by Monica Burns
“By that you mean the hangman’s noose is no longer a threat,” Nicholas said quietly. He couldn’t deny the relief he’d not dared to feel until this instant. It was a heady sensation, and he struggled not to believe it was a dream.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Thank you, Jamison, and express my thanks to the staff as well.” The butler nodded.
“I’ll see that these letters are sent immediately, my lord.”
Jamieson accepted the letters as the faint clattering sound of carriage wheels on gravel filtered into the study. Jamieson turned quickly with the obvious intent to head toward the front door, but Nicholas forestalled him.
“I’ll greet my guests, Jamison. Those letters are too important to delay sending. Have Albertson and Baker come assist with the baggage.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nicholas followed the man out of the office and walked to the front door. As he descended the steps to the driveway he saw his friend, Sebastian Redding, Viscount Starling, assisting his wife Anna out of a black carriage he’d arranged to have waiting for his friends at the train station. Sebastian greeted him with a rueful twist of his lips.
“Well, Nicholas, I believe you’ve won our small wager. You told me we wouldn’t make it before three, and you were correct,” Sebastian said with amused resignation. Laughter parted Anna’s lips as she touched her husband’s cheek in a tender gesture.
“You must forgive him, Nicholas. I’m to blame. Sebastian tried to depart earlier, but you both know I’m habitually late, no matter how hard I try to be on time.” The Viscountess Starling moved forward to kiss Nicholas’ check with affection.
“I’m sure he finds it easy to forgive you most anything, Anna.”
“Almost, but not quite,” she said with an impish smile directed at her husband. “I can recall several moments when I feared he would not be so charitable.”
Nicholas suppressed a twinge of envy as he watched Sebastian capture his wife’s hand and raise it to his lips in a loving gesture. Her hand still enclosed in her husband’s, Anna turned back to him.
“The others will be along later. Eleanor had a social engagement she couldn’t put off. Charles stayed behind to serve as her escort. John had an unexpected business meeting until one this afternoon. So I imagine everyone will be here by five, well in time for supper.”
“It’s just as well. I have something I wish to discuss with you both without the others present,” he said. Nicholas gestured toward the house.
With Anna in the lead, the trio climbed the manor’s marble steps and entered the massive foyer. As he did almost every time he crossed the threshold of the manor, Nicholas looked upward. The unusual skylight with its stained glass replica of the Guildford coat of arms illuminated the main foyer. Four generations ago, a Guildford had wagered and lost the manor to one of Vickie’s ancestors in a card game. Although the house had been renamed, the skylight with the Guildford crest had escaped demolishment.
A wide staircase swept up to the second floor in a smooth circle, enhanced by a warm oak banister. Family portraits lined the walls going up the stairs, while a salon and library faced each other across the large foyer. With a small sweep of his hand, he invited his friends to enter the salon. Nicholas closed the double doors behind Anna and Sebastian then crossed the carpet to the sideboard. As his friends seated themselves near the fire, he poured some Madeira and offered it to the couple before taking up a position at the fireplace in the hope the crackling fire would warm his leg and ease its throbbing.
“What is it you wish to discuss with us, Nicholas?” Sebastian asked with curiosity.
“Vickie has returned.” The words resounded like a gunshot in his ears, and Nicholas heard Anna gasp.
“Good God,” Sebastian exclaimed. “Did she say where she’s been?”
“Actually, she claims she’s not Vickie. There’s a rather nasty bruise and cut on her forehead, and she says she has no memory of where she’s been.” Nicholas took a sip of wine then examined the shape of his glass as if it would provide him with an explanation for his wife’s strange behavior.
“But if that’s true, how did she know to come here?” Curiosity filled Anna’s soft question.
“Precisely.” The muscles in Nicholas’ cheek twitched as he fought to hide his anger.
“Forgive me, Nicholas, but does she have the capacity for creating such a complex alibi?” Sebastian offered a look of apology to Nicholas.
“I confess it’s one of her more elaborate stories. But I don’t think she had any help.”
