by Janet Kent
Ian’s gaze flicked toward the door and discovered it still blocked by two towering masses of brainless brawn. “I should leave you to your business, then. I hope you find him.”
Porter motioned his men to clear the doorway and handed Ian a card. “Should you find him first, Morrissey – would you be so kind as to forward me his location?”
Ian inclined his head, ducked out the door, and loped across the lawn. He had to get to Chadwick House as soon as possible and warn the Baron before it was too late.
###
For the fifth straight day – in fact, every morning since she’d been married – Alicia awoke alone. The very last effect she’d expected to cause by forcing Ian to speak to her was to chase him from his own house and have him vanish into the night through a cloud of flying dirt and a flurry of horses’ hooves.
There was no telling what went on in men’s minds, but she sure hoped his flight was temporary. With a sigh, Alicia dressed and went down to breakfast. She’d just have to seduce her husband when he returned to Heatherley. When he came back home to her.
She just hoped he returned soon.
The morning vanished somewhere between meeting with the housekeeper, walking in the garden with Carlotta and Aunt Beatrix, and taking her marital frustrations out on the poor pianoforte. It was during this last that Poppy stormed into the music room, waving a wet paintbrush instead of her usual fan.
“You play very well,” Poppy said through clenched teeth, clearly struggling for diplomacy. “However, may I also state that you play very loud? Would you mind overmuch if I begged you to play just… a little… softer? I can hear you outside!”
“Sorry,” Alicia apologized with a sheepish grin. “What are you working on? May I see?”
“I suppose,” Poppy responded and flounced from the room, leaving Alicia to scramble up from the bench and follow her outside, where a small easel stood off to the side of the house, facing the lake. Expecting some sort of watercolor landscape or the like, Alicia gasped when she discovered an extraordinary likeness of her great-aunt Beatrix peering back at her from the canvas.
“Amazing,” she breathed. “I didn’t realize you were such an artist. However did you get her to sit for this?”
“Sit!” barked Poppy and produced her fan in order to hide titters of laughter. “No one sits for my portraits. If I wish to draw something, I do so. If I wish to paint someone, I do that as well.”
“You mean you can capture such a perfect likeness from memory alone?”
Poppy closed her fan with a snap, tilted up her nose, and turned back to the canvas with a sniff.
“No, it’s wonderful! I didn’t mean to sound like I doubted your ability. And to think, I thought I was an accomplished watercolorist just because I could make a passing river scene, with a tree or two and a sun overhead. Your skill is astonishing.”
Poppy slanted her a quick peek from the corner of her eye then returned her attention to the canvas, fleshing out the rest of the portrait with swift, deft strokes.
“Do you think you could create something for me? Could you draw Ian and I? Would you mind?”
Just as Poppy seemed about to respond, a footman appeared bearing a calling card. Alicia took one glance at her cousin’s name and groaned.
“Poppy, I’ll be right back. First I’ve got to get rid of a pesky problem.”
Alicia followed the footman inside and discovered Louis barricaded by the butler at the front door.
“He won’t let me in!” whined Louis peevishly as soon as he caught sight of her.
“As well he shouldn’t,” Alicia responded, smiling at the butler. “He is all that is proper. I have asked you not to call here, and I had hoped you would be in London by now. Why have you come back?”
“I told you, I’m not going back to London. For a while. I wanted to spend time with you.”
“Well, that’s not what I want, Louis. Good day.”
“Wait! Come, let’s walk. Let’s discuss things.”
“I have no wish to walk anywhere with you.”
“You’re married now! What could you possibly have to fear from me? Come, now, cousin. Leaving me out here is really quite bad of you.”
“Is it?” Alicia asked, affecting her most bored expression.
Louis stamped his foot. “I demand entry!”
Alicia narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sorry. We’re not at home.” She nodded to the butler and stalked off, grinning to herself when the soft click of the closing door drowned out the last of her cousin’s spluttered reply.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Ian knocked on the big front door at Chadwick House, he was relieved to discover the butler in residence. He was disappointed to learn the master was at a collector’s conference and not expected back until nightfall, but as such an event seemed unlikely to attract Larouche, Chadwick should be safe for the moment.
Promising to return later, Ian relinquished his card to the butler and rode to his own townhouse for the first time since he’d been back in London. He’d hoped never to return in his life, but he tried not to dwell on that.
After helping Cobb lug the baggage into the house, Ian drug his aching body up the stairs to his chambers and threw himself across his bed where he promptly fell asleep in his clothes, boots and all.
Having forgotten to inform Cobb what time he wanted to be awakened, darkness bathed the room when Ian’s eyes opened. Cursing, he scrambled out of bed. He paused long enough to squint at his red-eyed reflection and splash cold water on his sleep-lined face before heading outside to ready his horses.
This time, when he knocked at the doors to Chadwick House, he was told the master was not just at home, but expecting him. The butler escorted Ian into a large sitting room and bid him to relax by the fire while he informed Chadwick of his arrival.
