by Janet Kent
He walked several long minutes before he rounded a corner and stopped.
Chadwick House. At last.
Ian frowned as a candle flared briefly in an upstairs window before being quickly extinguished. Who would be up at this hour? Perhaps a late sleeper just off to bed. Ian took a step forward then came to a standstill. What if the candle meant Elizabeth, rising for a mid-night ramble? Ian hesitated before taking a determined step forward. Unlikely. The candle had already been snuffed.
He donned his mask, ducked down and sprinted across the lawn.
###
Alicia woke herself from a vivid nightmare. Caught in a compromising situation with Louis. God forbid she even dream such a catastrophe could occur. Alicia’s hands shook with renewed rage. She flung off her covers and sat up in her bed.
Either she had been mistaken about his lack of interest in her or Papa must be practically blackmailing Louis to take her off his hands as soon as possible. Too bad. She had no intention of standing idly by as her father coldly packaged her off to a convenient cousin.
Tonight, while he slept, she would try again. It might be late enough already. Alicia cocked her head and listened for snores. Her efforts were met with silence. She swung her legs off the bed and stood upright. A hazy moonlight filtered through the rustling trees, casting a dimly flickering pattern across the floor.
She hated the thought of rifling through Papa’s desk, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was quite hard to accustom oneself to one’s place in the world, when one was constantly assigned to places – or people – one didn’t want.
If some clue could be found to explain his sudden coercion, perhaps a fresh outlook could determine a solution to meet all their needs. Papa’s worries could be laid to rest, and she and Louis would be free to find their own futures, not the one he’d scripted for them.
She crossed to her vanity, sat down, and lit a candle. To pass the time until it was safe to venture downstairs, she fiddled with the velvet swatches in the patch stand and affixed a few to her face, this time with the aid of a mirror. It would have been so much fun to grow up during the same time as her great-aunt. They could’ve adorned themselves with patches and powder, and danced the night away with romantic gentlemen… but no. Alicia stared at her patch-covered reflection and instead of seeing elegance, pure loneliness reflected back at her.
###
Ian stood in the shadows, letting his eyes become accustomed to the near-total darkness. He calculated his position. The library was just in front of him to the left. Up ahead to the right loomed the stairs. The corridor beyond that contained the dining room, followed by the office.
Satisfied his vision had adjusted to the blackness, Ian ducked into the library.
The frame he’d hoped to borrow during his prior visit still enclosed the same red- and gold-hued painting and hung precisely in its previous position. Should he take it down again? No. Not yet. Better to remove the frame from the wall on his way out rather than lug it around.
Chadwick accumulated more than mere antiquities – the library boasted an impressive, diverse collection. Ian walked past the painting and inspected the first row of books.
What had the note said? A Complete System of Astronomy by Charles Ledbetter. Brown cover, hollowed center, third row, near the rear window. Ian ambled past the rows of books, wishing he were there to read for pleasure.
He ran a finger along the base of each volume, grateful the moonlight allowed him to scan the titles without need for a candle. Astronomy, Astronomy, Astronomy … nothing. The end of the row produced no results. Ian paused and considered. Perhaps “third row” had meant third from the bottom, not third from the top. He sank to his knees and examined the jackets carefully. Nothing.
Of course, the presence of the book at all would imply some degree of validity to the note. Ian looked around the room. He was less than certain any clues existed to be found. He smothered a sigh. He would have to examine the contents of every single shelf.
He stood and crossed to the doorway, beginning his search from top to bottom, in a clockwise manner.
As luck would have it, counter-clockwise would have been a much better choice. Second row from the floor in the bookcase closest to the hallway, A Complete System of Astronomy sat wedged between a novel and a collection of poetry. Resisting the urge to inspect it immediately, Ian removed the book from the shelf and slid it in his pocket. He stood, turned toward the window and stretched.
If the volume proved to be as innocuous as it seemed, he would have one more mark against the credibility of the anonymous informer.