Nicholas felt the same frustration he saw in the other man’s eyes. He knew his friend was thinking about Vickie’s connection to Jack Reardon and the man’s radical politics. The man’s recent propaganda had been enough to have alarmed Sir Kenelm, the Home Secretary. Up until Vickie’s disappearance, he and Sebastian had been quietly monitoring Reardon’s movements at Sir Kenelm’s request.
“The fact that Lord Darby is in Reardon’s pocket isn’t a good thing,” Anna said with a look of concern on her face. “If she is involved, it will make things extremely difficult for you, Nicholas.”
“Christ, Anna.”
Sebastian groaned as Nicholas stared at his friends in amazement. What the hell had the man been thinking to share information with his wife? Anna was trustworthy, but one innocent slip of the tongue to another woman, and the entire Set would know they were watching Reardon, which meant the man would know too.
“I figured it out on my own, Nicholas,” Anna said with a shrug. “Sebastian didn’t tell me anything. I simply told him what I’d deduced or…imagined.”
“In another time, you’d be burned for witchcraft, my love.” Sebastian glared at his wife who smiled serenely back at him, which made his friend’s frown grow more stern. “As it is, your…insights, while valuable to me, are not easily explained to others.”
Although Nicholas had known about Anna’s intuitive ability for some time, this was only the second time he’d witnessed it firsthand. Anna’s unique skill gave Sebastian an advantage that no one else possessed, but it was one that was tricky to manage. Nicholas studied the woman for a moment as he considered her observation. Anna was right. If Vickie was involved in any of Reardon’s plans, as her husband it would put him in a damned awkward position. He quickly rejected the idea and shrugged as he shook his head.
“Vickie might be rather blind to government politics as opposed to society ones, but anarchy? No, she’s vain, thoughtless, and spoiled, but nothing more. I’m certain her only connection to Reardon is Darby.”
“You said she has a bruise on her forehead. The fact that she’s been missing for so long might mean she was attacked and left to die somewhere. Possibly even held prisoner and escaped.”
Sebastian’s theory made sense, but he knew his wife well. If anything, Vickie had fallen and was using her injury in one of her manipulative games. What he wanted to know was where she’d been hiding for three weeks. He shook his head as he rejected his friend’s hypothesis.
“No, I think Vickie simply wants to play an elaborate game to garner sympathy for herself.”
“And what if she’s telling the truth?” Anna’s quietly spoken question caught him by surprise.
Nicholas frowned as he recalled Vickie’s panicked flight from the cottage and her lack of fear with Zeus. The woman he’d married would never have run from him, let alone come close to drowning in an effort to escape. Nor would Vickie have so fearlessly stroked Zeus’ head before mounting the stallion. Even despite this unusual behavior, he found it impossible to believe her lies.
“My wife has a talent for lying, and like all her fabrications, this game will end sooner or later,” he said with a firm shake of his head.
“Perhaps you should reexamine what you do know.” Anna smoothed her skirts in a brisk manner. “The first question to ask is why she disappeared. Sebastian said you hired a private investigator when she went missing. Did they offer up any idea as to why she vanished?�
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“No. She left Guildford House at dusk, and her maid said Vickie requested a hack as she was having dinner with friends before the Grenville ball.”
“How odd.” Anna mused in puzzlement.
“What? The hack?” Humiliation made his gut twist as if a knife had stabbed him. “Vickie is fairly discreet when it comes to her romantic liaisons. She’d never do anything to jeopardize her position in society.”
“Oh…I didn’t…I am sorry, Nicholas.” Anna’s face took on a pained expression, and Sebastian leaned forward in his chair to squeeze his wife’s hand.
Nicholas watched the loving exchange with envy. Such intimacy was out of his reach. Like him, Vickie had no desire for children, but he’d hoped for a marriage of mutual respect and affection. He had no one to blame but himself. His jaw clenched as he swallowed the bitter pill of what lust for a woman and his need for Brentwood Park had brought him.
