Stroke of Midnight

by Olivia Drake

  She knew her jab had hit home because he offered no quick rejoinder. The clopping of the horses’ hooves and the jingling of the harness filled the night air. With his back to the headlamps, his face lay in shadow. But Laura sensed the force of his stare boring into her.

  He rose abruptly from his seat and thrust himself in between her and the wall of the carriage. He attempted to sit down, though there was no room for him.

  Laura put her hands to his chest to stop him. It was as effective as pushing against a brick wall. Her heart fluttered with alarm and something else, something she didn’t care to examine.

  “Stop!” she hissed. “Go away—”

  He pressed his finger to her lips and nodded toward the stout coachman whose back was to them. Although the man was preoccupied with guiding the horses down the gloomy streets of Mayfair, he might overhear snatches of their conversation in the open carriage if they weren’t careful.

  “Slide over,” Alex said, his voice a mere breath of sound. “Please, Laura. It’s the only way for us to talk freely.”

  Her choice was either to obey him or to raise a fuss that could prove embarrassing. After a moment’s indecision, she shifted herself as close as possible to Lady Josephine, who snored softly in slumber.

  Laura envied that oblivion. Yet she did have a few choice words she wanted to say to him. Perhaps now was as good a time as any.

  Alex angled himself sideways to fit into the cramped space while resting one arm along the back of the seat. Laura could scarcely catch her breath with him so close. His nearness made the carriage seem even smaller, and their proximity felt scandalously like an embrace. To make matters worse, the jolting motion of the vehicle caused them to keep bumping against each other no matter how far she tried to pull back.

  Bending his head, he murmured in her ear, “You were eavesdropping in the ladies’ retiring room.”

  She bristled at the accusation in his tone—as if she were the one at fault. “Yes,” she whispered, tilting up her chin to look at him through the clear spectacles. “You can imagine my surprise at finding out the connection. You never told me of it. I deserve to know why.”

  “I didn’t deem it important.”

  “Not important?” Laura struggled to keep her voice low. “Your godmother was the victim of a famous robbery. People talked about the crime for weeks.”

  He glanced away for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “My relationship to her was common knowledge. Perhaps it never occurred to me that you were unaware of it.”

  “Perhaps?” She pounced on the word. It gave her the distinct impression that he was being evasive. At least now she understood why he’d recognized the earrings that had been planted in her father’s desk. He’d seen his godmother wearing them. “Pray forgive me for being skeptical, my lord. There has to be another reason why you never mentioned it. Maybe I was right to suggest that you set up my father.”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Nonsense.”

  “Is it? As her godson, you had access to the duchess’s home and to her jewels. If you’d had Papa arrested, I’d have been ruined by association and left without protection. Then you could have taken advantage of me.”

  She didn’t really believe that theory—she was too certain the thief had been Lord Haversham in collusion with his daughter, Lady Evelyn. Yet Laura sensed there was something Alex wasn’t telling her. Some key piece of the puzzle that she was missing. And she hoped to goad him into revealing it.

  The glow of a streetlamp cast the angles of his face into sharp relief. The scar slanting down one cheek gave him an aura of danger as he brought his face closer to hers. “You desire the truth, then?”

  His warm breath tickled her cheek. The length of his leg lay against hers, and the hard wall of his chest pressed into her arm. The contact made it difficult for her to stay focused on the conversation. “Yes, tell me.”

  “As you wish.” His fingertip followed the curve of her lower lip, igniting sparks of pleasure in its wake. In a husky murmur, he said, “Everyone else may have been talking about the robbery. But all I could think about was you, Laura. Only you. Nothing else mattered to me.”

  On that wildly romantic declaration, his mouth sought hers. Laura was too stunned to form a coherent thought. He cupped her neck with one hand, his thumb caressing her jaw as he attempted to coax her reluctant mouth into surrender. A beguiling desire lapped at her resistance and her lips softened ever so slightly. Sweet heaven, she had forgotten how tempting Alex could be, how very much she’d always craved his kisses …

  No. He was a deceitful scoundrel. He had destroyed her father’s life—and hers.

