rental arrangements were made by Monsieur Antoine Moreau, on my behalf.” She paused to think. “He dealt with attorneys. I believe the name of the firm was Hornings & Crosbie?” Dear God, she had to get them out of the house as fast as she could! Before Reed returned and they saw him!

  “Yes, they represent my brother.” Smiling now, the more talkative of the two voiced his relief. To his brother, he added, “He must have changed his mind about staying here.”

  “It seems the likely answer, doesn’t it?” Standing, the quiet one moved to the door, his gregarious brother just behind him. When they reached the door he turned. ”We’re sorry to have taken up your time, Miss .....?”

  “Mrs. Leighton.” She walked with them to the door, where Foster was waiting to open it. A cloud of doubt still hung about the quieter one. She could see he didn’t believe her. “I regret I’ve been unable to help you. Perhaps if you inquire at the lawyers?”

  “We have every intention of doing so, thank you,” the friendlier one responded. They took their hats and gloves from Foster. “Good day.”

  She couldn’t wait for the door to be closed. She cocked her head in the direction of the library. They walked there together without a word, entered and shut the door.

  She spun around to face him. “They’re Mr. Gordon’s brothers,” she moaned. “Or perhaps I should say that they’re Mr. Eames’ brothers. Or even worse, Viscount Selwich’s brothers!”

  Nodding, Foster’s glower was fierce. “Viscount! So that footman was asking for yon Gordon! I should have told them their brother was a criminal who climbs into ladies bedroom windows.”

  “Into his own bedroom window,” she said in a small voice. “This house belongs to him.”

  “What! This is yon Gordon’s house!” She’d finally managed to horrify her butler. “You’d think he’d remember his own house! That must have been some crack on the head!

  “They said he’d just returned from abroad and intended to reclaim his house. There must have been some mix up, because his attorneys leased it to us.” She paced to the window and turned back to look at him. “They did, didn’t they?”

  “Of course.” An arrested look of comprehension, quickly followed by dismay, crossed his face. “You’re thinking about how the key didn’t fit that first night?”

  “We assumed they’d sent us the wrong key!” She reviewed their actions. “and it was so late we…“ She bent her head and covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh my goodness, what if we’ve been in the wrong house all this time?”

  “With Moreau gone, how in darnation could we have known that?” Foster complained. But he wasn’t sounding quite as belligerent as before.

  “What are we going to do?” she wailed. What a mess she’d gotten them into! Was it possible to be charged and jailed for living in someone else’s home without permission? Gracious, that was nothing compared to shooting a man in his own house!

  “You must go to them attorneys, Missy. First thing tomorrow! Mason can go with ye. You need to see what they have to say about this.”

  “But Foster, I shot the man!”

  “They don’t know that! Anyway, t’were an honest mistake,” he averred loyally, “and it was in self-defense.”

  “Perhaps, but the man’s a Viscount, in line to be the next Earl! What’s he going to do when he finds out I shot him?” She frowned. She’d just realized something. “He can’t be involved with those trying to kill me. Who attacked him in the lane and why? Someone is also trying to kill him!”

&nbs
p; Foster shrugged his ignorance.

  “This story becomes more and more opaque every day. I shudder to think how it is going to end.”

  * * *

  When the Eames brothers left Reed’s house that afternoon, they were full of questions and continued suspicions. Especially Chase.

  “What can it hurt to go have a talk with Hornings or Crosbie, and inquire about Reed’s house being rented out or not?”

  On the way to the law office they discussed how much to say. It was more gut instinct that had them worrying. Gut instinct and knowing their brother well enough to be certain he’d never have arrived in London and not gotten word to them somehow. When Kit Grainger, another Spare, told them Reed had come to Town days ago, they’d immediately known something was wrong.

  The attorney asked them why they wanted to know if Reed’s house was leased out or not.

  “We’ve just come from there,” Chase told the attorney. “We spoke to the lady renting the house. For the Season, she said, and she has no idea who our brother is.”

  “We have definitely not leased his house. The Viscount gave us specific orders not to. We even sent in cleaners to prepare the place for him.” The attorney was outraged. “I will send a letter advising the lady to vacate the premises immediately.” He assured them he would even go in person the very next day to make sure she departed.

  They tried to deter him, not wishing to get in the middle of what might be their brother’s plans, but there was no stopping him. He felt his professional reputation was being impugned.

  They at least convinced him to send the letter, but to wait two days before going in person to evict the lady. Now Chase and Francis worried what Reed was going to say about this new turn of events.

  As they bid the lawyer good afternoon, they thought that perhaps their visit to him was going to hurt. A great deal, if Reed found out what they’d unleashed! He wasn’t going to thank them for their interference when Mr. Hornings descended on Reed’s mistress and tried to evict her! For, who else could she be?