“I want the truth. Who is behind this operation?”
Derik looked away. He paused as if considering, then said, “Count Abjour approached me. He knew about my gambling, my debts and a few other indiscretions. He didn’t threaten outright. Instead, he talked about how I could see the return of my mother’s estates, if I did something now and again for him.”
“He outright said that Boney would restore land to you if you could prove you were of the French aristocracy?”
“That’s the right of it. All I had to do was to pass on some papers, which came my way now and again.”
“Anything else?”
Derik pursed his lips. “I did have to provide for a gentleman or two whom I suspected were French spies. I gave them food and clothing and got them to London.”
“The papers, did you read any of them?”
“No.” He frowned. “Whatever you think of me, I really didn’t want to betray this country, but once I was in...”
“The count kept sucking you in further. Who else is involved?”
Licking his lips, Derik glanced at the high ceiling then back. “I had no other contacts.”
Alistair sensed he lied. “If you think anyone will help you, forget it. We’re onto the operation now, and we’re bringing you all down.”
Standing up, Alistair towered over the other man. “My suggestion is that you, personally, take over your French estates, before this one is taken from you.”
He stepped toward the door, turned. “I wouldn’t contact the count, if I were you, or you might not get a chance to leave the country.”
* * *
Winter awoke to find the housekeeper sitting with her. “Where’s Lord Alistair?”
“He is gone.” At the dejected look on Winter’s face, Mrs. Duncan hastened to add, “He had some pressing business to attend, but plans on returning first thing in the morning.”
She wondered if his business had ought to do with the information she had imparted to him.
That evening she got up, and, with the housekeeper’s assistance, washed her hair, bathed and sat up for a couple of hours before retiring for the night.
Despite the woman’s protestations, Winter refused to be watched over during the night. Almost as soon as Mrs. Duncan closed the door of the darkened room, Winter, breathing a prayer for Justin’s safety, fell asleep.
He had not yet returned when she awoke the next morning, and it was hard not to show the disappointment she felt. Had what he said about not leaving her, about committing his life to Christ, been true? She recalled, too, the endearments. What did they mean?
The doctor’s visit cheered her somewhat. “With rest, you are going to be fine, young lady.”
After a short rest, Winter walked around the room and stared out the open window at the riot of flowers and trees. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the fragrance of carefully tended roses and a variety of other flowers she could not identify.
When Mrs. Duncan brought a substantial luncheon on a tray, she found she did full justice to the meal.
“Has Lord Alistair returned?”
“He has,” said Mrs. Duncan, taking the tray and setting it outside the door. She marched to the armoire. “Let’s see. What shall you wear?”
“Anything will do,” Winter told her, trying unsuccessfully to quell a grin. Yawning, she added, “Mayhap I should rest a while and dress later. I’d like to go to the dining hall for dinner.”
Winter awoke feeling better than she had in days. She found Mrs. Duncan laying out an evening gown. “I do not need to look all that fancy.”
The housekeeper’s eyes twinkled. “Not even for your guardian?”
Blushing, Winter slid out of bed, freshened up and let the housekeeper assist her into the cool silk gown with sleeves that puffed from shoulder to elbow. A wide black sash encircled her high-waisted gown.
Mrs. Duncan unwrapped the bandage from around Winter’s head and brushed out the long silvery hair before putting on a fresh, thinner bandage.
“You are an angel, m’lady,” the housekeeper told her, seeming awed by the transformation.
“Hardly,” Winter said, but was nonetheless pleased with the results.
“I agree, she is an angel,” said Alistair, from the doorway.
Swinging to face him, Winter turned too quickly and felt herself falling. Alistair’s arms closed about her. “Dearest.” Winter felt the quick staccato of his heart.
Dizzy, Winter closed her eyes until the spell passed. She opened them to find him peering down at her anxiously. “Are you all right?”
Her smile wobbled. “I felt dizzy momentarily, but I am fine now.”
“Mayhap I should carry you.” His concern sent a shiver of warmth down her spine.
“I’d like to walk, if I may.”
While Mrs. Duncan hurried from the room muttering some excuse Winter did not catch, Alistair tucked her arm in his. Dressed in formal evening wear of black superfine jacket and breeches, Alistair fair took Winter’s breath away.
With Alistair gazing down into her face, Winter took no notice of their direction until they entered the sitting room next to her bedroom. Supper was laid out with candles and flowers.
Lord Alistair carefully pulled out an ornate cushioned chair and seated her beside the table for two, before seating himself.
Winter glanced around. “Why here and not the dining room?”
Lord Alistair squeezed her hand. “For one, Mrs. Duncan feared you were not up to the walk to and from the dining room. She would not allow me to carry you.” His grin was impish.
“Oh. This is rather nice.” She glanced around as Mr. and Mrs. Duncan served them. “Seems rather formal nonetheless.”
Lord Alistair exchanged a glance with the housekeeper that made Winter wonder. “Just you eat, m’lady.”
