by Olivia Drake
She proceeded along the dirt alley. A glance downward revealed circular impressions at regular intervals in the hard-packed earth. Had they been left by the tip of Lady Josephine’s cane? Spying a small paw print here and there encouraged Laura to believe that the woman had passed this way with Charlie on his leash.
Why? What could have induced her to leave the garden?
Emerging from the alley onto the cobbled street, Laura looked up and down the short block. Only a few people were out on this side road. There was a nursemaid briskly pushing a perambulator, a middle-aged gentleman stepping down from a carriage, a laborer trudging along with a burlap sack slung over his back. Lady Josephine was nowhere in sight, though at least she would be moving slowly.
Which way would she have headed?
Laura hoped not toward Piccadilly with all its traffic. The other direction led to quieter streets and squares that surely would be more appealing to her ladyship. Unless, of course, she became lost, and then heaven only knew where she might roam.
Laura would never forgive herself if Lady Josephine came to harm.
Clutching her silk skirts, she rushed along the foot pavement. A torrent of dire scenarios inundated her mind. What if the elderly woman stepped into the street in front of a fast-moving carriage? What if she was set upon by footpads in an alley? What if Charlie’s leather lead caused her to trip and fall? She could be lying with a broken bone somewhere, too bewildered to tell any rescuer where she lived.
Reaching the corner, Laura stopped again to survey the street in all directions. It was busier here, with many pedestrians and carriages. Perhaps one of the walkers had seen her ladyship. Or someone in the rows of elegant brick town houses might have been looking outside. But if she started knocking on doors, precious minutes would be wasted. Minutes in which all manner of calamities could befall the old woman.
Then her eyes widened on a stooped, round figure in a burnt orange gown at the far end of the block. The woman was shuffling along with a cane, a small spaniel at her side.
Awash in a sea of relief, Laura flew toward Lady Josephine. Since a number of people strolled along the street, she didn’t realize until she was almost there that a dapper gentleman kept pace with Lady Josephine. He, too, had a young spaniel on a lead.
In a fleeting glance, Laura took in his bottle-green coat and tan pantaloons, the flaxen hair beneath a tall brown hat. She acknowledged him with a surprised nod. “Mr. Stanhope-Jones.”
Then she caught Alex’s aunt in a quick hug, glancing over the woman for assurance that she was unharmed. “My lady! I’ve found you at last. We didn’t know where you’d vanished.”
“Why, hullo, Norah,” her ladyship said with a wobbly smile. She clung to Laura’s hand. “You ran away. Charlie and I have been searching for you.”
Laura’s heart squeezed. Lady Josephine must be having one of her bad days, so Laura didn’t bother to correct the mistaken name. “You should have waited for me in the garden,” she said gently. “You know you oughtn’t go out the gate without telling anyone.”
“But I did tell someone. This kind young man here—”
“I was out walking when I noticed Lady Josephine wandering along the street,” Mr. Stanhope-Jones broke in. “It was fortuitous indeed that I visited her only last week and could show her the way home.”
That had been the day when he and Evelyn had come to see Lady Josephine with the express purpose of exposing Laura’s true identity.
“Look, he has Charlie’s sister.” A delighted smile lit up Lady Josephine’s wrinkled features. “Aren’t they the most darling little pair?”
The two puppies were rolling on the ground and nipping playfully at each other, their tails wagging.
Glad to see Lady Josephine happy again, Laura took hold of Charlie’s lead. If the canine antics became livelier, the old woman might lose her balance and stumble into the nearby traffic, where carriage wheels rattled and horse hooves clopped incessantly.
Laura turned her attention to Mr. Rupert Stanhope-Jones. Now that she had weathered the emotional storm of anxiety and worry, she found it somewhat peculiar that he would be out walking a dog. He seemed too vain to bother with a task that could be left to servants.
“Isn’t that Daisy?” she asked warily. “Evelyn’s puppy?”
