"We are doing this for all of us," said Rowena firmly. "And I am sure we will be successful. In only a few days both your names will be cleared."
"I only wish I had your optimism. The best I can hope for is that we are not all hauled up before a magistrate before the end of the weekend." Alaric looked around. "We had best alight. Malcolm, you will go with the carriage to the stables, and you will stay there unless I send for you. Do you understand?"
Malcolm exchanged a glance with Rowena. "I understand you, Brayleigh."
"You will not come unless I explicitly ask for you," repeated Alaric. "And I wish you to stay away from Rowena. If someone sees the two of you together they might figure out the ruse. There is a certain family resemblance. Also, Charles will be present. While I doubt he is a threat to you, it would be best if he didn't see you."
Malcolm shrugged. "Very well. But if I hear that Rowena is in danger, I'll come up to the house anyway. I'm not going to have her harmed."
"You may rest assured that I will be watching her every movement," said Alaric.
"See that you do," answered Malcolm. He turned away from the window and busied himself helping to unload the luggage.
"I think your brother still dislikes me," observed Alaric as he opened the door and helped Rowena out of the carriage.
"He is just not accustomed to working with you," said Rowena. "He has thought you a murderer for many years, after all. And you are so different from each other. Malcolm is warm-hearted and rash and you are--"
"I am what?" asked Alaric, biting back a sharp rejoinder at her unfavorable comparison of him to her brother. "Cold and stiff?"
"No, not at all." Rowena gestured hastily, anxious to make herself understood. "I meant only that you are more sophisticated, and think before you act. You are more mature than Malcolm is."
"Soon you will have me doddering about the house, drooling in my soup," observed Alaric. "I think we had best not pursue this line of conversation."
Rowena looked up at him helplessly. It seemed that nothing she said to Alaric came out right. He had been kind to her since their reconciliation, but she sensed that he was holding her at arm's length, and it hurt. Would he never allow her to get close to him again?
"Alaric--" she began, but the doors to the house swung open and flurry of servants surrounded them, escorting them into the house and removing their luggage to their rooms. In the hallway Sir Peter and Lady Brandfon awaited, their faces wreathed in smiles. Sir Peter stepped forward and seized Alaric's hand.
"Brayleigh! How wonderful to see you. I am delighted to have you here at Brandfon Abbey. I have been anxious to get your opinion on my home, as well as to show you my grandfather's art collection. It is quite magnificent, I believe. This must be your lovely bride. Our felicitations to you both. It must be very exciting to you, Lady Brayleigh, to be married to such a mysterious fellows as Brayleigh, eh?"
To Rowena's relief Sir Peter did not wait for an answer, but plowed ahead. "You must allow me to show you the entire house as soon as you are settled. We have given you the very finest rooms and hope they meet with your approval. And you are acquainted with our other guests as well. Your cousin Charles Montfort is here, and the Brenderbys, and Lord and Lady Rushton, and Lady Bingham, who of course you know--"
Sir Peter broke off when his wife nudged him in the ribs and he gave Rowena an anguished glance. "No need to worry about Lady Bingham," he said contritely. "I'm sure there are many things to occupy you both here at Brandfon Abbey. I look forward to showing you about."
"Thank you," said Alaric gravely, taking Rowena's arm. "I am sure Lady Brayleigh would like to rest now."
"Certainly, certainly. Hodges will show you to your room. If there is anything you want, please ask for it immediately. We wish you to be very comfortable here."
Alaric inclined his head formally and escorted Rowena up the stairs in the wake of the servant. She followed him silently, but when they entered their rooms and the servant bowed and left, she broke into peals of laughter.
"Poor Alaric," she managed to gasp at last. "How very brave it was of you to come here. If I ever doubted the sacrifice you were making, I no longer do so."
Alaric smiled at her amusement. She was so warm and enthusiastic. He was amazed when he remembered the emptiness of his life before she had come into it. It seemed like a very dull existence in retrospect.
"I am glad you appreciate it," he said. He moved towards her and took her into his arms. "Believe me, I shall exact payment."
