Stroke of Midnight

by Olivia Drake

  His jaw tightened. He would never forget the awful jolt he’d felt on opening the desk drawer to see the cold glint of the diamonds. Despite his prior knowledge of Martin Falkner’s secret life, Alex had not wanted to believe the man capable of such a deed, for Laura’s sake. But duty had compelled him to accept the truth and see justice done.

  Now she was so far off the mark that he felt insulted, his honor sullied. Maybe that was her intention.

  Stepping closer, he caught her face in his hands and let his thumb graze her soft lips. “If I’d wanted to make you my mistress, Laura, I’d have needed no subterfuge. I’d have taken you to my bed—and you’d have come willingly.”

  A faint flush stole over her skin. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. With every breath he inhaled her scent of sunshine and flowers. How tempting was the thought of seducing her—if only it wouldn’t lend credence to her wrongheaded opinion of him.

  He traced the bow shape of her mouth, and she gave a little shiver of pleasure. “See?” he murmured. “You haven’t forgotten how it was between us.”

  Laura turned her head to avoid his caress. “What I haven’t forgotten is your disdain for propriety. You never did behave as a gentleman.”

  She stopped, apparently thinking better of mentioning their stolen embraces in darkened gardens, in closed carriages, and one memorable interlude in a closet in the midst of a party. But Alex needed no reminder. Every stroke, every kiss, every sigh, was branded into his memory. Despite his purpose back then, he’d fallen hard for her. What had begun as a calculated courtship had swiftly become genuine.

  So genuine that he could feel it still burning inside himself.

  He let his breath feather her cheek. “What we once shared was only the first course. A mere taste of the feast that I could have given you—and could still give you if only you would allow it.”

  Her lips parted slightly, and the sight tempted him sorely. He wanted what he’d been forced to deny himself, the chance to clasp that curvaceous body to his, to stir her to passion, to revel in her surrender. Ever so slightly, he moved closer, determined to claim that soft, sinful mouth of hers …

  Laura twisted free. She flew to the desk and snatched up a penknife, pointing the blade at him. “Stop! Or you’ll have a matching scar on your other cheek.”

  Alex held up his open palms to show that he meant her no harm. God! He didn’t trust her with that weapon. Not after the way she’d slashed him the last time they’d met.

  Yet he was more irked with himself than with her. If he’d been thinking with his brain, he’d have removed all sharp objects upon entering the office. Hell, he would never have attempted seduction in the first place. Laura was no longer the adoring debutante. She held a deep-seated grudge against him, and perhaps that was for the best. He needed no distractions from the task of determining what her father had done with the Blue Moon diamond.

  He strolled to the door, leaned a shoulder against the frame, and crossed his arms. “A simple no would have sufficed,” he said. “I haven’t yet sunk to such depths as to force a woman.”

  “I won’t be your light skirt. Not now or ever.”

  “A wise decision. An affair undoubtedly would be discomfiting for my aunt.”

  Laura eyed him mistrustfully as she slipped the penknife into the pocket of her apron. “I hope that means you won’t send me away,” she said. “Lady Josephine needs my companionship. She enjoys being with people. Yet apparently she never calls on anyone or goes anywhere—nor has anyone visited her in the time I’ve been here.”

  “What? She’s always had many friends.”

  “One has to pay calls in order for them to be returned.” Laura took a determined step toward him. “It’s apparent to me that she’s become too forgetful to organize her own schedule. Did you know that she had a desk drawer stuffed full of unanswered invitations?”

  Alex shook his head. He tried to think back on the last time he’d seen his aunt out in society—had it really been several years? Of late, his life had fallen into a pattern: playing cards at his club, taking his seat in Parliament, supervising his various estates. He still visited select friends when in town, but he’d grown bored with the superficiality of the ton. Each year the new crop of debutantes seemed more naive and giggly than the last, so that he had taken to avoiding most social events altogether.

