Cloaked in Danger

by Jeannie Ruesch

  “If you weren’t blockheads about everything, I wouldn’t have to make assumptions,” she snapped back. “Am I to believe you didn’t do this to yourselves?”

  “A couple of thugs tried to kill us.”

  “Technically, they tried to kill you. I just happened to be there,” Michael added as he grabbed Adam’s empty glass. Was that three? Five? Adam had lost count.

  At that point, he noticed his mother standing in the doorway. She clutched the towels and a bowl of water in her arms like a lifeline. “Someone tried to kill you?”

  Ah, damn it. Adam wrapped his fingers around his side, to hold in some of the pain while he got out of the chair. He took the items from her. Led her to the chair, where she sank down, eyes wide. “What happened?”

  “I think Wade set them on us,” Adam said as gently as he could. “If Michael hadn’t been there, I’d be dead.” He looked at his future brother-in-law. “I owe you my life.”

  Michael returned a half-full glass to Adam’s hand and clinked his glass against his. “Glad I could be there.”

  Blythe swung her gaze back and forth, brows furrowed and hands on hips. “Did you hit your heads? When did you two become friendly?”

  Adam touched a hand to his mother’s hand, which had started to shake. “Mama, I’m all right.”

  Her fingers fluttered a bit, settling on his bruised cheek for a moment. “You don’t look it.” She shook her head, and grabbed the bowl from him. “Given all that’s been said between us. You could have been killed and the last thing I said—” A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. “I love you, Adam. Even when I’m furious at you, I love you.”

  He reached down and pressed a hand against her shoulder, squeezed. “I know that. I love you, too.”

  “Can we please get back to finding my daughter? I have been in London for two goddamn days, and my daughter has been taken by the man who tried to kill me. And I haven’t seen my goddamn wife.” Whitney had worked himself into a froth, pacing holes in the floor. He stopped to glare at Adam. “You said you were her betrothed. Where were you when she was taken?” As if suddenly realizing there were women in the room, he looked away. “My apologies, my lady, for my language.”

  Hypatia waved his objections away with a hand in the air. “I believe a man recently returned from the dead is entitled to a few colorful curses. No apology required.”

  “You know my side. Now tell me yours,” Whitney demanded of Adam.

  Adam related the events of the last days.

  “So it was at his behest you were at the docks. Wade is obsessed. I saw it in his eyes when I refused him.”

  “That goes with the rumors I’ve heard,” Ravensdale added. “The man is ruthless when it comes to acquiring things he wants.”

  “And all of this is to marry a woman who doesn’t want him?” Blythe asked from her place across the room. She moved in closer. “I don’t mean to insult Aria—I think she’s wonderful. But can a man truly be that blindly obsessed, that in love, he would kill for a woman who doesn’t even want to marry him?”

  “Obsession is rarely about love,” Whitney replied. “It’s about control. Power. He might see her as a prize, as something to belong to him.”

  Adam looked at Ravensdale. “You said Wade was obsessed with acquiring as much as he could.”

  “Property, in London and surrounding towns. Items of value. He’s earned a ruthless reputation and come by it naturally, as best I can tell. If someone knows he wants a certain property or item, they back off. He’s been building his holdings for years.”

  “Acquisition takes money, of which you have a tremendous amount,” Adam said to Whitney.

  “He did, before he ‘died,’” Michael interjected. “And now, that money rests in the hands of—”

  “Emily and Aria.”

  The color fled from Whitney’s face and he let out a strangled gasp. “Emily.”

  “Patrick shares your solicitor,” Adam commented. “He was at your house the other day, trying to push the declaration of your death. If Patrick sees marriage to Aria as a means to gain your fortune, his plans will be gainsaid by learning you are alive. It could throw him into a panic.”

  “He could kill Aria. And Emily is nothing to him.” Whitney strode to the door, bent over to pick up his gun. In the doorway, he stopped, looked back and said, “Betrothed.”. It wasn’t a question, nor was it a statement exactly, so Adam only nodded. “Do you love my daughter?”