Rowena peeped up at him through her lashes. He seemed to be in a remarkably good humor now, she thought. The dark mood he had been in seemed to have lifted.
"What sort of payment might that be, my lord?" she asked.
In answer Alaric bent his head and took her mouth in a fierce kiss that deprived her of breath. "Perhaps you should take that rest I mentioned," he murmured. "I can think of far more delightful ways to spend the afternoon than looking at Sir Peter's paintings."
Rowena reached up and touched his cheek with gentle fingers. He was so beautiful, she thought with a catch in her throat. How she wished that he would look at her with more than affectionate amusement.
"Don't you think we would be missed?" she asked.
Alaric shrugged. "I really don't care if I annoy Sir Peter. His is hardly the sort of acquaintance I wish to encourage."
"Then it is my wifely duty to obey my husband's commands," whispered Rowena. "I believe I could use some rest."
Alaric smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, his hands moving up her arms to her shoulders, which he caressed gently, sending a shiver of excitement through Rowena's body.
"You are very beautiful, Rowena," he said.
"Alaric, I love you," she breathed against his lips.
Alaric suddenly became very still, and Rowena's eyes widened in horrified shock when she realized what she had said. He lifted his lips and looked down at her, a stunned expression on his face.
"Alaric...I'm sorry, I didn't--"
There was a knock at the door, and with an impatient oath Alaric strode to it, flinging it open as Rowena hastily struggled to rearrange her clothing. Charles stood in the doorway, his pleasant smile fading when he saw the dark look on Alaric's face.
"Am I disturbing something?" he asked. His eyes swept over Rowena once, taking in her agitated state. "I apologize. Sir Peter asked me to tell you that he would like to conduct a tour of his gallery now, and he was sure that you would be interested."
There was a pause as Alaric glowered at his cousin. Rowena stepped forward hastily, anxious to fill the breach. She had no desire to discuss her startling statement with Alaric. He would surely laugh at her for giving in to such emotions, or he might even believe she was lying to him in order to get something out of him. She didn't know if she could stand being confronted with his suspicions again.
"Certainly, Charles. It would not do for us to neglect our kind hosts. Alaric and I were simply looking at our wonderful rooms, but I believe we are settled now. I am sure Alaric will be fascinated by Sir Peter's collection."
Charles eyes widened as his cousin growled something under his breath. "I did not mean to disturb you," he repeated.
"Really, it is no problem. We will come with you immediately, won't we, Alaric?"
Alaric's eyelids dropped, and when they lifted again he had resumed his cool demeanor. "Certainly," he drawled. "The gallery must be faced at some time; it might as well be now. We will follow you, Charles."
Charles looked curiously from one to the other and then shrugged. "Very well," he said, heading down the hall.
Rowena hurried past Alaric, anxious not to let Charles get out of earshot, but her husband reached out and caught her arm as she passed.
"We will continue this conversation later," he said under his breath.
She gave him a sidelong glance but didn't respond, and they followed Charles down the hall in silence. Alaric watched Rowena narrowly as they walked, noting her agitation and a
pparent confusion. What had she meant by the words she had said, he wondered. Perhaps, the thought suddenly struck him, she was trying to distract him from something. Could she and Malcolm be hatching another plan? He would have to watch her carefully to make sure that she didn't go tearing off on one of Malcolm's hare-brained schemes.
"Ah, Lord and Lady Brayleigh. I am so glad that you could accompany us on our tour." Sir Peter beamed when the three of them entered the sitting room. "Charles was uncertain as to whether you would be too tired to join us or not."
"We are looking forward to it," said Rowena.
"Well, I cannot pretend that my collection is as fine as your husband's, but I flatter myself that it is of great value and in excellent taste. You shall judge for yourself." Sir Peter smiled on them all. "I believe you are acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Brenderby, and uh, Lady Bingham."
Marguerite stood up and smiled maliciously at Alaric and Rowena. "We are old friends. Or at least Brayleigh and I are. I have only recently become acquainted with his charming wife," she purred.
