That Infamous Pearl

by Alicia Quigley

He fixed Malcolm with a steely gaze, and there was a moment's silence. Finally, Malcolm's eyes dropped.

  "Very well, Brayleigh. You came out of this with a whole skin twelve years ago, and I suppose I must trust you now. But I won't have Rowena injured in any way. If there is the slightest danger of that, you can be sure I'll take care of her."

  "There will be no need," said Alaric flatly. "Rowena will be under my eye every moment."

  Chapter 32

  Rowena frowned at the roll of silk that was spread out before her. She fingered it gently, absently admiring the gossamer texture of the rich lapis blue fabric, but was unable to concentrate on the design of a new dress.

  "It would make a lovely ball gown, my lady," the modiste urged her. "I have seamstresses who could make it up for you immediately."

  "I am not at all sure that the color would become me," murmured Rowena.

  "You look wonderful in blue, my lady."

  "Perhaps." Rowena touched the material again, tracing the finely woven pattern of tiny, silvery hummingbirds that sprinkled it, but could not make a decision. Her thoughts were centered on the coming days at Sir Peter Brandfon's house party and her fervent hope that soon Malcolm and Alaric would both be free of suspicion. It seemed ridiculous to be pondering the fabric for a new dress when the futures of the two men she loved the most were hanging in the balance.

  "I will think about it," she said vaguely.

  The modiste, too familiar with the vagaries of titled ladies to argue, began to roll up the cloth. She would put the material away until Lady Brayleigh came in again; she was certain that my lady would soon realize just how perfectly the blue silk became her fair complexion.

  Rowena turned away and gazed next at a richly embroidered silk shawl without truly seeing it. She was aware of Lawson standing nearby, her impatience palpable. Rowena sighed. She had best get back to the house and see if Alaric was about. At least she could share her anxiety with him.

  The door to the shop opened and another woman entered. Rowena stepped aside to allow her to pass without looking up, but was brought up short when a musical voice addressed her.

  "Lady Brayleigh. How delightful to see you. It has been some time since we last encountered each other."

  Rowena looked up and saw to her dismay that Marguerite was standing in front of her, a mocking smile on her lips. Fighting the urge to brush past her enemy, she paused and pondered the possibilities. Now would be an excellent time to bait the trap she hoped to spring this weekend.

  "Indeed it is, Lady Bingham," she said with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "I must confess that I have been wishing we might encounter one another."

  Marguerite's eyes widened. She had hoped to drop a few unkind comments in Rowena's ear, but had not expected to be greeted enthusiastically.

  "And why is that?" she asked. "I thought your husband had forbidden you to have dealings with me."

  Rowena hung her head. "He would be very angry if he were to know of it," she said, dropping her voice. "But I need to speak to you urgently. I am so confused. Alaric is...well, so different than he once was. I thought that perhaps you...well, that you could help me to understand some things."

  Marguerite gave a little laugh. "I am considerably more experienced than you, particularly when it comes to your husband. What is it that you wanted to know?"

  "We cannot talk here," murmured Rowena. "I am told that you will be at the Brandfon's house party. Brayleigh and I will be there also. Perhaps we can meet and discuss this privately."

  Marguerite allowed a triumphant smile to spread across her face. "Certainly, my dear. It is a shame that you did not heed my warnings before you were married, but I will be only too glad to help you in any way possible. I am sorry if you are in distress."

  Rowena willed her eyes to water, and she fished a handkerchief out of her reticule. She dabbed the corner of her eyes. "Please, do not speak of it now," she begged.

  Marguerite patted her arm consolingly. "I will do my very best to help you. I look forward to our talk."

  Rowena seized Marguerite's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," she whispered. "You cannot imagine how grateful I am." Pretending to be quite overcome with emotion, she dashed out of the shop, her bewildered maid in attendance.

