That Infamous Pearl

by Alicia Quigley

  Rowena started violently and gave a scream at the sound of the harsh male voice. The leather case containing the necklace fell from her nerveless fingers and the pearls tumbled out onto the floor, the row of milky stones trailing over one of her delicate slippers. A man's hand reached down and picked it up, and Rowena stared up, paralyzed, into her husband's face.

  "You didn't answer me."

  "What are you doing here? I thought you had gone out." The words came out in a gasp, before Rowena could consider what she was saying.

  "Was my absence necessary? Aren't you going to tell me you were simply in here to fetch the rubies?" Rowena winced at the cynical edge in Alaric's voice.

  "How long have you been here?" Rowena's voice was very soft.

  "I was here when you entered. I watched you as you searched my safe. Why might you have been doing that, Rowena?"

  "Mere curiosity," she said promptly, striving to regain her composure. "I suppose I should not have done it, but it was irresistible."

  "You are blushing, Rowena. That means you are lying. But I knew you were lying anyway, because I know why you are here. You didn't find the pearl, did you? Malcolm will be so disappointed."

  Rowena gaped up at him. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that you will have to report to your brother that you cannot prove me to be a murderer today. Perhaps I shouldn't have interrupted you. Perhaps I should have waited to see to what lengths you would go to find the pearl. Would you have searched my bedroom? Would you have waited until we travelled to my estates and searched them? Perhaps I would find you rapping the walls one night, looking for hidden compartments. But I stopped you out of pity, Rowena. There is no pearl to be found in my possession. I don't have it."

  "I know that," snapped Rowena. "I was only doing this to prove you are innocent."

  Alaric raised his eyebrows. "You were searching my safe to prove me innocent? I was not aware that was the normal procedure in these cases. I rather thought the safes of men who were presumed to be guilty were searched."

  "I believed you were innocent, but it was necessary that I do this in order to have proof that you don't have the Pearl of Sirsi in your possession," she said urgently. "Surely you can understand that."

  "And who were you going to prove it to?" asked Alaric quietly.

  Rowena hesitated. He had already mentioned Malcolm once, but she had no idea how much he actually knew. If she told him her brother was in London that might cause more problems than it solved.

  "Your brother, perhaps?" asked Alaric silkily. His green eyes glittered as he watched Rowena's face. He saw a number of emotions light her eyes, from alarm to fear to annoyance.

  "Come, my dear, you can tell me. I am your husband, after all. I thought that honesty was important between a married couple."

  Rowena cringed at the words. She remembered clearly her berating of Alaric for his failure to tell her the whole truth.

  "I wished to prove to Malcolm that you are innocent," she tried to explain. "He still believes you to be guilty of killing Ingram."

  "And how long have you been in touch with Malcolm?" Alaric's voice was very quiet, but Rowena could hear the anger behind it. "Since before we were married?"

  "Of course not! He arrived in London only recently. I saw him last night for the first time."

  "In the garden...." Alaric's voice trailed off. "So you lied when you said you were alone."

  "I didn't want to upset you," said Rowena desperately. "I knew you would be furious."

  "So that is another untruth," murmured Alaric, seeming not to hear her. "How can I believe anything you tell me, Rowena, when I catch you in lie after lie? How do I know that you haven't been plotting this with Malcolm for months, or even years? Perhaps it was not I who seduced you, but you who seduced me."

  "That is ridiculous," snapped Rowena. "I saw Malcolm for the first time in twelve years last night. I didn't even know he was alive until recently. He asked me to help him and I told him that I would prove your innocence to him. I hoped that the two of you could work together to clear your names."

  "What a charmingly naive proposal." Alaric's voice cut at Rowena like a knife. "I cannot think how you might have imagined that I would wish to ever see your foolish brother again. Have I not made if sufficiently clear how I feel about him? And now you expect me to believe that you are searching my safe in order to prove my innocence to a man who thinks I am the devil? No, it will not do, Rowena. You will have to think of a more plausible explanation."

