At Long Last

by Shirlee Busbee

  Tony grinned as he told her about leaving the document with him. "He would have had an apoplectic fit if he had known what was in it—especially the fact that we are married." Dropping a kiss on her temple, he added, "I wrote it out myself and had Patrick and my overseer, John Jackson, witness it. Once we have discovered the identity of Boots and presumably, the villain who murdered Elizabeth, I shall have your purse-lipped Mr. Haight draw up a new one, full of all those phrases that are so dear to lawyers. Perhaps when he knows that I have made an honest woman of you, he will unbend enough to smile at me—sour though I am sure it will be."

  They spoke idly for some minutes, but inevitably the conversation turned to her day and plans to fetch the reticule. Taking a deep breath, Arabella said carefully, "There is no need for us to retrieve my reticule from Highview. I sent for it today... yesterday actually."

  Tony jerked upright, his blue eyes darkening. "You did what?" he asked incredulously, anger not far. "Didn't you listen to a word I said last night?"

  She looked demure and brushed a finger across his lips. "You said several rather interesting things last night, my love."

  "Don't try to distract me," he growled. "Blast it, Arabella! You may have placed yourself in danger." His gaze narrowed. "And if I remember correctly, you swore you would not go Highview."

  "And I've kept my word. I did not go to Highview. I did, however, write a note to Mary requesting that several items of clothing be sent here—amongst them the reticule. If all goes well, Martha and my reticule should arrive here tomorrow afternoon with no one the wiser."

  Tony frowned, his eyes on hers. "Hmm, that might work," he admitted grudgingly.

  She flashed him a grin. "Thank you, kind sir."

  "Which doesn't mean that I don't realize that you have outmaneuvered me," he said sternly.

  "Oh Tony, don't be so stuffy. If I had thought of it while you were still here, I would have discussed the idea with you before taking action. But you weren't here, and I didn't want to wait until I had talked it over with you before sending the note off." She sent him a look. "I am, you might remember, perfectly capable of making a decision on my own—I have been doing so for years. The fact that I am your wife does not mean that my brain has atrophied."

  Tony smiled ruefully. "Point taken, my dear. It is only that—"

  "It is only that you worry about me," she said softly. "I know that. But there is no danger in what I did, and you must admit that it was the swiftest and least suspicious way to get our hands on the reticule."

  "Tomorrow afternoon, you say?"

  She nodded.

  "Then I shall just have to come to call tomorrow afternoon, won't I?" he murmured with a smile that made her heart thud.

  Putting her arms around his neck, she kissed him warmly on the lips. "You may call upon me anytime you wish, dear sir," she teased. "But remember, as far as anyone is concerned I am still an unmarried woman—have care that you do not set tongues wagging about us."

  Tony muttered something profane and pulling her beneath him, proceeded to treat her in a fashion that would have indeed set tongues wagging. Not content with that, he did it again before he finally forced himself to leave her bed and begin to put on his clothing.

  Her features flushed and rosy from his lovemaking, Arabella trailed him to the French doors.

  "I know this is all necessary, but I hate it," she said, as Tony opened the doors and glanced outside at the fading darkness.

  He turned back to her and pulled her into his arms. "I, too, my sweet," he said huskily. "But it will not be for too long. Let us hope that your reticule holds some answers for us."

  * * *

  When Martha and the cart arrived just before noon the next day, Arabella forced herself to act calmly. Smiling at Martha as her maid entered the house, she asked, "Did you have a good trip?"

  Martha nodded, and the two women exchanged a few words before Arabella dismissed Martha, saying, "Go eat something and rest a bit. I can have one of the other servants unpack and put things away."

  It was difficult not to tag at Tidmore's heels as he dragged the leather trunk upstairs to her room. It was even more difficult to turn away and pretend she had nothing more on her mind than the arrangement of roses and sweet peas she had been working on when Martha had arrived. Every instinct she possessed was screaming for her to race up those stairs, fling open that trunk, and search for the reticule—and more importantly, for what the reticule might hold.