  Out on the street Rowena allowed herself to savor the moment, pleased with her performance. Marguerite was malicious enough to seize the opportunity to attempt to meddle in Alaric's marriage without questioning what Rowena's motivations might be. Surely someone that self-involved could easily be tricked into over-playing her hand. Rowena felt a glow of satisfaction. Soon everything would be settled. Malcolm could return home as the Earl of Wroxton and she could try once again to make Alaric love her. That, it seemed, might be the most difficult task she had set herself.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden clatter of hooves and an anxious stirring in the crowd that surrounded her. She heard a man shout and the frightening sound of galloping horses echoed in her ears. She looked around as Lawson gave a squeal of alarm and saw a carriage, the horses completely out of control, heading in her direction through the throng. People shouted and fled as the horses thundered towards Rowena as though they were seeking her out. She froze for a moment, watching in terror as the huge animals bore down on her, and then with a cry of dismay she flung herself out of their path, seizing the petrified Lawson and pushing her with her as she fell to the ground. She could hear the ominous creaking of the wheels and the snorting of the horses as the carriage passed within inches of her, throwing up dust and dirt everywhere. Then there was silence, broken only by the sound of an hysterical woman screaming.

  Rowena looked up cautiously and found herself at the center of a circle of people, all regarding her with concern. The screams came from Lawson, who lay half-underneath Rowena, her eyes shut and her hands clenched into tight fists.

  "Hush, Lawson. We are unhurt." Rowena spoke sharply, trying to quiet her maid's shrieks. She could tell by looking at Lawson that sympathy would only make her cry harder.

  Rowena looked about for help, and saw that although her dress was ruined where the wheels had brushed against it, she was otherwise undamaged. The circle of people about her parted suddenly, and Rowena perceived with relief that Charles Monfort was pushing his way toward her.

  "Rowena, are you hurt?" Charles kneeled down next to her, his concern evident. "I noticed you in the crowd just before the accident, and tried to grab you before the carriage passed, but I was unable to reach you in time."

  "I am fine," said Rowena firmly. "Please help me up. I feel a fool, lying here in the middle of the street."

  She took Charles' proffered hand and rose, trying unsuccessfully to shake the dust from her skirts.

  "Whoever was in that carriage should not be allowed to drive in public," she said angrily. "Any number of people might have been hurt."

  "Unfortunately, there were no identifying marks on the carriage," said Charles. "I fear we shall never know who it was."

  "It's just as well. Alaric would surely wish to wreak revenge on him. It is probably better that the matter is allowed to rest."

  Charles looked at her admiringly. "You don't seem shaken at all," he said. "What spirit you have."

  Rowena shook her head. "My knees feel like jelly," she admitted. "But I wouldn't want to have hysterics in front of so many people, especially when Lawson is doing it for me."

  Charles laughed. "May I take you home? I think it would be best if you had an escort."

  Rowena smiled gratefully. "If it would not be too much of a bother, I would appreciate it. Lawson will clearly not be of any help. My carriage is waiting for me at the end of the street."

  "Alaric would never forgive me if I didn't."

  The pair turned their attention to calming Lawson as the crowd dispersed, the people wandering away when it became evident that no one was injured. Charles clasped Rowena's arm and led her slowly to her carriage, helping her settle herself, and making sure her numerous packages we
re properly stowed as well. He then assisted the shaken Lawson into the carriage and eased himself down next to Rowena, ordering the coachman to return home.

  "It's shocking the way some of these fellows drive," he observed. "It shouldn't be allowed. It's a lucky thing you weren't injured; Alaric would have my head for not protecting you."

  "Don't concern yourself with it," said Rowena. "I am unhurt and there is no harm done."

  "You were very lucky. You could have been killed."

  "But I was not. Really, Charles, you seem to be more alarmed than I am."

  "I am concerned. If you don't mind my saying so, your marriage to Alaric has made him so much more human. If something were to happen to you I fear he would once again become the forbidding fellow he was before you wed him."

  Rowena colored slightly. "Alaric is an excellent husband," she murmured. "But I think you are over-estimating my influence on him."