  The question stole the breath right from him. And he was keenly aware of the interest that perked throughout the room.

  But before he could formulate a coherent thought, Whitney gave a gruff hrrumph and nodded. “Good, then. I know you will do everything you can to find her. When I come back with Mrs. Whitney, we’ll go after Wade.”

  A quick nod later, Whitney was gone.

  Good then? Good what then? Adam hadn’t said a word, but Whitney seemed satisfied. Had he seen the truth in Adam’s face, the truth that he hadn’t even admitted to Aria?

  But he couldn’t stand by and wait for Whitney’s return. Adam moved to follow.

  “Where do you think you are going?” His mother got up from the chair and promptly shoved him into it, showing no mercy when he protested in pain.

  “We need to track Wade, find out where he’s taken Aria.”

  “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Two steps out the door and you might collapse.” She crossed her arms, taking that don’t-argue-with-me stance mothers had perfected.

  “I’ll be fine. But we cannot waste any more time. As soon as Wade finds out Whitney is alive—”

  “You won’t do Aria any good if you kill yourself trying.” She brought the bowl of water over and dropped a cloth in it. “As much as you hate it, you need to rest. You need to rebuild some strength.”

  “Ow,” Ravensdale said a few steps away, where he was getting the same none-too-gentle treatment from Blythe. “She’s right, Merewood. We’ll send some men out to gather what information they can. We need a few hours’ sleep.”

  It was no use arguing.

  “We move out at dawn.”

  * * *

  “You are beautiful, miss!” The seamstress clapped her hands together and beamed. “Such perfection, and what glorious skin you have.”

  Aria looked down at the white-as-snow gown she wore. It was exquisite, fitted across the bodice, a satin ribbon encasing her ribs underneath her breasts. Intricate embroidery shimmered with the silver tone of the thread along the bodice, the sleeves and in a wide band along the hem. The gown had obviously not been created in a day, and she vaguely wondered what poor woman had looked forward to receiving it, only to find that some heartless man had paid a fortune to steal it away.

  For her, yet again. The plump, still-chattering woman waved her hands around Aria. “Now, off with the dress. I’ll be finished with the hem in no time. Oh dear,” she said, bending down to inspect the hem she’d pinned. “A pin has come loose. Let me...” She grabbed another pin, shoved it through the fabric. “There. Now, I don’t see where the other dropped, so you watch your step. Turn around now.”

  Aria turned, ignoring the feel of buttons being opened along her back. Hands pushed the dress ever so gently off her shoulders, and Aria stepped back quickly, letting out a cry when the pain shot up her leg. She grasped the dress to her chest, shaking her head. “Please, I can do this.”

  The seamstress waited outside, Aria removed the gown and changed into a thick, warm dressing gown.

  They were leaving for the chapel in the morning. He would have a multitude of his personal lackeys about, of course. As much for the pomp and circumstance as for the security. But an opportunity had to present itself when she could run. She would not involve anyone else. The idea of another person’s death on her hands was unconscionable.

 
“Very well, I’ve got everything together,” the seamstress said. Her things were in her arms, Aria’s dress carefully laid over one arm.

  “Thank you,” Aria murmured, waiting for the soft sound of footsteps, the creak of the door. The click of the lock on the outside.

  She let out a breath that dropped her shoulders. Carefully, she opened her mouth and put in one finger. She winced as the tip of the pin pushed against her tongue, but pulled it out anyway. The pin, tiny and slick from her mouth, rolled between her fingers.

  It was the only weapon she had.

  A brisk knock on the door startled her, followed by the door opening. Aria ran the pin through the inside of her bodice, weaving it tightly in and out of the fabric to try and minimize movement. She gave Patrick a cool look as he walked toward her.

  “Good evening, my love.” His tone was jovial. “Your dress is soon to be finished, I understand. Everything is on schedule.”

