That Infamous Pearl

by Alicia Quigley

  Rowena started and then slowly took the hand he offered her. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked in a small voice.

  "About your beauty? Of course I did. I believe I once told you I do not say things I do not mean. You may count on me for honesty, Rowena."

  She paused at a painting of a naked woman lounging on a couch, her hand reaching seductively out of the painting. She flushed slightly and turned away, moving hastily on to the next piece.

  "You have not always been honest with me," she said slowly.

  "When have I ever lied to you, Rowena?" Alaric sounded hurt.

  "You let me think you believed Malcolm was innocent," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I thought you were truly trying to help me."

  Alaric gritted his teeth. Trust Rowena to remember the one time he had abandoned his principles. He had done it for her, after all. It was the only way he could think of to make her spend time with him. And he had needed desperately to be near her, though that had been only a fraction of the need he felt now.

  "I apologize for that deception," he said softly. "It was wrong of me to treat you so. My only excuse is that I desired to spend time with you, and could think of no other way to obtain my goal."

  "And is obtaining your desires always of paramount importance with you?" asked Rowena. "That will be very difficult to adapt myself to. Occasionally there are things that I want as well." She didn't look at him, but instead inspected closely a lovely medieval wood carving of the Virgin.

  Alaric paused. He chose his words carefully. "I did not have anyone to think of beside myself and I admit that I lived my life selfishly. Now your desires are as important as mine, Rowena. If there is anything you want, I will make sure that you have it."

  "Anything?" she asked.

  "Anything at all. You have only to ask for it. Have I not given you what you have asked for so far?"

  Rowena smiled slowly, thinking of his promise of the day before. "Indeed you have. You are a most generous husband."

  Alaric grimaced. If he could not talk Rowena into succumbing soon, he would have to get far away from her as quickly as possible. Perhaps the gaming halls would see the Earl of Brayleigh for a second night in a row.

  "Rowena, you must believe me when I say that I want only your happiness. I have made that my primary goal from today onward."

  Her violet eyes flashed as she glanced up at him. His face was very stern, almost as though it was carved from stone. She longed to reach up and touch it to assure herself he was indeed made of flesh and blood. The thought made her tingle.

  She paused before a very elegant piece of furniture, elaborately carved in the style of the previous century and upholstered in rich blue satin.

  "What is this?" she asked.

  Alaric stifled a groan. Her interest in his collection was beginning to tax his patience. He wanted all of her attention for himself.

  "This belonged to Louis XV of France," he explained. "Or, actually, it is said to have belonged to his mistress, Madame de la Pompadour. I purchased it because it is a particularly fine example of the craftsman's art."

  Rowena nodded. "La Pompadour was a legendary beauty. Perhaps she and the king sat together on this couch."

  "Perhaps," said Alaric, thinking of other activities the notorious couple might have engaged in on the settee.

  Rowena swung around on Alaric and looked up at him accusingly. "Do you promise not to deceive me again?" she asked abruptly.

  Alaric blinked. "What do you mean?"

  "Will you promise never to lie to me again?" Rowena looked quite fierce.

  Alaric thought about what she asked. "There are times when it might be in your best interest if you did not know everything," he said. "I must protect you, Rowena. I know a great deal more about the world than you do."

  "There. That is precisely the problem. I cannot be married to a man who insists that unpleasant realities need to be kept from me. We must be equal partners, my lord." Rowena flung her hands up in the air.

  "Equal partners?" Alaric's voice reflected his amazement. "In a marriage?"

  "Precisely. This is why our investigation did not succeed before. You kept important facts from me. If I had known the whole truth, perhaps we might have done better. It is important that you tell me everything."

  "But Rowena, there are matters that a gentleman does not share with a woman, even his wife," said Alaric, flustered.

  "That is the problem with most marriages. My parents told one another everything, and they were very happy."

  "They did not tell you that Malcolm was alive. They must have realized the need for occasional secrets." Alaric pointed out.

