Truly Yours

by Barbara Metzger

  His next caller was not Amanda, either, but he was happier to see his cousin than he expected. “Have you any news?”

  “No, but I have raspberry tarts fresh from the oven. Best eat them quickly before that starchy cook of my aunt’s comes with a carving knife. Don’t know what the woman was saving them for, if not family.”

  “I cannot feel like eating.”

  “Even better,” Daniel said, splitting the first one in half to share with Verity. “I thought you’d be starving, after all that infant food they serve in the sickroom.”

  He’d come back from the search, he said between bites, to see if Rex remembered anything more about his assailant. They both knew he’d come back to check on Rex’s progress. “Happy to see you looking more the thing.” He took another bite, then studied the remaining tart. “Word is you’ve been looking at Amanda like she’s as sweet a morsel as this. Your mother doesn’t trust you with the gal.”

  “Interfering autocrat,” Rex muttered.

  Daniel smiled and wiped crumbs off his mouth. “When are you going to admit you love her?”

  “The countess?”

  His cousin laughed. “Miss Carville. Your ears are turning red just thinking about her. Bet your heart is racing, too.”

  “Lust and love are not the same thing.”

  “Have you ever wanted a woman more?”

  Rex did not bother trying to lie to his cousin. “No.”

  “And aren’t you half killing yourself trying to free her from suspicion?”

  “I suppose,” Rex murmured. “But there’s more to it than that, like solving the crime and finding Sir Nigel’s role in the embezzlement scheme.”

  Daniel snorted, sending crumbs flying. “Could you live without her?”

  “How should I know? Just make sure I won’t have to, damn it.” Rex changed the subject. “I suppose you’ve heard about Harry?”

  “You can never have enough relatives, eh?”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “He’s great guns. We went back to Lydia Burton’s place last night for dinner, and to see if any of the girls heard anything.”

  Daniel was not known for asking questions around willing women, or needing an excuse to visit a bordello. “I cannot believe Mrs. Burton let you in.”

  “She and old Harry have been friends for ages, it seems. See how useful kin can be? The ladies didn’t know anything, but we had a grand time seeing who could tell the biggest clankers.”

  “Whatever for?”

  Daniel started on the second tart. Verity whined until he shared. “Testing our skills, I suppose.”

  “A pissing contest, more like it. Who won?”

  “Well, I’ll have a rash for another week”—Daniel adjusted his privates—“but old Harry cast up his accounts on Lydia’s new rug. I guess we won’t be going back there soon.” He and Verity both sighed, the dog because the food was gone. “We’re to go to some of the other brothels tonight.”

  Rex decided to talk to Harry about leading Daniel astray, or following him. For now, he said, “Be careful, old chap. Even you are no match for an assassin’s bullet or a thrown knife. And I don’t fancy losing my new brother so soon, either. Look after him, will you?”

  Daniel was laughing as he left.

  Rex did not see the humor of his two kin out facing danger while he was stuck in bed, alone, so he decided to test his own strength by getting up.

  Amanda found him on the floor, his disordered nightshirt leaving little to her imagination. “No, I am not hurt. No, I do not need a blasted footman to help me back into the bed, and no, you do not need to hide your giggles behind your hand. I missed that sound.”

  Once he was back under the covers, Amanda stayed and read to him from he knew not what volume. He enjoyed hearing her voice, smelling the light floral scent she wore, watching her chest rise and fall, with the ruby pendant between her breasts. She did not wear her mother’s jewelry in public, naturally, she said, but she seldom left the house now, and then only to pick flowers in the garden or take Verity for a run in the park across the street. A footman attended her, she told him when she saw him frown. His father also did once, keeping to a slower pace, but looking at least ten years younger than when he had first arrived. “London, or the countess, appears to agree with him. He is a wonderful, gentle man. I can see why you both admire him so much.”

  Rex did not admire the earl at all when he interrupted their conversation an hour later, the book long forgotten. He had come to take his turn sitting with his son, he said. Besides, Miss Carville had callers.

