Stroke of Midnight

by Olivia Drake

  “I don’t like seeing you so distressed, darling,” he began. “It might be better if we—”

  She pulled her fingers free. “Do not attempt to sway me from my purpose. And you’ll be honest with me for once. There’ll be no more secrets between us. Do you know if my father had an affair with the Duchess of Knowles?”

  Clenching his teeth, he glanced down at the carpet. Leave it to Laura to be blunt. With effort he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Please try to understand, my godmother is a very private woman. I’m not at liberty to discuss her personal life.”

  “If my father was involved in her personal life, then you most certainly can! Now, answer me. It’s a simple yes or no question.”

  “I can’t answer you,” he growled. “I promised never to speak of this matter. I gave her my word as a gentleman.”

  Desolation etching her face, Laura slowly shook her head. “Dear God,” she whispered, “then it must be true. Otherwise you’d never have made such a vow. Papa did have a relationship with her—and you’ve been hiding it from me all this time.”

  Unable to bear Laura’s censure, Alex shot up from his chair and paced to the fireplace. He propped his elbow on the mantel in a casual stance designed to conceal his inner turmoil. “Believe what you will.”

  She released her breath in a shaky sigh. After a moment she asked in a low tone, “How long did this affair last?”

  He set his jaw. Didn’t she understand that a gentleman’s word was binding? If he broke it, he had no honor left. And yet … this was Laura, his wife, the one woman he couldn’t bear to deceive.

  She leaned forward, her fingers clenched into fists and her gaze intent on him. “For pity’s sake, Alex, tell me! This is my father we’re speaking of.” When he didn’t reply, she rose to her feet and gave him a censorious stare. “If you won’t talk, then I’ll have to call on Her Grace and ask my questions of her.”

  As Laura turned to go, Alex sprang forward and caught her arm. Devil take his principles. He was done protecting his godmother’s secrets. The sowing of secrets had reaped him only this bitter harvest.

  “All right, then,” he said roughly. “If you must know, your father did have a liaison with the duchess a few weeks before the robbery. To my understanding, the relationship was brief. Your father ended it, and Her Grace remains convinced that his true purpose was to discover the location of the strongbox in her bedchamber.”

  Laura uttered a small sound of distress. She briefly closed her eyes before looking at him again. “Did you know about this affair ten years ago?”

  Alex wanted badly to deny it. But those bleak blue eyes demanded the truth. “Yes,” he confessed. “I did.”

  She stood very still, her arms crossed beneath her bosom as if to protect herself from pain. “I see. And what of the other secret you kept from me?”

  His mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

  “Ten years ago, your courtship of me was merely a pretense. The duchess must have recruited you to spy on Papa. You sought me out as a means to investigate him.”

  Put that way, his actions sounded sordid. But back then, he had been driven by a keen resolve to see justice done. He had felt it his duty to assist the duchess in recovering what had been stolen from her.

  No matter whom he deceived in the process.

  Desperate to atone for hurting Laura, he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Darling, I admit that it did start out that way. I felt an obligation to help my godmother. But I quickly came to realize how special you were to me, how very much I wanted you in my life. I swear, my attentions toward you were sincere—”

  “No! You tricked me in order to gain access to my house.” Her manner frosty, Laura wrenched herself away from him and retreated a few steps. “You told me that you were looking for pen and paper in Papa’s desk when you stumbled upon the stolen earrings. But that, too, was a lie. You were deliberately searching for the Blue Moon diamond. You wanted to prove that Papa was a thief. How triumphant you must have felt when you finally found the evidence to convict him.”

  Her words sliced like razors into Alex. He had been poking through Martin Falkner’s desk on a mission. But she was wrong to think he’d felt victorious. Upon discovering the diamond earrings, he had been overcome by dread. Because he’d feared—rightfully so—that it would shatter Laura’s regard for him.