  "It is the truth!" Rowena clenched her hands into fists of frustration. "He may be anything you say, but he is still my brother! I wish you to be reconciled, and I thought that if Malcolm could be convinced, then you could be as well. I know you are not always so inflexible, Alaric."

  "And how did you mean to convince me? In the same way you convinced me to give you the combination to the safe? Did you mean to manipulate me with your kisses again and again until I gave you everything you wanted?" Alaric leaned towards her, and Rowena took a step backwards, frightened by the harshness in his face.

  "Of course not! I would never do that to you! I made no conditions last night when I asked you for the combination." Rowena wondered frantically how she could convince Alaric of her good intentions. He seemed determined to misunderstand her every action.

  "No, you made no conditions. But you waited until I was at ease before you wheedled what you needed from me. You must have laughed to see me so easily manipulated."

  "No, it wasn't like that. I only meant to prove to Malcolm that you needed to work together to find Ingram's killer." Her voice trailed off as she realized how weak her arguments must sound.

  "I am amazed I didn't see it before now. This has all been an act to you, hasn't it? You meant to prove me a murderer, and the only way to do it was to marry me. I hope your brother appreciates you sacrificing your body in his cause."

  "You must believe me, Alaric. I am telling you the truth," pleaded Rowena. "When I married you I had never talked to Malcolm. Later I was afraid that if I told you he was in London you would do something rash. I meant only to bring us all together. Can you not understand that I wish to reunite my family?" She reached out and tried to touch his arm, but he snatched it away with a muttered oath.

  "You betrayed me like this in order to help me?" Alaric gave a sour chuckle. "I am not a young man, Rowena, and I am not stupid. I have dealt with much more sophisticated conspirators than you. But I was never so blind before, and now I am paying for it. I married you, God help me."

  Rowena hung her head. "What can I do to convince you that I am telling the truth?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  Rowena shook her head in despair. "How did you know I would be here? You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

  Alaric took a piece of paper from his pocket and Rowena recognized it as the one he had been holding when she had entered his room the night before. Rowena looked at in in surprise.

  "This was waiting for me last night when we returned home. It is from Marguerite. She informed me that Malcolm was in London and that the two of you had been plotting against me for years. She said Malcolm had boasted to her of his intention to have me hung, and that you were planning to help him by finding the Pearl of Sirsi in my safe to use as evidence."

  "It is a lie!" said Rowena.

  "When I read the note all my old imaginings returned to me. But when you came into my room last night I couldn't believe that you were not sincere, that you could lie so sweetly in my arms one night and turn on me the next day. I told myself that Lady Bingham was simply a malicious woman intent on ruining my marriage."

  "You were right," said Rowena urgently. "You must not believe her. Have you not told me yourself that Lady Bingham is a mischief maker who will stop at nothing to ruin our marriage?"

  "But then you asked me for the combination to my safe." Alaric's voice was very sad. "There was no reason for you ask for it except to search the s
afe, as Marguerite said you meant to. You were discovered by another woman as deceitful as you are, Rowena. And she could not resist the chance to let me know she was aware of my humiliation. You are not as clever as you thought you were."

  "I didn't think I was being clever," declared Rowena. "I was only attempting to prevent the very things that are happening now. Alaric, you must trust me. It is important that you believe me. I meant only to help."

  "You meant to help Malcolm, certainly. But now you have done neither. Your brother cannot prove that I killed Ingram, and our marriage is ruined. I have only to decide now what it is I will do about that."

  "About our marriage?" asked Rowena.

  "Exactly." Alaric's eyes raked over her, contempt in their depths. "You cannot be gotten rid of as easily as a painting I have grown tired of. We are married, Rowena, and I expect you to remember that. You will not run off to Malcolm's protection. You are mine and will remain so, at least until I have a child from you."

  Rowena shivered at the icy look in Alaric's eyes. He had never looked at her like that before, as though she was no more than a nuisance he needed to dispose of. "You cannot mean that!"

