The Stranger She Married

by Donna Hatch

  She drew a breath. “I feel guilty for harboring such unkind feelings for Uncle Willard."

  Exasperated, he said, “Alicia, the man practically sold you to the highest bidder."

  "He had few options. Some men simply discard unwanted relations, but he took Hannah and me in."

  Outside, lightning flashed, followed by the slow rumble of distant thunder. A moment later, the pattering of raindrops fell against the window. She stared unseeing out the darkened window before speaking again.

  "And now, Robert has no other family. His mother died years ago. His sister died as a child. He and Hannah were never close. Armand is gone. Now, his father. He is completely alone."

  "He has you,” Cole said softly.

  She turned to look at him as if she had forgotten he was there and her lips curved in a brave, mirthless smile. “He doesn't. Not anymore.” She arose, her needlework forgotten. “I believe I shall go to bed. Good night."

  He forced himself to remain still. Not gather her up into his arms and kiss her. Not scoop her up and carry her to his room. “Good night."

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  CHAPTER 25

  They pulled up in front of the Palmer manor house. Alicia regarded the structure with mingled dread and affection. Her whole life had been spent here. Joys and sorrows she had experienced here threatened to overwhelm her. As if sensing her rising emotions, Cole reached out and took her hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze. To her surprise, it helped.

  As she and Cole alit from the carriage, a butler Alicia had never seen before opened the door and a plump, motherly woman greeted them. The estate still appeared slightly understaffed, but at least it was functional. Every surface gleamed under constant care now.

  "Good day, Lady Amesbury. I'm Mrs. Dobbs, the head housekeeper.

  Alicia introduced Cole as Lord Amesbury, her husband's cousin. She also introduced Stephens whose teeth flashed against his darkly handsome face, and Monique, whose eyes flitted over the bare interior with a hint of condescension after the much finer baron's home.

  "Your rooms are prepared,” Mrs. Dobbs said. She directed footmen as to where to place the trunks.

  Hannah flew to her and broke down in Alicia's arms. “Lissie!"

  "Good heavens, Hannah. Are you ill?"

  Hannah's letters had not reflected her poor health, and seeing her sister thusly was a shock. The pallor of her skin approached gray, and her golden hair had lost all of its former luster. Her eyes looked dull and lifeless and her body felt gaunt.

  "Oh, it's been simply terrible without you,” Hannah sniffed. “And Robert..."

  "Where is he? Is he home?” When Hannah could not speak, Alicia glanced at the housekeeper.

  "Mr. Palmer is still abed, my lady."

  Alarm began in Alicia's stomach. “Is he unwell, then?"

  "He's been deep in his cups,” said Hannah. “Worse than ever. He keeps mumbling something about his family being taken from him as punishment for all his past misdeeds."

  "Oh, poor Robert. I will see to him at once."

  Hannah nodded. “I knew you'd make it all right now that you're here."

  Alicia never failed to be both touched and overwhelmed by Hannah's trust in her to resolve every problem. “Why don't you go lie down, Hannah? I'll see to Robert."

  Alicia knocked at the door of Robert's room. There was no answer, of course. She opened the door to find a shapeless heap on the bed, reeking of spirits. She threw open the draperies and let the sun shine in.

  "Wake up, Robert. It's tea time."

  An incoherent mumble replied.

  "Robert, I have made a very long journey, and I expect a civil greeting. Get up, or I will be forced to take drastic measures."

  The mumble turned into a grumble.

  "I shall go and change out of my traveling clothes, and then I will return. If you are not awake by then, you will regret it."

  "Hmmmphmm."

  Alicia went to her old room, and with Monique's aid, changed into an afternoon gown and re-styled her hair. Overcome by nostalgia, Alicia picked up and set down every object within the room while Monique unpacked her things. Though the last year and a half since she lost first Armand and then her parents had been a difficult, lonely time, there were so many other memories here. On the wall by the window were tiny marks that Maman had made, measuring Alicia's height as she grew. The window seat, worn and faded, reminded her of rainy days spent reading, or learning embroidery, or simply dreaming. Several books, carefully dusted, remained sitting on the bookshelf.