  Rex told her to stay, especially if the callers were Ashway and his sister again. Amanda was undecided about going until the earl said, “We will manage, my dear. You can leave without worrying about either of us. You cannot keep a Royce down forever, you know.”

  The earl watched her blush, and frowned at Rex. “Seems that’s not all you can’t keep down, eh?”

  Amanda fled with her book and Rex’s dog. The earl watched her leave, then smiled at his son. “I like that girl. I’d be happy to call her daughter.”

  Rex did not reply, showing a stony face at the overly personal comment. Besides, he had more than a few bones to pick with his sire.

  Lord Royce pulled up the chair where Amanda had been sitting and settled into it. He sighed once, then said, “I suppose you are wishing I called Harry son.”

  Then he tried to explain why he could not.

  Other gentlemen accepted their illegitimate offspring into their homes, he said, but they were always considered less than family, less than acceptable in polite society. That was no way for a boy to grow up, knowing he was not good enough, that his little brother was the chosen one. “But Harry was my son, and I did love him. I would have had him closer, but your mother hated the idea. She was jealous of his mother at first, then jealous of him, thinking I might love him more than you. Her jealousy planted seeds of doubt in my own mind.”

  Rex sat up against the pillows, pushing away the earl’s helping hands. He folded his arms across his chest and declared, “My mother is an honest woman.”

  “Yes, but she was afraid of me, afraid of you. She loved you, I know, but she did not understand. She said she did not wish any more strange children. That was what she called you, strange. But you were beautiful, a joy, so I took her words to mean she did not want me in her bed. That was when I decided she must prefer some other man. Here I had this wondrous gift for the truth. How could I not use it by asking her?”

  “You were a fool.”

  The earl’s head sank to his chest. “I know. And your mother was rightfully insulted past bearing.”

  “She was more honest than you, keeping my brother from me to hide your own past sins, even after she left us.”

  “No, it was more than that, I swear. I thought I was actingfor Harry’s best interests, too, protecting him from the cruelty of his bastardy.”

  Rex knew that for the truth, although misguided. Who was he to say what was right, what he would have done under the circumstances? He listened as his father went on, desperately trying to make him understand.

  “Harry had to make his way in the world. I would have paid for him to live abroad, in India or the colonies. I offered him an allowance, or an estate somewhere, but he would not have it. He had our gift too, of course, and he wanted to use it for the good of the country. The same as you did when you reached manhood,” he reminded Rex, calling up memories of arguments about Rex joining the army.

  “Harry chose to work in London, where he had been raised. My presence, or yours, would have ruined his chances and embarrassed your mother, dredging up old scandals and new gossip. Harry was doing brilliantly in his chosen career, on his own except for some inquiries and introductions I made for him. Your acknowledging him, coupled with my blighted reputation, could have destroyed the new identity he had, and after the Harrisons did such a fine job of rearing him.”

  “Harrison? Harris? Major Harrison?” Rex got out of b
ed and did not fall down this time, his anger strong enough to keep him standing and the room from spinning. He gripped both sides of his father’s chair to make sure of his balance, and shouted, “My brother is the Aide? He knew who I was all these years? He put on those ridiculous disguises so I would not recognize him? I’ll kill him.”

  The earl shook his head as if to rid himself of the discordant notes he heard. “That is a lie. You would do no such thing. And Harry constantly goes about incognito; he has too many enemies to do otherwise. Besides, he thought it a great joke. Now get back in bed or I shall call for your mother.”

  Rex went back, but he was still fuming.

  “You must know that Harry has been invaluable to the country. He has also assisted with my work on the coast, putting a stop to the smuggling of state secrets, keeping spies and English gold from traveling between us and France.”

  “You?”

  “And Marceau, of course. You know him as Murchison.”

  “What, is he a relative, too?”

  “No, but his entire family was wiped out by Napoleon and his supporters. We have broken up at least six smuggling rings in the past few years and captured many more spies. What did you think we were doing so close to the coast, if not aiding the war effort?”