Awake, feeling better than she had in days and with the marked attentions of her handsome guardian, Winter chose to do just that. However, when Mrs. Duncan removed the last of the dishes after the main course and Mr. Duncan blew out most of the candles before they left, Winter became more than a little suspicious.
“Justin,” Winter asked, “what’s this all about?”
Lord Alistair took her hand and led her to the settee in front of the hearth. Taking her hands in his, he searched her face. “I asked the Duncans to decorate, serve and make tonight special.”
“I...I don’t understand.” Winter stuttered the words while her heart began to beat a little faster. Was it possible?
Justin’s expression held such tenderness as he told her, “I wanted tonight to be memorable.” He paused. “I love you, Winter, and I think you love me. I am asking you to be my wife.”
Winter swallowed and swallowed again. “Y-you want to marry me?”
“Very much. If you will have me. I know I only recently returned to my faith, but...”
Winter bit her lip. She had to know. “What about Lady Bridget? She is so beautiful,” Winter whispered.
Justin drew her close. “Oh, my darling Winter. You refine too much on her attentions. She may dress in the mode and have high-flown airs, but there is little of substance beneath the first stare of fashion.”
“She wants you for herself....”
Alistair ran a gentle finger down her pale cheek. “But I do not want her. I have been polite, nothing more. Please believe me when I say, once you came into my life there has been no room for anyone else—regardless of their wiles. I love you, Winter.” Concern crossed his face. “You do believe me?”
Winter searched his face and her heart began to sing. He loved her! Letting out a long breath, she nodded. “I do, Justin.”
His gentle smile drew her. “Now, how about an answer to my question. Will you marry me?”
“I love you, Justin
.” A radiance illuminated her face. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
A grin plastered his face. “Then tonight we celebrate our engagement. Aunt Helen will be over the moon planning the wedding.”
With aching tenderness, Alistair pulled Winter into his arms and kissed her soft lips.
The next moment, he released her and all but ran to the door. Flinging it open, he cried, “She said, ‘Yes!’”
A few moments later, the Duncans brought in and served a beautifully decorated cake.
“When did Cook have the time?”
“They all love you, Winter, and when I told them what I had planned, everyone helped out.”
Later, as they conversed, she told him about Derik. “It wasn’t an accident.”
“No, but Lord Derik won’t hurt you again. Even now he is on his way to France.”
Chapter 14
Two days later, Alistair assisted Winter into the Renton carriage, a long unused lumbering coach. She patted the worn squabs. “I remember when this carriage was in the first stare.”
Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “As long as it gets us where we’re going, does it matter?”
Shaking her head, Winter leaned against him. She still had headaches at times and her strength was not as it ought to be, but she was determined not to let Alistair know how tired she was from the preparation for the trip back to London.
As though sensing her concern, Alistair said, “I know I shouldn’t have rushed you, but the season is almost over, and we have a wedding to plan.”
He touched her head, still covered with a light bandage. “I did promise Dr. Morgan to take particular care of you.”
Looking up into his face, Winter said, “I can’t believe you can really want me as I am. I fear that one of these days I will awake to find this is nothing but a dream.”
“Then let’s make it a pleasant one, darling.”
The day was long for Winter, who tired easily. By the time the carriage lumbered to a stop in front of Alistair House the next day, Winter was groggy from lack of sleep and aching in every muscle.
When Alistair lifted her from the coach, she released a sigh of relief. Holding her close, Alistair shifted her weight before carrying her up the wide front stairs into the house.
“Good to have you back, Lord Alistair. I hear congratulations are in order.”
Winter glanced at Alistair. “I did not know you had sent word on ahead.”
“With the season more than half over, it was imperative Aunt Helen know.”
The duchess, descending the staircase at that moment, answered, “So little time to plan the wedding before everyone leaves for the summer.” She hugged Winter. Noticing the bandage, she glanced toward her nephew. “What happened?”
“An accident, Aunt Helen. Winter is recovering nicely, but we must take care not to overtire her.”
Though Winter tried to concentrate, her head buzzed, and she slumped weakly against Alistair. Picking her up, he said, “We’ll talk later, Aunt Helen.”
Upstairs, Alistair lay Winter down.
A scratch at the door drew him away, and he admitted Mary. “Mary, come in.”
“Congratulations.” She curtsied formally.
“She knows, Mary.”
“She does?” With that, Mary gave Alistair a hug. “Congratulations from both of us.”
Alistair led her to Winter. “Winter, may I present your future sister-in-law, Mary Stuart.”
“Sorry I deceived you.”
“I am glad to know the truth of the matter. I thought...”
“You were a French spy,” said Alistair. “She overheard you talking with your cousin.”
This time it was Mary who said, “Oh, my! Poor Anthony.”
“Poor Anthony tried to murder my fiancée.” He paused, then continued, “Since he was a close connection of yours, Mary, I gave him fair warning. He is now probably safely in France for the duration of the war.”
“What about Terrance and me?”
“Mary, we still need your contacts and Terrance’s undercover work until we put Count Abjour out of commission.” He sighed. “I discovered the count is the one who turned in your parents. If he finds out who you are...”
