Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04]

by Never A Lady

  He stared at his brother and watched the realization dawn in Nathan’s eyes. “You think something—or someone—in your past has come back to haunt you.”

  “The sort of activities I performed for the Crown weren’t those that would endear me to everyone,” Colin said.

  “Do you have any theories?”

  “Not yet, as I’ve barely had a chance to think upon it.”

  “Any reason why anyone written on that list you gave me might want to see you dead?”

  “I’m not certain. What was Wexhall’s reaction when you showed him the list?”

  “I haven’t yet. He’s been out.”

  Colin crossed to his desk and retrieved the piece of ivory vellum where he’d written the names Alexandra had dictated. Running his gaze down the list, he said, “In recent years I’ve bested Barnes at the faro table, politely turned down the offer of a liaison from Carver’s wife, engaged in a liaison with Mallory’s widowed daughter, and decided against purchasing a painting from Surringham. Ralstrom, Whitemore, and I attended the races two years ago, and I cleaned them out. Most recently I dashed Lady Whitemore’s wishes for me to marry her daughter, Lady Alicia. Lady Miranda and Lady Margaret both seem pleasant and interested in me. I’ve only just been introduced to Jennsen.”

  “None of that sounds particularly threatening.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I’ll continue to think on it. Perhaps something else will occur to me. And perhaps Wexhall will be able to shed some light on it.”

  Nathan nodded. “Rest assured that if you are indeed the target, Wexhall and I will do everything in our power to ensure that no harm befalls you.”

  “Thank you. Or befalls Madame Larchmont.”

  “Yes.” Nathan’s gaze turned questioning. “Are you ready to tell me about her?”

  “What precisely do you want to know?”

  “Everything. Or at least whatever you’re willing to tell me. How did you meet?”

  Colin hesitated, then said, “We were introduced at Malloran’s soiree.” Perfectly true, yet so misleading, his conscience slapped him.

  Nathan’s brows rose. “Which only leaves me more curious. ’Tis clear she’s important to you, yet you’ve only known her mere days.”

  “Says a man who proposed to a woman he’d known little more than a week.”

  “Untrue. As you well know, I met Victoria years earlier here in London.”

  “Yes. On one occasion. And then didn’t see her again for three years.” He tunneled his fingers through his hair, the similarities between his situation and Nathan’s not lost on him. “And as it just so happens, I met Madame Larchmont on that very same trip to London and didn’t see her again until the Malloran soiree.”

  “I thought you said you were just introduced.”

  “We were. We were not introduced four years ago.”

  “Ah. You merely admired her from afar?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then that trip to London was fateful indeed. For both of us. Where did you see her?”

  He set his hands on the mantel, gripped the cool white marble, and stared into the glowing embers of the fire. “Vauxhall.”

  After a long silence, Nathan asked, “She was telling fortunes?”

  He continued to stare into the fire, then finally turned to face Nathan. “No. I caught her picking my pocket.”

  Suddenly weary, he sat, resting his elbows on his spread knees and clasped his hands. “I caught her in the act, but only because of my familiarity with the skill. She was good. Very nearly relieved me of Grandfather’s gold watch. It was quite a shock to see her in Malloran’s drawing room.”

  “You remembered her?”

  “Vividly.” He explained how she’d seemed to recognize him, how he’d searched for her, his initial suspicions when he’d first seen her at the Malloran soiree and therefore didn’t let on he’d recognized her, then what he’d discovered upon searching her rooms.

  “These children she helps,” he concluded, “I imagine they are living the same sort of life she experienced as a child.”

  “Has she told you about her childhood?”

  “No. And I haven’t asked. Yet. But I have no doubt it was grim.” His stomach clenched with both pity and anger on her behalf at the horrors she must have faced.

  “Do you believe her fortune-telling is merely a ruse to gain access to the homes of the wealthy?” Nathan asked quietly.

  “No,” he said without hesitation. “I admit I thought it possible at first, but I don’t believe it of the woman who helps those children.”

  “She could be all the more helpful to them using ill-gotten gains stolen at all these fancy soirees.”

  “True. But I still don’t believe it.”

  “Those children she’s supposedly helping could also be stealing for her, making you the victim of a carefully constructed story to gain your sympathy.”

  “Possibly. But again, I don’t believe it. My instincts tell me she’s sincere and no longer a thief.”

  Nathan studied him for a long moment, and Colin could almost hear the wheels turning in his brother’s mind. Finally, Nathan said in a quiet voice, “Not that I don’t greatly respect your instincts, but as you barely know her I’m compelled to ask: Are you giving this woman your trust because she genuinely deserves it or because of some misplaced sense of guilt?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand, but when he remained silent, Nathan continued, “Please tell me that you’re not simply determined to trust her, no matter what, in an effort to correct what you perceive to be a past wrong.”

  “I did wrong you.”

  “It’s over. In the past.”

  “I know.”

  “Then let it go. I have. I thought we’d put this behind us.”

  “We have. I’m just not willing to make that same mistake again. In spite of the fact that I don’t know everything about her, about her past, I’m choosing to believe her story. And that she’s changed her life. Because everything in me tells me she’s sincere.”