  It wasn't until an hour later that she finally allowed herself to climb the stairs and enter her bedroom. Everything had already been put away, but it took her only a moment to find the little reticule she had taken with her the day she had called on Leyton.

  Heart pounding, she opened the reticule. It was empty. Disappointment crashed through her. She had been counting so much on finding something significant, some clue that would lead to an explanation behind some of the recent events. She looked again, her fingers seeking every little cranny, but there was nothing.

  Dispirited, she flung the offending item on her bed and left her room. There was nothing but to wait for Tony.

  When Tony, accompanied by Patrick, rode up a short while later, he had only to take one look at her long face to know that the reticule had held nothing of importance. A black hole seemed to open up in the middle of his chest. He hadn't realized until that moment how much hope he had placed in something of significance being in the reticule. As disappointed and dispirited as Arabella, he forced a smile and after dismounting from Sugar, strode up the steps to where she stood waiting for him on the front veranda.

  "How do you do, Miss Montgomery," he said politely. "Mr. Blackburne and I were riding in the area and thought that we would call upon you and see how you did. I trust that you are settling in well?"

  She made an equally polite reply, some of her usual good humor returning at Tony's ridiculously formal speech. Even though she knew the reasons for his stilted manner, she could not help but be amused by it—after all, she had lain naked in his arms less than twelve hours ago.

  Patrick was just as formal, and, quelling an urge to giggle, Arabella replied in the same cool manner as she invited them inside and offered refreshments.

  It wasn't until they were in the east parlor and Tidmore had served refreshments and departed that Arabella spoke freely. Putting down the tall glass of lemonade she had taken for form's sake, she said unhappily, "It was empty. There was nothing in it. Nothing at all."

  Tony shrugged, keeping his own disappointment in check. "Well, it was a thought. Too bad for us that it came to nothing."

  "At least," Patrick murmured, "you have eliminated that possibility."

  "But it was such a promising possibility," Arabella said mournfully. "I was so certain—" She stopped and made a face. "Patrick is right, it does eliminate one possibility." She looked at Tony. "What do we do now?"

  Before he could speak there was a gentle rap on the door and at Arabella's command to enter, Martha opened the door and came into the room. She flushed when she realized that she had interrupted her mistress entertaining guests. Dropping a quick curtsy, she said apologetically, "Oh miss! I am sorry to have bothered you—I didn't realize that you had company. I can speak to you later."

  Arabella smiled at her and walking over to her, said quietly, "Do not worry—you have disturbed nothing but idle chatter. What is it you wanted?"

  "Only to give you this," Martha replied, handing Arabella a piece of paper. "When I went through your things as I was packing them, I discovered this tucked down inside one of your reticules. I meant to give it to you earlier, but I forgot."

  A thrill surging through her, Arabella's fingers only shook slightly when she took the slip of paper from Martha. "Thank you," she said with the merest tremor of excitement in her voice.

  Clutching the paper for dear life, Arabella waited until the door had shut behind her maid before she turned to face the frozen gentlemen. "I never," she said weakly, "thought to ask Martha if s
he had gone through the reticule before packing it."

  "It doesn't matter," Tony growled. "Let us see what is written on that damned piece of paper."

  Crowding around Arabella as she opened the folded paper, the two gentlemen read the contents right along with her.

  Molly, my love,

  I have arranged all for tonight. You know the time and place. Tony will be waiting for you. Of course he is expecting Arabella—you shall convince him, I am sure, that your charms are far more alluring. I would suggest that you not drink any of the wine... not if you want to keep your wits about you. I will leave the arrangements for the guest of honor's surprise to you. I shall see to it that she is, shall we say, fashionably late. Enjoy yourself

  D.

  When they had finished reading the brief note, the three of them exchanged glances.

  "He didn't give us much to work with, did he?" Patrick observed dryly.

  Tony nodded. "But then it is nothing less than I would have expected from him—Boots, as Arabella and I call him, is not a stupid man. He covers his tracks well, and if we didn't know that this little note refers to the night that Arabella found me in such a compromising position with Molly, it would seem innocuous."