  "I mean exactly what I say. Now get out of here. And do not try to contact your brother. You will not be able to go to him."

  "Please Alaric, you must listen to me--"

  "I told you to leave. You had best listen to me from now on, Rowena. You will no longer wrap me around your little finger."

  Rowena took one last look at his harsh face and realized that there was no reasoning with him now. Slowly she turned away and walked to the door, hoping that perhaps with a little time to think he would realize that she would never deliberately hurt him. She paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder, hoping to see some softening in his stance. Surely he could not mean what he had said, she thought. There must be some way she could convince him of the truth. Alaric's face was expressionless as he stood there, the rope of pearls still clasped in his hand.

  "I forgot something," he said abruptly. Rowena took a step towards him, hope rising in her heart.

  "I bought these pearls for you yesterday. I meant to give them to you on the one-month anniversary of our wedding. You might as well have them now. I would not want anybody to say the Countess of Brayleigh was not suitably ornamented."

  He reached out abruptly and seized her arm, thrusting the necklace into her hand. Her fingers closed over them automatically, feeling the cool silkiness of them against her skin.

  "Now get out." The words were steely.

  Chapter 25

  Rowena walked slowly out of the gallery, but when she reached the hall she raced blindly for the bedroom and threw herself onto the lacy coverlet, finally breaking into the great sobs that had been threatening her since Alaric had first discovered her in the gallery. She cried for a long time, until she was completely exhausted. Then she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the canopy arching over her head. She realized with a pang of disgust that the pearls were still clutched in her hand. She threw them angrily across the room, listening with satisfaction to the tiny crash they made as they hit the wall and fell to the floor.

  She wondered frantically what she could do to repair the damage she had caused. Alaric had not only caught her searching his safe, but Lady Bingham had convinced him that she had been plotting to do this since before she had met him. There had to be some way to convince him that she had meant well, that she had never thought he was guilty. The situation was in more of a tangle than ever, because Malcolm would surely be furious if she didn't show up the next day to meet him. Rowena could only imagine what he might decide to do about that.

  Hours passed as Rowena tried to unravel the knot her life had become. The small hope she had that Alaric might come to talk to her died as the afternoon passed, and when Lawson came to dress her for dinner, she told the maid to tell Lord Brayleigh she was unwell. The evening stretched into night and still Rowena had no solution to her problem. Her thoughts ran in a wretched circle; it was necessary to convince Alaric that she had never thought he was guilty, and therefore it was necessary to bring him together with Malcolm. But the two hated each other, and Lady Bingham would surely find a way to twist events against her. It seemed to be an utterly hopeless case.

  When it was very late she finally rose and, without ringing for Lawson, dressed herself in her nightgown and climbed into the huge bed. She knew she would be unable to sleep, but also that she couldn't sit on the bed all night in her morning dress. She burrowed down into the covers, hoping for some relief from the tormenting thoughts that continued to race through her brain.

  She sat up with a start when she heard the door to Alaric's bedroom open. In the dim light his figure was silhouetted against the doorway, and she watched in amazement as he walked calmly over to her bed and stood looking down at her, a brooding expression on his face. He was dressed only in his black silk dressing gown and, despite her anxiety, Rowena couldn't help admiring the breadth of his shoulders beneath the flowing material. He was so beautiful, she thought miserably. She had given her heart up to him so quickly, and now she had destroyed everything.

  "Alaric?" she said tentatively.

  He continued to stare at her, one hand rising to knife through his dark hair. She wondered what he was thinking, for his eyes betrayed no emotions, only glittering at her enigmatically from under their heavy lids.

  "Did you want to talk?" she asked.

  Alaric gave a harsh laugh. "Not at all. There is no need for any discussion tonight."

  Rowena looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

  He did not say anything, but sat on the edge of the bed next to her and took her into his arms. His lips locked onto hers in a fierce, demanding kiss that held nothing of gentleness in it. Rowena pulled away, startled.