  Averting her face, Laura thrust her hands against his chest. “Stop!” she hissed. “Don’t try to cozen me. I’m no longer a naive girl straight out of the schoolroom.”

  “Quite so.” His thumb stroked a mesmerizing pattern on the side of her neck. “You’re a woman now—a very beautiful woman.”

  Her heart quivered. How, in the face of all she knew about him, could she still be susceptible to his flattery?

  She gave voice to her grievances against him. “You said that I was all that mattered to you back then. Yet you didn’t listen when I begged you not to take my father away. You didn’t care if you hurt me. And you refused to trust me when I vouched for Papa’s character.”

  Alex’s fingers stilled on her shoulder. In the faint light, he appeared troubled, his lips thinned. “My purpose was never to hurt you, Laura. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

  The strangest thing was, she did believe him—to a degree. He hadn’t set out purposefully to ruin her life. She had been nothing more than an idle flirtation to him. And the game had ended abruptly when he’d found those stolen earrings in her father’s desk.

  The carriage jolted over a bump. The vehicle had turned a corner, and the coachman was steering the horses toward the curbstone in front of Lady Josephine’s town house.

  The sight acted as a dash of ice water. Laura pushed Alex away, but he needed no prodding. In a blink he’d slipped across the barouchet to resume his own seat as she scooted back over to her side.

  Just in time, for Lady Josephine awakened, blinking and yawning. “Where are we?” she asked in befuddlement.

  “You’re home again,” Alex said smoothly as if he hadn’t been locked in a scandalous embrace only a moment ago. “How wise of you to have dozed away such a dreary drive. Not so Miss Brown, who was forced to suffer my vexing company.”

  Laura frowned through the darkness at him. How confident he was, how secure in his lordly superiority. He didn’t care that anyone could have witnessed their intimate tête-à-tête. But she did. The half hood of the carriage had afforded them little privacy. Her only consolation was the lateness of the hour and emptiness of the streets.

  Now Alex sat watching her, seeming entirely too pleased with himself. It was clear now, more than ever, that he wanted to seduce her. And Laura wondered if, in that brief moment of weakness when she’d kissed him back, she had foolishly given him cause to believe his mission might succeed.

  Chapter 11

  “Laura? Laura, can it really be you?”

  Laura had been examining a length of sky-blue ribbon near the window of the milliner’s shop when the female voice yanked her attention to the door. A young matron had just walked in. Pleasantly plump, the woman had freckled skin and russet hair beneath a straw bonnet. She was also noticeably pregnant. Her gloved hands rested on the gentle swelling beneath the yellow sprigged gown and the leaf-green shawl.

  But it was her face that made Laura’s breath catch. How well she knew those warm brown eyes and that sweet smile. Violet Angleton!

  Her old friend approached with hesitant steps as if doubting her own judgment. Her brows were drawn together in a faint, questioning frown.

  Laura stood rooted to the spot. Should she pretend to be a stranger? In the gold-rimmed spectacles, plain black bonnet, and dowdy dark gown, she no longer resembled the fa
shionable debutante of her youth. It was not yet too late to escape detection. How easy it would be to feign ignorance and slip out the door.

  But she couldn’t abandon her mistress. At the other end of the shop, Lady Josephine was trying on an ostrich-feathered hat in front of a mirror with the assistance of the stout proprietor. Neither woman had noticed Laura’s dilemma.

  Thankfully, they were the only other two people present in this small establishment off Bond Street. Had it been a larger, more crowded place, Laura might have drawn the attention of watching eyes and listening ears.

  As Violet ventured closer, she said in wonderment, “It is you, isn’t it? Oh, Laura, don’t you recognize me?”

  That pleading tone melted Laura’s heart. It had been ten years since she’d allowed herself any close friendships. A yearning for companionship overshadowed the risks involved in abandoning the masquerade.