  Some weeks ago, while at the races, he’d run into Lady Milford. She had expressed concern about his aunt, and he had agreed that a companion might be needed. Then he had engaged in a round of betting and had promptly forgotten about it.

  “I suppose it’s my fault,” he now admitted ruefully. “I seldom attend balls and parties. I didn’t realize I’d been neglecting Aunt Josie.”

  “You have an elder sister, don’t you?” Laura asked. “Why hasn’t she seen to your aunt’s needs?”

  “Cynthia is wed to the assistant governor-general of India. She’s been living in Calcutta these past twelve years.” Not to mention, he’d never been close to his only sibling, since she was six years his senior. He’d still been in short pants when she’d gone off to finishing school.

  “I see,” Laura said, her gaze intent on him. “Then you must allow me to arrange Lady Josephine’s calendar. I’ll make certain that she renews old friendships and attends events where she might relish a good gossip with other ladies her age. You do wish for her to be happy, don’t you, my lord?”

  “Of course.”

  Even as guilt yanked a swift response out of Alex, he recognized that he was being maneuvered. Gut instinct told him that Laura had something up her sleeve. She seemed far too eager to venture out into society—as if for a purpose of her own.

  Why?

  Ten years ago, her lively wit and vivid beauty had made her the center of attention. Now her drab appearance would only fool those who hadn’t known her very well. She had to realize that if anyone recognized her, she would be expelled in disgrace. So what would induce her to risk such humiliation? If she merely needed income, a governess post in the country would have been a safer choice; no one there need ever guess her true identity.

  It made no sense to Alex. Maybe she was a better actress than he’d imagined. Maybe he was mistaken to think she didn’t know where the Blue Moon diamond was hidden …

  “I’ll allow you to stay on a trial basis,” he said.

  Laura released a breath. “Thank you,” she said rather stiffly. “I’ll give you no cause to regret it. I’ll take excellent care of Lady Josephine, you’ll see.”

  The hint of relief on her face only intrigued him further. Alex opened the door, then turned back as if in afterthought. “By the way, my aunt’s jewels are secured in a lockbox at Barclay’s Bank. As my uncle’s executor, I’m the only one with a key.”

  Laura gazed blankly for a moment. Then she clenched her fists at her sides and took a step toward him. “Are you suggesting that I came here to filch her ladyship’s valuables?”

  Alex allowed a sardonic half smile, one that had been known to make lesser mortals quail. “I only thought you should know in case Aunt Josie wishes to wear a certain piece.”

  Laura gave him a withering look. “Then tell me, does she own a fine emerald necklace? Something that will complement a green-and-white gown? If you feel it is safe, do send the jewels here on the morrow so that her ladyship might wear them to Lord Scarborough’s ball.”

  With that, she flounced past Alex, giving him another alluring whiff of her feminine scent. She offered no curtsy or nod of farewell, only continued on as if he were a footman that she’d already forgotten.

  He watched from the doorway as she marched down the wood-paneled corridor. Her shoes kicked up her back hem, affording him a glimpse of slim ankles clad in white stockings and clunky dark shoes. He hadn’t actually expected her motive to be robbery, but he’d wanted to assess her reaction just to make certain.

  It was clear that she had been greatly insulted by his insinuation.

  Alex combed his
fingers through his hair. There was something he was missing. If she sincerely believed in her father’s innocence, why would she be so eager to associate with the highbrow people who had condemned Martin Falkner—and herself by association?

  The answer came to him in a flash. Of course. Laura hoped to clear her father’s name. She must be planning to find the phantom thief. It was exactly the sort of wildly imprudent scheme that she would devise.

  Alex scowled at the spot where she’d disappeared. He could only imagine the uproar if she were to make false accusations toward any member of the ton. It would spark a fiery scandal—and to no purpose since the real thief, her father, was no longer alive.

  Laura, however, might just land herself in big trouble.