  "And see the harm that caused?" said Rowena. "If they had been honest with me matters would be quite different today. You and I might have avoided this hasty marriage. If we are to be husband and wife, my lord, you must promise to keep no secrets from me."

  Alaric hesitated. He was startled and mildly irritated by Rowena's surprising demand. A man did not tell his wife everything; it was unreasonable that she should expect it of him. But when he looked into her determined face he could see that she meant what she said.

  "Very well, Rowena. I will not deceive you again."

  "Do you promise?"

  "I promise," he said firmly. "Now you must believe me."

  "I do, my lord. I have faith in your word."

  Rowena turned away, a smile on her face. She looked so young and carefree at that moment, and Alaric felt a sudden surge of satisfaction that he had made her so. He reached out with one hand and touched her shoulder, his hand gliding softly along the bare flesh.

  "And now you must promise me something," he said.

  Rowena froze, her thoughts concentrated solely on the pressure of his fingers on her skin. She suddenly became aware once of again of how very alone they were.

  "What is that?" she asked in a muffled voice.

  "That you will rid yourself of this dreadful habit of calling me 'my lord'," he answered. "I find it quite intolerable. I believe I have spoken to you about it before."

  "Oh. That." Rowena's voice sounded oddly disappointed. "But I have told you it is difficult to call you by your name until I know you better. 'Alaric' does not come easily to my lips, I fear."

  "Then you must practice it. You have called me Alaric upon occasion." He thought of the time in her aunt's garden, and again yesterday when she thought she had hurt him.

  "That is only when my mind is on other things," she said hastily. "But I will try to practice, my lord."

  She clapped a hand over her mouth as the words escaped her, and a mischievous twinkle stole into her eyes. Alaric laughed.

  "I must make you think of other things then, I see." He hand tightened on her shoulder, and he gently, irresistibly turned her towards him. She dropped her eyes when she stood facing him, and he had to place one hand under her chin and raise it before she would look at him.

  "I believe I can do that quite easily," he murmured. "I have had some experience along those lines."

  Chapter 18

  Rowena awoke to bright sunlight invading her bedroom, slipping in between the heavy curtains to make delicate patterns on the carpet. She stretched lazily, a sense of contentment filling her. For a moment she couldn't recall why she felt so happy, but then remembrance flooded her, and she pressed her eyes closed again, still feeling some lingering embarrassment.

  Smiling shyly, she finally rolled over, but the other side of her bed was empty. She frowned at the rumpled sheets and the pillow that still bore the imprint of Alaric's head. A pang of fear touched her. What if he hadn't enjoyed himself the night before? She reached urgently for the bell and rang it vigorously.

  Lawson entered the room a few moments later, a bright smile on her face. The household had gauged his lordship's mood that morning sufficiently to know that all had gone well the night before. She was astounded, however, to see her mistress standing in the middle of the room, quite naked except for a thin lace wrapper and some bar
baric-looking rubies clasped about her throat and wrist. She stood and gaped at Rowena for a moment.

  "Don't stare like that, Lawson," said Rowena, her voice sharp with alarm. "Where is his lordship?"

  "Downstairs eating breakfast, my lady," said Lawson soothingly. "He told me to let you sleep until you rang for me."

  Some of Rowena's anxiety left her. He was still in the house. She took a calming breath. "Hurry, I must get dressed," she said. "I don't wish to keep him waiting."

  Lawson walked over to Rowena and led her to the dressing table. "I don't think he's fretting, my lady. He seems quite content to wait for you. His lordship is quite pleased this morning, if you don't mind my saying so."

  Rowena subsided onto the stool and looked up at Lawson with wide eyes. "Pleased?" she said.

  "Why, he was smiling and ever so pleasant," said Lawson soothingly.

  "I must get dressed immediately," said Rowena, suddenly anxious to verify this information. She picked up a brush and tried to tug it through her tangled curls.

  "There, my lady, you'll let me take care of you. You can't go downstairs until you're properly dressed. Let me sort you out." Lawson hesitated. "Shall I take off the jewelry, my lady?"