  She closed the distance between them and caught hold of Violet’s hands. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Of course I remember you, Violet. How could I ever forget such a dear friend as you?”

  Violet’s face lit up with delight. She threw her arms around Laura’s neck. “I knew it was you when I walked past with Frederick just now. Even with those spectacles, I knew. Oh, where have you been? I’ve missed you so much! I was terribly worried when you disappeared.”

  As Laura returned the hug, joy uplifted her spirits. It was like greeting a long-lost sister. Not until this moment had she felt a true sense of homecoming. Seeing Alex again had awakened only distressful memories and tangled emotions, whereas Violet transported her back to the happiest of times.

  Then Laura felt a distinct kick against her midsection. Startled, she drew back and glanced down at Violet’s thickened abdomen. “It seems you have quite a lot to tell me, too.”

  “This is my third,” Violet said, proudly caressing her belly. “I’ve two sons already and I’m hoping for a daughter this time. So is Frederick—did I tell you I’m Mrs. Blankenship now?”

  “You married Frederick Blankenship?” The slightly horrified question popped out of Laura before she could stop it.

  Violet laughed merrily. “I know we always poked fun at his stodgy manners and dull conversation,” she said. “How silly we were back then. I can assure you, he is the very best of husbands. And he does love me dearly, as much as I love him.”

  Even as Laura smiled with pleasure at her friend’s marital bliss, her gaze strayed toward the bay window with its display of feathered and beribboned bonnets. She had an uneasy sense of being exposed in this spot. “Is he waiting outside, then?”

  “No, he went into the tailor’s next door. That should keep him busy for a while.”

  “Did you tell him you saw me just now?” Laura murmured. “Did you mention me by name?”

  Frowning in puzzlement, Violet shook her head. “I wasn’t sure it was really you and besides, he was prattling on about the new cravats he intended to order…” She slid her arm through Laura’s and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the matter? Are you in hiding? Because of what happened?”

  Laura nodded. “And I must beg you to be silent on the matter, if you will.”

  “Oh, most certainly! Goodness, you look so different with those spectacles. I very nearly didn’t recognize you. Is it part of your disguise?”

  “Yes. Come, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Laura pulled her friend over to a display of hat trimmings in the back corner of the shop. “We must pretend to be browsing lest we draw undue attention.”

  “A wise notion,” Violet said, seizing upon a cluster of papier-mâché cherries and lifting them up to the natural light of the window. Her gaze cut over to Laura. “Now, I am dying to know everything. Pray tell me where you’ve been all this time.”

  Twirling a peacock feather between her fingers, Laura related an abbreviated version of how she and Papa had been living in Portugal, and that she’d moved back to London upon his death. She decided to keep mum about her quest to find out if he’d been murdered. No one must be privy to that secret but herself. “Since my reputation is in tatters, I’m going by the name of Laura Brown. I recently took employment as a companion.”

  She nodded toward Lady Josephine, who was still absorbed in choosing among an array of hats being presented by the fawning proprietress.

  Violet’s eyes widened. “But … that’s Lady Josephine!” she hissed. “Lord Copley’s aunt.”

  “Unfortunately so, though I didn’t realize it when I accepted the position,” Laura murmured. “You’ll be relieved to hear that I’ve already encountered his lordship and he’s agreeable to letting me stay on … at least for a time.”

  Would he change his mind when she refused to become his mistress? Remembering their close encounter in the carriage the previous evening, Laura felt a shiver deep inside herself. She was playing a dangerous game. He would be furious to learn that she was at his aunt’s house under false pretenses.

  A smile spread across Violet’s face. “I knew he still carried a torch for you. I knew it!”

  “Carried a torch? Nothing could be farther from the truth. Why would you even entertain such a mad notion?”

  “When you fled England,” Violet confided in a whisper, “the earl stopped attending most balls and parties. People said it was due to his scarred face, but I always believed that his heart had been broken.”