“As I said, Vickie knows how to be discreet, while still finding a way to make me look a fool. Although, her association with Darby would have gone unnoticed if the damned fool hadn’t caused a scene in the Marlborough Club. The Prince was far from pleased with the man’s belligerent behavior.”
“So you really have no idea why she vanished?” Anna probed.
“None. I’ve had plenty of time to consider the possibilities, but nothing seems to fit.”
“Well, either she’s attempting to play you for a fool or she truly has lost her memory.” Anna arched her eyebrows at him. “You could always remind her that as your wife there are certain…duties she must perform. It might help you solve your dilemma.”
“The devil take it, Anna,” his friend growled softly.
Meeting her husband’s disapproving frown with a matter-of-fact expression, Anna didn’t flinch beneath the viscount’s dark scowl. Her gaze turned back to Nicholas, and he chuckled at her pragmatic expression. He could just imagined what Vickie’s response would be to his sudden demand she let him into her bed.
“It’s quite all right Sebastian,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s no secret my marriage is far from idyllic, and Anna’s suggestion is one I’ve already considered.”
The idea that he demand his conjugal rights had been simmering in the back of his mind since Vickie had first started this game. There was little love lost between them, but something deep inside made him reluctant to outline his expectations to her.
Vickie would reject him outright, but if the woman upstairs was telling him the truth, she would reject him as well. It was far from the ideal tactic to use in getting to the heart of the matter. Without warning, his body grew hot at the memory of his wife pressed close to his back as they returned to Brentwood Park.
Desire for his wife. It was a foreign sensation. Lust had always driven him where Vickie was concerned, but today had been different. His reaction to her had been more than just a raw, primal instinct. There had been a connection to her that he couldn’t describe. It was a link he didn’t know how to break, and the thought scared the hell out of him.
Chapter 5
Victoria sneezed from the heavy, exotic scent that filled the opulent bedroom Jamieson had shown her to. She scrunched up her face in distaste at the personal domain of her double. The Countess of Guildford’s room was dark, almost sinister. Maroon drapes blocked out the sunlight, which did nothing to dispel the dark intimidation of the room.
With a grimace, she stood at the foot of the bed noting how the huge, dark wardrobe and dressing table only added to the room’s oppressive atmosphere. One item of furniture served as a misfit in the dark, exotically forbidding room. Delicate and fragile looking, a secretaire stood near the window, a thin ray of light streaking across the desktop. Drawn to the dainty piece of furniture, she circled the desk. Ivory parchment lay on the wood surface as if someone was preparing to write a letter.
Brushing her fingers across the soft sheen of wood, she saw the ink well and the fountain pen with its fine-tipped nib at the top of the secretaire. Curiosity prompted her to pick up the writing instrument. The moment her fingers wrapped around the elegant pen, the dark images she’d seen before swept through her head.
This time she heard voices. Men arguing. The sound of a shovel slicing into dirt was followed by earth sliding off the spade onto a body. Fear made her recoil from the desk as she dropped the pen back onto the wood surface.
Blindly, she stumbled her way out of the room. The door closed behind her with a thud, and she pressed one hand on the wall to steady herself. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she swallowed hard as fear held her muscles tight with tension. She was in the past, and suddenly she’d developed psychic abilities. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was insane. The way things were going, she was closely considering the possibility.
Victoria glanced back at the countess’ bedroom door. There was no way in hell she was going back into that room, let alone sleep there. Not even Lord Guildford could make her do that. She’d sleep in the stables first. The sudden jingling of keys made her turn toward the sound. Small in stature, a woman approached, her face pinched with an emotion Victoria recognized as fear.
“Welcome home, my lady.” The woman’s voice quavered, and she kept her eyes downcast as she halted in front of Victoria. “Did you not find your room in satisfactory condition?”
“Are you Mrs. Beechum?”
“Yes, my lady.” The woman eyed her with a cautious expression. “You don’t remember me, my lady?”
“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Beechum, and I have a small problem.” Victoria said as she nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t like my bedroom.”