  She turned away, and Patrick’s sigh of annoyance gave her a frisson of pleasure.

  “You are annoyed with me.”

  An understatement. “Annoyed? Do you—” Aria broke the words off as she recalled his threat against Emily.

  As she pressed her lips together, he smiled, a smug little uptilt of his mouth that made her want to smack it off. “This is the right thing, Ariadne. You are the perfect woman to be by my side.”

  “How?” The question popped out before she could stop it. “I am nothing like the woman you want. Truly, Patrick, you must be daft to look at me and see obedient and docile.”

  “I’ve ensured nothing will get in the way of that. In fact, I’ve brought you a present.”

  Dread, cold and sticky, filled her.

  She looked at the open doorway, as one of his thugs moved into the room, arms tight around a woman, who was struggling, yelling and—

  “Emily!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The pounding on the door woke Adam from a dreamless sleep, and as he sat, his neck retracted and protested like an angry snake. Every part of him felt stiff, as though one wrong move might snap him into pieces.

  “All right, just a damn minute!” he barked, and winced at the painful echo in his head. The decanter was empty; they’d finished it off last night in efforts to dull the pain. It wasn’t dulling anything now, but he could focus on the headache instead of the crushing agony every time he took a breath.

  He yanked open the door, and the face on the other side did nothing to improve his mood.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice was flat, unfriendly, and he didn’t give a damn. He turned back in and went to the window, pulling open the drapes to let the blasted sunlight in. “Blast it, who let me sleep so long?”

  Mr. Calebowe followed him into the room, holding a tray full of food. “I believe that was your mother’s decision. And she wanted you to be fed properly. I offered to bring it to you. Hypatia told me what is going on.”

  “This is a family matter.” Adam went to his wardrobe, pulled out whatever clothes he found.

  Calebowe set the tray down. “I believe she considers me within that realm, even if you do not. I’d like to help.”

  Adam carefully put his arm through a sleeve. “There is nothing you can do.”

  “Actually there is. Mr. Whitney isn’t satisfied with the news his maid relayed, that his wife has gone to visit her mother in Surrey. I’ve offered to go to Surrey to confirm it while you look for Aria and Wade.”

  “Have a safe trip.”

  Calebowe studied him. “Before I leave, it would please your mother to know we’d at least started a conversation with each other.”

  Adam threw him a look. “Now? You want to have a heart-to-heart now? This is hardly the time.”

  “Unfortunately, my trip won’t be long enough to afford your investigators time to send word on their findings.” Calebowe’s casual, unconcerned tone matched his casual stance. “So why don’t you simply ask your questions?”

  Dressed, Adam poured a cup of coffee. “You aren’t insulted?”

  “By your belief that I am nothing but a charlatan? I wouldn’t be much of a man if I wasn’t. But I understand why, far more than you might expect.”

  “You know nothing of me.” Adam snatched a scone from the tray.

  “I believe you are a great deal like your father. He was a good man, Adam, and you honor his memory. Don’t look so surprised. I told you that I have long loved your mother. This was not my first excursion to see her.”

  “You lie!” Adam dropped the scone. “My mother has not—”

  “I did not say she had seen me. Simply that I had come to see her.” He looked up, as if pulling memories out of the misty air. “When I saw she was happy, I left. But not before I made certain the man she was with was worthy.”

  Adam wanted to be angry, wanted to find some shred of indignant response. But Calebowe had done nothing Adam wouldn’t do, had done and would likely do again. And that was an uncomfortable thought.

  With that, an equally uncomfortable, wholly displeasing realization dawned. It wasn’t about whether or not Calebowe was worthy of his mother.

  Adam didn’t want him to be worthy.

  Wasn’t that pathetic?

  A series of shrieks cut off his thoughts.

