Secrets of the Heart

by Candace Camp

  She drew a breath and went on. “Besides, it seems to me that your wife might not take it too well that you have known about me for years yet never told her that you had a sister born on the wrong side of the blanket. Women are peculiar that way. Especially when you visit this sister often and even stay with her instead of at your own home when you are in London, a fact, I might add, which has clearly been noticed if people are gossiping that I am your mistress! And how was I to explain why you were here and why you look as you do? It would have all come out about your investigations, and I cannot imagine any wife not being furious that you have kept an entire life secret from her!”

  Michael grimaced. “Well, when you say it like that…”

  “How else is there to say it?” Lilith pressed him. “It is what you have done.” She sighed and went over to him and took his arm. “I understand why you might not want to tell her about me. Many ladies would be horrified to know that you actually visit your illegitimate sister. Or that you went to her and helped her as soon as you found out she existed.” She smiled, taking away much of the sting from her earlier words. “You are the kindest and most generous of men, and I love you dearly for what you have done for me. But not all wives would appreciate your admitting a connection to a woman who owns a gaming establishment and is the mistress of a married gentleman.”

  “I did not hide your existence from her because I was ashamed of you!” Michael exclaimed, looking horrified. “I hope you do not think—”

  “I think nothing bad of you, and you know it. But I am your sister, not your wife. No wife wants her husband to be the subject of gossip. A fine lady does not wish to be connected to a woman such as me.”

  “Rachel is a good woman. She would not chide me for seeing you.”

  “Then why did you not tell her about me?” Lilith asked softly, her clear gaze fixed on his face. “Why did you never tell her about your investigations? You have kept many things secret from her.”

  “God, don’t you think I wish now that I had told her!” Michael burst out, pulling away from her and beginning to pace agitatedly. “You have no idea how much I regret not saying anything to her. It becomes a worse tangle daily. I never set out to deceive Rachel. Truly I didn’t. But that is not something you reveal to someone you barely know. I was ashamed—not of you, never of you. It was my father I was ashamed of, his wantonness, his careless, selfish behavior—never acknowledging you, letting you live in poverty. He was a blackguard, and how can you admit that to the woman you want to marry? And afterward…well, we have not been close. It never seemed appropriate to bring it up. And then, when I started helping Bow Street, it was so handy to be able to come here when I was adopting a disguise. I didn’t want the servants seeing me slipping in and out of the house in all manner of clothes. And I wanted to protect her…” He sighed. “I wanted to tell Rachel about what I do. About you. But after I had not done so for so long, I was afraid of what she would think. I have been a fool. I can see that now.”

  “You are not a fool,” Lilith reassured him. “You are a wonderful man, and she must know that.”

  “As you said, my wife would see me differently,” Michael said with a wry smile. “I don’t think she would characterize me as ‘wonderful.”’

  “Then she is blind,” Lilth retorted stoutly. Turning, she went back to her vanity table and sat down to finish her toilette.

  Michael followed Lilith and sat down in a chair near her vanity table. “And now she thinks I am two different men. Good Gad, what a coil! I thought for sure she would recognize me when we were sitting in the hansom. She wasn’t two feet from me.”

  Lilith shrugged. “People see what they are told they see. If I dressed up as a man, you would believe I was a man—a small man, grant you, but still a man—because you assume that what you see is true, not a trick. I told her you were someone else, a person who could resemble you greatly, and she accepted it. She saw that you looked different from the person she is used to seeing—she isn’t going to think, well, Michael could have put walnut oil in his hair to darken it and donned rough clothes and adopted an accent, or any of the other things you do to disguise yourself for an investigation. She will just think that you are someone else who looks very much like you.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Besides, you won’t ever see her again as James Hobson. There won’t be any need for you to keep up the disguise. The next time you see her, you will be dressed as you, speaking as you, your hair lightened again, and she will see all those differences between you and him. She will probably wonder why she ever thought you looked so much like him.”

  Michael gave her a faint smile. “She already told me that Michael is twice the man I am.”

  Lilith chuckled. “You see?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but what about when she tells me, the real me, about you and this James Hobson chap and wants us all to meet?”

  “I will say that James Hobson has left the country. It isn’t as if you and she will be spending time with us.”

  “I guess you are right.”

  “Of course I am. It will work out. I promise.”

  Michael sighed. What Lilith did not know, of course, and what he would not tell her, was that “James Hobson” had just kissed Michael’s wife—kissed her thoroughly and pleasurably, the kind of kiss it warmed a man’s blood just to think about. It was the way he had dreamed for years of kissing Rachel, the way he had kissed her that night before they were married—and frightened her into running away from him. Just thinking about the kiss made his blood run hot and fast in his veins again, just as it had when it happened. He wanted to taste her again, ached to feel her warm and pliant in his arms.

  And Rachel had responded. Unlike that time years ago, she had melted against him, her mouth opening to him, her body trembling with a passion that was unmistakable.

  The problem was that she had not been kissing him. She had been kissing James Hobson, another chap entirely. The scruffy, surly, illegitimate brother of her husband. The passion he had felt in her had not been for him at all. And no matter how much he had enjoyed the kiss, it made him burn just as much with jealousy.