  Now the revulsion on her face made his chest constrict. He felt wild at the prospect of losing her again. Only last night, she had gazed at him with infinite tenderness in her eyes. She had whispered words of love … a love that he craved as much as he needed air to breathe.

  He stepped toward her. “Darling, I swear that I never set out to hurt you—”

  “No.” She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “I’ve heard enough of your excuses. You’ve always believed Papa was guilty—you still believe it.”

  Alex hardly knew what to say. He’d pored over the police report. He’d spoken to the sergeant in charge of the case. He’d tracked down several servants formerly employed in the Falkner household and questioned them again, but to no avail.

  He spread his hands wide. “For your sake, I’d very much like to think your father is innocent, but then who is the culprit? There isn’t a shred of evidence that Haversham had anything to do with it.”

  “The man hated Papa. He has every reason to lie. Can’t you see that?”

  “The courts will demand proof. Besides, Haversham has never been involved with the duchess. He’s never been in her bedchamber.”

  Laura paced back and forth in front of the chaise. “Then perhaps he bribed Her Grace’s maid. Or another servant. Oh, I don’t know how he accomplished the robbery! But I do know that Evelyn could have helped him. She had the opportunity to place the earrings in Papa’s desk on the day before you found them.”

  “What? You never told me that.”

  “She came to call on me early, before normal visiting hours. Since I was still dressing upstairs, she had ample time to hide them.”

  Alex frowned. He had no illusions about Evelyn’s character. She could be crafty and grasping—yet such an act sounded too vile even for her. “If you like, I’ll speak to her about it.”

  “Don’t bother yourself,” Laura said scathingly. “You’ve never really wanted to help me, anyway. I’ve been on my own in this investigation ever since Constable Pangborn chased me through the slums.”

  Nothing could have startled Alex more. “Chased you—? When?”

  “Upon my arrival in London, I went to the police to find out what had happened to Papa. The constable escorted me to the cemetery where my father was buried.” She rubbed her arms as if from a sudden chill. “He made me uneasy, so I ran from him. That was the same day that I ended up on Regent Street and met Lady Milford.”

  The news jabbed into Alex. He’d intended to interview the officer who had found her father lying in an alley near Covent Garden. But on the day he’d gone to the police station, the man had been off duty. Alex hadn’t thought it important enough to return.

  Yet now he did. “What exactly did he do to make you uneasy?”

  “I just had a peculiar feeling that he was aware of my true identity. That he knew my father was not a random victim named Martin Brown. I thought perhaps Pangborn had been bribed by Lord Haversham to watch for my arrival in London. And then…”

  “Then?”

  “A few weeks ago, I thought I saw him standing across the street, watching Copley House. But he vanished, and I presumed it was merely my imagination.”

  Alex sought a rational explanation. But the constable’s behavior alarmed him. “Why did you not tell me this sooner?” he demanded.

  Laura gave him a cool stare. “Perhaps because I’ve never quite believed that you wanted to clear Papa’s name. I’ve always wondered if you were merely placating me. And now I’m certain of it.” Her voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Besides, how could you possibly have my best interests at heart? You didn’t marry me for love. For you, i

t was only lust.”

  A knot throttled his throat. He could only stare in silence as she turned and walked out of the library, her slim hips swaying beneath the blue gown. He had feared this day would come. In confessing his unforgivable lie, he had destroyed her trust in him.

  Then the memory of her dizzy spell spurred him to the doorway.

  Laura was almost to the top of the grand staircase. She looked perfectly well, and he checked the urge to go after her. What could he say to her, anyway? That she was wrong? That he did indeed have deep feelings for her, feelings he’d been too gutless to admit aloud? She’d never believe him now.

  Women are vain, selfish creatures who will stab a man in the heart.

  No, his father had been wrong—dead wrong. Alex had been the one to stab Laura in the heart. Because of his reticence and his deceit, he had lost her. Likely forever this time.