Ian’s stomach growled, reminding him it was well after suppertime and he hadn’t eaten all day. A quick glance at his watch gave the time as almost eleven. With luck, the butler was even now ordering sandwiches and tea. Ian rolled his shoulders and stretched out his legs, preparing to wait as long as necessary, when Chadwick lumbered into the room, his face a mask of concern.
“Is it my daughter?” he asked between panting breaths. “Is she all right? Where is she? What happened?”
Thrusting out his hand, Ian sprang to his feet. “She’s fine. She’s safe. I came to discuss Larouche.”
Chadwick paused, his fingers arrested just inches from Ian’s. Rather than shake hands, his arms sank to his sides and his face crumpled. “Come to my office, then. We won’t be bothered there.”
Frowning, Ian followed him into his office, taking a seat when motioned to do so and watching as Chadwick peered down both sides of the corridor before closing the door behind him and leaning against it, heaving an immense sigh and wearing a face tortured with emotion.
“Louis told you,” Chadwick stated, his voice hollow. “Does Alicia know?”
Ian blinked. “Er, no.”
“Please don’t tell her. I’d die if she found out. I’d hoped that by marrying you, she’d stay in the country and need never hear a word of it.”
“Why don’t you explain your perspective on the matter,” Ian suggested with a mild smile, hoping against hope that Chadwick wasn’t about to say what he suddenly suspected he was about to say.
Chadwick sagged against the doorframe. With another frustrated sigh, he lurched to a chair across from Ian and fell into the seat, dropping his head in his hands. “Of course. Where should I start?”
“At the beginning?”
“The beginning? No. I think the family coffers dwindled to laughable levels long before I had any knowledge of the matter.” Chadwick’s face contorted into a brief, mirthless smile. “No, I think the true turning point came with the death of my wife. Have you ever met my Anna?”
Ian shook his head. “I’m sorry. I never had the pleasure.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. She was beautiful and kind. And – I
thought – unaware of our financial plight. Why burden her with such things? She was a woman. She had no income of her own. She was an orphan… or so I thought.
“The week before the accident, she told me she did have family, but had been estranged from them for years. She was dead to them, she told me, although she’d grown up in a good deal of luxury. Her eyes looked at me with such sadness that I knew she’d somehow learned we were on our last pennies.
“The morning she died, I saw her sneaking into the garden with a strange man. I knew – I knew! – she’d taken a lover in order to escape, to leave behind the poverty that was sure to befall us, to leave me far behind.
“When I saw their tangled bodies underneath the twisted carriage, I thought my life would never get blacker than that moment in time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the ‘lover’ was in fact the solicitor for her estranged family, sent for by my wife so she could beg a loan to repair our nonexistent fortune. She’d broken her vow of silence and pleaded with those who despised her because she loved me. Because she wanted a happy family.
“What a fool I was, Morrissey. What a fool I am. Because rather than bury my pride and react like a man… when my cousin Louis approached me with a scheme to make money fast, I said yes. When I discovered it wouldn’t be honest money, I should have told him no. But I didn’t.
“Instead, we went out of town, to a house party, where I used my knowledge of appraising to point out to Louis whose jewels were real and whose were paste before we headed back to London. From there, I am not sure what happened, but when he later sent me to this or that pawnbroker to buy some specific item, there was always a stench of danger in the air, a sense of being wrong. But I did it.
“I did it and I hated him for it, for exploiting my weakness and turning it against me even as the coffers refilled and the barony became better padded than it’s been in generations. After a year and a half of suffering through my involvement with his chicanery, I finally told Louis I wanted out. No more. The barony was healthy enough to support the future of my daughter and her children, which was all I ever wanted. I knew no greed for more.”
Ian shifted in his chair. “What happened?”
Chadwick drummed his fingers together and contemplated a spot on the wall for several long moments before responding.
“I’m not sure. Whatever happened, happened so quickly that I’m still trying to make sense of it. One day, I was under investigation. That day was the beginning of the end.”
“Investigation?”
“What if I were hung for my crimes? What would happen to my daughter then? Louis has friends who can erase such charges before they occur. For a price. Isn’t there always a price? I offered everything I own – I’d rather die poor than have my daughter suffer the indignities of a father hung for his own stupidity and weakness.”
“What did Larouche say?”
“He said he wanted to help above all else, but by accepting a large sum of money from me, he could incur suspicion upon himself as well, which would serve no good purpose to either of us.”
“So he came up with the plan to wed your daughter?”
“Exactly. Two birds with one stone and all that. I could give Louis as much money as I wanted in the form of her dowry, and I would know my daughter was safe and married, just in case the worst came to pass. I hated to give her to someone she didn’t want – she’d always wanted to marry for love, the little innocent – but I knew Louis would take care of her.”
Ian clapped a hand over his face. Well, at least there was one man whose blindness outshone his own.
“And now that she married you, things have changed again. I have changed. I know she’s safe, she’s away from the wagging tongues of London, she may yet be happy. I’ve decided not to pay a drop of blood money to Louis’s friend and face my accusers like a man.”