  Rex had thought his father was moping, in fact, withering into old age. “And you did not tell me? Let me help?”

  “You were at university and too young to let you get involved with such dangerous activities. Then you were in the army. Lately I was waiting for you to recover from your wounds, and from your malaise. I was hoping to retire from the spy business, let you and Harry keep England safe.”

  “He is still a bastard.”

  That was the truth. By both definitions.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  After the earl left, Rex thought about trying to get up again, so he’d be ready to wrestle with his half brother. Maybe tomorrow, he decided when his head started to pound again. No, that was Amanda, tapping softly on his door.

  Her cheeks were pale and her lower lip was between her teeth again, not good signs, Rex decided. She asked if she might bring her company to speak with Rex.

  Not if it was Ashway, Rex thought. Did that nodcock come to ask his permission to pay his addresses to Amanda? Rex was her guardian, more or less, but he’d be damned before he gave her hand or any part of her to another man, especially one who did not appreciate what a gem she was in herself.

  She stayed in the doorway. “My stepbrother and stepsister have come to London to see you. Will you meet them? Are you well enough?”

  “Of course.” He felt almost well enough to boot Ashway down the stairs. Surely he could see what Sir Frederick’s progeny were made of, and whether they intended to do right by their stepsister. They would, by George, if they wanted that gold from the globe without a fight.

  They were young, dressed in deep mourning, and nervous. The sister, Miss Elaine Hawley, squeaked in fear at the sight of Verity, who only wished to make friends, not drool on the chit’s skirts, which upset the female worse. She was no beauty, although she was pretty enough in the current fashion, with her blond tresses falling from a topknot to frame a round face, a porcelain complexion, and blue eyes. The girl made a hurried curtsy, then cowered behind Amanda like a frightened fawn, or a seventeen-year-old orphan. Amanda pushed Verity out the door, then pushed Elaine into a chair, the farthest from Rex’s bed. The new baronet, Sir Edwin Hawley, a few years older than his sister, showed some mettle, choosing to stand in his countrified tailoring where Rex could see him. After Rex’s polite offer of condolences, and the pair’s equally stiff inquiries into the state of Rex’s health, Amanda said that her relations had things to tell him. She stared from one to the other. “Don’t you?”

  After a silence that lasted too long, Edwin cleared his throat. “I received notice from the London solicitor about the account you established. Thank you for finding the money and placing it in safekeeping. And for rescuing our sister, of course. I mean to restore what we can to her, once I see where we stand with Father’s debts and bills. I know she is not to blame for anything, not the murder.” He looked toward his real sister. “Nor the rumors. Tell him.”

  Elaine was mangling a handkerchief. Amanda took her hand and said, “Just tell him the truth. He will not shout or grow angry, at least not at you.” She glared at Rex to make sure he did not frighten the girl more than she already was.

  Elaine stammered and turned red, as if she were about to cry. Rex tried to ease the situation by fingering the bandage wrapped around his head. “As you can see, I am rendered harmless. Moreover, I am certain you have done nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “But I have. I . . . I borrowed Amanda’s cape.”

  Thunderation, he wished he weren’t a gentleman, or that Amanda weren’t watching. “You . . . you were the one who went out at night to meet a lover?”

  “No! That is, yes, I went out, but I met my brother, no one else.”

  Edwin stepped forward again, ready to defend his sibling. “I came to Town because Elaine wrote how terrible our father was behaving. I naturally knew he was beggaring his estate—he’d tossed me out when we argued about that—but I had no idea he was not letting Amanda wed, or that he was stealing her dowry and her inheritance.”

  “Worst of all,” Elaine piped up, “he was going to arrange a marriage for me, to Lord Thibidoux.”

  “Thibidoux? What is his given name?”

  “Navarre, but why?”

  Because N.T. was on Sir Frederick’s list and the illustrious Aide had missed that name. And because if Monsieur Thibidoux was a conspirator, Nigel Turlowe was not. Damn.

