Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

  He was going out of his mind. This had to stop.

  When they went up to communion, he stood close behind her as they waited in line, looking down at the lovely neck exposed by the upsweep of her hair. He alternately wanted to lean down and kiss her neck at the nape or strangle her. He caught a trace of the scent she wore, that subtle but flowery fragrance he loved. She shouldn’t take communion with what she’d been doing with Grainger. But she did—looking devout and deserving. He could see the tendons in her slender neck flex as she moved, taking the communion host, drinking the sacramental wine from the gold goblet. Forgive us as we forgive those who trespass against us.

  Afterwards, the guests all retired with the family to the drawing room where they toasted Michael, the adults with champagne and the children with ginger beer in champagne glasses. Monsignor Morrell joined them, having first divested himself of his ceremonial robes. The Monsignor would be staying at Dunbaryn over the Christmas holiday to celebrate with the family, as well as say Mass for those who wanted to attend tomorrow morning and then again on Saturday and Sunday.

  Reid held his son in his arms, enjoying showing him off to everyone. John Stirling came over, smiling broadly, and shook his free hand.

  “Congratulations, Reid. He looks just like you, poor little chap. Too bad he didn’t get his mother’s looks.”

  Reid laughed. “Want to hold him?”

  Stirling held up his hands. “Not me. I’m not qualified.”

  “It’s not hard, you dolt.”

  “It might be catching. I have to be careful.”

  “Your loss.” Reid turned Michael to lay him against his shoulder. “Thanks for singing.”

  “My pleasure.” His friend lowered his voice. “How are things?”

  Reid shrugged, patting the baby’s bottom. “The same.”

  Stirling raised his eyebrows. “Even with the little prince here?”

  Reid nodded. “She’ll be going back to California after the holidays. It seems I’m out on my ear.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Can’t be helped.” Reid put the baby on his other shoulder, arranging the little cloth under the precious little head.

  “You seem to know what you’re doing with him.”

  “I’m learning.” He kissed Michael’s head. “John, while I have you here, I have something I need to ask you about.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Your pretty face showed up in a surveillance video we’re looking at in one of our investigations.”

  “I confess. What did I do?”

  “You were in Glasgow on the twenty-second?”

  “December?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, yes. Sorry I didn’t call, but I knew I’d see you here. I was only there a couple of nights. Where was I?”

  “Coming in the lobby of a condo building downtown.” He gave the address.

  Stirling smiled. “That was indeed me.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “Am I a suspect in something?”

  “Should you be?”

  “Depends. What’s the crime?”

  “Murder.”

  “Your investigation?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m guilty, but not of murder. Of romance.”

  “How did I know that?”

  Stirling grinned. “You’ve known me too long.”

  “Who’s your alibi?”

  “A lady. I don’t think she’d mind my giving her name. She’s not married.”

  “Of course not. The iron clad no-poaching rule. Must be serious—two nights?”

  “Not serious, but enjoyable. Felicity.”

  “The singer?”

  Stirling nodded. “Who was killed?”

  “Broderick Pooley from Damien Investments.”

  “Ah, as it happens, I know the man—knew him.”

  “I thought you might. Your name showed up on a guest list he’d put together for a function at the museum where Miranda Greene works. That was going to be my next question.”

  “He was trying to get me to invest some money with him—in some funds I thought looked a bit risky. I said no, but he was still courting me for my account. I had drinks with him a few times. Dinner once. Nice enough fellow.”

  “Good you didn’t invest with him. Those funds turned out to be scams. A lot of people lost a lot of money.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “Walter Von Zandt for one.”

  “People tend to end up dead when they cross Von Zandt.”

  “Aye.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Might be.”

  “You want me to ask Felicity what she knows?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “I’ll let you know what she says. Maybe it’s best the lovely Anne not be in Scotland, though Von Zandt still doesn’t know anything about her part in that other business, I trust.”

  “I’m fairly certain not. But Anne has other reasons for not being here. She’d not care what I asked her to do or not do.”

  Stirling nodded. “She brought her mother and sisters over for this visit, the Earl said. He showed me which ones they are. I’ll introduce myself.”

  “Thanks. They’re a little uncomfortable being here with things as they are between Anne and me.”

  “Tell me what they do so I’ll know how to make conversation with them.”

  “Irene, Anne’s mother, does what Anne does—garden designer. She lives in San Francisco. Jeanne Langdon, the dark-haired sister, is a widow and has a bed and breakfast in Bodega Bay. Those two are her children over there—playing with Pippa’s brood.” He pointed out Phillip and Hannah.

  “And the little redhead who sang with me?”

  “Meg Grainger.”

  Stirling raised his eyebrows at the last name.

  Reid shook his head. “Married to the brother, but not for much longer. They’re divorcing. She’s a marine botanist, although she’s not been working for the last couple of years. Her specialty is reclamation of marine plant life populations after pollution, oil spills, things like that.”

  “She lives in Bodega Bay as well?”

  “Not anymore. She’s been staying with Anne through the pregnancy. In San Francisco.”