“Indeed,” he admitted. “You see, yesterday there was a bit of an altercation at Cliffington House. Apparently, the young duke pulled Daisy’s tail, and the little vixen bit him. Evelyn was so furious that I offered to take the dog off her hands for a day or two.”
Laura had always thought Mr. Stanhope-Jones a rather shallow, self-absorbed man. She was still miffed by his insulting offer to her on the night of the ball. But perhaps she should make an effort to forgive him, for he’d shown generosity to Alex’s aunt.
She managed a genuine smile at him. “That’s very kind of you. And I do owe you a debt of gratitude for assisting Lady Josephine.”
Warmth entered his blue eyes. Stepping closer, he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back. “I am your devoted servant, Laura. If ever you should need me—”
“Now, here’s a pleasant sight,” Alex drawled from behind her. “You must be congratulating my wife on our recent nuptials.”
Laura gasped. Pulling her hand free, she spun around to see her husband’s tall figure on his chestnut gelding. A heart-swelling elation filled her at the sight of his muscled shoulders clad in a claret coat, his long legs in buckskins with knee-high black boots. He wore no hat and the breeze played with the chocolate strands of his hair, letting one fall across his brow.
That mocking quality tilted one corner of his mouth. It lent him an arrogant look quite the opposite of the affectionate man who had held her in his arms and made sweet love to her for half the night.
“Alex!” she blurted out. “Why are you here?”
He dismounted, sauntering forward with the reins in his hand. He went to kiss Lady Josephine on the cheek before answering Laura. “I came looking for my aunt. It was quite a surprise a few minutes ago to find the entire household in an uproar.”
“She wandered out the garden gate, that’s all. As you can see, she’s perfectly fine. Mr. Stanhope-Jones happened upon her and was bringing her home.”
“Was he? How uncommonly decent of him.”
The men eyed each other like two stiff-backed dogs with one bone. Laura didn’t care to be that bone.
“It’s time for Lady Josephine to return home,” she said, slipping her arm through the old woman’s. “Good day, Mr. Stanhope-Jones, and thank you again.”
She started down the street and around the corner, for the route would take them back faster than returning all the way back through the mews. In a moment she noticed Alex walking alongside them in the street, leading his mount. Where had he been? She wanted to confess how awful she’d felt upon encountering his aunt.
You ran away. Charlie and I have been searching for you.
Those plaintive words haunted Laura. But she said nothing to Alex, for Lady Josephine was chattering about how nice it was for Charlie to have a little friend in the neighborhood, and giggling at the way the spaniel’s ears flopped as he trotted along.
The going was slow with Lady Josephine leaning on her cane and Laura’s arm, but eventually they arrived at the town house. After tying his mount at the iron railing, Alex helped his aunt inside. There was a great outcry as all the servants came running, including Mrs. Samson.
The housekeeper wore a hangdog look of remorse. “I’m terribly sorry, your lordship. I don’t know how this could have happened.”
“I’ll want a word with you later,” he said in a clipped tone.
He took his aunt upstairs, where she sank onto her chaise, her plump face flushed from exertion and the warmth of the day. Laura snapped open a fan and waved it at her ladyship, while Alex knelt on one knee to remove his aunt’s shoes. Charlie plopped onto the floor, alert and happy, his pink tongue lolling. Within moments a maid came hurrying in with i
ced lemonade, which Lady Josephine accepted with a grateful smile.
Once she had been settled, Alex excused himself. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said.
Laura followed him out into the passage. “Where are you going?”
He turned to her, his expression inscrutable. “To have a locksmith install a padlock on the garden gate. How is your progress in finding another companion?”
“Mrs. Mayhew has asked the agency to send some candidates in the morning.”
“Excellent. This cannot be allowed to happen again.”
Laura had a suspicion that his lordly manner masked deeper feelings. She stepped closer, reaching out to touch his sleeve. “Shall we bring Lady Josephine home with us for the time being? I don’t like to see you so worried.”
One dark eyebrow lifted in cool query. “Then why did you go to Haversham’s house against my express wishes?”