  But as awful and ironic as that was, it was not the worst that had happened this evening. He had found out that Rachel had been seeing Anthony Birkshaw. She had promised him when they married that she would never see the man again, never speak to him, and Michael had believed her. He had trusted in her honor, her integrity; he had believed that she was a woman who would keep her word.

  When had she started seeing the man again? What did it mean? Had she played him for a fool all these years? Had she been secretly meeting with Birkshaw since the very beginning?

  Jealousy tore through him, almost blinding him to all else. It had been that fierce, furious jealousy that had made him taunt her, had made him jerk her to him and kiss her. Reason might tell him that he did not know all the facts, that the very casual way in which she spoke of the man would indicate that she had nothing to hide. But then, he reminded himself, she had not realized she was telling secrets to her husband. She had thought him only a bastard brother whom Michael did not even know; there would have been little chance, in her estimation, of anything she told James Hobson finding its way back to Lord Westhampton.

  He felt his sister’s gaze on him, and he knew that she was doubtless wondering why he had sunk into such a brown study. He glanced up and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he could see from the worried crease between her eyes that she was not convinced.

  At that moment he was saved by a tap on the door, followed immediately by its opening. A man entered. He was well dressed in a black evening suit and snow-white shirt and carefully arranged cravat. He was a year or two older than Michael, dark of hair and eyes, with a short, well-muscled build and a face that was more craggy than handsome. He was not given to smiling a great deal, but when he did, his smile lit up his face, charming anyone around him.

  “Hallo, Michael,” he said cheerfully, advanc
ing toward them.

  “Robert.” Michael stood up to shake the other man’s hand.

  His name was Sir Robert Blount, and he had been Michael’s friend for many years. It was he who had first introduced Michael to the intrigue and adventure of countering Bonaparte’s espionage during the war, and he who later offered him his first case helping the Bow Street Runners. He was also the man who had first revealed to Michael that he had a half sister, born on the wrong side of the blanket.

  He crossed over to Lilith after he shook Michael’s hand and bent to kiss her on the cheek. His kiss was perfectly chaste and correct, but there was in his eyes a glow that said he was far more to Lilith Neeley than the friend of her brother.

  He was, in fact, the married gentleman to whom Lilith had referred earlier, the man who was her lover and had been for over ten years now. As her brother, Michael could not help but have some reservations over Lilith’s love affair with a man who could not marry her. However, since Sir Robert had been her lover before Michael even knew of Lilith’s existence, and since she was a grown woman who had been making her way in the world on her own for some years now, he had realized that he had little to say in the matter. As long as he expected to remain on friendly terms with either of them, he knew that he could not lecture them on the subject. Besides, he was well aware that he had little basis on which to be giving anyone advice in the area of love.

  He was aware, too, of Sir Robert’s marital circumstances, and of the deep and obvious love he held for Lilith. This was no casual affair, but a long-standing commitment which was known by many of the male members of the Ton. Sir Robert, though from a good family, had not been a wealthy man. He had through family connections found a good position in the government and had served it with skill and dedication for several years. The death of an aunt several years earlier had resulted in a moderate inheritance, which he had multiplied many times over with skillful investments. He had been able to leave the government and live on his fortune three years earlier, and he had also lent Lilith the funds to buy her gaming establishment. He was prone, also, to lend his presence to the place on a regular basis, thus solidifying its reputation as a reliable place to gamble.

  He was, in many ways, the man closest to Michael. Yet Michael also knew that there were depths to the man that he would never know. Despite his quiet demeanor, Sir Robert Blount was not a man whom anyone would be advised to cross.

  “Going out on one of your jaunts tonight, Michael?” he asked now, pulling up a straight-backed chair and sitting down beside him. He cast a significant look at his friend’s attire.

  “I was planning to,” Michael admitted. “Now I am not so sure. Robert…what do you know about a chap named Birkshaw? Anthony Birkshaw. Have you ever heard of him?”

  Robert frowned, thinking. “In what context? My work? Gambling?”

  “In any context. He is a member of the Ton. Married an heiress a few years ago. Daughter of a merchant in York.”

  Robert shrugged, shaking his head. “Can’t say that the name rings any bells with me. Lil?”

  Lilith shook her head. “No. I don’t know him. Is it he whom you are chasing?”

  “No. It is another matter entirely. Well, at least I know that he is not likely an inveterate gambler if you are not familiar with his name.”

  Michael chatted with the other two for a few more minutes, until Lilith had to go downstairs to see to her business. Michael then went to his room and shaved and changed into more aristocratic attire. If he wanted to find out social news, he had decided, he had to go to someone who knew such things. So when he was dressed, he took a hansom to the home of his friend, Perry Overhill.

  Overhill was in his study, enjoying a glass of wine before venturing out for the evening. He stood up as Michael entered, surprise spreading over his face. “Michael. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you had gone directly back to Westhampton.” He strode forward with a smile to greet his friend. “Must have mistunderstood what Rachel said.”