  Chapter 8

  The following evening, Laura surveyed her reflection in the long pier glass of her dressing room. The light of a sputtering candle revealed an unremarkable woman in a high-necked gown of dark, coffee-colored muslin. Her tawny-blond hair was concealed by a puritanical white lace cap with side lappets that brushed her shoulders.

  Spinsterish, she concluded in satisfaction, picking up the spectacles and donning them to complete the disguise. Among the brilliant butterflies at Lord Scarborough’s ball, she would be a dull brown moth.

  She had striven purposefully to create the dowdy persona. Which was why it made no sense at all for her to walk across the small dressing room to a cupboard and draw forth one of the fancy slippers that had been a gift from Lady Milford.

  Laura glided her fingertips over the lining of garnet-dyed satin. The splendor of the crystal beadwork fed her beauty-starved soul. It transported her back to a time when she had owned an extensive wardrobe with gowns and accessories for every occasion. A time when she had been oblivious to all but the pleasures of privilege and wealth. A time when she had been pursued by many suitors, though only one had made her heart race.

  That had been before Alexander Ross, the Earl of Copley, had proven himself to be a beast.

  Laura clutched the slipper to her bosom. The audacity of the man to imply that she could not be trusted with his aunt’s gems! He’d meant it, too. He had not sent a courier today with the jewels she had requested, which only verified his low opinion of her character.

  Then why had he allowed her to remain in his aunt’s house? Only one reason seemed plausible: he preyed upon servant women. He viewed Laura as a ripe plum for his plucking.

  He had demonstrated his intentions by gliding his thumb over her lips and murmuring an intimate proposal. What we once shared was only the first course. A mere taste of the feast that I could have given you—and could still give you.

  At the time, she had not been able to stop an involuntary shiver. The allure of his presence had startled her with its intensity. Despite all that had happened, his magnetism still affected her. Even now, the memory of his touch made her feel flushed and unsettled.

  Her spontaneous reaction defied all good sense. It would be madness to let down her guard around such a scoundrel. Long ago, she had been naive enough to fall under his spell. But now she was wiser, having witnessed the heartless way he’d treated Papa.

  Alex could go to the devil for all she cared.

  The earl, Laura corrected herself for the umpteenth time. It was only force of habit that kept her thinking of him in a familiar fashion. She needed to be careful not to voice his first name aloud in company.

  That shouldn’t be a problem since he seldom attended society events. His presence would only have to be endured when he came here to visit his aunt. Laura had no intention of letting him catch her alone again. He’d soon realize the futility of trying to seduce her.

  She gazed down at the slippers, conscious of a strange compulsion to slide them onto her feet. How foolish of her to wish she was still that frivolous young girl. Finding Papa’s murderer was the only thing that mattered now. And since she wouldn’t be dancing at tonight’s ball, she needn’t exchange her plain leather shoes for these fine beaded slippers.

  With firm resolve, she replaced Lady Milford’s gift in the cupboard. Then she extinguished the candle, picked up a black knitted shawl, and headed through the gloomy guest bedchamber to the door. Out in the corridor, an assortment of age-darkened landscapes decorated the walls. The only light came from a flickering oil lamp on a side table.

  Peering over the tops of her spectacles, she went the few steps along a faded floral carpet runner to Lady Josephine’s quarters. There she paused, somewhat alarmed to find the door partway open.

  Had her ladyship become confused and left her chambers? Had she forgotten Laura’s instructions not to navigate the stairs unaided? Or had a maid merely forgotten to shut the door?

  Laura rapped twice on the panel to announce herself before stepping inside the bedchamber. Shadows cast by a branch of candles wavered over the cavernous ceiling with its frescoes of cherubs frolicking among the clouds. The heavenly theme continued in the gilt-and-white furniture, the gold brocade hangings on the windows and the four-poster bed, and the carved alabaster mantel where a fire danced softly.

  The room might have been a private paradise if not for the excessive bric-a-brac. Every nook and cranny had been filled with displays of ivory painted fans, music boxes, and cloisonné vases on pedestals. On all available surfaces rested a vast collection of ceramic figurines from shepherdesses to goddesses, cavalrymen to Greek heroes, all gifts from Lady Josephine’s beloved late husband.

