The Convenient Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by McCarthy, Teresa

"To show off your new bride," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

  "My wife has no need of me, madam. I am off to see my brother Marcus, who has inherited a house in Bath." He peered at the posting inn, then back to Agatha. "Briana is not with you?"

  Agatha scowled. "Of course not, you ninny. You left that poor child by herself? I thought you still with her."

  "I believe she has a friend in Violet. I have left my wife the name of my solicitor and banker. What else does she need?"

  Agatha's hands gripped her reticule and she seemed to sway. "You nincompoop!"

  His jaw tensed. He should be thankful she had no parasol. "Depend upon it, Miss Appleby. I believe my wife is in agreement with you. She has no need of me at all."

  "And whom do you think she needs? Kingsdale?"

  His hand tightened on his riding whip. "I made certain the man had left, madam. I am not as stupid as you may think."

  "Well, you are stupid," she said disgustedly. "Upon my departure I saw Lord Kingsdale lounging in the drawing room, playing chess with Mr. Wells. And it didn't seem the man was in a hurry to leave."

  Clayton swung his gaze toward the road. "I was distinctly told he had left."

  "Who told you, my lord?"

  He looked at her and frowned. "I believe it was Grimstoke's daughter."

  "Well, the chit lied."

  "Why the deuce would the girl offer me such information?"

  "Perhaps she is in love with Kingsdale. I don't know."

  Clayton began pacing the grounds. "But why lie to me? I don't give a fig about her love life. Or Kingsdale's."

  "But you never liked the man, and perhaps she knew that. Perhaps she thought she was protecting him in some way."

  "It doesn't make sense." A frown flitted across his face when suddenly he looked up. "I mentioned Briana would be staying by herself while I had business away."

  "And the lady mentioned Kingsdale?"

  Clayton reddened. "I asked her about the man."

  "Because you were jealous, no doubt." Without warning, Agatha smacked him with her reticule and stumbled back.

  He winced. King George, that reticule was harder than her deuced parasol! "Bodily harm will not move my heart, Miss Appleby."

  A horse and rider came galloping toward them. Clayton noticed it was the footman who had dropped the coffee on Sir Gerald.

  Agatha narrowed her gaze. "What is it, Augustus?"

  Clayton's brows went up. Augustus?

  The man handed a sealed letter to Agatha and she ripped it open. Her face turned white and Clayton caught her before she fell to the ground. Agatha's lids fluttered open. "My head. Must lie down. The blow was worse than I let on."

  She returned the paper to the rider, and in no time Clayton had her in a chamber upstairs in the inn. Clayton was torn between staying with Miss Appleby and returning to his wife.

  "What in the blazes is going on?" he asked Augustus.

  The man looked positively morbid. "Can't say, my lord. It's Miss Appleby's business."

  "My lord," Agatha whispered from the bed.

  Clayton walked over to the woman. "The doctor will be here within in a few minutes, madam. Now, what have you to say to me?"

  "Briana is in danger."

  "What exactly do you mean by that? The mission is over."

  Agatha nodded to Augustus to hand the letter to Clayton.

  Clayton opened it and shot her a questioning stare. "Hell's bells!" It was from Grimstoke. The man was part of the plan against the prince and had decided to confess.

  "And Lady Grimstoke was Whitehall's secret source," he replied, reading the words before him.

  Agatha nodded. "It's all there in the letter. We didn't know who it was. But it's quite clear Lady Grimstoke finally divulged her dealings with Whitehall to her husband and now the man is confessing all to us. Revenge is quite nasty, you know. It seems the lady discovered Grimstoke was being unfaithful."

  Agatha sighed. "And somehow Grimstoke knew I was part of all this. However, I don't think he knows about Briana."

  Clayton's stomach knotted. His wife could be in more trouble than she would ever know. How could he have left her in such danger? "Then your mission is not without merit?"

  "Correct" Agatha cringed and held her head. "We knew Grimstoke was a good friend of the Regent, and because of the unknown source, we thought the lord was planning something against Prinny. We had no idea who Grimstoke's contact was, and I believe Grimstoke still doesn't know."