  “Hallo, Perry.” Michael shook his friend’s hand warmly. “No, you didn’t misunderstand. Rachel thinks I am back at Westhampton. I stayed because I’m looking into something. I’m at Lilith’s. Disguise, you know.” He gestured toward his darker hair.

  Perry frowned. “I thought there was something different about you. I say, old man, you’ve gotten yourself into a dicey situation.”

  “I know.” Michael sat down with a sigh.

  “No, I don’t think you do,” Perry said earnestly. “Rachel’s got the idea into her head that you have been having an affair with Lilith for years. That bloody Leona Vesey told her so the other night at Lady Tarleton’s soiree. Of course I told her it wasn’t true, but…well, you know I’m not that good at lying, and it took me so by surprise when Leona said Mrs. Neeley’s name that I am sure something showed on my face. I denied it, but I can tell Rachel didn’t believe me.”

  “I know. She came to Lilith’s house.”

  “What!” Perry’s eyes bulged in alarm. “How the devil did she know where she lived? I swear to you, I didn’t give Rachel the address. She asked me, but I never told her.”

  “I think someone else did,” Michael said, looking grim.

  “Well, now, that puts the fat in the fire, don’t it? What did Lilith say? What are you going to do?”

  Michael waved a hand. “Never mind. I think Lilith managed to cover it up. It’s deuced inconvenient, but…”

  “Why don’t you just tell Rachel the truth?” Perry asked. “Save you a lot of problems, if you ask me.”

  “Yes, I know, so everyone keeps telling me. Believe me, I would, except that now it would cause such a dustup if I revealed it. And if Rachel should happen to say anything, don’t let on that I know about Lilith and that I do not have an illegitimate half brother.”

  Overhill’s eyes grew even bigger, and his voice rose as he gasped, “What! Michael, are you mad!”

  “Sometimes I think I am. Or I soon shall be.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “But that isn’t why I came here.” Michael sat forward in his seat, looking intently at his friend’s face. “Perry…what do you know of Anthony Birkshaw?”

  “Birkshaw? I’m not sure I—oh, the chap who married that heiress from…Birmingham, was it? No, maybe it was York. Moved there, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Some years ago. But apparently he is in London now.”

  “Oh, wait! I did hear something about him. What was it? Let me think, now.” Overhill closed his eyes in thought. “Was it Fitzhugh who said something about him? No, Charles Wardlaw. That’s who it was, last week at the club. He said Birkshaw had returned to the city. Wife died. That’s what it was.” Perry grinned, pleased at his powers of recollection.

  “His wife died?” Michael stiffened. “When? How?”

  “Good God, man, I don’t know. I was lucky to remember that much. You know how Charlie Wardlaw goes on. Don’t pay attention much to what he says. Why?”

  Michael forced a smile. “Oh, probably nothing…”

  So Birkshaw’s wife had died, and now he was hanging about Rachel…. The jealousy that had stabbed Michael earlier twisted even deeper inside him.

  “Convenient that his wife died young and left him a great deal of money, no doubt.”

  Overhill raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

  “What the devil are you saying, Michael? That Birkshaw killed her? Why, he’s a gentleman.”

  Michael cast him a sardonic look, and Perry shook his head.

  “I say, old man, I think you have been hanging out amongst criminals for too long.”

  “I daresay you are right,” Michael replied mildly, rising. “However, I think that I just may pay a visit to my friend Cooper.”

  “The Bow Street Runner?” Perry’s eyes grew wider. “I say, Westhampton, don’t you think—”

  Perry stopped, realizing that he was talking to himself. Michael was already striding out the door.

  CHAPTER 11

  Rachel spent
the evening in her bedroom, even taking supper there. Her maid fussed over her, certain that her ladyship was ill, until finally Rachel in exasperation sent her away. All she wanted was to be by herself to think about what had happened this evening.

  She had kissed Michael’s brother—a man she had met only minutes before. Of course, it had been he who had actually kissed her, but Rachel was too honest not to admit that she had enjoyed the moment thoroughly and had, perhaps, even kissed him back. She had kissed a man she barely knew, a man who was not her husband, an act which was highly inappropriate, improper, immoral—and, she was sure, a hundred other not-right words she could not think of.

  And the worst of it was, it had been glorious. It had been the most intense, acute moment of pleasure she had ever experienced. It had shaken and disturbed her; it had set her on fire. And it had left her in turmoil.

  She was certain of one thing—that it must not ever happen again. No, she corrected herself, she was certain of another thing, as well, and that was that there was nothing she wanted more than to have it happen again.

  Rachel raised her hands to her head, hardly able to believe the thoughts that were pounding there. How could she suddenly be so lost to propriety? So dead to virtue?

  It was utterly ridiculous, she reminded herself. The man was a boor—impolite, rough, common. It was absurd that the kiss of a man like that should arouse her. It was also utterly wrong! He was the illegitimate half brother of her own husband. It embarrassed her even to admit how much she had enjoyed his kiss, how little she could stop thinking about it.

  Only two other men had ever kissed her. There had been the two soft, worshipful kisses that Anthony had bestowed on her before she became engaged to Michael, and they had felt nothing like that. Heat had not slammed through her as it had this evening, wild and stunning.