  "Oh, Tony!" Arabella cried contritely. "To think that you were telling the truth all along, and I did not believe you. No one believed you. I am so ashamed of myself." Her bottom lip drooped. "We lost five years. Five whole years during which we could have been married."

  Tony pulled her against him and dropping a kiss on the top of her fiery curls, said, "It doesn't matter, sweetheart—the lost years, yes, but as for the rest of it—we have each other now, and that is all that counts." He looked grim. "The important thing now is that we finally have something tangible with which to work. This note proves that the breaking of our engagement was planned. I'll wager a small fortune that it was because of this note that Boots came to call on you that night. Leyton had gotten his hands on the note, and it got mixed up with your papers. Boots wanted it back."

  Frowning, Patrick took the note from Arabella's hand and reread it. "It certainly doesn't give us much to go on." He shot Tony a keen glance. "You have damn little proof to link this to what happened five years ago—or that it was ever in Leyton's hands. The thing isn't even dated."

  "I know that," Tony replied tightly. "But I also know that the note has to be the one that was sent to Molly to get her to the lodge in time to set up the scene that Arabella found when she arrived. And the mention of the wine is telling—it had to have been drugged, which was why I didn't toss Molly out on her fetching rear when she first showed up. I remember drinking a glass of wine as I waited for Arabella, but I remember nothing after that until I woke up naked in the bed with Molly pawing me and Arabella staring horrified at me."

  Tony's gaze narrowed, and he looked at Arabella. "You were late that night. Why?"

  "Oh, it was the stupidest thing. Several people came to call on Grandfather and I had just offered my excuses and was planning to slip away to meet you when someone stepped on my gown and tore one of the flounces. Mary offered to sew it up for me. You might not remember, but Mary and I and the children were staying with Grandfather for a few days hoping to cheer him up. Grandmother had been gone several weeks to visit friends in New Orleans, and he was lonely." She looked guilty as she added, "I had been staying with him frequently those days—as much to keep him company as to be able to meet you at the lodge. That particular visit, Mary had decided that he might enjoy having the children around and, much to my dismay, they had accompanied me."

  "I wonder," Patrick said to no one in particular, "if that isn't significant. Had she ever come with you before?"

  Arabella shook her head, her expression troubled. "No. There had never been any reason for her to do so." She frowned. "In fact, as I recall she complained the entire visit about how small and cramped the house was compared to Highview."

  "Which makes one wonder why she decided to come and visit in the first place, doesn't it? After all, she and her children were nothing to your grandfather," Tony said, his blue eyes narrowed.

  "Well, no, but it did seem like a good idea. Grandfather enjoyed the children—they made him smile, and he said to me, more than once during that visit, that it was wonderful to hear the house ringing with the laughter of children." Unconsciously she touched the spot where her child grew. "This child would have pleased him enormously." Her eyes twinkled. "Once he was assured that I was a properly wedded wife."

  "And you would have been five years ago," Tony said grimly, "if it hadn't been for someone's interference." He frowned and returned to the original subject. "It was simply a torn flounce that delayed you that night?"

  "Well, actually," she began slowly, "it wasn't the torn flounce itself. It was because of—" She stopped and bit her lip. "It was because of Mary," she said unhappily. "I never considered it before, but I realize now that she took forever to mend the flounce—I wouldn't have bothered with it, but she insisted. There were dozens of reasons for the delay that I did not really think about at that time: Her maid took forever to bring her the sewing box; then she couldn't find the right color of thread, and I remember thinking that she would never get the needle threaded. And when all of those aggravations were done, it took her an eon finally to sew up the flounce. I was nearly dancing with vexation by the time she finished—the arrival of the gentlemen to visit grandfather had delayed me from slipping away in the first place, and then the mending of my gown took forever." She looked at Tony. "My mind was on meeting you. While Mary dithered and dathered, I was afraid that you would think I wasn't coming that evening and would leave before I could get there."

