Instead, they practiced making sounds, Megan’s voice seemingly growing stronger. But still the child would not speak, and Alissa decided that Megan’s words were imprisoned within a dark cell, deep inside the child’s mind, and not simply locked in her throat. If she could only find the key to free her stepdaughter, whom she’d come to love as her own, and unshackle her words, but Alissa suspected that the chains that bound the child were much stronger and far heavier than anyone realized.
Finally, the time came to return to the house. As she and Megan headed down the lane, Alissa wished Jared were there to foil Patricia’s sharp tongue.
Mrs. Dugan stood just inside the door as the pair entered the kitchen. “You’re wanted in the foyer,” she said to Alissa, her eyes cold. “I’ll see Megan upstairs.”
Confused by the housekeeper’s abruptness, Alissa frowned, then glanced at cook, noting she seemed awfully fidgety. “Who is it?” she asked, not knowing who’d want to see her. No one knew she existed outside the walls of Hawkstone. Except Ian. Surely, he wouldn’t … no! Perhaps it was Mrs. Jacobs, for the woman had promised, on the night that she and Jared had wed, to pay her a visit in the near future. Receiving no answer from the stiff Leona, Alissa bent to Megan. “Go upstairs and wash up. I’ll be along shortly.” Megan nodded and followed the housekeeper to the stairs, and Alissa headed toward the front entry.
As soon as the governess passed through the doorway, cook headed toward the other one. On quickened feet, she waddled as fast as her stout legs could carry her to the stables.
“Seize her!” Patricia shouted, her rigid finger pointing directly at Alissa the moment she appeared. “She’s wanted by the Crown!”
Suddenly two burly men were upon her, grabbing her arms, and Alissa felt as though she were trapped in the throes of a bad dream. “Let go of me!” she cried as she was dragged the rest of the way into the foyer.
“Are you Alissa Ashford?” a portly man asked authoritatively, a heavy frown marking his brow.
“W-who are you?” Alissa asked, struggling against the meaty hands shackling her arms. “Let loose of me!” she demanded, but the men’s hands only tightened, painfully.
“Are you Alissa Ashford?” the man repeated.
Glaring up at the man, she refused to answer.
“Of course, she’s the actress whore!” Patricia shrieked. “Look at the makeup, the costume! I’ve already shown you the evidence!” She stabbed a finger toward the collection of Alissa’s personal articles, scattered on the floor near the redhead’s feet, dumped there in a fit of anger. “Not only did she try to murder a viscount, but she’s a thief, as well!”
Dazed, Alissa watched the woman’s hand come from behind her back to reveal the sapphire brooch and earrings, plus Alissa’s wedding band. “They’re mine!” she cried, again struggling against the men, and again she felt the enforcement of their grips.
Noting the feral look in Alissa’s eyes, Patricia shrank momentarily. “Arrest her!” she cried, fearing Alissa might break her bonds. “Get that imposter from this house!”
“Miss, I ask again, are you Alissa Ashford?”
She met the man’s eyes. “I shall not answer until you tell me by what authority you have invaded this house!”
“My authority lies within the law. I am John Graham, sheriff in these parts. Now, answer my question.”
Alissa’s eyes widened and a sinking feeling settled inside her as she watched the sheriff withdraw Eudora’s letters from his pocket, the newspaper clipping on top.
“Are these yours?” he asked.
Suddenly the blood drained from her head, and her legs gave way, but the insistent bonds kept her upright. Doomed, she thought. Oh, Jared, where are you? her heart cried silently. Why did you have to leave me? But any hopes that he might somehow save her were instantly erased. Even if he were here, she knew he’d be powerless to help. She was a wanted woman. It was useless to deny it. “Yes,” she said tonelessly, certain her fate had been sealed. “The letters are mine. I’m Alissa Ashford.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” the sheriff said, his tone sympathetic. “I’ve no choice but to arrest you for the attempted murder of Charles Rhodes, Viscount Rothhamford, and the theft of money from his person.”
“What about these?” Patricia harped smugly, thrusting the sapphire jewelry at the sheriff. “If you inquire further, you might find their actual owner.”