  Agatha bit back the pain. "That is why the drop-off point was so important. Grimstoke never knew if the person was a servant or even a nobleman. Yet somehow Lady Grimstoke intercepted information of her husband's dealings. She knew the drop-off point was near his desk in the library. Only someone close to Grimstoke would be able to gather that information."

  "And Grimstoke would have been happy as long as he received his money," Clayton said dryly. "But since Grimstoke is a friend of the Regent's, any information that was passed along could be useful. Times, dates, meetings. All that prized information could readily lead to an assassination attempt."

  "Yes," Agatha said, frowning.

  Clayton gritted his teeth in frustration. "And Briana is there, alone, with nothing to do but look for evidence, even though you told her the mission was canceled?"

  "I told her Whitehall was sending me to Bath." Agatha's hand shook as she reached out to him. "I fear she is in grave danger."

  "You know the adversary, then?"

  "No. I went over the list, but after what you said about Violet mentioning that Kingsdale had left, it makes me wonder."

  The disturbing thought that Kingsdale was involved in the assassination attempt sent Clayton's apprehension soaring. "If Violet is in love with the man—"

  "Oh my," Agatha cried. "Do you think it could be so?"

  The threat was left unsaid. "I should never have left her alone." His thoughts were going a hundred directions. If Briana died because of his departure ...

  He looked at Agatha. "I'll have need of a pistol."

  Agatha nodded toward her reticule. "In there."

  Clayton gave a grim chuckle. "Was it loaded when you whacked me with it?"

  Agatha tried to smile. "Indeed, it was, my lord."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Why didn't you tell me you were working for Whitehall?"

  Violet stood inside the library door, staring in horror at Briana sitting on the sofa. Briana was just as shocked to discover that Violet had fallen in love with Kingsdale. Violet had mentioned her attraction to the man, but the girl was always speaking her thoughts out loud. It never occurred to Briana that Violet would fall into Kingsdale's trap.

  "You might not understand now, Bree," Violet went on, "but you will see that Lord Kingsdale wants to help England. Only he cannot help the country with the Regent being the way he is. Prinny must learn a lesson. He needs to stop all that spending and give to the poor."

  Briana almost felt sorry for her friend. Almost. How could the girl be so gullible?

  "She could not very well tell you she was working for the government, my love." Lord Kingsdale positioned himself on a chair opposite Briana, the pistol weighing in her direction.

  Violet's eyes softened as she turned her attention toward her beloved. "You are so very smart, my lord. I admit I was surprised when I unlocked the door and saw you here with Bree. I thought—well, never mind that."

  Briana wanted to shake Violet senseless. What was wrong with the girl? Kingsdale's smile was as false as his heart.

  "You should never worry, my love," Kingsdale drawled.

  Chuckling, he returned his attention to Briana. "Worry does nothing but produce worry. We all know that life is a game of chance, is it not, my dear?"

  Briana looked away, knowing she would have to work on Violet's emotions. If she were to die, at least she would die fighting. Kingsdale had said he loved her, but the next minute he said he would kill her. Would he kill Violet, too?

  "You remembe
r my sister, Violet?"

  Violet shook her head, wringing her hands on her gown. "You'd best not talk to me, Bree. It won't work."

  "Not another word," Kingsdale growled. "I don't want to make it hard for you."

  Briana realized the man still had feelings for her. Taking a chance, she rose from her seat and started toward the desk.

  "Sit down," Kingsdale said harshly.

  Briana peered over her shoulder, her insides shaking. "Why should I sit down if you are going to shoot me? Why should I even listen to you?"

  Violet hurried across the room. "Oh, please, sit down, Bree. He won't hurt you if you help us."

  "You don't know him like I do, Violet. He intends to hurt the Regent. In fact, he intends to kill him."

  "No," Violet cried. "You have it all wrong. He wouldn't do that!"

  Briana looked toward the fireplace. If only she could gain control of that loose brick ...

  "Don't even think about it, my dear." Kingsdale was beside her in a flash. "A brick through a window or even to my head won't suit at all."