  As she vanished from sight, he took off at a fierce stride toward the back of the house and to the stables. He needed an outlet for his black emotions, or he would go mad. He’d track down that bloody constable. He’d find out why the bastard had chased her. And if the man refused to talk, then by God, Alex would choke the truth out of him.

  * * *

  Laura awakened to the pearly light of dawn and the twittering of birds out in the garden. Clinging to the mists of slumber, she reached out for her husband. But instead of his warm, solid form, her hand met only the cool linens.

  She opened her eyes. His side of the bed was empty, the plumped feather pillow showing no sign of having been slept upon. She had a vague recollection of being dreadfully weary and retiring early. Why had Alex never come to her?

  Then the events of the previous day washed over her in a sickening wave. Their quarrel over Lord Haversham. The secret that Alex had hidden from her, that Papa had had an affair with the Duchess of Knowles. Even more devastating was the dreadful realization that Alex had used her all those years ago. His wooing of her had been calculated to give him the opportunity to investigate Papa.

  No wonder Alex had discouraged her attempts to clear her father’s name. He’d known she might uncover his treachery.

  On top of that, a very different sort of revelation had shaken her world. Before she’d even had the chance to absorb the pain of her husband’s duplicity, the doctor had arrived to examine her. Under his questioning, she’d realized that her courses were a week overdue. The kindly, middle-aged man had assured her that an occasional episode of dizziness was perfectly normal for a woman in her delicate condition.

  She was with child.

  Lying alone in her bed now, Laura placed her hand over her flat abdomen. A bittersweet happiness brought a tremulous smile to her lips. A baby! It was still too amazing to fathom. She hadn’t seen Alex to tell him the news. Would he be thrilled at starting a family with her?

  No, she mustn’t put a gloss on his actions anymore. He cared only about having an heir. After all, that was why he’d married her.

  That—and lust.

  She’d been naive to imagine that the tenderness of his lovemaking indicated a deep attachment to her. Alex had never spoken of love. If he was cold-natured enough to charm a young debutante in order to search her father’s house, then how could she expect that he had changed now?

  A soft tapping sounded on the door of the bedchamber. Surprised to hear Winifred’s knock so early, Laura pushed up onto her elbow. The moment she sat upright, a cold clammy sensation enveloped her.

  Nausea rushed into her throat. She barely reached the chamber pot in time. As she finished retching, the swift patter of her maid’s footsteps approached.

  “Oh, my poor lady.”

  Laura soon found herself helped back into bed, lying back against the pillows with a cool damp cloth pressed to her brow. The awful queasiness had subsided, though she still felt shaky.

  “I’ll tell the kitchen not to send your usual breakfast,” Winifred said as she straightened the bedclothes. “Tea and dry toast will settle your stomach. And never fear, such a reaction is quite ordinary during the first few months, generally upon arising in the morning.”

  “You know that I’m…?”

  Winifred’s plain features held a wise smile. “I’m the eldest of twelve, my lady. I often helped my mother in this very situation. Now, do rest while I go see about your tray. And pray don’t fret, there will be ample time for you to ready yourself.” With a twitch of her gray skirt, the maidservant vanished out the door.

  Laura blinked to clear the haze from her thoughts. Ready herself? Where would she be going so early?

  In the distance, church bells began to clang, the joyful sound joined by other bells, and she realized with a start that it was Coronation Day. In all the upheaval, she had forgotten. London had been abuzz for the past few weeks with parties and celebrations, the streets crowded as citizens from outlying provinces poured into the city.

  Only yesterday the revelry and merrymaking had filled her with excitement. Tonight there would be many balls to attend, with everyone in their jeweled finery. The crowning of nineteen-year-old Queen Victoria was truly the event of a lifetime.

  Nevertheless, Laura felt an enormous temptation to burrow into the feather bed and sleep for at least a month. She closed her eyes. The very notion of donning her elaborate court gown was exhausting.

  Some minutes later, the click of an opening door invaded her drowsy state. She looked over in bemusement as a grandly costumed gentleman swept into the bedchamber.