John Graham took the jewels and slipped them into his pocket. “Will you go peacefully?” he asked, and Alissa nodded.
“You’re not going to chain her?” Patricia cried in a strident tone. “You’re fools, if you don’t!”
The two deputies seemed to take her at her word and one quickly produced a set of manacles. “Put those away,” the sheriff commanded. Then he turned. “I suggest, Miss Southworth, henceforth, you keep your nose about your own business. Or I shall arrest you for obstructing the law.”
Patricia’s eyes widened. “Y-you can’t mean that!”
“Indeed, I do,” the sheriff lied, his eyes hard upon the redhead. Then he took his prisoner’s arm in a gentle grip and began escorting her toward the door.
Her eyes suddenly growing misty, Alissa’s step faltered, and she glanced one last time at the beauty of Hawkstone. Setting it to memory, she hoped it would see her through as she withered away in some damp cell, deep inside a faraway prison reeking of human excrement and rotting flesh. The thought sent a nauseating chill through her, and she stumbled again. Then a picture of her husband filled her mind; tears brimmed her eyes. Farewell, my love, she bade silently, certain she’d never see his handsome face again.
“We have to go, miss,” the sheriff said in a gentle tone, and Alissa nodded, taking her last dozen steps toward her final destiny.
Abruptly, with a force beyond that of a violent wind, the door flew wide, crashing into the wall beside it; a towering, masculine form stood on the threshold, framed by blazing sunlight, his hands knuckled against his lean hips. “What the hell’s going on in my home?” he thundered, then stepped inside, his green eyes flashing with acute anger. “The explanations had best be good.”
“Jared,” Alissa whispered, breaking free of the sheriff’s grip, running toward her husband.
The two hefty deputies set off after her, and as Jared’s arm settled around Alissa’s trembling shoulders, drawing her close to his side, he commanded, “Halt! Or you shall both rue the day you’ve placed your filthy hands on my wife!”
Her husband’s words reminded Alissa of the man from the coach in Stilton when his wife had been set upon by the constables, having mistaken the woman for herself. Did Jared love her as much?
“Wife!” Patricia shrieked, having just digested the word. Her mouth snapped shut as Jared turned a cold eye in her direction.
“Yes, Patricia,” he said, his voice like arctic air. “My wife … Alissa Ashford Braxton.”
“Y-you knew?” the redhead stammered. “But, Jared, she tried to murder someone … a viscount. She’s a thief, too. Look,” she ordered, filching the sapphires and ring from the sheriff’s pocket, displaying them to Jared. “Where could that lowly little beggar possibly get these? She’s stolen them, I say!”
Jared scooped the lot from Patricia’s outstretched hand. “This,” he said, holding up the brooch, “is a keepsake from Alissa’s mother. This is her wedding band.” He slipped it onto Alissa’s finger. “And these”—he dangled the earrings on high—“are my wedding gift to her. I had them made to match the brooch, as you can see. If you don’t believe me, Patricia, I’ll be happy to give you the name of the jeweler in London.”
“London?” Alissa questioned, confused.
“Yes, sweet … London.” A gentle smile curved his lips. “There’s much I need to tell you, but first I’d like an explanation from all present as to why my house was invaded and my wife manhandled.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “I received a message, sir, that you were unknowingly harboring a fugitive—Alissa Ashford. She�
�s been wanted by the Crown for some time now, and I had to confirm or deny the report. I hope you understand.”
“I do, sir,” Jared said. “However, I’d like to know who sent this information to you.”
“Why, it was Miss Southworth.”
Jared cast his gaze on her. “And exactly how did you discover Alissa’s true identity?”
Realizing her chances of ever capturing Jared and his wealth were now trashed, Patricia vindictively thought to repay him. His trollop of a wife, too! “I—I searched her things,” she admitted, a mutinous glare entering her eye. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact remains she’s wanted! She must be arrested!” Again, her rigid finger stabbed toward Alissa. “Now take her!”
“I suggest everyone remain calm,” Jared stated when he saw the deputies move again. “Miss Southworth’s incendiary accusations are false, and I’d hate for you gentlemen to suffer because of her lies.”