  Briana turned and gave him her sweetest smile. "I wasn't thinking of anything like that, Gregory. I was thinking of us."

  Passion lit his eyes the second his name crossed her lips. Instantly, he lowered the pistol. "Perhaps we could come to some agreement, my dear. I don't totally trust you—"

  "But you love me!" Violet protested, stepping toward them. "You don't love her! You love me! You said so!"

  Kingsdale's mouth thinned as he turned toward the screaming woman. Briana used the moment to her advantage. She spun around and grabbed the writing box, slamming it against the back of Kingsdale's head. The man groaned and crumpled to the ground.

  "You've killed him!" Violet cried. "You've killed him!"

  Briana highly doubted that. Knowing the door was locked, she ran toward the window and fumbled with the sash.

  "Don't move!"

  Briana froze at the sound of Kingsdale's command. She saw his reflection in the window. The gun was raised in her direction and he was stumbling to his feet.

  "I don't think you want to kill me, Gregory."

  "Oh, Bree," Violet wailed. "Why did you have to run? He would not have hurt you. I would have seen to that."

  Briana glanced over her shoulder. Kingsdale was coming toward her.

  "I loved you," he whispered harshly, the next second pressing the gun into her ribs. "You were the only woman I ever loved. I never wanted to hurt you."

  Briana's heart sped. "Then let me go, Gregory. You don't want to do this."

  He put a hand around her waist. "I can't do that. Now open the window." He lowered his head and whispered into her ear. "You are despondent over your husband's return to Town."

  Her head snapped around so fast her nose touched his. "And I kill myself. Is that it?"

  He frowned. "It didn't have to be this way. I didn't want it to be this way. But you married the man."

  "What are you saying?" Violet whined from the other side of the room. "I can't hear what you're saying."

  "Open it, my dear. It's not locked. The catch is unlatched."

  Panic welled in Briana's throat as she followed his instructions. A cool breeze swept across her face while the window was being raised. Forgive me, Clayton. Forgive me for not trusting you.

  "Now, my dear—"

  The door burst open, halting Kingsdale's speech.

  "Clayton!" Briana cried.

  Her husband stood on the threshold with pistol raised. His eyes never left Kingsdale's face. "Drop it, Gregory. I don't want to shoot."

  Kingsdale swung Briana around, making her a human shield. "So, you've come for your bride after all. How very sweet. And I see you have Miss Appleby's attendant. Had a suspicion about him, but, well, one never knows."

  Briana was surprised to see the footman who had spilled the hot coffee on Sir Gerald standing beside Clayton.

  "Please, Gregory," she begged, feeling his grip tightening. "If you ever loved me, don't do this."

  The hold on her loosened. "God help me," Kingsdale whispered gruffly, almost like a prayer. "I cannot kill you. Never thought I could. You are the only woman—" He stopped, glanced at Clayton, then pressed his mouth beneath her ear. "But if you jumped with me..."

  He left the sentence unsaid and pushed her aside. "We could have been good together, my little bluestocking." The next moment he swung the gun toward Clayton. "Good-bye, my friend."

  Two shots were fired as Kingsdale leapt from the window. Violet screamed. Clayton's pistol was smoking. Briana turned away, too horrified to take in what had happened. Clayton and Augustus hurried toward the window.

  "Dead as a splattered cat, my lord," Augustus announced. "Don't know if your shot hit him or not. Didn't matter, though. Died from the fall."

  Violet let out a gasp and fainted.

  Clayton turned to Briana. "Are you hurt?" "No," she said weakly. Hold me, she wanted to say. Love me. Don't ever leave me again.

  He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, paused and walked toward Violet, sparing a glance at the writing box apart on the floor. A small grin worked its way to his lips. "I suppose those secret compartments helped after all."

  Tears of frustration filled Briana's eyes, and she leaned against the desk for support. "Yes, they helped. He has the papers from Grimstoke in his pocket."

  "I'll get them," Clayton said coolly, glancing at Augustus. "Keep an eye on my wife and the lady."

  "Very good, my lord."