  Nathan didn’t reply for a long moment, then he finally nodded. “I’ll respect your decision.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And pray that it doesn’t cost you your life.”

  Thirteen

  Alex sat in Lord Wexhall’s elaborate dining room, beneath a sky-blue ceiling adorned with plump, arrow-bearing cherubs floating among puffy clouds, which made her feel as if she were dining in heaven. The air was redolent with the savory scents of delicious foods while servants and the murmur of polite dinner conversation surrounded her. She reached beneath the table and pinched herself on the thigh. Hard. Then clamped her lips together to contain her yelp of pain. Yes, this was real. All of it.

  The sparkling crystal and gleaming silver. The ornate china set upon the dark wood table buffed to an almost glasslike shine. The centerpiece of fresh flowers dripping over the side of an oblong crystal footed bowl. The scent of beeswax from the dozens of candles that bathed the room with a soft wash of golden glow.

  And the food…never had she seen such an array or quantity in one place. Only five people were present, but surely there was enough food to feed a dozen. Perhaps two dozen. It required every bit of her will not to slip slices of ham and bread into her napkin to smuggle out for Emma and Robbie and the others. Course after succulent course, from soup to creamed peas to pheasant to ham to braised carrots were served by liveried footmen wearing pristine white gloves, each course accompanied by a delicious wine the likes of which she’d never tasted.

  Instead of relaxing and enjoying all this luxury, however, she felt on edge and tense, speaking little as she concentrated on exactly copying which utensil Lady Victoria, who sat opposite her, used. Fortunately, she was spared from making much conversation, as Lord Wexhall was in an expansive and verbose mood, regaling the table with amusing anecdotes of his spy days. Then Dr. Oliver told of several mishaps with his menagerie of farm animals. Her concentration, unfortunately, wasn’t helped by th
e fact that he sat directly across from her, next to Lady Victoria.

  Never in her life had she been so achingly, painfully aware of another person.

  No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop her gaze from seeking Colin out. Every time she finished studying Lady Victoria’s hands to ascertain she was using the correct utensil in the proper manner, her errant eyeballs strayed to him. And invariably found his gaze resting upon her. Which only served to rattle her composure further.

  He looked devastatingly striking in his forest green cutaway jacket, which intensified the color of his eyes. His dark hair gleamed in the candlelight, contrasting with his snowy white shirt and silver waistcoat. No matter where she looked, she still saw him from the corner of her eyes. Felt his gaze upon her. Even when she focused on her plate, she found herself looking up through her lashes, peeking at how his long, strong fingers held his crystal wine goblet or his silverware.

  The sound of his voice, the rumble of his laughter, resonated deep inside her, eliciting tiny pulses of pleasure that captivated and enthralled her. When she caught herself leaning forward, tilting her head in his direction to hear him better, annoyance crept through her. Botheration, she could no doubt sit in a room and watch the bloody man breathe and be as happy as a bird in a puddle.

  What in God’s name had come over her? When and how had it happened? It was as if he’d cast a spell upon her. But at least her preoccupation with him kept her from dwelling on the fact that in spite of wearing her best emerald green gown, she felt woefully gauche and spectacularly unsophisticated in these grand surroundings. It was one thing to put on an act and fit in as an entertaining fortune-teller amongst a crowd, and quite another to share a formal meal with such an intimately acquainted group of the peerage. Tomorrow night she’d invent an excuse to have dinner in her room and save herself this discomfort.

  “—Madame Larchmont.”

  The sound of her name roused her from her thoughts, and she blinked across the table at Lady Victoria, who regarded her with a questioning smile. Suddenly, she felt the weight of four stares upon her and her throat went dry.

  After swallowing to locate her voice, she said, “I’m afraid I was so enamored of the meal that I lost the thread of the conversation.”

  Lady Victoria smiled. “I’ll pass along your compliments to Cook. I was wondering what your answer to the question is as I’ve already stated mine.”

  “Question?”

  “If you could describe a perfect place, what would it be like?”

  Alex didn’t need to consider—she’d pictured such a make-believe location in her mind every day since childhood. “My perfect place is always warm. And safe. And filled with golden sunshine and green meadows blooming with colorful flowers. It’s near the sea, and scented with clean, salt-tinged breezes and filled with people I care about and who care about me in return. It’s a place where no one is ever harmed and everyone always has enough money and food and clothing.” She briefly considered not listing her final requisite, then decided to do so. “And where I have a wardrobe filled with so many beautiful gowns, it takes me an hour each day to decide what to wear.”

  For several seconds silence swelled, and again Alex felt the weight of everyone’s eyes upon her. Heat suffused her face at her unguarded words, and her gaze flew to Colin, who regarded her with an unreadable expression.

  The silence was broken when Lady Victoria said, “Oh, that does indeed sound like a perfect place.”

  “Not to me,” said Dr. Oliver. “What on earth would I do with a wardrobe filled with gowns?”

  “Give them to me,” Lady Victoria said tartly. “Of course, my perfect place contains plenty of shops.”