  An array of clocks ticked in discordant rhythm, ormolu on the mantel, delicate porcelain on the writing desk, French gilt on the bedside table. They showed the time to be more or less half past eight, depending upon which one Laura consulted.

  In the far corner of the chamber, a yellow rectangle of light spilled from the dressing room doorway. She took it as an encouraging sign that Lady Josephine was still here, after all.

  Lowering her chin to peer over the spectacles, Laura picked a path through a maze of footstools and ottomans. No one on the staff except for her seemed concerned that their aging mistress might trip and break a bone. She itched to rescind Mrs. Samson’s order to keep everything in precisely the same place. Perhaps she ought to ask her ladyship’s permission in the presence of the housekeeper. Yes, that might work, for Lady Josephine was always agreeable to suggestions …

  Laura had almost reached the dressing room when the glow of light suddenly dimmed. Glancing up, she spied a man blocking the open doorway. A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman in dark evening clothes and snow-white cravat.

  Alex.

  Her heart catapulted into her throat. His presence in her ladyship’s bedchamber caught Laura so much by surprise that she stopped in mid-step, one foot forward.

  “You?” she sputtered, then realized how imprudent it would be to let rudeness give him cause to dismiss her. She managed a token curtsy. “Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Ah, Miss Brown. I came to deliver my aunt’s emeralds. The ones you ordered yesterday.”

  The murmur of voices came from inside the dressing room, Lady Josephine’s along with that of her maid. Out here, the clocks ticked into the silence as Laura strove to hide her bitterness that he didn’t trust her with the jewels. “I’m sure she appreciates the gesture, my lord. On your way out, you may wish to instruct the butler to lock up the jewelry upon her ladyship’s return tonight. I wouldn’t want to see thieves make off with her valuables.”

  So much for meekness. But Laura just couldn’t help herself.

  One corner of his mouth quirked, though whether in displeasure or humor, she couldn’t tell. “An excellent suggestion,” he said. “Especially since those ridiculous eyeglasses would blind you to a robber creeping right past you in the corridor.”

  “I can manage perfectly well, thank you. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll check on her ladyship. She may need my assistance.”

  Laura stepped forward, and so did he. With her gaze on his blurry figure, she nearly stumbled over a footstool. He caught
her elbow and held her upright. “Steady there.”

  She found herself hemmed in by chairs and tables with the earl blocking her path. A deep awareness of him flowed through her body. Never in her life had she been in a bedchamber with Alex. It brought to mind unbidden, unsuitable, unwelcome thoughts.

  “Pray move aside,” she said stiffly. “Your aunt may be ready to depart, and I don’t wish to keep her waiting.”

  “You’ve a few minutes yet. The maid is still doing her hair.”

  He didn’t budge, so Laura tilted up her chin to aim a stern look at him. The glasses distorted her vision and no doubt spoiled the effect. She scooted them down to the very tip of her nose, only to realize that Alex was ogling her quite outrageously. His gaze roamed from the top of her prim white cap down over her dark frock and shawl, lingering a long moment on her bosom before returning to her face.

  A faint smile touched his mouth. “My governess taught me that a gentleman always offers a compliment to a lady. Since I cannot profess to admire such an unattractive gown, may I say that you have very pretty eyes.” He snatched off the spectacles and tucked them inside his coat. “At least now that I can see them.”

  Laura’s immediate impulse was to plunge her hand inside his coat and retrieve her property. But there were some boundaries she didn’t dare cross. “Give those back to me at once!”

  “In due time. Do you really think you’ll fool people with your disguise?”

  “Yes! Not all men stare at women the way you do. Now, haven’t you a gambling club to visit or a debutante to ravish?”

  He chuckled, the gruff sound causing a bothersome stir in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t come here just for my aunt,” he said. “I brought something for you, too.”

  “For me?”