  She picked one up and opened it to find a tiny sprig of violets pressed into the pages; a token of young love her first ever suitor had given her. The top drawer of the desk held the secret compartment where she had hidden many childish treasures over the years.

  Her first impulse was to call Cole and share it with him, but that would not be appropriate; respectable ladies never invited gentlemen into their boudoirs. The gentleman she should be inviting to her room was her husband, and for completely different reasons.

  What a stubborn fool she had been. Cole had offered to elope with her, and looking back, she realized that she should have accepted. Though the social ramifications would certainly have been unpleasant, as the eldest son of an earl, he might have been able to deflect much of the criticism. Now that she knew him, she knew he surely would have tried to shield her from the difficulties. Her hatred of him had been entirely misplaced. If she'd married him, she would be with him. As his wife. In every way.

  Instead, she was married to a man whose face she'd never seen, who, in many ways, remained a stranger. A man she had never tried to accept, but who was good to her. There were things she admired about him, others she loved about him. He was intelligent, kind and patient, and possessed the heart of a poet. She'd never met such a gentle soul. He valued her as a person and never indicated he thought of women as annoyances, or even commodities. And, more importantly, she truly believed he was not only fond of her, but would be faithful to her because he was a man capable of forbearance.

  Unlike Cole. Despite his assurances to the contrary, she did not delude herself into believing that Cole's life of debauchery would magically transform into one of fidelity after he wed. Her heart could never survive such betrayal by a man she loved.

  For a number of reasons, it would be best to nurture her feelings for her husband and avoid developing any sort of feelings for Cole.

  Too late.

  Frowning, she went back into Robert's room. As expected, the lump in his bed had not moved. Alicia firmly grabbed the blankets and threw them back revealing Robert sprawled in bed, naked from the waist up. She glared at him. His snoring never broke rhythm. She took the pitcher from the washbasin and carefully poured it over his head and torso.

  He came up swearing and sputtering. When he recognized his assailant, he glowered at her, his wet hair dripping into his eyes. “Confound it, woman, are you trying to drown me or give me my death of cold?” Rubbing a hand over his stubbled face, he staggered out of bed.

  Despite his state of undress, Alicia kept her gaze fixed unflinchingly on his face.

  "Well done,” came a lazy, deep voice from behind her. “You've managed to wake the dead, I see.” Cole leaned against the doorframe, dangerous and handsome.

  Robert glared at them both. “What are you doing here, Amesbury?"

  "I escorted your cousin to your death bed, as it were.” Cole's grin spread slowly over his face. “Come Alicia, let's give the man some privacy now that he is back among the living."

  "Have you a valet yet?” Alicia asked Robert.

  Robert's glare deepened. “No. I am having difficulty persuading anyone to come work for me. Respected gentlemen's gentlemen seem to think we are a disreputable lot, what with forcing our family members to marry masked monsters to save ourselves from debtor's prison.” He muttered another curse and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

  "No matter. I shall send mine in to aid you with bathing and
shaving,” Cole said.

  When Robert began to protest, Alicia added, “You certainly look as if you've been dead and buried. And you smell the part as well. Let his valet work his magic on you. I shall expect you for dinner, since you are obviously not going to be able to join us for tea.” She eyed him in disapproval.

  "Vindictive wench,” Robert grumbled.

  Alicia smiled sweetly at him and left the room. She, Hannah, and Cole enjoyed sandwiches and cakes with their tea and chatted about nonsensical things. Hannah looked dreadful. She even appeared to be losing her hair. Alarm took root and grew quickly. Perhaps she should bring Hannah home with her. But would her fear of the baron hinder a recovery?

  Hannah went to lie down again in the hopes of taming a headache. After Hannah left, Alicia gave in to the desire to confide in Cole about a suspicion that had begun to take grow.