“Sir!” the sheriff interjected. “Miss Southworth is correct. I’ve a warrant for your wife’s arrest.”
“Since the time that warrant was issued, other information has come to light. If you’ll follow me, I’ll prove the charges against my wife have been dropped.” The last word rolling from his lips, Jared heard Alissa’s gasp. “Gentlemen … if you will?” He took his wife’s hand and led her down the hallway to his office, the sheriff and his men following close behind. After retrieving the notarized papers from a locked drawer, he handed them to the sheriff. “These documents are proof of my statement.”
“I see your meaning,” the sheriff said once he’d read the signed statements of Viscount Rothhamford. “My apologies to you and Mrs. Braxton.”
“You are not to be held accountable, sir. Bad news always travels far swifter than good. I’m certain the information would have reached you, eventually.”
“Yes, well, uh …” the man said, hesitating. “If you know the laxness of our officials in such matters, then why didn’t you come to me with this information yourself?”
“That, sir, I shall first have to explain to my wife,” he said, looking at Alissa, noting the frown marring her smooth brow. Was there resentment in her blue eyes, as well? he wondered, and knew he couldn’t fault her should she feel such an emotion. “I’ll see you out.”
Tucking the papers into the breast pocket of his coat, he gripped Alissa’s arm and led her back to the foyer. Her heels seemed to dig into the floor as they went. There would be hell to pay once the house was clear of the unwelcome group, he was certain. Then he glanced up the staircase to see Patricia’s feet hitting the treads as fast as they could go. “Miss Southworth, descend this instant!” he ordered, and she stiffened. “Lest you’d like for me to come after you, I’d suggest you do as told.”
The sheriff debated if he should stay to prevent a possible murder, but his men were of a different mind and their feet were already scrambling toward the door. As the deputies reached the open portal, Robert and Mr. Stanley appeared and elbowed their way inside, the two burly men scurrying out between them. Deciding no physical harm would come to the redhead, the sheriff nodded his good-bye as he passed the two newcomers, closing the door behind him.
“Seems we got here just in time,” Mr. Stanley said as he watched a scowling Jared stride past him, his master’s hand squeezing the redhead’s arm. Then Jared ushered the woman into the sitting room; the door slammed shut. “Are ye all right, mum?” he asked Alissa above the shouts, both male and female, coming from behind the closed door. “I feared he wouldn’t gets here in time.”
“How did he know I was in trouble?” Alissa asked, then jumped when a vase crashed against the sitting room wall.
“Cook sent a lad from the stables. Told him to go all the way to Melrose, if he had to. He caught up with us ’bout a half mile out, a-shoutin’ the sheriff were a-takin’ ye away.”
“But I thought you were to be late.”
“We completed our business, early,” Robert said, from across the huge entry where he lounged in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “As soon as the boy started shouting, my cousin was out of the coach. The poor lad was nearly knocked from the horse. Most inconsiderate of Jared. Then he was on the nag’s back and headed to Hawkstone. The question is, why?”
He sent her a probing look, and Alissa felt a chill run down her spine. Pulling her eyes away, she thought to question Mr. Stanley further, but another vase crashed, and a violent curse erupted from Jared. Fearing he was on the verge of strangling his former sister-in-law, she said, “Mr. Stanley, perhaps you should intervene.”
“Don’t thinks I’d better, mum. When he gets himself worked up like he is, it’s best we all stay out’a his way.”
Her anxious gaze darted to Robert. He seemed content to stay where he was. “Patricia can fend for herself,” he said, not moving.
“It’s not Patricia that I’m worried about!” she retorted, then marched toward the door herself. But just as she reached for the handle, the panel swung open and the redhead stormed out, brushing Alissa aside.
Jared followed, rubbing his shoulder. Seeing Alissa’s questioning glance, he said with chagrin, “I neglected to sidestep one of her missiles.” Then he called to his manservant. “Inform Miss Southworth’s footmen to ready her coach. She’ll be leaving within the quarter hour. Send some maids to help with her packing. They are not to worry about neatness. And make certain she leaves without further damage to my home.”