Spindly branches scraped against the exterior walls. At least an hour or two had melted away. If he hurried, he would have just enough time to search for the false-bottomed drawer in Chadwick’s office.
Ian left the library and slipped down the hall.
The stairs were empty and bathed in pale moonlight. Shadows filled the corridor on the other side. Ian crept past the dining room. He stopped in front of the office. Ian reached out his hand and nudged the cracked door further open when the unmistakable sounds of movement came from within.
He froze.
Ian stared in stunned disbelief as the delectable Elizabeth, again clad in whispery folds of white, serenely sorted through the jumble of documents cluttering Lord Chadwick’s desk. Unbelievable.
He slowly slid one boot backwards, intending to exit unnoticed, when her eyes flicked up and met his. Papers fell to the desk. Her breath hitched and she slapped slender hands over her mouth, her face shadowed underneath a disheveled house cap.
Damn.
He couldn’t present himself as a recalcitrant robber again. Ian ran through potential stratagems in his mind. At least he wasn’t carrying around the painting for a second time. That would be difficult to explain. But if he weren’t there for burglary, he could only be there… for her. He would have to move forward with an alternate plan. Dazzle her with charm and play on her romantic sensibilities.
He was going to regret this.
###
Alicia stared at the man before her and tried to think. Her shallow breaths sucked wildly at the fingers clapped over her open mouth. Rogue was back. Against all odds, he really had returned.
Her heart thumped an erratic beat as her rogue lounged in the doorway, watching her. He looked just as handsome as last time. Just as unexpected. And just as mysterious.
Consciousness dawned that once again, she faced him alone in her father’s office, wearing nothing but her nightclothes. True, he didn’t seem to be stealing anything – but why had he returned?
Handsome or not, Alicia was debating whether screaming was the better part of valor when he spoke.
“If turnabout is fair play,” he said, “should I bop you on the head with my walking cane?” Rogue brandished the black, silver-tipped cane with a melodramatic flourish. He winked, leaned the cane against the wall, and waited for her reaction.
Alicia felt her lips twitch against the backs of her fingers. She lowered her hands from her face and shook her head.
“Not at all the same, sir. One must always use a fire iron when striking intruders.”
His answering grin caused her pulse to flutter. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“My deepest apologies, my lady. I am sure you are correct.”
Alicia lifted her chin. “In any case, I’m quite within my rights to look for something I left behind earlier. This is my family’s house. It is you who are intruding.”
Even though the desk was between them, she took a step backwards when he suddenly dropped to one knee.
“That is what I wish to apologize for. I had no right to impose upon you, even to save my sister,” he said. “I felt I needed to see you again, in order to beg forgiveness.”
Alicia narrowed her eyes. His tone and manner seemed impressively genuine, when she considered he dressed all in black, face half hidden by his mask, kneeling unannounced on her floor.
“I
noticed you replaced the painting in its rightful spot,” he said when she didn’t respond, then added, “As you can see, I refrained from re-borrowing it.”
“Such restraint is certainly nothing to sniff at,” Alicia said. He did not rise until she nodded and waved a hand. “Do stand. I can see you better upright. You seem the sort I should keep an eye on.”
Rogue grinned again and rose to his feet. His black shirt stretched across his muscles and a tangle of dark hair tumbled across his forehead, brushing against the top of his mask.
Oh, he was dangerous all right. Why couldn’t her father have wished her to marry someone as charming as him? Her cousin’s already pale countenance paled even further in comparison. Her rogue was inimitable.
“Am I to understand,” she asked, “that you snuck into my house in the dead of the night simply to apologize to me?”
He tilted his head. “Who else would be awake?”
Who else indeed. Nobody! Precisely why she thought it a fine time to search the office. An hour and a half into her hunt for information on the business dealings driving her father to push her out of the house, who should appear but her mysterious rogue. Gorgeous, yes. Contrite, perhaps. And as improper as ever. What did he think he’d do, woo her?