  “What the hell was that?” Adam said, setting down his coffee cup with a clatter and striding toward the door. He headed down the corridor, Calebowe on his heels, toward the stairs. As they grew closer, the noises became less like sounds of terror and more the crying, yelling and noise of women arguing. As Adam moved down the stairs, Lily and Cordelia came into sight. They faced off in the middle of the room, just shy of ten paces away from each other.

  And Robert Melrose stood in between.

  “You are a nothing!” Cordelia screeched at Melrose, then whipped around to face Lily. “And you! You...you...jezebel! You knew! You knew how I felt about him!”

  “How you felt about him?” Lily cried. “You told me you’d never marry him—that his constant attentions made you feel good so you could enjoy yourself, while your preferred suitor, the one with power and money, sat on his heels.”

  “You said that?” Melrose asked.

  Cordelia let out a cry of indignation. “That was ages ago.”

  “Girls, enough!” The snapped directive came from their mother, who entered the corridor from the parlor. “You will silence yourselves this minute.” She turned an eye to Melrose. “What are you doing here at this hour, Mr. Melrose?”

  Water could have frozen on her tongue for the chill in her words, but Melrose didn’t have the grace-—or intelligence—to look contrite.

  “He was with Lily!” Cordelia threw all her dramatic flair into the words. “Together. Alone.”

  Adam’s stomach tangled in hard knots as he descended the remaining steps. “You are making a terrible accusation.”

  Cordelia swiveled to face him. “I saw them coming out of her room. Embracing. He stayed the night.”

  “That is a lie!” Lily replied hotly.

  Melrose stepped forward. “On my honor, it is untrue. I only arrived a half hour ago.”

  Adam swiveled and pointed at Melrose. “You will shut it.”

  Melrose glared at Cordelia. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Adam inspected them. Lily’s hair was mussed, they both held a tinge of embarrassment in their downcast eyes, but their clothing looked intact. “Cordelia, when I ask this, be very certain of your answer. What did you see?”

  She matched glares with Melrose, aimed it at Lily, and thrust her chin in the air. “I saw what I saw. He compromised her.”

  Both Melrose and Lily began to speak, until Adam held a hand out and pointed toward his study. “In there. Now.”

  As the others turned toward the ro
om, Lily stopped and waited for him. “Cordelia is lying. She is angry that Robert came to see me, but we were not—.”

  “Lily, be silent,” he said quietly.

  Misery washed over her face. “I never meant to disappoint you. I just...I love him. And he loves me. He told me tonight.”

  “And Cordelia? What has he told her?” he asked, more weary than angry. He put a hand to her back and pushed her gently. “Go inside. We’ll discuss it there.”

  She nodded and turned away.

  Their mother let out a long sigh. “It would be lovely if one of my children might marry without the need for scandal.”

  “Marry? This isn’t about marriage.”

  “Lily has been compromised, and you know it as well as I. Cordelia may or may not be lying, but God forbid a child come of this and we didn’t take it seriously. She must marry Mr. Melrose.”

  With those words, the pounding in his head beat a harder, faster rhythm until all he could hear was the rush of blood. How the bloody hell had everything gone so wrong?

  The more he tried to stem the flow of chaos, the more destructive it became.

  It took only one person, even a servant they trusted, confiding to someone they thought they could trust. Then the world would know.

  London proved itself a very confined place at times.

  Calebowe stood in the same place he’d been, halfway down the stairs, watching him. “Do not blame yourself.”

  “Why don’t you stay the hell out of this?” Adam snapped, then followed his family.

  Calebowe was wrong. Adam was responsible for everything that had happened. He had seen the signs, and should have done more. He should have paid attention. And God help him, he had no idea how to make any of it right.

  The arguing hadn’t ceased, he realized, as he opened the study door.

  Cordelia stood toe-to-toe with Lily. “This is unconscionable! You betrayed me!”

  “Stop lying!” Lily said, almost desperately. “We were not doing what you said we were.”

  “We were talking, nothing more,” Melrose added.