"Lady Bingham." Alaric bowed to her coldly, his eyes raking over her tight dress and elegant curls. He wondered with disdain how he could ever have found someone so hard and thoughtless to be attractive.
"Then shall we proceed?" asked Sir Peter, anxious to smooth over the awkward moment. "This way, please. I wish you to be utterly honest with me, Lord Brayleigh, on the matter of these paintings. My family is very proud of them, but please do not spare my feelings. I wish to know their true value, though of course they will always be cherished for having been collected by my ancestors."
Rowena glanced nervously at Alaric as they followed the group from the sitting room, but he seemed to have forgotten what had happened earlier. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Surely he would not want to pursue such a sensitive topic any further. It could only cause embarrassment for them both.
They walked through several dark and drafty hallways before entering the Great Gallery, a long room that ran the length of one side of the building. Alaric sighed when he noticed that the windows were small and the room rather dark, making it difficult to distinguish one painting from another. It was going to be a long afternoon.
"Come with me, Lord Brayleigh. I insist that you lead us on our tour. This first work is believed to be a Rubens, and I am quite sure that the attribution is correct. You notice the fine tint of the pink in the flesh, and the voluptuous lines of the body."
Alaric frowned up at the painting, which represented an extremely fat naked woman, great quantities of red hair surrounding her heavy face, leering out at the viewer. It was clearly a forgery, he thought, done by an inexpert hand.
"Very nice," he said shortly.
Sir Peter beamed at him, and led him to the next painting. As Alaric peered at it, trying to decide in the gloom if it was a representation of another obese woman reclining on a couch or simply a large pink pig, he felt Rowena moving away from his side. He turned towards her hastily, but she only shook her head quickly and frowned, flicking her eyes towards where Lady Bingham stood, watching them all closely. Alaric realized she intended to put her plan into motion, and that he couldn't stop her without causing a scene. He glared at her, but she merely smiled and glided away, leaving him at the mercy of Sir Peter.
"This is another Rubens, I believe," the baron said cheerfully. "My grandfather purchased it in the Netherlands, and it hung for many years over his bed."
It must be a woman then, thought Alaric grimly. Reluctantly he turned his attention away from Rowena and towards the painting. She would pay for this later, he promised himself.
Rowena moved towards the back of the group, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the small giggle that rose in her throat. It amused her to see Alaric, usually in control of everything around him, at the mercy of the well-meaning but vulgar Sir Peter. She paused momentarily to look for Lady Bingham, and saw to her relief that the baroness had detached herself slightly from the group and stood several feet away, gazing up at a painting of a large couple embracing. Rowena took a deep breath and stepped towards her.
"Lady Bingham."
Marguerite turned, her cornflower blue eyes widening when she saw who addressed her, and then narrowing as she assessed her opponent.
"Lady Brayleigh. I am surprised you are not listening to your husband's opinions of the paintings."
Rowena tried to smile. Standing this close to the woman, she could feel her malice as a physical entity. "I wouldn't understand anything he had to say," she answered. "I'm afraid I have no true appreciation of art. It all looks the same to me."
Marguerite laughed softly. "How well-matched the two of you are." Her voice was sarcastic. "Alaric should never have married you. I always knew it was solely for revenge."
Rowena hung her head and avoided Marguerite's eyes. She strove to put the right note of anxiety into her voice. "I thought he cared for me," she whispered. "But now I don't know. He's so cold...he frightens me."
"Frightens you?" Marguerite's eyes raked over her. "It takes a real woman to stand up to Alaric. You're just a little white mouse, aren't you? I imagine he would eat you alive."
A twinge of anger shot through Rowena at this disparagement of her courage, but she fought it down. It would not do to tip her hand. "I...I didn't believe the stories before. But now I think maybe they are true. Can you tell me the truth?"
Marguerite smiled triumphantly. "I thought you knew him far better than I do? Weren't those the brave words you threw at me not so long ago? Why should I tell you anything now?"