Alicia swallowed.
Woo her? The very thought sent a chill along her spine. No one had ever wooed her. Tempting a thought as it may be, it simply wouldn’t do to encourage him. Granted, he cut a dashing, romantic figure. Such irony. The one man who wooed her was the one she couldn’t have – for a multitude of reasons.
For one, he wore a mask.
She crossed her arms and considered him. Naturally, someone hoping to enter houses undetected would wish to remain unrecognized – hence the mask. On the other hand, he spoke in highly educated accents. He could be a well-bred, impoverished gentleman. In that case, the mask’s dual purpose would be to shield him from scandal, should he be seen.
She moved her hands to her hips. Even if he masked himself to hide his good blood, he remained horribly ineligible. Oh, perhaps not if his midnight escapades were never exposed. Regardless, she could hardly introduce him to her father or parade him about the ton if she had no reasonable explanation of their introduction.
Yes, the mask was the number one indication he’d be an ineligible suitor.
For two, what on earth was she thinking? Considering the logistics of any sort of relationship with a masked man, handsome as the devil or not, was the sign of a madwoman.
“Are you here to beg money?” she asked.
He flinched. “I am not. A benevolent associate has offered assistance and already my sister’s health is improving.” He bowed his head. “I came to see you.”
Alicia bit her lip. If only she could be certain he was as good as his word.
“And if I ask you to prove your purpose was merely to call on me, how would you show such intentions?” she asked.
He raised his head, lips twitching. “I brought you flowers.”
Alicia eyed him doubtfully. She could see both of his hands, both of which were empty now that his cane rested against the wall.
He reached into a pocket and thrust out its contents with a flourish. He smiled triumphantly then jerked his gaze from her mirthful face to the offering in his fist.
The more Alicia tried not to laugh, the more impossible such a task became. What were once wildflowers of some sort – possibly cranesbill or willowherb – were now a crumpled tangle of limp leaves gracing two haphazardly bent stems. Three purple petals shivered atop one of the crooked stalks, while the other remained starkly bare. He opened his fist and a wilted leaf fluttered to the floor. Alicia dragged her eyes from the falling leaf to the dismayed expression on his face and stifled her laughter. He seemed truly horror-struck.
Putting them into a vase seemed anticlimactic.
Alicia schooled her features into a noncommittal expression and stepped around the desk. She reached out to sweep the pile of petals and leaves from his open hand into her palm. The moment the pads of her fingers brushed across the soft leather of his gloves, heat surged up her finger, past the pulse throbbing in her wrist, along her bare arm, until it covered the rest of her skin. The petals floated to the floor.
She looked up through her eyelashes to find his face inches from her own.
Alicia waited without breathing. The only sound was the wind whipping scattered foliage against the windowpanes. After a moment, she realized he held his breath as well. Could it be that her touch had affected him in the same way it did her? The thought made her feel powerful. Desirable.
She didn’t dare touch him again.
After a moment, she could feel his breath, hot and gentle, caressing her face. She swallowed, not daring to move.
“May I see you again?” he asked huskily. “Perhaps in a couple days. An hour or two before dawn?”
No. No, no, no. Tell him to go away and never come back. He is more trouble than you can handle, Alicia’s mind shouted to her.
His face inched a little closer. Rogue stared at her mouth for a moment then met her eyes.
“I promise to bring you a better flower.”
There she stood, eager to evade a betrothal to Louis, and he appeared, looking every inch the perfect pirate, wanting nothing more from her than to bring her romance? The thought was intriguing. Flattering. And a bad, bad idea.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He tilted his head, his eyes glittering behind his mask. “Pardon?”
“I would like that,” Alicia said recklessly. Every girl deserved a little romance.
He stepped back and gave her a graceful bow. “I will plan on it,” he said and disappeared down the hall.