  "Alaric, what are you doing? Surely you cannot mean to make love to me tonight." She paused as a flicker of hope flared in her. "Or have you forgiven me? Do you believe what I told you earlier?"

  Alaric stared at her. "I have not grown more stupid in the last hours, Rowena. You may have married me only to betray me, but I own you, and you will still give me a son."

  After he was gone, Rowena cried herself to sleep, too exhausted for even her worries to keep her awake.

  The next morning Alaric sat at the breakfast table, the food on his plate untouched, his face blank of emotion. Ferguson cast him an uneasy glance. This was the way the Earl had looked before his marriage, cold and detached, his mind concentrated on his collection and other pleasures. Since Lady Brayleigh had joined the household, it had seemed to the servants that there had been a visible thawing in their master, that he smiled more often and more easily and took a greater interest in the simpler joys of life. Now it seemed something was seriously amiss.

  "Is there anything else you require, my lord?" he asked formally.

  "What? No, thank you, Ferguson." Alaric seemed to look through the butler, as though the other man's presence was barely noticeable. He stared down at his hands as the butler bowed and left the room. He still could not believe what had happened the day before, the way a few short hours had changed the entire course of his life. Rowena, the one woman he had thought he could trust, the exception to his universal wariness of her sex, had betrayed him. Her loyalty was with her brother, and their marriage was a masquerade on her part, designed only to serve the purpose of destroying him.

  He shook his head. He despised himself for letting Rowena manipulate him. To think that he had trusted her, listened to her advice, shared his life with her in a way that he had never done with a woman before. He had dreamt of a life with her and their children, had given up his relentless pursuit of valuable objects because she occupied his thoughts at all times. He had almost come to love her.

  He hastily pushed the thought out of his mind. Love was not an emotion he cared for. He had never loved Rowena, he told himself, but he had esteemed her, respected her, and cared for her. And she had repaid him in false co
in. Malcolm was probably laughing at him now. Perhaps Alaric had thwarted his enemy's attempts to turn him over to the magistrates for murder, but Arlingby had punished him in a much more effective manner. His life had been torn to pieces before his very eyes as he watched Rowena sift through the contents of his safe. He wondered if the two of them had planned that he should suffer so. He could picture them in the garden at the Burlington ball, their blonde heads close together, laughing at the near-fulfillment of their plans.

  Alaric's hands clenched into fists at the thought. Perhaps they thought they had won, but he would prove to them that their victory was not complete. Rowena was his now, he thought angrily. He had taken her as his wife, and a wife she would be to him. She would pay for her treatment of him.

  The door to the dining room flew open and Rowena stood in the doorway. Alaric noted with grim satisfaction that she looked tired and that the usual faint glow of pink was absent from her cheeks. Perhaps she was beginning to understand what she had gotten herself into, he thought with satisfaction. He would never allow her to leave him. The world would never know of this betrayal. It was horrible enough to think of Malcolm, Rowena, and Marguerite laughing at him, but he would stop them from turning him into a public laughingstock.

  "Good morning," she said breathlessly. She had half-hoped that she might arrive before Alaric, but now he sat before her, the same closed look on his face that had been there the night before. Her eyes hastily scanned the table and she noted that Ferguson had not yet brought in the morning's letters. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Perhaps it would still be possible to keep Alaric from learning that she meant to meet Malcolm today.

  Alaric inclined his head coldly and watched as Rowena seated herself. She gave him a sidelong glance from her wide violet eyes but did not attempt further conversation. She would simply have to prove to Alaric by her actions that she was worthy of his trust, she thought. Sooner or later she would be able to reach him, when he was not so terrifyingly angry. The dark, unreadable man who sat at the head of the table was almost unrecognizable to her. Even at his most forbidding, she had sensed a compatibility of spirit with Alaric. But this man, and the man who had come to her bed last night, was a complete stranger to her.