“Right, gov’nor,” Mr. Stanley replied. “Hopes this’ll be the last we sees of her.” With a distasteful sniff, he set off on his errand.
“Might I now receive an explanation?” Robert asked, rising from his chair to saunter across the marble floor and stop by the couple. “If you’ll excuse my ignorance, why the haste to save Miss Pembroke?”
Jared chuckled. “The real Miss Pembroke is no longer among the living, Robert. The woman you see before you is a young actress who was falsely charged with attempted murder and theft. She came to us in disguise, as she stands before you now. Her real name is Alissa Ashford—”
“Braxton,” she finished, to see Robert’s startled look.
“You’re married?” he asked uncomprehendingly.
“Yes,” Jared said, his arm surrounding Alissa’s shoulders. “So, if you’ll excuse us, we have some matters to discuss, privately. I doubt we shall see you until the morrow.” With a nod at Robert, he urged Alissa toward the stairs, his arm settling around her waist as they ascended.
From below, Robert stared up at the couple, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Married, he thought, pondering this unexpected revelation. After Celeste, he’d never thought his cousin would take that step again. “Enjoy your lives together,” Robert said, barely above a whisper, then turned on his heel, going in search of a brandy and a quiet place to ponder Jared’s startling admission.
CHAPTER
Sixteen
A bewildered silence had cloaked Alissa, almost since Jared’s timely arrival, but as she rose up the grand staircase, she pondered all that had happened, and the truth climaxed sharply in her mind. Her husband had deceived her, and without reason! Animosity burst forth inside her, and as soon as her feet hit the second-story landing, she broke from his encircling arm, picked up her skirts, and marched down the hallway toward the west wing with an angry step.
Jared stared after her a moment, confusion knitting his brow. Then, in several long strides, he overtook her, caught her arm, and stopped her progression. “What has set you off?”
“Guess,” she retorted, then slipped free of his grasp and started toward her room again, but Jared blocked her path. “Out of my way, sir.”
“Alissa, if you’d calm yourself and let me explain—”
“Explain what? That I’ve been cleared of the charges brought against me, but had no knowledge of it, because my husband, for reasons only he knows, decided to keep the information from me? In the meantime, I’ve been subjected to wearing this ridiculous disguise, which I hate with a pass
ion. I’m set upon by some dim-witted woman who throws herself at my husband as though she were a cat in heat and decried by that same woman as being incompetent and told I should be booted from my own home to satisfy her pretentiousness. Then, while I’m away, she searches my personal possessions and summons the sheriff, whose thugs have bruised my flesh, as well as—”
“Your pride?” Jared asked softly, fighting back a smile of admiration. By the gods, she’s beautiful!
Her eyes narrowed at him. “And my pride!” she admitted, angrily. “All because you didn’t have the decency to tell me that the viscount had rescinded his lies! What else is there to say!”
“Thank you, perhaps?”
“Thank you! You must be daft!”
“Actually, it took some bit of doing to trick him into a confession. My idea, admittedly, was a bit cracked at first, but through my cunning and superior intellect, I managed quite nicely to dupe him.”
Alissa glared the harder at him, her lips pressing into a mutinous line. “I speak not of your intellect, sir, but of your deception. Why did you not tell me of my exoneration the instant you’d come home?”
“What?” Patricia chirped sarcastically from behind Jared and Alissa as she walked over the carpet toward them. “A lover’s quarrel already?” She drew on her gloves. “Poor Jared. Your haste in choosing a mate may very well haunt you to your grave. What a pity.”
Her control snapping, Alissa turned blistering blue eyes on the woman. “Miss Southworth,” she addressed, her smile saccharine, “if you value each silken strand upon your head, I suggest you pick up your feet and follow the stairs to the front entry. Or you may find a sudden urgency to seek out a wig maker.”
Jared chuckled. “If I were you, Patricia, I wouldn’t tarry. My wife has an extremely excitable disposition. One can never be certain what she might do when her temper’s roused.”
“I hope you have an extremely long and exceedingly dull life together,” the redhead bit out hatefully. With a toss of her head, she turned on her heel; her half-dozen trunks, carried by as many footmen, followed her down the steps.
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