  “Are her children here as well?” Stirling looked around.

  “Meg doesn’t have children. She’s been trying for years. That may be part of what broke up her marriage—that, and her horse’s arse of a husband cheated on her. That’s probably more information than you wanted.”

  “No, it helps to make sure I don’t walk on any conversational landmines. I’ll take myself off then to chat up Anne’s family.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll talk to you later.” Stirling sailed away toward Irene Michaels on his social mission.

  Reid caught sight of Anne and the Monsignor engaged in quiet conversation. What would the priest think if he knew the truth about Anne? What would he say about a woman who went to her child’s baptism with the child’s father, all the while impatient to get back to her lover? He shifted Michael to his other shoulder, then took a glass of champagne offered to him by a waiter, drank it down. No reason to be angry. Things just didn’t work out. He’d make sure his behavior was as courteous and distant as hers. Civil. He would remain civil, no matter how he felt inside. As we forgive those who trespass against us.

  His mother tapped his arm, interrupting his thoughts. “Darling, I need you and Anne and Michael for the christening portraits.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. The photographer’s waiting. Stay here. I’ll get Anne.”

  She disentangled Anne from her conversation with the Monsignor and led her back to where Reid waited with Michael.

  “The photographer is in the morning room. He’ll be taking some portraits of the three of you together, then of each of you separately with Michael. After you finish, come out to the Long Gallery for the supper and the dance.”

  A
nne nodded. “I’ll need to go upstairs to feed Michael after we’re done with the pictures. I’ll put him in something more comfortable, and then I’ll come back down.”

  “Certainly, chérie, we’ll see you after that.”

  Reid put his hand on Anne’s arm to lead her down the corridor, but she shook it off.

  “I don’t need your help walking. I had a baby, not a stroke.”

  Despite Anne’s bad mood, the photographic session went well. Michael was cooperative, and Anne, damn her unfaithful body, looked lovely. Reid kept his gaze locked on her while the photographs of her and the baby were taken, drinking the whiskey he’d helped himself to from the decanter on the sideboard.

  Problems arose again, of course. Anne was trying to keep the little cape on for the photographs—pulling it around to cover not only the back of the dress, but the front. The photographer vehemently insisted she take it off so that he could capture the beauty of the dress. He became more and more distressed as she stubbornly held her ground. Reid strode over to her, untied the cape and whisked it off.

  “Anne, can you just cooperate for once?”

  “Can’t I keep the cape on?”

  “The lines of the dress have to show.” Reid gestured to the photographer. “He explained it. It’s the traditional pose.”

  “I’m sorry about the dress.” She pulled the bodice up.

  “What?”

  “I wasn’t thinking.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “Just get the bloody pictures finished so we can go.”

  He shook his head and went back to his chair to watch.

  Chapter 23

  PINE TREES FESTOONED with sparkling tiny white lights lined the edges of the Long Gallery leaving an open floor for the organized dances. On another part of the dance floor, the trees were placed as if to simulate a forest around which the dancers could move.

  Anne took a deep breath and entered the room. Her mother immediately came over to take the baby. She could have stayed by her mother’s side, but that would have been cowardly, so she left her mother sitting with Michael and ventured forth to mingle. The Reids had been gracious to do all of this in Michael’s honor and to invite her family to join them. Even if she would rather not be here, Michael deserved to have this celebration with people who cared about him. He was too young to know what was going on now, but someday it would be important to him, and she was determined nothing she did would detract from it.

  Some of these people had been at the reception the Reids had given after Terrence and she got married, and they and everyone else here would have heard about her and Andrew. The television news shows had followed the story about what happened to Lenore, and focused on Andrew and her as suspects. Of course, they’d been exonerated, but it would be the story everyone remembered, she was sure, and not the outcome. She wanted to go home so badly, but instead, she crossed the room trying to look as if she were heading toward some people she knew.

  Anne passed the table where Mrs. Paulson, with the help of caterers, had put out an elegant buffet supper. Oysters Rockefeller, poached salmon with cucumber mousse, roasted pork loin with apricot stuffing and hunter’s sauce, mashed potatoes, carrots in brandied butter sauce, and a large green salad with winter pears, Roquefort cheese, and walnuts. For dessert, there were assorted tarts and individual ramekins of crème caramel and chocolate mousse. Jeanne, with her fascination with food, would be taking notes. Although everything looked wonderful, Anne didn’t feel hungry, her usually voracious nursing appetite absent. Not even for Michael could she make herself eat tonight, but she smiled at the serving staff and complimented them.

  Looking at the bright side, when tonight was over, she’d be one more step closer to being able to leave. She thought about calling Andrew. He’d gone to Italy to spend the holiday with friends, and to be closer to her in case she needed him. She closed her eyes, blinking back tears, then quickly pasted a smile on her face as the Earl and Lady Wynstrathe approached.

