She must be very frightened of him. Guilt smote him. Had he been so fierce, so unkind that she was truly afraid of him? So afraid that she would run away from him, and turn to another man for help rather than to her own husband?
It crushed him that she should feel this way. But Frances was not a fearful person. There was more to this than avoiding confrontation with a stern husband. She had already said she would come to the castle tomorrow and tell everything.
He let the letter fall from his fingers, wondering how she could have lost the rubies in the first place, who could possibly have stolen them. She had told him she’d gone to the tavern for a wager, for Ariadne Marshall’s diamonds. That had obviously been a lie, but still, he suspected the diamonds were involved—as security perhaps, for the five hundred pounds with which she wanted to buy back the stolen rubies.
She couldn’t be aware the diamonds were no use as security. Torridon happened to know they were paste, because Ariadne had sold the real set years ago to bail Tom Marshall out of debt.
Abruptly, the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. He knew who had taken the rubies.
Chapter Eight
For the first time ever, Maria was not looking forward to her secret assignation with Gideon. She would never have believed he could turn into the slurring, staggering fool she had encountered on the terrace the previous night, a man, moreover, who had done nothing to protect her or her little sisters from his even drunker friends. That had been undertaken by a female stranger. Or at least, so Maria hoped. Her sisters were divided on the issue.
“I’m sure it was Frances,” Alice said stubbornly when they were discussing the matter in her bedchamber.
“Frances isn’t here,” Maria said tiredly. She was torn between wishing for her eldest sister to confide in and advise her, and praying she was nowhere near and would never know Maria’s folly.
“I think we just want it to be Frances,” Helen said ruefully. “So long as she doesn’t tell Mama.”
“Well, she told Serena,” Alice pointed out. “Although that is a lot better than Mama.”
Devastated by such an unpleasant outcome to her first romance, Maria contemplated simply hiding in the castle until they left for London with Mama next week. She had no need, and at this moment no desire, to speak to Lieutenant Heath again. She rather wanted him to wait for her and suffer her absence, and finally understand that he had ruined everything.
On the other hand, it might make him reckless enough to come to the castle. And she knew in her heart she had to end this cleanly and in person.
She stood abruptly. “I’m going for a walk.”
“I’ll come with you,” Helen said at once.
“No, not this time,” Maria said firmly. “I need to be alone.”
Helen sniffed. As Maria left the room, determined to get the unpleasant business over with, she heard Helen say, “She’s gone to meet that lieutenant again.”
“Of course she has,” Alice said scornfully.
So much for secrecy.
With the hood of her cloak pulled up over her hair, she slipped out of the castle though the side entrance Serena used to use to meet Tamar before they were married. She had thought no one knew they trysted in the orchard. Maria was wiser. She hurried through the wooded land at the back of the castle, following the path until she reached the dead elm tree near the road to the Black Fort.
For the first time ever, her heart sank when she saw Gideon pacing back and forth across the path. He stopped as soon as he heard her and came to meet her, not with his usual impetuous stride, but more slowly, almost apologetically. His face was pale, his jaw slightly discolored, and his eyes blood-shot. He did not look well, and in spite of her anger, she felt sorry for him.
“Maria,” he uttered. “I didn’t think you would come.”
“I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I owe it to you to meet in person.”
He closed his eyes. “Don’t, Maria. Please, don’t.”
She swallowed. “Don’t what?” she said, with unnecessary aggression.
“Throw me over. Hate me.” He opened his eyes and took a step nearer, though he didn’t try to touch her. “I am so sorry. I let you down and behaved abominably. In your brother’s home, too. To be honest, it’s all a bit of a blur. I had far too much brandy. And wine.” He smiled hesitantly. “It was Dutch courage, you see. I was going to speak to your brother about us, only once I was bosky, I forgot the purpose of it.”
“Just as well,” Maria said. “I can just imagine Braithwaite’s face if you weaved up to him, slurring my name and breathing brandy fumes all over him!”
Gideon flinched. “It doesn’t bear thinking of.” He rubbed his jaw. “Someone hit me. I think it sobered me up because I left after that. You wouldn’t believe my head today.”
“It serves you right.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “And I want you to know that I will never drink again.” He did take her hand now, and in spite of all her intentions, she let him. “Forgive me?” he begged.
“I’m not sure I do,” she said honestly. “Apart from anything else, it isn’t fun anymore, sneaking about and lying. Even my little sisters know I’m lying, and if Serena gets wind of my meeting you, if Gervaise does, or my mother…” She shuddered. “Last night opened my eyes, Gideon. To many things. I don’t want us to meet anymore.”
A desperate look came into his eyes. “Don’t say that. But I agree, this sneaking doesn’t suit either of us. Very well, let us simply get married.”
Maria blinked. “I am only just sixteen years old. Neither Gervaise nor my mother will allow it.”
“Then we present them with a fait accompli.” His slightly red eyes shining now, he grinned at her. “Scotland is not far away. Let us elope!”