Rowena willed a tear to appear in her eye. "At first I thought all was well. But now--now I have heard some things which frighten me. I do not know what to believe, and Alaric refuses to tell me anything."
"I was right to bring Malcolm back," said Marguerite with satisfaction. "I thought it might be interesting if you met your brother again. You married his greatest enemy. You shouldn't have done that."
"He compromised me," said Rowena, her voice mournful. "I had no choice. My aunt forced me into it. But now I think I might have been better off if I had been ruined. I must know the truth. Am I married to a murderer?"
Marguerite glanced over at the group that was moving slowly down the gallery, viewing the paintings and listening to Alaric's terse comments on them.
"Not now," she said softly. "I will tell you everything you want to know later. But we must have privacy."
"When?" asked Rowena anxiously. "I cannot wait another minute."
"You will have to. Tomorrow afternoon, when everyone is resting. Come to the solarium. I'll wait for you there."
"You'll tell me everything?" asked Rowena.
"You'll know all about your husband by the time I'm done," said Marguerite. "I only hope you can handle it, you pitiful child."
"Why did this have to happen?" asked Rowena, striving to put the right note of pettishness in her voice. "I cannot believe he would be so cruel as to marry me only to hurt Malcolm."
"Your husband would do anything to get revenge," said Marguerite. "He hates Malcolm and will not stop until he is dead. Your well-being means nothing to him."
"I don't want to believe that," whispered Rowena. "But it is so hard, wondering about this."
"You won't wonder much longer." Marguerite's eyes wandered over Rowena's shoulder and rested on Alaric. She smiled thoughtfully. "Soon you will know far more than you wish."
"Thank you," said Rowena fervently.
"Don't thank me yet," murmured Marguerite. "You might not be happy with what you hear."
"The truth is the only thing that matters to me," vowed Rowena.
"Then you shall have it." Marguerite looked back at the group of people, who had moved some distance down the gallery. "You had best rejoin your husband, or he will be furious. And I don't think I want another taste of his temper."
Rowena achieved a shudder. "He can be frightening. I had no idea, before the marriage."
"You shouldn't have played with fire. Alaric is far t
oo much man for you."
Rowena hung her head and fought the urge to slap Marguerite. Soon enough, she told herself, the baroness would pay for her words.
"Rowena."
She turned at Alaric's voice and saw that he had stepped away from the group and was beckoning her. Grateful for the chance to escape she shot one more frightened glance at Marguerite and then returned to her husband's side. He gazed down at her with a look that spoke volumes.
"You should be at my side, my dear. I am sure everyone would like to hear your opinions of the paintings as well. Tell me, what do you think of this portrait? Sir Peter assures me it is a Rembrandt."
Rowena gaped at the painting, which represented yet another nude woman, this one admiring herself in a mirror, so that a fine view of both her front and back were represented. It was executed poorly, although with a great deal of enthusiasm.
"Stunning," she said breathlessly, overwhelmed by the vast expanse of pink flesh.
"My feelings exactly," said Alaric.
Chapter 34
Later that evening as Rowena sat in front of her dressing table in her petticoat and chemise, preparing for dinner, the adjoining door between her room and Alaric's opened and her husband entered. He was dressed very elegantly in his customary sober black, his coat fitting tightly over his well-muscled shoulders, his crisp white cravat tied in intricate folds. She couldn't resist a surge of excitement as she watched him approach her, and a pang of regret for the interruption of their afternoon tryst.
"Good evening, my dear," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Are you enjoying our visit?"
"Very much," said Rowena. "You were very diplomatic this afternoon, Alaric."
He sighed. "My reputation as a connoisseur will never survive Sir Peter's reports that I admired his collection. But I suppose it is a small price to pay to clear your brother's name."
Rowena cast a warning glance at Lawson, who was on the opposite side of the room, fetching her mistress's dress from the wardrobe.
"Thank you, Lawson. I believe I can manage now. Lord Brayleigh will give me any help I might need."
That Infamous Pearl Page 29