  “There you are.” Lady Wynstrathe, smiling back, took Anne’s arm. “We’ve been looking for you, chérie. How did the photographs go?” Terrence’s parents must feel about her much like he did, but at least they didn’t let it show. They’d be relieved after she left and Terrence broke the news about the annulment.

  “Fine. Michael didn’t cry at all.”

  “That’s wonderful, chérie. I can’t wait to see how the portraits turn out. But we shouldn’t keep you here talking to us. Terrence said to show you where he was.” Lady Wynstrathe pointed over to where Terrence was talking to a group of people.

  Anne nodded, excused herself, and pretended to start off in that direction, then altered course. She knew Terrence didn’t want to have any more to do with her tonight than was absolutely necessary, no matter what his parents thought. Instead, she quietly mingled with the other guests, answering their questions about the baby and deflecting inquiries into anything else by asking questions of the guests themselves. She was determined to behave in such a way people wouldn’t look back at her behavior at this event after they learned about the annulment, and conclude she’d come here thinking her position with her husband and her husband’s family was something other than it was. She and her family were simply here to celebrate the baby’s christening at his father’s family’s home. Perfectly civilized and proper behavior even when the baby’s parents weren’t together. Michael wouldn’t have to be ashamed of her or her family. No matter what had happened already, from this point on, she would make sure her behavior was exemplary.

  As she passed through the crowd of people, Anne felt her arm caught by someone and she turned around.

  “Anne?”

  A tall man, tan with blond hair, smiled down at her. John Stirling, Terrence’s best friend.

  “Hello, John. Your singing was wonderful. You have a beautiful voice.”

  He acknowledged her compliment with a smile. “Kind words, my lady. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, too.”

  “You look incredible. Motherhood agrees with you.”

  “Thank you.” She kept her voice formal. “Did you get a chance to see Michael?”

  “Your husband was trying to make me hold him earlier, but I pled total incompetence. I think he was offended. He’s so proud of that child you would think he was the one that gave him birth.” He took her hand and kissed it. Then he stood back and looked her over. “Maybe he did. You certainly don’t look like you just had a baby.”

  “Well, believe me, I did.” She gestured to her cape and long dress. “Without these clothes, you could tell.”

  He laughed. “I’d love to check it out, but I think Reid would kill me.”

  She felt her face reddening. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know, much to my regret.”

  Time to escape. This wasn’t exemplary behavior. “If you’ll just excuse me . . .”

  “Don’t go. Stay and talk with me for a while.” When she hesitated, he said, “Please.”

  She shrugged, her embarrassment dissolving under his kindness. “Actually, I don’t have anywhere else to go. You’re one of the few people I know here.” She let her eyes take in the rest of the room. “I’m not sure who I’d even talk to next. I’ve already made small talk with anyone that looked remotely familiar.”

  “My good fortune.” He smiled his beautiful smile.

  “It was nice of the Reids to do all of this for Michael.”

  “I’m sure they were more than happy to do it. They’re beyond thrilled Terrence has a son.”

  “They’ve been very kind about it.”

  “Relieved would be more like it.” His eyes were teasing. “They had to have despaired of Terrence ever producing an heir.”

  Anne’s face heated. “I can’t imagine why. He’s not old and he loves children. Have you seen him with Michael? He’s wonderful with him.”

  “Calm down, Anne. I’m not the enemy. He’s my closest friend.”

  “Well, then.
” She exhaled, feeling the outrage seep out of her. “Then you know him.”

  “Yes.”

  She was saying one stupid thing after another. “I never got a chance to thank you for all you did last spring. Your people were very professional.” Stirling’s security service had been charged with keeping her safe when she’d been in Glasgow and gotten dangerously involved in one of Terrence’s cases.

  “You don’t have to thank me.” He smiled. “Reid paid for the service. Everything’s settled down with that, I assume.”

  “Yes.”

  “My men in California were satisfactory, also?”

  She frowned, not understanding.

  “I hope they didn’t bother you. Reid was adamant they not be intrusive.”

  She felt her head spin. Anger followed shock. Terrence had men watching her after she left Scotland? How dare he? Trying to appear perfectly calm, she said, “They were very discreet. If I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t even have guessed they were around.”

  Stirling hit his forehead with his hand. “I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? You didn’t know they were there, did you?”

  She lifted her chin. “Of course I did. What kind of man would have people spying on his wife and not tell her?”

  “Don’t be mad. They weren’t spying on you. They were for protection only. Reid’s instructions were he was to be told only if you were in danger. He had the reports go to his FBI friend, not him, so that if there was trouble, they’d be able to take action immediately.”

  That was almost worse. How could Terrence have involved Jack Shelton in her personal life after how the FBI agent had treated her in Bodega Bay? She fisted her hands. Good thing Terrence was keeping away from her. She wouldn’t be responsible for her actions if she saw him right now. “I understand.”

  “He was just worried about you. When things settled down, he cancelled my men, and as nothing happened, no reports went to him at all.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled an insincere smile. “It was nice of him to worry.” So nice she’d like to strangle him right now. But, she reminded herself, exemplary behavior.