  Amanda hurried to say that the marquess was fifty and fat, lest Rex wonder why an arranged match was worse than stealing one’s own stepdaughter’s future.

  Elaine obviously thought so. “He is French! He already buried two wives in England, and no one knows how many in France. He spoke of his lands there, and how he would recover them soon. I did not want to live in France!” She looked toward Amanda. “We are still at war with them, aren’t we?”

  Rex held up a hand to stop the chit’s babbling. First things first. “You, Sir Edwin, were in Town when your father was shot?”

  Edwin spoke as if he knew what was coming. Of course he did. Everyone knew his father had wiped his hands of Edwin, and was determined to squander Edwin’s patrimony. “No, I left three days earlier. I had to consult my own man of business to see what I could do under the conditions of the entail and Amanda’s mother’s marriage settlements. And no, I did not kill him or pay anyone to do so. I might have wished him to the Devil, but he was my father.”

  The lad went on to prove his claim, with mention of post chaise schedules, an appointment with his solicitor in Hampshire, a horse fair he visited on his return to the family estate.

  All of that was unnecessary, of course. Rex believed him from the first “No.” The youth seemed sincere and decent. The sister appeared to be a peagoose. “What about you, Miss Hawley? You wrote for help, and yet you sneaked out of your home, wearing Amanda, Miss Carville’s, cloak?”

  “My father would be furious if he saw Edwin in the house.”

  “Yes, I understand why you felt you had to meet elsewhere, but you must have had a cape of your own.”

  “But Amanda’s was warmer.”

  And far more noticeable. “You did not wish to be recognized as making assignations after dark, I think.”

  She had the grace to blush and stare at her shoes, the handkerchief in shreds. “I could not let my reputation be ruined. I hoped to marry Martin, you see, then have Amanda come live with us. Martin’s parents would not have approved.”

  “Ah, you were thinking of your stepsister all along?”

  Elaine nodded eagerly, missing the sarcasm in his question. “That’s right, I was.”

  Which statement was as red as the girl’s cheeks. “What of Amanda’s chances for a good marriage?”

  The silly twit
started weeping.

  Exasperated, Rex turned to Amanda. “And you did not protest?”

  She handed Elaine a fresh handkerchief before saying, “I thought she was meeting the young man she was enamored of. He returned her affection, but Sir Frederick would never permit them to wed because he was a mere second son.”

  “But Martin loves me. We were going to elope, if Edwin was willing to help.”

  Rex held onto his temper by a thread. “And none of you thought the rejected suitor might have been the killer? You did not tell me, Amanda, in order to protect some fool not brave enough to face the girl’s father or intelligent enough to plan his own elopement?”

  Elaine squealed and hid her face in her hands.

  Amanda looked at Rex crossly, as if to blame him for the ninny’s tears. “He did not kill Sir Frederick. He was still at Almack’s when I left that night, waiting for his one dance with Elaine. There was no need to bring his name, or Elaine’s, into this.”

  Edwin put his arm around his sister to muffle her sobs. “Elaine knows she was wrong. I told her then, but it was too late when I realized the blue cape was not her own. We mean to make it up to Amanda. We’ll take her home with us today.”

  Or carry her to Gretna Green with the young lovers and hide her in Scotland, or put her on a ship somewhere out of reach of Rex. That is, he amended in his own mind, out of reach of British justice. “No, she is bonded into my care. She stays here.”

  Edwin puffed out his chest, trying to look older, larger, stronger. He looked like a ruffled cockerel instead. “Amanda is my sister. I am head of the household now and I do not think it at all proper for her to be living elsewhere.”

  “But you thought it seemly for your real sister, who is far younger, to meet you in secret?”

  The young man was stymied at that. “But you . . . that is, your reputation . . .”

  “Have you heard a single rumor about my mother? Did no one tell you that she is the Countess of Royce, held to be one of the most upstanding ladies in society? She is in residence, as is my father, the earl. Do you actually think either of them would permit anything untoward under their roof? Or that I, as a gentleman, would betray your stepsister’s trust in me?”