Startled by the abrupt question, Laura withdrew her hand. “How did you know—?”
“Hodge overheard you instructing the coachman.” Alex regarded her with an expression of stony hauteur. “I thought we’d agreed you were to halt your investigation until I had an opportunity to consider the matter.”
She lifted her chin. He’d known from the start that she intended to clear her father’s name. “You weren’t home this morning, and I was afraid you’d gone there without me. Where were you, anyway?”
“I went to Bow Street Station to review all the particulars of your father’s death.”
Laura curled her fingers into her palms. Of all the places he could have gone, she had never expected that one. “Did you speak to Constable Pangborn, then?”
“No, I only saw the sergeant in charge of the case. Pangborn is the officer who discovered your father lying in the alley? I read the report that he filed.”
Frustration daunted her. She had hoped for confirmation that the officer had not been outside Copley House, lounging against a lamppost. Although she’d decided it was a case of mistaken identity, a niggling worry lingered. Should she tell Alex? Or would he think her mad? He already believed her to be imagining guilt in Lord Haversham.
While she was still deciding, Alex went on, “There were no valuables in your father’s possession, not so much as tuppence. You won’t want to hear it, but that seems to confirm that he was robbed.”
“Or it was set up to appear as a robbery.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, Alex glanced away before meeting her eyes again. “I’ll concede to the possibility.” He studied her a moment, then stepped closer to place his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Laura, if there is the slightest chance that you’re right and someone else did steal the diamond, I cannot allow you to endanger yourself with this foolhardy investigation. You’re not to question Haversham—or anyone else—unless I’m present.”
Laura pursed her lips. Was that why Alex had told the butler that she wasn’t to venture out alone? Because he was worried about her?
A part of her balked at agreeing to such a condition. Nevertheless, she felt encouraged by the thought that he finally believed her, if only conditionally. “Will you will make the same promise to me?” she asked.
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Don’t be absurd. I’m far more capable of protecting myself.”
She didn’t want to admit the truth in that. He would only use it to mollycoddle her. “Well, it doesn’t matter for the moment, anyway. The marquess is out of town until the end of next week.”
“So I heard.”
Alex appeared preoccupied, and she suspected that he had stopped by Haversham House after her. What had Evelyn said to him? Had she attempted to make another play for his affections despite his marriage? Laura’s insides clenched. But she didn’t want to waste another thought on that malicious woman.
In an effort to recapture his attention, she slid her hands over the lapels of his coat. “Alex, you never did answer me. May we bring your aunt home with us for a time? Until another companion is hired?”
His gaze sharpened on her, and a faint smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. His voice falling perceptively lower, he said, “You’d be willing to spoil our honeymoon?”
Just like that, the air became charged with sensual awareness. His heart beat in heavy strokes against her palms. The scent of his masculine cologne stirred her, as did the heat radiated by his muscled body. Her gaze strayed to his mouth, and she remembered all the wickedly wonderful ways he had employed it the previous night.
Even if he never came to love her, she would gladly take the physical closeness that he offered. Raising herself on tiptoes, she murmured, “I do believe we could still find time for our own pleasures, don’t you?”
His hands moved down to grip her waist. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes dark and eloquent with desire. Bending his head, he took her lips in a kiss that was cut off too soon when the sound of ascending footsteps came from the stairs.
They broke apart just in time.
Mrs. Samson trudged into view. She stopped short on seeing them. Toting a pitcher of water, she curtsied while eyeing Alex carefully. “Pray pardon me. I came to check on the mistress.”
“It would behoove you to do so more often,” he said.
Her tall, spare form seemed to wither under his stern gaze. She clutched the blue china pitcher with whitened knuckles. “Yes, my lord. What happened was my fault. Mine entirely, and I … I only hope you will grant me the chance to redeem myself.”
In spite of their prior animosity, Laura took pity on the woman. The housekeeper had spent twenty-five years of her life under this roof. It would be difficult for her to find another position without a letter of reference.