Alicia clapped her hand to her forehead. What had she done?
###
He couldn’t put it off any longer.
Ian peeled his rigid spine from the straight-backed chair and forced his arm to stretch in front of him. One dusty – and perhaps dual-purpose – tome rested on the surface area of an otherwise unadorned desk.
It might be a reference volume, nothing more.
It might not.
To be honest, its very existence surprised Ian. He had been so certain of Chadwick’s innocence.
Ian lifted the cover and stared. Empty.
The volume truly held a hidden hollow, large enough to contain a deck of cards. What could this mean? The note spoke true about the secret compartment’s existence, although it was wrong about the book’s location and contents. Ian rubbed his chin with the back of one hand.
A man could own such a book for any number of reasons. He might have perfectly logical things to place inside. He might keep it for notions of pure novelty. He might even have inherited it from his sire without even realizing its existence.
The possibilities seemed infinite.
The villain himself could even have placed the book on the shelf to incriminate Lord Chadwick. Ian grimaced. He would find some way to suggest Chadwick House employ a hall boy… just as soon as he completed his own investigations. Ian slapped the cover in place and dropped the book in the center of his desk. Tiny plumes of dust flew from the jacket and dissipated into the air.
What did he know for sure?
Ian rubbed his forehead. Chadwick would never have implicated himself. Likewise, an accusation from an embittered accomplice seemed improbable, since an accused man stood to gain nothing by keeping silent about a partner’s hand in the crimes. A third party interested in deflecting suspicion onto another continued to be the most plausible theory.
This person must have had access to Chadwick House, whether through obvious or furtive means. No other reason could explain the knowledge – or planting – of the book. The book that proved nothing. An accuser could not prove that the book had secreted stolen jewels. Chadwick’s defenders could not prove that it had not.
With a shove of his hand, Ian sent the book skating across the desk. He could not even prove he himself had not removed and destroyed a
ny evidence it might have contained. The villain was brilliant. Such a clue could only engender speculation and suspicion.
Perhaps the other items offered more insight. Ian removed the note from his pocket. He unfolded the paper and quickly scanned the scrawled words. Frame, pottery, book, drawer. If they existed, he would have to return.
Elizabeth expected him to return.
Ian propped an elbow on the desk, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against his palm. Now that he had her permission, the threat of discovery was shared and provided him with a plausible – if bizarre – cover story. Such logic, such clarity of thinking under pressure. Such idiocy.
“May I see you again?” he mocked himself.
What seemed like genius mere hours ago now seemed like folly.
If she wanted him to return, she would haunt the halls waiting for him. Hardly a conducive environment for a clandestine investigation. Why hadn’t he told her a false day? An unlikely time? A meeting place? All he would have needed then was to arrive early or be elsewhere. If she frustrated his mission again, that was how he should proceed.
Oh, she frustrated him, all right. His damnable body sprang to life just thinking about her.
Elizabeth, the barefoot waif who wandered the house in fluttering nightclothes and a floppy house cap. Elizabeth, the woman whose simple touch had sent a bolt of unfettered lust down the length of his body. Elizabeth, the openhearted hoyden who tried to brain him with a poker and sympathize about his sick sister. Elizabeth, the lonely young girl, whose eyes had lit with shy pleasure at his simple, ridiculous gift of wildflowers picked from the side of the road – even though they lay limp and tangled.
She was a beautiful mystery. Her honesty and wit delighted him at a time when he thought every woman living in London’s city limits was as maddeningly imperious as her self-centered niece, Alicia Kinsey. Elizabeth’s refreshing innocence was humbling, her candid personality intriguing.
Too bad he couldn’t have danced with Elizabeth at the ball instead of her hoity-toity niece. Miss Kinsey hadn’t bothered to bring the wraithlike woman along. Poor Elizabeth received no consideration or approval from her ill-mannered relatives. Spinster though she may be, no doubt she deserved some romance.