  "Not at all," answered Charles. "You cannot imagine the change you have wrought in him. We all despaired of him ever marrying, much less as contentedly as he seems to have done. I imagine Brayleigh now looks forward to the day when he will have a son. Only a few months ago I would never have believed it possible."

  "That is, of course, one of the reasons he married," said Rowena, her heart sinking slightly as Charles' words called to her mind Alaric's determination to father a son.

  Charles gave her a searching glance. "I look forward to hearing the good news."

  "You will be the first to know," answered Rowena lightly. She looked up as they approached her house. "I hope Alaric is not too furious when he hears of this."

  "It is hardly your fault, so if he is angry, it cannot be with you."

  Charles climbed down from the carriage and assisted Rowena out of it. He escorted her carefully up the stairs and into the house, where he ordered Ferguson to fetch the earl.

  "No, please allow me to go upstairs and change my clothing," said Rowena. "I would really rather tell him later."

  "Nonsense. We will await him in the library, Ferguson." Charles took Rowena into the library, and seated her in a high-backed chair.

  "Really, Charles, this is not necessary," protested Rowena. "I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I am not an invalid."

  "I know that if I do not make certain Alaric knows of this, he will probably not be told. You are far too eager to shield him, Rowena."

  "Shield me from what?" Brayleigh stood in the door, his elegant presence filling the room. His eyes flicked briefly over Charles' face and then turned to Rowena, taking in her disheveled appearance immediately.

  "What happened?" he demanded, and hastened to Rowena's side. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

  "Your bride was almost killed by a run-away carriage," said Charles. "Luckily, she had the presence of mind to save herself and her maid."

  Rowena blushed. "It was nothing so dramatic. Why, any number of people were almost injured and my experience was not at all remarkable. I am completely unharmed, and so there is nothing to be concerned about."

  "Who was driving the carriage?" Alaric looked up at Charles.

  "It was unmarked, and moving far too fast to make any identification. It seems as though the horses were maddened by something."

  Alaric raised an eyebrow. "How unusual that something of this sort should happen in the middle of Bond Street."

  Charles shrugged. "It was probably one of those young men who fancy themselves whips when they can barely handle a gig, and bought some horses he couldn't handle."

  "Possibly." Alaric turned back to Rowena. "Are you sure you are unharmed?"

  "Quite sure. Really, Alaric, you will make me begin to think that I am injured. Please stop fretting over me."

  "Was there anyone else about?" asked Alaric.

  "What do you mean?" Charles looked confused.

  "Who else was there that you recognized?"

  "Any number of people. It was Bond Street in the middle of the afternoon, after all. I don't know what you mean."

  "I saw Lady Bingham just before it happened," said Rowena slowly. "Alaric, you don't think--" She broke off at the warning glance he gave her.

  "What are you talking about? Surely you don't suggest that this was not an accident?" Charles looked from one to the other, bewildered.

  "Not at all. That would be impossible." Alaric released Rowena's hand and walked over to his cousin. "I appreciate your escorting Rowena home, and for being there when she needed assistance. It should have been me."

  "Not at all," answered Charles. "I am sure Rowena will wish to rest now. I'll be on my way."

  "Thank you, Charles," said Rowena. "It was kind of you to be concerned for me."

  "I'm only glad I could assist. It was the least I could do for my cousin's wife." Charles bowed politely and left the room.

  "Alaric, you can't possibly believe that this was planned," said Rowena the moment he was gone. "Dozens of people could have been killed or injured. Surely Lady Bingham would not wish to injure innocent people."

  "Whoever was behind Ingram's death did not seem to mind killing him to get at me," observed Alaric. "Perhaps our murderer suspects what we are up to. I am not entirely sure that you should go to the Brandfon's with me. You'd be safer staying in London."

  "Alaric, you will not keep me locked up here while you try to trap Marguerite! She will never betray herself to you, for you were the object of her plot. You know you must allow me to go."

  "I would rather remain under suspicion for the rest of my life than endanger you," said Alaric heatedly. "This killer is completely unscrupulous and may well have been behind your accident today. I cannot allow you to be a target."