Laura tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “I’m sure his lordship would agree that one infraction does not warrant your being discharged from service here.”
Alex cast Laura an enigmatic look. She feared he would challenge her statement, but he surprised her. “I’ll concede to my bride’s generosity,” he told the housekeeper. “Nevertheless, I want you to prepare an overnight case for my aunt.”
Mrs. Samson appeared torn between gratitude and a new concern that she wasn’t to be trusted to watch Lady Josephine. “But … where will the mistress be going?”
“To a place where she’ll be safe until another companion can be hired. She’ll stay at Copley House for a day or two.”
Chapter 25
Three days later, Lady Josephine had been settled back in her own house with a brisk, cheerful widow as her companion. Laura had interviewed countless applicants before finding one who satisfied her exacting standards. Mrs. Duncalf had an efficient manner and a warm disposition, which made her perfect for the post. She had immediately established a bond with her ladyship by cooing over Charlie.
When Laura said good-bye after tea, the two women were sitting together in Lady Josephine’s bedchamber, alternately trading stories of their youth and laughing at the spaniel’s attempts to retrieve a leather ball from beneath a footstool.
Only one moment of confusion ensued. As Laura rose to go, Lady Josephine clutched at her hand. “Oh, my dear, I must warn you. Don’t run away as Blanche did.”
Laura puzzled over the reference to Lady Josephine’s younger sister, Alex’s mother. “Run away?”
“She left without telling me or the earl,” the old woman said urgently. “You must never, ever do that or something dreadful will happen.”
The earl … did she mean Alex’s father? She must. At her birthday dinner, Lady Josephine had related the story of how the cruel man had lashed out in anger and broken the leg of Alex’s puppy. Had the old earl threatened Blanche? Had she fled because she feared for her life?
Laura burned to know more, but she didn’t want to air any family secrets in front of a stranger. Besides, it was Alex’s place to tell her about his parents. She mustn’t press Lady Josephine for details.
“I won’t run away,” Laura said, dropping a kiss on that plump, wrinkled che
ek. “I promise I won’t. I’ll be back on the morrow to visit.”
Mrs. Duncalf sat watching with wise blue eyes, and she offered a distraction at once. “Look, my lady,” she said, pointing down. “Charlie isn’t having much luck jumping into your lap.”
They all laughed as the puppy made an attempt, then fell back in a heap on the carpet. Clucking sweet nothings, Mrs. Duncalf lifted the small dog and handed him to Lady Josephine, who happily cuddled him to the shelf of her bosom.
Laura took the opportunity to slip unnoticed out the door. She had left a set of detailed instructions on her ladyship’s daily routine. The garden gate had been secured with a padlock. A footman was stationed by the front door to prevent another absentminded foray by Lady Josephine into the neighborhood. Finally, Laura felt she could relax again. And in this respite while Lord Haversham was away, it was time to turn her attention to another matter.
Unraveling the mystery of her husband’s past.
* * *
That evening, she sat cross-legged in her large, rumpled bed with a drawing pad balanced on her knees. She wore Alex’s discarded dressing gown, the bronze cord tied loosely at her waist. Only minutes ago they had been wrapped in each other’s arms, awash in mindless pleasure, and the radiant aftereffects lent a fluid ease to the movements of her pencil over the paper.
She was sketching a subject dear to her heart.
A short distance away, her husband lay on his side. Alex had propped himself up on one elbow, the white coverlet draped strategically over his privates. The golden glow from a branch of candles on the bedside table bathed his naked body.
With dark, indolent eyes, he watched her work.
A warm awareness of him nestled low in her belly. He was profoundly beautiful, from his tousled, cocoa-brown hair to his broad chest to his muscled calves. But of course she wouldn’t feed his conceit by telling him so. He already had a faint smirk on his lips.
He’d been vastly amused that she wanted to capture his virile form on paper. And he had demanded the promise of payment in the manner of his choosing once she was finished. Although that enticing prospect threatened her concentration, she needed to convince him to speak of serious matters.