“Oh, God. Please tell me you haven’t informed Larouche of this decision?”
Surprise stretched Chadwick’s face. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because he’s the one plotting against you! There is no friend who can save you from the rope. There’s just Larouche and his outrageous gambling debts.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know he gambled?”
“All young men gamble… Louis had pockets to let? But he kept up all appearances of being a man of means…”
“No doubt the reason why he went through such trouble to pry money from you. The only investigation underway was the one I conducted myself–”
“You?”
“And the only reason that one came about is because an anonymous note arrived, labeling you as the complete and sole perpetrator of the crimes. I’m going to give you one guess as to who the letter-writer might be.”
Chadwick goggled at him in disbelief, humiliation staining his round cheeks with a splotchy pink. “But he’s family,” he said, throwing his arms wide. “And my friend.”
“No. He’s a blister, bent on infecting you. He was using you. And your daughter.”
“Oh, God. Alicia! But you said she’s safe, didn’t you? Where is she?”
“At Heatherley, of course.”
“Heatherley!” Chadwick choked. “But that’s where Louis is!”
“What?”
“Louis went to Heatherley to drop off Beatrix. He said he planned to stay a while to prove he had no hard feelings for her choosing you over him.”
“What?” Ian repeated, staring at Chadwick in horror. Louis was at Heatherley? At best, he’d be making a pest of himself. At worst… oh, God. He hadn’t even told his wife how much he cared for her. His last words had been about the portentous appearance of the vase, not about love. And hers had been light commentary on the beauty of Heatherley and the health of his sisters… wait. The health of his sisters? For the love of God.
“Chadwick,” Ian said, his voice shaky and tense even to his own ears. “Have you any relatives named Elizabeth?”
The expression on Chadwick’s face would have been comical if Ian’s stomach hadn’t turned into a churning mass of icy acid.
“No. What the devil does that have to do with anything?”
Christ. Alicia was Elizabeth. He’d been married to his mystery woman all along.
Twice he’d made love to his wife and neither time had he done it right. Maybe next time he could bother to divest them both of clothing.
He’d stolen the virginity of his own wife the night before their wedding day… He’d railed at her in the carriage and tortured them both with distance all this time because she’d given away her innocence – and he was the bastard who took it!
If she’d realized who he was at that time, surely she’d have said. Something must have happened to make her realize the truth. The note! No doubt she meant to meet him in the garden and unveil herself to him there – and he’d been too pious to attend. Marvelous.
So much for plain country misses or duplicitous London ladies. His wife was a beautiful, unbelievable, complex woman – and he intended to love her until his dying breath just as soon as he got home.
If he got there in time.
“May I borrow a bit of paper? I need to write a friend.”
“What, now?”
“Immediately.”
“Help yourself. There are blank pages atop my desk, although I must admit that I do not understand why–”
Ian motioned him to silence with an impatient gesture and bent over the desk to scratch out a short missive for Caspian without bothering to sit down. He folded the note and addressed the outside. In his hurry, ink stained his fingers as they flew across the page. Ian thought for a moment then dashed off a second note before handing the two to Chadwick.
“I’m heading straight to Alicia. Can you see that these get delivered by messenger as soon as possible?”
Chadwick didn’t have time to do much more than nod before Ian was out the door and back in his coach. He checked his watch. If he rode hell for leather, he might – if he were lucky
– make it back to Heatherley by noon.
Damn.
###
Alicia woke the next morning in a much less optimistic mood than usual. Her husband still was not home, and she hadn’t the slightest clue where to find him. She began to fear she’d said or done something that had repulsed him to the point where he couldn’t even bear to live in the same house with her.
After dressing and forcing down some tea and toast, she spent a good part of the morning pacing in her quarters, trying to come up with a plan of action. She could think of nothing.
Frustrated, she strode downstairs to pace on the ground floor for a change of scenery.
A silver bowl housing a pile of invitations caught her eye and she scooped the lot into one hand, picking up a small knife for breaking the seals. The first was an invitation to dinner, extended to she and her new husband. Well, it was going to be tough to get him to escort her anywhere if she didn’t even know where he was.
She stalked up and down the corridor as she finished reading the details, then set about opening the next. Her frown must have been etched deep enough into her face to cause permanent wrinkles because Mavis stepped from the library, took one look at her, and jumped out of the way.
“Wow. I thought I was the only one allowed to stomp about in a snit like that. You impress me.”
Alicia scowled at her sister-in-law, who erupted in the first true grin she’d given since Alicia married her brother. She hid behind a novel as if afraid Alicia might explode.
“Where is everybody?” Alicia asked, pocketing the blade and unopened invitations and ignoring the sardonic theatrics.
“What, and I’m nobody?”
“Mavis–”
“Poppy is outside painting, of course. Julia’s probably writing letters because that’s all she ever does. I’m right here enjoying a simply delightful conversation with you. Carlotta and Beatrix haven’t come in yet, so they must be still out walking, although I personally think three hours more than enough time for such exercise. And who knows where my brother is – London, I think.”