  "Do you think her actions were deliberate?" asked Patrick quietly. "Or just a simple case of nothing going right?"

  "I don't know," Arabella answered in a troubled tone. "It does seem suspicious, doesn't it, considering what happened because I was delayed?"

  "I agree, but it doesn't prove that Mary was being anything other than solicitous... and clumsy," Patrick replied.

  "Well, I for one," Tony sad harshly, "am of the opinion that Mary was being a damned sight more than just clumsy. It ties together too nicely for my liking." He glanced at Arabella. "Who were the gentlemen who came to call—especially the one who stepped on your gown?"

  "I don't know who stepped on my gown. I didn't discover it until—" She looked even more unhappy. "Until Mary pointed it out to me," she said in a low tone.

  "Ah-ha!" Tony exclaimed. "She had to be part of the plot. And I'll wager that she was the one who found out when we were to meet and passed it on to her cohort."

  "Oh, Tony! I hate to believe such underhanded activity of her."

  "She didn't want us to marry," he said tightly. "She knew your father was adamant against our marriage. He could not prevent it though—you were of age and had your own fortune. I doubt your father, even as much as he disliked me, would have been a party to such a cruel and dishonorable way of parting us, but I don't have the least trouble believing that Mary would have stopped at nothing to bring about the end of our engagement." Tony took a breath, holding onto his temper. "Everyone knows she adored your father," he continued in a more even tone, "and would have done anything to make him happy—even if it made you terribly unhappy."

  "He's right, you know," Patrick said, his gray eyes kind. "Your stepmother's devotion to your father was well-known. She would not have wanted you to be hurt, but if she had to choose between you or your father..." His voice trailed off, and they all stared pensively at each other.

  "You're right," Arabella said miserably. "She could have done it for him."

  "If we assume that Mary was part of the plot to part us, then who was her partner?" Tony asked. "She could not have done it alone. I can't imagine her even knowing Molly Dobson, much less writing to Molly and enlisting her help. Nor can I imagine her arranging the scene that you found at the lodge that night. She had to have had help. A man."

  "A man with the initial
D." Patrick added, his gaze on Tony's hard face.

  Tony flashed a twisted smile. "I think we are already agreed that Boots has to be one of my Daggett relatives. The question is—which one?"

  "Well, I for one, vote for it being Franklin," said Arabella firmly. "He has never made any bones about the fact that he thinks it is the gravest injustice that his father, and hence himself, did not inherit Sweet Acres. You can't deny that he holds no love for you."

  Tony shrugged. "That applies to all three of them, although Burgess appears to be indifferent to the situation. But then he would be—what happens with my grandfather's fortune doesn't affect him. He's the younger son—Sweet Acres and all that goes with it would not have come to him at any rate. Or the Westbrook fortune. I'll lay my money on either Alfred or Franklin being Boots."

  "I think that we all agree that, ah, Boots is one of the Daggetts and," Patrick said slowly, "I think we can also agree that Boots is either Alfred or Franklin." He frowned and added, "I would also tend to agree with Arabella that our culprit is more than likely Franklin—although I wouldn't discount Alfred entirely."

  "So how," Arabella asked softly, "do we expose him?"

  "Through Mary," Tony said promptly. "If we let her know that we have the note and that we know of her part in what happened, I'll lay odds that she will give us his name."

  Arabella shook her head, frowning. "She won't. She'll deny everything—I don't care how much evidence you lay in front of her." When Tony started to argue, she said firmly, "Listen to me. I know the woman. For five years she has considered herself safe from exposure. She is not, simply because you suddenly show up with this note and confront her, going to lay it all out for you." She made a face. "You may surprise a partial confession from her, but she is, in her way, very loyal, and if she knows that you have not identified Boots, she will not give him up to you."

  "How can you call her loyal?" Tony demanded outraged. "She betrayed you."

  Arabella sighed heavily. "Me, yes. But it was my father who had her first loyalty, and I can see that what she did, she did for my father. She adored my father—she would have done anything for him." She looked away. "And for that, I can't find it in my heart to condemn her totally."