  "Nonsense. This was surely an accident, and even if it was an attempt on my life, I survived it unharmed. You may be content to live under suspicion, but my brother is a wanted man, likely to be hung if he is caught. His future is at stake as well."

  Alaric stiffened. He had forgotten Rowena's fierce loyalty to her brother. In the past few days he had begun to hope that he had repaired some of the damage he had caused over the past weeks, when he had treated her so harshly, refusing to trust her and instead believing the lies of others. It had seemed to him at times that her affection for him was returning, and it was painful to him to realize that she still put Malcolm before him.

  "I am sure there is another way to clear Malcolm's name," he said harshly. "It must be possible to do so without putting you in danger. Even he would not ask that of you."

  "My safety is not at stake. You will be at the Brandfon's to protect me, as will Malcolm. Between the two of you I imagine I will scarcely be able to breathe, and it will be impossible for anyone to hurt me with so many people about. Alaric, you must allow me to do this. It is of the utmost importance to my family and to me."

  She looked up at him, her expression serious. Alaric gazed back at her, trying to gauge her emotions.

  "Clearing Malcolm's name means a great deal to you, doesn't it?" he asked.

  "Of course it does. He's my brother." Rowena swallowed. She wished to tell Alaric that clearing his name as well was her fondest wish, that she hoped if she could do that he would allow the ghosts of the past to depart and they could start on a new life together. But she knew that he would only turn away if she said something so emotional.

  "Very well. You may go to Brandfon's with me." Alaric held up a warning finger as Rowena gave a squeal of excitement. "But you must do exactly as I tell you at all times."

  "Yes, of course, Alaric. I promise to be very good. You will be amazed at how obedient I can be."

  Alaric smiled. "If you are obedient, Rowena, I will be amazed indeed."

  Chapter 33

  The next afternoon the Earl of Brayleigh's traveling chaise bowled up the long drive to Brandfon Abbey. As the coachman halted before the imposing front steps, Rowena looked at the house with a mixture of amazement and dismay. Sir Peter Brandfon apparently had fallen under the spell of the current rage for all th
ings Gothic, for the house, built of forbidding gray stone, rose in a mass of turrets and spires that soared above them with no apparent pattern or discernable design. Narrow, leaded windows gave it the appearance of a fortress, while the vegetation, apparently chosen to perfectly complement the gloom of the house, gave the impression of being about to enfold the visitors and perhaps consume them.

  "Goodness," she murmured.

  "As I said, Sir Peter and Lady Brandfon have very little taste," commented Alaric. "You see what a sacrifice I have made for you. Sir Peter will doubtless spend the entire evening soliciting my opinion of his home. And, while I have a constitutional dislike of lying, I can hardly tell him the truth."

  Rowena gave a gurgle of laughter. "I did not realize before how very indulgent you are of me, Alaric. I will remember this in the future."

  Alaric looked down into her smiling violet eyes and an answering smile appeared on his face. "See that you do," he said with mock sternness.

  "Good lord. What the hell is this place?"

  Alaric looked over to see Malcolm, dressed in the livery of one of the Brayleigh grooms and wearing his brown wig, leaning in the windows of the carriage.

  "One of the finest country houses in all England," he answered lightly. "I gather it is not to your taste?"

  "Lord, no," said Malcolm flatly. "What a hideous pile of stone."

  "Hush," said Rowena. "It wouldn't do for someone to overhear you. We don't want to offend our hosts."

  "The opinion of a groom would hardly matter," said Malcolm. "I'm thankful now that I'll be sleeping in the stables. A place like this would give me nightmares."

  "Then see that you stay in the stables," said Alaric. "Remember your supposed station while you are at it; I don't believe my groom should be speaking to me so familiarly. Between you and your sister, my reputation will soon be in shreds."

  "It was in shreds anyway," observed Malcolm cheerfully. "I thought we were trying to restore it."

  Alaric sighed. "Spare me from such help," he said. "I will be lucky to get out of this with a whole skin, much less with my good name intact."