  "Poor Hannah. I've never seen her so ill. And I also fear for Robert."

  His eyes flicked to her in interest, but his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. “That he'll drink himself to death?"

  "That, too. But I fear that Armand's death was not coincidental. Please don't discount my words for the ravings of an overactive imagination, or a hysterical female, but I can't help but wonder if someone has arranged all these ‘accidents’ that have beset my family."

  Cole's expression never flickered. “What do you suspect?"

  "Armand's wound was superficial. You said when you visited him, you were informed that his injury was not life-threatening, no worse than the one you received from the highwaymen. Yet, he grew very ill, so badly that his arm had to be amputated as the sickness spread. And I know that even small wounds can sicken and become ultimately fatal, but it seems too coincidental when I consider the rest. Then he developed that addiction as a necessity to help him deal with the pain. What's odd is that he was trying to cut back and eventually quit. So when I found him...” she struggled a moment before she continued, “it was such a shock...” she had to stop again. “And we must consider the accident that took my parents."

  She rose and began to pace. “The carriage was relatively new and yet, the tongue broke, which caused the driver to lose control. We went off the road where the highway runs along the side of a hill. I watched as we traveled here, and that only happens in one place, and for only a few miles. But that happened to be where the carriage broke. No one survived, except me, and I was unconscious for days. I might have been left for dead."

  Cole watched her attentively but his face remained inscrutable.

  "There's more. I hadn't thought it significant until now, but my mother had a bad fall when she was out riding only a few weeks before your duel with Armand. She was an excellent rider and had not fallen in years. The cause appeared to be a worn strap to her saddle, but I am beginning to suspect that it was cut cleverly enough to not appear deliberate."

  Cole's eyes widened.

  "And a few months ago before I married the baron, a poisonous snake lay in my path where I always walk. It bit me. The gamekeeper told me later that kind of snake is normally afraid of people. Also, it usually stays deeper in the forest. There is some bracken in the stand of trees where I was walking, but it seems odd that an adder had come so close to the formal gardens. And you may not know this, but my bed caught on fire only weeks after I married the baron."

  "I did know,” he said in a strangled voice.

  "Then there was that odd highwayman attack. And now my Uncle Willard is dead. Doesn't that all strike you as remarkably strange? Beyond coincidental?"

  His expression grim, he nodded. “Quite suspicious."

  "Then you believe me?"

  He paused and carefully wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Yes. I had already come to the same conclusion. Hearing of your mother's riding mishap, and the details of the carriage accident, only confirms it. Nicholas and I have spoken and his servants have all been keeping you under guard."

  "I have no idea who would want to kill any of us, much less all of us, or why. A magistrate would likely try to place the blame on someone within the family. Which leaves few obvious suspects. Robert. Hannah. Or me."

  "I think we can safely eliminate you.” Amusement touched his mouth. “And no one in their right mind would believe it of Hannah."

  She gasped. “You can't believe Robert is responsible."

  "You said he was the most likely suspect."

  Frowning, Alicia continued to pace. “Yes, but I've known Robert all my life, and he has never shown any signs of violent behavior. He doesn't even have a bad temper. Besides, what possible motive would he have?"

  "I can't explain why anyone would want you or your mother dead, but Robert might have wanted to eliminate your father and brother so he could eventually inherit their lands. His father squandered all the money on dubious business investments and excessive gambling once before. Perhaps now that the debts have been cleared, Robert feared there might be nothing left for him to inherit except for another mountain of debt if he waited for his father to die of old age."

  "An investigator might have the same suspicions. That's why I don't want to go to one of them."

  "I already have,” Cole said.

  She stared at him, her heart stalling. “What?"

  "My duel with Armand was arranged. Vivian, the woman we dueled over, confessed someone paid her to coerce us into dueling. And Armand's consequent death was too sudden. He was murdered. Clearly, Willard's death is too coincidental to be a mere robbery gone bad. Someone is trying to kill everyone in your family. We need help uncovering the plot before it's too late. You or Hannah might be next."