“My lady?” Mrs. Beechum stared at Victoria in amazement.
“It’s a mausoleum in there. I’m not sure how the count…I slept there. It’s far too dark and depressing. I was wondering if there was a different bedroom I could use. Something cheerful and bright.”
“Of course…my lady. If you like…I can show you the Queen’s room.” Clearly still bewildered, the housekeeper nodded.
“Any room will be preferable to this one, Mrs. Beechum,” Victoria said with a nod toward the countess’ bedroom door.
“Yes, my lady.”
The housekeeper gave her a strange look before turning around and leading her away from the countess’ room. They passed the main staircase and walked the length of the manor to stop at a door almost at the end of the corridor. With her head bowed, the petite woman opened the door and stepped aside so Victoria could enter the room.
Victoria drew in a sharp breath of pleasure as she moved deeper into the room. The sun-filled bedroom was larger than any she’d ever seen. Curtains of the palest yellow tint covered the ceiling-high windows. A lounge sofa at one of the windows was angled for maximum usage of light when reading. The bedspread was a lemon-striped pattern that complemented the sofa’s pale green upholstery.
Slender bedposts at each corner of the bed stretched upward, their dark wood draped with a delicate white fabric. The fragile looking material drifted downward from the elegant canopy above. To the left of the bed, there were two doors. One in each corner of the room. On the wall opposite the bed was a chifforobe and dressing table.
“The bath is in here, my lady.”
The housekeeper crossed the room to the far corner and opened the door. Warily, Victoria followed the woman to peek into the room. A moment later, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Tap water and a flush toilet. Although the plumbing looked like antiques, at least she wouldn’t have to forego all modern conveniences. She moved back into the bedroom, and for the first time since her nightmare had begun a sense of peace enveloped her. There was something familiar and comforting about the room. She looked over her shoulder at the housekeeper and smiled.
“It’s perfect, Mrs. Beechum.”
“Very well, my lady,” the housekeeper murmured, her eyes filled with confusion.
“I’d like to take a bath, are there towels?”
“That’s not necessary, but would it be possible for you to provide me with something different to wear?” Victoria looked down with distaste at the large mud stains covering her dress.
“Of course, my lady. I can have your dresses moved right away.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m afraid Mrs. Stonner is no longer with us, my lady. Would you like Molly to assist you until you have time to secure the services of another lady’s maid?”
For a brief moment, Victoria almost rejected the offer. She’d been dressing herself since she was a child. The last thing she need was a maid. The memory of Bessie tying up her corset in the back made her rethink her position. Dressing might be more of a problem than she realized.
“I’m sure Molly will be a big help.” Victoria nodded. “Thank you.”
Victoria eyed the woman with amused empathy as she waited for the housekeeper to lose her dazed expression. The poor woman looked almost as bewildered as Victoria felt. Mrs. Beechum straightened her shoulders as if aware she’d been staring and sent Victoria a timid smile.
“Then if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ll see to everything,” Mrs. Beechum said as she bustled out of the room.
When the woman closed the door behind her, Victoria went to the bathroom to run a hot bath. While water slowly filled the claw-foot bathtub, she took a moment to wander about the bedroom enjoying the sensation of warm wood beneath her fingertips as she caressed pieces of furniture here and there. From the moment she’d entered the room, she’d sensed something special about it. She knew it was impossible, but it was as if she’d been here before. It was a sense of familiarity she couldn’t dismiss.
A beautifully made secretaire stood between one of the windows and the fireplace. It was exquisite. Everything she saw was beautiful, the room, the house, the earl. The man was more than beautiful. He was as hot as they came. She froze. That kind of thinking could get her into trouble. The man was married. Married to her, a sly voice in the back of her mind murmured. Her gaze drifted to the large fireplace with its intricate mantle carvings. Moving closer she ran her hand over the beautiful detail of roses and thorns sculpted into the wood. The carvings wove their way up the sides of the fireplace until they met in the center of the mantle in a bouquet of roses. She’d never seen anything so lovely.