Mary shrugged. “Well, at least I’ll have time to get better acquainted with my future sister-in-law.”
“As long as both of you remember that outside this room you are an abigail only.” He touched Winter’s cheek. “Winter is exhausted. I’ll leave her to your ministrations, Mary. Winter—” his smile as well as his tender words overwhelmed her heart “—I’ll have dinner sent up.”
* * *
Later, over her protests, he called in a doctor to check her head. She winced as the doctor’s long thin fingers probed her wound. Grunting his satisfaction, the doctor replaced the bandage with a patch. “You are healing nicely.”
Gingerly, Winter felt her forehead. “Then I’ll be all right?”
“You will always have a scar, but your hair should hide that, I believe.” The tall, gaunt man straightened. “Lord Alistair, Lady Renton will need to take it easy for a while yet.”
“I am taking good care of her, Doctor.” True to his word, Alistair had Winter rest that afternoon. “I must be gone for a short while, but I’ll return in time for dinner tonight.” He gave her a kiss. “Now behave yourself, dearest.”
From the window in her room, Winter watched Alistair take up the reins of a phaeton.
Hearing the door, she swung around to face the duchess. “Your grace.”
“My dear, I think it is time you call me Aunt Helen, like the rest of the family.”
Winter was overwhelmed. “You don’t mind then that Justin asked me to marry him?”
The duchess tapped the gold-headed cane she used for effect on the floor. “About time, I’d say.”
“I thought.”
“Fustian! Don’t you think I saw the way that nephew of mine looked at you?” She nodded. “You need to be fitted for your gown.” By the time the duchess left, Winter felt rather dazed over all the woman’s plans.
* * *
Alistair drove to White’s, where he settled into an alcove with the secretary. The man ordered drinks for them both, then toasted Alistair. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Alistair leaned back and smiled laconically. “I suppose Mary also told you about Derik and his attempt on Lady Renton’s life.”
“She did. Looks like the situation is coming to a head, and none too soon. I fear the information being leaked now has to do with the strength and the size of our military build up. Carlyle is on the tail of the count. He is now in London.”
Alistair started. “Here? I didn’t figure he would dare show his hand in London.”
The secretary shook his head. “Nor did I. But when you so precipitously deprived him of Derik, you evidently deprived him of his link with Hollingsworth. That’s the way I see it.”
“Then he isn’t sure of Hollingsworth? Has my brother discovered anything to connect the count with the leaks? Something that will turn the tide?”
“Not yet, but,” the secretary’s eyes held amusement as he continued, “I fear you’ll be deprived of a groom for the time being.”
Alistair chuckled. “I’ve been told relations are notoriously unreliable as hired help anyway.”
The secretary sobered. “So far, the count hasn’t made contact with anyone we’re watching, and we’re keeping an especially close eye on Hollingsworth. Melton has become his particular friend. He’s good, that one. We’re also keeping an eye on Mary, for her protection, of course.”
“I don’t want her harmed.” Alistair rifled his hair. “I am also concerned about my fiancée. I don’t want her put in jeopardy. She has suffered enough.”
“Then pray the count doesn’t learn of her inadvertent involvement. For her sake, keep Hollingsworth away from her.”
“I plan on staying close.” A laconic smile touched his lips.
The secretary grinned. “Am I right to assume that will be no hardship?”
Alistair managed to keep a straight face. “I don’t mind the sacrifice for my country, of course.”
With that, Alistair took his leave. After making another important stop, Alistair directed his prime cattle to Alistair House. He found Mary readying Winter for the evening’s affair.
Alistair surveyed Winter’s figure-flattering sapphire-blue gown. The nearly off-the-shoulder neckline ended in short puff sleeves. His eyes glinted appreciatively.
“I like what you did with your bandage.” He indicated the wide blue headband covering the patch over her wound.
“It was Mary’s idea.”
He smiled and addressed Mary. “Hopefully, before long, you and Terrance will take your proper place within society. First, we must make certain it is safe for you to do so.”
Patting Winter’s long skirt into place one last time, Mary said, “I’m more worried about Terrance than myself. I will be glad to have done with this charade.” With a catch in her voice she hugged Winter.
“Oh, Justin. I wish she was going with us.”
“I, too. Pray this will be over soon, but I don’t want you sad tonight.” He pulled a small ornate box from his jacket and opened it.
Winter gasped. Sparkling against the dark velvet interior was a band inset with a large sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds in the shape of a heart. “It is beautiful!”
Taking her trembling hand, Alistair slipped the ring on her finger. “I wanted you to have a special betrothal ring.”
“Thank you, Justin. If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” She held her hand so the ring sparkled in the candlelight. “I’ll never take it off.”
Leaning down, Alistair’s mouth possessed hers until she clung to him. “I love you, my little tiger. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to escort my two ladies to the ball.”
* * *
The duchess gracefully entered the silk-paneled saloon dressed in a dove-gray silk gown on the arm of Lord Alistair, debonair in a dark blue velvet jacket, gray waist and black breeches. On his other side walked Winter, head high, tense with anticipation.
A Proper Guardian Page 15