  Rowena gasped and looked in the mirror. The necklace and bracelet that Alaric had clasped about her with such tender words the night before still adorned her, making her look like some sort of exotic princess. She blushed deeply, causing Lawson to give her a knowing smile.

  "Yes, please," she said hastily. "Put it safely in my jewelry box. And fetch the new muslin. Oh, and don't dawdle, Lawson."

  But it was fully three-quarters of an hour before Rowena hastened down the stairs to the dining room. Lawson had refused to allow her out of the room until she was completely groomed and dressed in a manner that brought credit to her maid. The delicate muslin of her dress foamed about her white shoulders and her eyes sparkled brilliantly as she flung open the door to the dining room. Alaric looked up from his breakfast and paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, quite captivated by the sight.

  Rowena paused, overcome by sudden shyness. She had been incredibly eager to see Alaric that morning, but now she had no idea what to say to him. Alaric put his fork down, slowly, rose, and walked gracefully to her side. He took her small hand in his and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it.

  "Good morning, Rowena." She felt a tiny thrill at the intimate tone in his voice. His eyes roamed over her, and she could tell he was remembering what he had seen the night before.

  "Good morning...Alaric," she answered, her voice very soft. Then she gave herself a mental shake. It would not do for him to think she was pining for him. Despite the pleasures of the previous evening, he had not yet said one word to her of any affection he might have for her. "Did you sleep well?"

  "Very well," he answered, smiling warmly. "The best I have in weeks."

  Rowena flushed a little at his intimation, and disentangled her fingers from his. "I am glad. I also slept well."

  Alaric pulled a chair out from the table and seated her. "I thought you might. You certainly looked charming this morning, wearing nothing but the rubies, nestled against my chest. It was all I could do not to wake you in order to repeat last night's experience."

  Rowena turned scarlet. "My lord, the servants," she said in a very small voice. She had to get control of herself. It would not do for him to be able to put her at such a disadvantage.

  He reached out and took her wrist in a tender grip. "They know better than to disturb us. We are all alone and will be so for as long as I choose."

  Rowena's eyes flickered to the door. It was firmly shut. A tiny thrill shot through her.

  "All alone?" she repeated.

  Alaric laughed. "Don't look at me like that, or I won't be responsible for my actions. And I have to go out for a few minutes."

  Rowena frowned. Alaric's promise, while making her slightly nervous, was also enticing. But the last part of his statement did not reassure her.

  "Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend some time together."

  "As much time as you desire, my dear. Your every wish is mine," Alaric assured her. "But I have to speak to my lawyer. There is some business I need to attend to."

  "Will you be gone long?"

  "Not at all. I will be back before you have finished eating. Then perhaps we will go for a ride in the Park." He gazed down at her speculatively. "Or maybe we will find some other activity to occupy ourselves."

  Rowena glanced down at her plate to avoid the devilish gleam in his brilliant green eyes. She was glad that he seemed to be pleased with her, but she decided that she must remind him that there was more to her than the performance of her wifely duties.

  "Will you ask Mr. Mackley if he has any new information on Ingram's murderer?" she asked brightly. "I would like to be able to continue our investigation."

  Alaric frowned and seated himself. His long fingers tapped a gentle rhythm on the table.

  "I thought we had resolved this matter, Rowena." His voice was stern.

  "The murderer is still at large. I would hardly call that a resolution," observed Rowena.

  Alaric shook his head. He had hoped that last night's events would have driven the relentless pursuit of Alfred Ingram's murderer from his wife's mind. It seemed, however, that she was as determined as ever. He marveled at her devotion to the brother she had not seen in twelve years. With a pang he realized that he wanted her thoughts to be centered on him, not some imaginary hero she had conjured up. But it seemed that Malcolm Arlingby was still fated to come between him and the things he desired.

  "The murderer is indeed at large," answered Alaric. "His name is Malcolm Arlingby, and he was last seen in France. You must accept this, Rowena. We cannot be happy together until you do."