  Anger flared through her. “You went to a Bow Street Runner?"

  "Not a Runner, but someone I trust to learn the truth. He will give this his full attention."

  She stared at him, her fury mounting. “You have no right to interfere with family matters!"

  "I am involved. Someone manipulated me. I was the one who pulled the trigger that made Armand's death too conveniently arranged."

  Alicia flinched at an image of a deadly calm Cole firing a pistol at her twin, watching him crumple, blood spewing from his arm. “You still have no right to go to the authorities without my knowledge.” Her voice rose in both pitch and volume.

  "I have every right!” Uncharacteristic anger gave volume to his words and he leaped to his feet. “If someone is murdering everyone in your family, then you might be the next target. The killer already tried more than once. I have a responsibility toward you and I'm not going to let someone murder you."

  A responsibility? That's all she was to him? That explained much. His kindness, his protectiveness, stemmed not from his feelings for her, but a result of feeling responsible for the sister of a man he'd dueled. She shouldn't be surprised. He'd said as much when he'd proposed to her before she married Nicholas.

  His words at the ball had been a lie. A means to seduce her.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I'm not your responsibility. Now that I am married, that burden has passed from you to my husband. He should be here looking after me, not you. If he cared, he would be."

  His legs devoured the space between them and he grabbed her by the shoulders, his face only inches away from her. “If you gave him reason to care, he might!"

  Alicia's hand flew of its own will and the resounding slap echoed in the room. Stunned by her own action, she felt the blood drain out of her face.

  Cole blinked at her in astonishment. He pressed his lips into a thin white line as the red mark on his cheek became more visible every second. His face hardened into granite.

  Alicia put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Cole, I'm—"

  "Don't.” He shoved her away and left the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed.

  Alicia went to the window and watched him sprint athletically around the side of the house.

  "How long have you been in love with him?"

  Alicia whirled around to see Robert leaning against the doorway. Bathed, shaven and dresse
d as impeccably as Cole, thanks to Stephens's care, Robert appeared clear-eyed and sober, but the grief he bore weighed upon him. Losing Armand and his father in less than two years must be difficult to bear. Alicia understood all too well.

  Alicia sighed. “What gave you that ridiculous notion?"

  "Only lovers fight like that."

  "I am not his lover!"

  "Perhaps not in body, but you are in love with him.” His head nodded toward the window.

  Alicia glanced over her shoulder to see Cole, astride his favorite white horse, André, galloping away from the house. She turned back to Robert. “I am not. I could never love that ... that...” At his look of sympathy, she gritted, “Be silent, you fool.” She brushed past him, stormed up the stairs without aplomb, and slammed her door.

  * * * *

  Dinner was a silent affair. Cole ate dutifully, barely tasting the fare and trying to ignore the hollowness in a place food would never touch. He glanced at Alicia. Her posture rigid, her eyes downcast, she merely pushed her food around her plate. He couldn't believe she'd slapped him. He never would have believed it of her. Her hatred must run deep. He was fast losing hope that she'd ever forgive him, much less care for him.

  Robert drank more than he ate, but he still seemed to notice his guests’ lack of enthusiasm over dinner. “Cook's meal not to your liking, cousin? My lord?"

  Alicia raised her head. “It's fine."

  "It's very good,” Cole said.

  Alicia rallied. “I'm sure it tastes better when your palate hasn't been numbed by strong drinks, Robbie.” Forced levity colored Alicia's voice.

  Wearing a half-smile, Robert saluted her with a glass of wine. “My Lord Amesbury, after dinner, can I interest you in a game of chess? The billiards table, among other things, was seized months ago, I'm afraid."

  Robert's frankness and unabashed admission at his period of poverty surprised Cole.

  "My man of business tells me I need to make a few more prudent investments before I start refurnishing or redecorating the place. I feel like I live in a monastery with such Spartan furnishings. Despite the baron's best efforts, Father didn't leave me with much...” His voice trailed off and stark grief crossed his features. He emptied his wine glass.