*
To please Ariadne, Frances wore the diamonds that evening and went downstairs with her to dine in the hotel dining room. She wore her veil to walk to the discreet table they had bespoken, though she lifted it once they were seated.
“There isn’t much point in hiding anymore,” she said ruefully. “Tomorrow, everyone will know.”
Ariadne shrugged. “I doubt they’ll ever connect Mrs. Alan with Lady Torridon. In fact, I almost wish we were still wagering, to see if anyone knows you now. I’d wager not. For what it’s worth.”
Frances regarded her tolerantly. “You are indefatigable, Ari.”
“I am, but I do blame myself for the loss of the rubies—”
“Hush,” Frances interrupted, fingering the sparkling stones at her throat. “We will not talk of that tonight, if you please, I am enjoying the fruits of our last wager.”
They ate a most pleasant meal and laughed together over previous adventures and old gossip. Frances almost forgot the lead weight in her stomach caused by the loss of the rubies. She tried not to imagine Torridon’s face when she told him what had happened. But she still had hope. Even if the Russian let her down, she would still go to the tavern tomorrow morning and give everything she had for the rubies’ return. Perhaps if she threatened the thief with the magistrate, he would hand them over for a pittance…
“So,” Ariadne said, interrupting her train of thought, “who is this Russian you sent for?”
“Someone who did me a kindness at the ball,” she said as negligently as she could.
“Not the one who scared off the drunk intruders?”
“Yes, as it happens.”
“So, you are rewarding him for rescuing you, with the honor of another opportunity?”
Frances gave a crooked smile. “Something like that.”
“Not sure it works that way, but I admire your spirit. Will he give you the money?”
“I don’t know. I told you, I offered your diamonds as security, but I have no idea what his circumstances are. To be honest, I was hoping to hear from him before now.”
“Well, even if he doesn’t have the kind of money you need, he can at least be your bodyguard in that place!”
&nb
sp; “I think he would be good at that,” Frances said, brightening, “and it shouldn’t be too full of violent thieves at ten in the morning, should it?”
“Of course not. In fact, if you—and he—play your cards well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you retrieved the rubies for nothing. I wish I could help more.”
“Trust me, the diamonds are invaluable in this,” Frances assured her. “And if the worst comes, I can always make an appointment at Jenner’s Bank and withdraw funds in my own name. Only, people would talk when Torridon is here and I am reluctant to inflict even more scandal upon him. Especially if no one brings me the rubies.”
“Frannie, you worry too much,” Ariadne told her, reaching for her wine glass. “You have a wealthy husband and a home, and what’s more, a devoted family to fall back on if Himself needs time to come around. Nothing bad will come from this.” She lifted the wine glass in a silent toast. “To your Russian, with whom you should enjoy a night of passion before returning to your dull but wealthy husband.”
“Torridon is not remotely dull!” Frances protested, ignoring the rest of the speech.
“I know he is not, but it is such fun to make you defend him.”
Frances smiled reluctantly, raised her glass and then drank.
“You do know,” Ariadne said, lowering her glass again, “that you put several noses out of joint when you snagged Torridon.”
Frances laughed. She wasn’t quite as naïve as Ariadne imagined. “I couldn’t believe my luck when he offered for me,” she confided. “Not with all the other lures being cast out to him. And it was what my mother and Braithwaite wanted, too.”
“Fortunately, it was also what Torridon and his mother wanted.”
Francis frowned, pushing her plate aside, “What do you mean?”
“I mean it was a good match. For both families.”
She hadn’t done it for her family. Oh, she had been glad the match pleased them, but it wasn’t why she had accepted. She had been ridiculously in love with Torridon from the first time she’d looked up into his smiling eyes. She had adored that those eyes could dance while his lips remained grave and polite, as though, like her, he found so much of fashionable life amusing in ways no one else comprehended.
Ariadne did not understand… or did she? Was she warning Frances of the reality she had been trying not to see? That however much Frances loved her husband, Torridon had merely made a good match for the benefit of his name and his family.
“Shall we have desserts?” Ariadne asked.
“Of course.” Frances pulled herself together to speak to the waiter now hovering beside them. As she did so, she became aware that Ariadne’s gaze was fixed on something or someone in the dining room. Her gaze flickered to Frances with a tiny, warning frown.
Every hair on Frances’s neck stood up. Alarm, awareness, a silly surge of elation. She knew who it was before he spoke.
“Good evening, ladies. What a pleasant surprise,” Torridon said ironically.
His voice seemed to reach deep inside her, turn her outside in. What was he doing here? Had he somehow got wind of her message to the Russian? They were staying under the same roof… unless the Russian had already left Blackhaven. But if Alan had got the note, what in God’s name would he think? In sheer panic, she held herself rigid, unable even to turn to face him. It was he who moved, brushing past her chair to stand between her and Ariadne.
“The pleasure is all ours,” Ariadne drawled. “How do you do, Torridon?”
“How do you do, Mrs. Marshall?” he returned politely.
“You are just in time for desserts,” Ariadne told him. “Do join us.”
Frances flicked her eyes up at him, both dreading and longing for his company.