  Laura was speechless. She hadn’t known that his scorn for society events had begun with her departure. But it was a far leap to assume that he’d been pining for her. More likely, he’d turned to gaming at his club or cavorting with a string of mistresses.

  “He doesn’t have a heart,” she stated. “Have you so quickly forgotten that he’s the one who forced Papa and I to flee? He tried to tie Papa’s hands behind his back. He was intending to take Papa to jail.”

  “Oh, Laura, that was such a tragedy. I could scarcely believe it when I heard the news.” Violet dropped the bunch of fake cherries to give Laura’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t mean to defend the earl at your expense, truly I don’t, but … what else was he to do when he came upon the stolen earrings? He could hardly have ignored what your father had done.”

  Laura withdrew her hand. It was difficult enough to know that Papa’s name had been slandered by all of society; even more painful to hear it from a friend. Did no one but her believe in his integrity?

  She looked Violet square in the eye. “Papa was a fine, upstanding gentleman, not a criminal. How the duchess’s property came to be in his desk, I can’t imagine. But he had no reason to turn to thievery—no reason at all.”

  “What about his many debts? He must have been worried about paying them off … oh! Did you not know?”

  Shocked, Laura slowly shook her head. “I never heard of any debts. He had an inheritance, and income from his investments … he wasn’t a gambler, nor was he extravagant. We lived quite frugally.”

  Except for her debut. He’d had to bear the expense of purchasing an entire new wardrobe for her, along with hosting a lavish party to launch her into society. He also would have wanted to provide her with a generous marriage portion in the event of her betrothal.

  But even if he’d accrued liabilities, that did not mean he’d stolen the Blue Moon diamond. His character had been exemplary, and she would never believe otherwise.

  “I don’t know all the particulars, so perhaps I’m mistaken,” Violet hastened to say. “I am certain, however, that about a year after you and your father disappeared, all of his possessions were sold at auction to settle the debts. I wanted to go, to see if I might acquire some memento for you in case you returned someday, but Frederick wouldn’t allow it. He said that auctions are no place for a lady, especially since I was expecting our first child and … oh, Laura, I should have insisted. Then you wouldn’t have lost everything.”

  She looked so woebegone that Laura summoned a bracing smile. “Never mind, they were only things. It’s all in the past now. And since Papa is no l
onger here, I may never know the whole truth.”

  Violet picked up a length of lace and combed it through her fingers. “If I could, I’d wave a magic wand and restore your reputation. It isn’t right that you should be forced into employment.”

  “I’m no different from any other lady who must earn a living. It’s a blessing to have found a position with a kind mistress.” Hoping to gain some information, Laura decided to steer the conversation in a more useful direction. “Besides, I’ve the opportunity to go about town a bit with Lady Josephine. Last evening, we attended Lord Scarborough’s ball. Were you there?”

  “No, it would be most indelicate in my present condition…” A light entered Violet’s eyes, and she tossed aside the lace. “So that’s why Lord Copley went to the ball. The news was in The Tattler this morning along with speculation that he’s in the market for a bride. But I’ll venture he was there because he knew that you would be present.”

  Laura gave a firm shake of her head. Violet must still be a starry-eyed romantic, the same as she herself had been at one time. “I assure you, the earl utterly ignored me. He spent an inordinate amount of time with Lady Evelyn, though. They made quite the cozy couple.”

  “She’s the dowager Duchess of Cliffington—did you know? And as rich as Croesus, too. Now that she bears the title of Her Grace, she believes she’s too high and mighty for the rest of us!”

  It didn’t surprise Laura to learn that Evelyn had married well. Or that having been widowed, she’d set her sights back on Alex. “Her father, Lord Haversham, was at the ball, too. I spied him with the Duchess of Knowles.”

  Violet gasped, catching hold of Laura’s arm. “Oh, my gracious. Did she see you?”

  “No, but I did wonder at the nature of Haversham’s friendship with the duchess. They were standing close together, and I thought you might have heard gossip that they’re … more than mere acquaintances.”