  Briana's heart stuck in her throat as her husband departed from the room. Clayton!

  She dropped her lashes to hide the pain. No kiss, no hug, not even a word of love. She had lost him. She knew that now. Deep down she wondered if she had ever had him at all.

  Later that evening, Briana cupped her hands around the warm tea as she sat in the drawing room of Grimstoke Hall. The authorities had already taken Lord Grimstoke and Violet away for questioning. Kingsdale's body had been removed as well.

  Clayton had told Briana that Grimstoke's family would have to face the consequences of their actions, even though their host had sent the letter to Agatha, and that his wife was the unknown source, feeding Whitehall valuable information.

  "The man may get off," Clayton said, sinking into the nearby wing chair. He blew out a tired breath. "I just don't know. His wife was the informant against him. It won't be easy. It's a devil of a coil."

  Briana was still shaken from the ordeal. She had told Clayton about Clarice, and he seemed genuinely angry over Kingsdale's despicable actions. But more than anything she wanted her husband to hold her, tell her he loved her, tell her he never planned to marry her because of his uncle's will.

  "Did you plan to marry me for the castle, my lord?"

  His eyes searched hers, but he wasn't asking for sympathy. "I cannot lie to you, Briana. It had crossed my mind."

  She dropped her gaze to her cup. "I see."

  "Do you?"

  A lump formed in her throat, and she found it hard to speak.

  "I love you, Briana. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

  Of course it meant something. But not everything. He said he loved her, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore. She didn't want to go to him. She shouldn't have to. He was the one who had left, not her. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, but she said nothing.

  Hold me, Clayton. Show me you love me.

  But the chill between them was like an icy abyss, growing each second.

  "I am giving you the castle and the money."

  Her heart ached with disappointment. "I don't want it."

  The lines about his face tensed as he rose. "Too bad. I'm giving it to you for your women's shelter. As your husband, I do have the upper hand, whether you like it or not, madam."

  "And what of your future?'

  He shoved his hand in his pocket and walked toward the door. "I will have my solicitor call upon you at your convenience. Agatha will be here in an hour or so. She needed to rest. That blow to her hea
d was more than she let on. You can return with her to London when she feels better."

  The knowledge that he was leaving again seared her heart like a red-hot iron. But pride would not let her go to him.

  Her spirits lifted as his violet-blue eyes bored into hers and he strode forward. He bent down and lifted her hand, kissing it. "Good-bye, my Fairy Lady."

  A dark shadow crossed her heart, and before she knew it, he had let her fingers fall from his, and he strode from the room.

  Briana spread her shaking hands against her gown and swallowed a sob. She sat there for at least fifteen minutes, not knowing what to do. She had been too proud. Too arrogant. When would she learn?

  "So, you think to rid yourself of me that quickly, do you?'

  Her head jerked toward the drawing room's entryway. Clayton was leaning against the dooijamb, his arms crossed over his chest his eyes searching hers.

  "I thought you had left," she said.

  His eyebrows rose. "Did you now?"

  What was the matter with him? She wrung her hands on her gown and stood, intending to leave. She wasn't going to beg.

  He took a step into the room and closed the doors, then turned to look at her again. "I think we have a few more matters to discuss."

  Her chin lifted, the lump in her throat growing. "You can have your castle. I already said I don't want it."

  In a few quick strides he was beside her. "Is that so?"

  Her body stiffened and she spun around, giving him her back. "Yes. And if you have any sense—"

  "If I have any sense?" he said softly, gripping her shoulders and leaning into her.

  She swallowed. His lips were near her neck, making it difficult to think. "I, um, if you had any sense, you would ...um..."

  He wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her against him. "Go on," he whispered huskily.

  Her knees began to buckle. "I...you're confusing me."

  His finger trailed along her neckline. "That's good."

  She turned toward him, regaining her senses, or at least part of them. "No, that isn't good! I thought you were leaving!"

  "Well, hell's bells, sweetheart, I changed my mind." His hand brushed the back of her neck, sending a warm shiver through her. "I should have told you about the castle. You have no reason to trust me again and I understand—"