  Rowena raised her chin. She could not allow him to think that because she had given way the night before he could rule her in all things. Her feelings for her husband might be much stronger than his for her, but it was necessary that she keep some sort of autonomy. Without it she would have no pride left at all.

  "You have not a shred of evidence to support your beliefs, my lord," she said fiercely. "I insist we continue to search out the true murderer."

  Alaric made an exasperated sound. "I will not encourage you in this folly, Rowena. It is nonsensical of you to believe that after all this time there is the slightest chance of clearing Malcolm's name."

  Rowena drew a deep breath. "It is never too late to seek out the truth. I should think you would want to have the real killer discovered as much as I do."

  "The truth is known. Your brother killed Ingram for the Pearl of Sirsi." Alaric tried to speak dispassionately. Rowena didn't seem to realize that if Malcolm was not guilty, then her husband must be the killer. Or perhaps she did know that. His eyes narrowed. Was her sweetness and passion merely a lie to keep him under her spell? Perhaps she had an ulterior motive in this marriage.

  "I refuse to accept that. No member of my family would intentionally hurt another person. No one I know believes it is possible that Malcolm killed Ingram."

  "But plenty of people you have spoken to believe that it is possible that I might have. Are you attempting to tell me that you share their feelings?" Alaric's hand had clenched into a fist and his knuckles showed white.

  Rowena swung her startled gaze towards him. "No! Of course I believe no such thing. After last night how could you accuse me of that?"

  Alaric watched her coolly. The surprise and alarm in her wide violet eyes seemed sincere enough. But he was familiar with the duplicity of women. Marguerite had gazed deeply into his eyes any number of times and lied with great conviction. The long string of mistresses that had followed her had not served to reassure him as to the honesty of the sex. Tears had been wielded as a weapon, smiles and assurances of affection had proved to be no more than a cover for mercenary grasping. Rowena's shocked countenance was no guarantee of her true feelings.

  "It is quite obvi
ous to all the world that either Malcolm or I killed Ingram. If word gets out that you are looking into his murder, not only will the entire ton be titillated, but the news will doubtless get back to Bow Street. You may do far more than bring further disgrace to my reputation, Rowena. You might well re-open the investigation. I have many enemies, you know." He paused, his gaze fixed coldly on her startled face. "But perhaps that is your intention. You more than once accused me of wishing to marry you for the sake of revenge. It had not occurred to me until now that perhaps that was your motive."

  Rowena stared at him in stunned silence. She could not believe what Alaric was saying. How could he possibly believe her to be guilty of such duplicity? Unbidden tears rose to her eyes. She had given herself to him freely last night, believing that perhaps love could grow between them. And now he revealed that he could believe that she had married him only to try to destroy him. How could she ever have thought she could reach someone so cold and self-contained?

  "Well, Rowena? Do you have an answer for me?"

  "How can I possibly answer such an accusation?" Rowena's voice was shaking. "If you believe that I could stoop to such a thing, I have no way of proving that I would not. But I cannot imagine why you wished to marry me if you believe me capable of such deviousness."

  "You have thrown the same accusation at me many times," observed Alaric. A great fury welled up in him at the thought that the sweet young woman he married might have been simply a figment of his imagination. Perhaps Rowena was not unusual; perhaps she was like all the others. "Why am I the only one who might be seeking revenge? Your devotion to your brother is so strong that I begin to wonder if it is perhaps stronger than your affection for me."

  Rowena's head snapped up at that and her violet eyes, bright with unshed tears, met his icy ones. "How dare you? After last night, how can you question my affection for you?"

  Alaric laughed. The ball of cold fear in the pit of his stomach was growing. Perhaps he had been a fool, taken in by a resourceful adventuress. Rowena was a clever woman; their entire courtship could have been a trap. "Your reactions to me mean nothing, Rowena. You might have been as easily aroused by any man skilled in the art of love. I seem to recall that before our marriage you responded to me passionately. How do I know that you have not been intimate with many men before?"