  It took half a second for her to recognize him. “Alex?”

  She lifted her head, but he quickly came to her side and commanded, “Lie back, please. There’s no need for you to arise yet.”

  Swallowing a twinge of nausea, Laura complied without argument. How horrid if she were to be sick all over his coronation robes. She wouldn’t tell him so, but he looked glorious in the formal black coat adorned with medals, the white waistcoat and trousers, the spotless kid gloves. From a fastening at his throat fell a full-length crimson mantle lined in white silk with an ermine cape. At his side hung a dress sword in a gold scabbard attached to a crimson sash around his waist.

  Gazing up at him, she felt strangely tongue-tied in the face of his lordly splendor. Their quarrel hung between them, too, the hurt of his lies and the awful knowledge that he had courted her for his own clandestine purpose.

  “Your maid thought I should look in on you,” Alex said. “I understand you’re ill this morning.”

  He was frowning slightly, his expression detached and remote, as if they were strangers instead of husband and wife. Was this to be their life henceforth? This frosty politeness?

  Laura wouldn’t succumb to the aching sorrow in her chest. She would have to learn to be just as unaffected as he was.

  Her fingers gripping the covers, she managed a wooden smile. “I’m better now. Apparently, it’s perfectly natural for a woman in my condition. I haven’t told you, Alex, but…” The words caught in her throat. An indifferent tone of voice was not the way she’d envisioned relating such momentous news.

  “You’re to bear my child. I stopped by the physician’s office late yesterday and he told me.” Alex bent down to brush his gloved fingers over her cheek. “Laura,” he said gruffly. “Will you allow me to say how very pleased I am?”

  They stared at each other, and the chilly mask slipped from his face. His dark eyes came alive with a powerful intensity. The anger and hurt and bitterness fell away, and in spite of all that had happened, Laura felt the rise of hope that he truly cared for her. She yearned for him to pull her into his arms, to hold her close and whisper loving words. Her foolish heart believed that he wanted to do so.

  But how could she trust herself to know his thoughts? Perhaps all he felt was exultation that he’d accomplished the purpose of this marriage. Perhaps he was merely reflecting on the heir she might give him in nine months.

  The door opened, and Winifred entered with a silver tray. She stopped on seeing them and bobbed a curtsy. “Do pardon me, my lord. I’ll just leave my lady’s tea and toast on the table for now.”

  “You needn’t go,” Laura said, lifting her head slightly from the pillow. “My husband shall be departing very soon since he’s riding in the procession.”

  “If you’re sure you’re all right,” Alex said.

  “I told you, I’m perfectly fine.”

  At her cool tone, that closed expression came over his face again and he stepped back. It somehow seemed important not to let him view her as an invalid, so Laura sat up in bed. Much to her chagrin, however, the nausea once again rose in her throat.

  This time, she managed to control it by taking shallow breaths. But her skin felt clammy and it was impossible to hide her shaky discomfort from him.

  Winifred appeared at the bedside with a porcelain cup. “Here, my lady. It’s plain tea, nothing that should upset you.”

  The maid held the cup to Laura’s lips. She took a small sip, then another. While the heat of it felt soothing, the tea only marginally improved her stomach. But it was enough so that after a moment she could hold the cup herself. With her cold fingers wrapped around its warmth, she looked up to find Alex watching her with a frown.

  “You’re going nowhere,” he stated. “You’re to stay home in bed.”

  “But I can’t possibly! Your aunt is counting on me to take her to the coronation.”

  The plan had been settled weeks ago. With Alex required to take his place among the peers, Laura was to escort Lady Josephine to Westminster Abbey and sit in the transept with the other ladies. To miss such a momentous event was unthinkable—even in her present state.

  Alex appeared unmoved by her plea. “The church will be stifling and extremely crowded. You’d be arriving hours before the ceremony even begins. I’ll not have you suffer through such a long service. Aunt Josie, I’m sure, would agree with me.”

  -->