Torridon met her gaze, his own unreadable. She had no idea why he had come, if he knew of her note or not. “Oh, no,” he replied evenly. His gaze flickered to the diamonds at her throat. “I am only passing. I shall not intrude. And how is our son?”
“He’s with Lawson,” Frances blurted, feeling unaccountably guilty. “He’s fine.”
A sardonic, cold little smile touched his lips. “And since I can see you are both in excellent health, too, my evening is complete. Mrs. Marshall. Frances.” He bowed to each of them in turn.
He was going to leave again already, just as if they really were strangers. Outrage blended with her panic and almost without meaning to, she flung out her hand to his.
For an instant, surprise flickered in his eyes. He took her hand, his strong fingers warm and rough in texture, although his grip was gentle. He bowed again, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Her breath caught on a rush of tingling warmth.
“Until tomorrow,” he said deliberately and, releasing her hand, he walked away leaving her bereft and cold.
*
Although she asked on her way back to their rooms, no messages had been left for her. Nor had Lawson taken charge of any. The maid swore she had given the note to Mrs. Gaskell, and that Mrs. Gaskell had known whom she meant. It seemed Frances was on her own. But at least it seemed to be mere coincidence that Torridon had appeared at the hotel. He couldn’t have known of her plea to the Russian.
Well, she would return to the tavern in the morning in her male clothing, with or without the Russian, and if she found the rubies, she would simply strike as good a bargain as she could, and draw on the bank in her husband’s name to buy them back. It would be safer than threatening the thief with the magistrate. And she could not drag the authorities with her to the tavern. She shuddered at the scandal that would cause.
She sighed as she laid Jamie down to sleep after his last feed of the day. She very much doubted there would ever be a funny side of this affair to laugh over with Torridon.
She climbed into bed and blew out the candle. Whatever happened about the rubies, tomorrow would be a difficult day. But there would be some relief in honest confession. And pleasure in seeing her family, even if Torridon shunned her.
Her busy brain would not allow her to fall asleep for some time, but eventually the darkness closed in around her and she dropped into an uneasy slumber.
She woke, disoriented but with the certain knowledge that someone was in the chamber with her. And it couldn’t be Alan, she grasped, finally, because she was in the hotel.
“Ari?” she whispered, “Is that you?”
“No,” came back a deeper voice than she expected. Closer than she expected, too. From instinct, she slid out of bed on the side farthest from the voice and closest to the cradle. “Don’t be frightened. It is I.” The whisper rose to a low, husky sound with a distinctly Russian accent.
“You?” she uttered, peering into the darkness.
“Didn’t you send for me?”
“Not to come to my bedchamber in the middle of the night,” she whispered furiously. “How did you get in?”
“The outer door was not locked.”
“Not…!” But of course, Ariadne would be out trysting with her new lover, and Lawson, waiting up for her, would not consider locking the door. Even though it seemed anyone could walk in without her knowing. “She doesn’t know, does she?” Frances asked uneasily.
“Who?”
“Lawson! The maid.”
“Of course not. I am most discreet. Come back into bed before you catch cold.”
The words sounded so intimate that she blushed in the covering darkness. “I hope you are standing decorously on the other side of it.”
The bed creaked as he stood up. “Of course, I am.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or order him out. While she decided, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I didn’t send for you, you know. I merely asked if you could help.”
“Well, since you told me where you were, I chose to reply in person. What exactly is your problem, madam?”
“Wait, let me light the candle.” She reached for the flint on the bedside table, but his fingers closed around her wrist, not rough but certainly immovable.
>
“No,” he warned. “I think our business is best conducted in the dark.”
She frowned, although he wouldn’t be able to see it. “What do you mean by that?”
“That I doubt you want to be discovered by this Lawson of yours. Or ‘Ari.’”
“Oh.” Hastily, she told him the story in bare terms, without detail, about quarreling with her husband, bolting to Edinburgh with the rubies accidentally in her portmanteau, and how she and her friend had made a wager that they would not be recognized by their respective families if they chose not to be. And how she had eventually won the wager but discovered the rubies to have been stolen.
“And you are convinced you will find them at the tavern?” the Russian asked doubtfully.
“It’s the only place I know likely to handle stolen goods,” she confided. “And surely the thief would want to be rid of them quickly?”
“Yes, but I imagine he might go to Carlisle—or even to Whalen—to find a better buyer. For such fine jewels as you describe, it would even be worth his while to take them directly to London. Or abroad.”
“Oh.” Crestfallen, she let her shoulders droop.
He covered her hands with his. Only then did she realize he was perched comfortably on the bed beside her. “I’m only warning of the worst, in case you are disappointed.”
“So, would you lend me the money? And come with me tomorrow, to look out for me?”
“No,” he said.
She swallowed her disappointment, merely attempting to draw her hands free.
He held onto them. “I will not come with you,” he repeated. “I will go in your stead and pay what is necessary.”
“As a loan?” she said, insistent even in her desperate state that there should be no misunderstanding.
The Wicked Wife (Blackhaven Brides Book 9) Page 10