  “And mine contains no shops whatsoever, nor an opera house,” Dr. Oliver said, pulling a comical face. “You made no mention of pets, Madame. My perfect place includes lots of animals.”

  “A terrible omission,” Alex said with a smile, forcing herself to relax. “I love cats, and dogs, too.”

  “My perfect place would have to include excellent brandy, good cigars, and a library filled with fine books,” Lord Wexhall said. He nodded toward Colin. “What about you?”

  He tapped his finger to his chin, clearly pondering, then, looking straight at Alex, said, “Creston Manor, where I live in Cornwall, is, to me, a nearly perfect place. It is close enough to the sea that you can always catch the salty scent and hear the music of the waves washing upon the cliffs. The gardens are blooming wonders, the grounds alive with trees and meadows and streams.” Mischief glittered in his eyes. “And of course there’s the lake, which Nathan can attest is quite cold most of the year.”

  “And the eggs, which Colin can attest are quite messy when broken,” Dr. Oliver retorted.

  “It does indeed sound like a perfect place,” Alex said, unable to pull her gaze away from Colin’s. She felt as if everything and everyone in the room suddenly faded away, leaving just the two of them.

  “Not quite,” he said softly. “There is, I think, one last thing needed to make a place, any place, perfect.”

  She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she tried to speak. “What’s that?”

  “The perfect person to share it with. Being alone is so very…”

  “Lonely?” she supplied.

  A quick smile flitted across his lips. “Yes.”

  “Now that brings up an interesting question,” said Lady Victoria. “What traits should this perfect person possess in order to have the honor of sharing one’s perfect place?”

  “Victoria, of course, has only to look at me to know the answer to that question,” Dr. Oliver said with exaggerated smugness. Everyone laughed, then he added, “And my wife is the perfect person to me. Beautiful, intelligent, loyal, and she thinks I’m unsurpassedly brilliant.”

  Alex couldn’t help but notice the look that passed between Dr. Oliver and his wife—a look filled with love and unmistakable desire. A look that filled her with deep yearning.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Lord Wexhall said, “the perfect person would be one who I could soundly beat at cards and who could predict the outcomes of all the horse races.”

  “If you had to pick just one trait,” Lady Victoria said, “the one you think most important, most admirable, what would it be?” She turned to her husband. “You first.”

  He thought for several seconds, then said, “Loyalty. You?”

  Lady Victoria pondered, then said, “Patience. Father?”

  “Bravery.”

  “What about you, Madame?” Colin asked.

  “Compassion,” Alex said softly. “And you, my lord?”

  “Honesty.”

  She inwardly winced. How ironic that of all the qualities he could have chosen, he picked the one that she’d buried under a mountain of lies. Not that it mattered, of course. The thought of her as his perfect person was utterly laughable. Depressingly so.

  The meal ended shortly afterward, and the group retired to the drawing room, where talk turned to the murders. Clearly either her husband or father had apprised Lady Victoria of what was going on, for she appeared to be well acquainted with the situation.

  “Something interesting about one of the names on the list you gave me, Sutton,” Lord Wexhall said. “Whitemore. He used to be one of my best men. Did most of his work out of London. Retired from service two years ago. Pity. He was excellent.”

  “Why did he retire?” Colin asked.

  “He’d been at it a decade. Said he’d seen and done enough.”

  “I never had any dealings with him,” Dr. Oliver said. “Did you, Colin?”

  “Nothing spy related.”

  “He was the only person on the list who stood out to me,” Lord Wexhall said. “I’ll be certain to keep an eye on him tomorrow at Ralstrom’s party.” He then rose and excused himself, claiming fatigue.

  After he left the room, Lady Victoria asked, “Would anyone care for a game? Perhaps whist?”

  Before Alex could plead ignoran
ce of the game, Colin said, “Actually, I thought to show Madame through the gallery, if you have no objections.”

  Heat rushed into her face at the unmistakable speculation in Lady Victoria’s blue-eyed gaze, which bounced between her and Colin. Lady Victoria believed, as everyone else did, that Alex was married.

  “I’ve no objections,” Lady Victoria said, although her eyes seemed to lose a bit of their previous warmth. “That will give me a perfect opportunity to trounce my husband at the backgammon table.”

  “My darling Victoria, I greatly anticipate any trouncing I might receive at your hands.”

  As they moved toward the backgammon table near the window, Lord Sutton extended his hand. “Shall we?”

  Alex debated, torn between the need to escape the tension of pretending to belong amongst people she didn’t while feigning knowledge of polite parlor games, and the fear that being alone with Colin would result in another kiss.

  Impatience rose within her. Botheration, she was perfectly capable of controlling herself. If he tried to kiss her, she’d simply rebuff him. Firmly and most emphatically. Thus resolved, she placed her lace-gloved hand in his. Heat instantly tingled up her arm—a warmth she firmly and most emphatically ignored.

  Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, he escorted her from the room, then led her down a dimly lit corridor. It seemed that the pace he set was rather rapid as she nearly had to trot to keep up with him. Surely that was the cause of her breathlessness. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his nearness.

  “You were quiet this evening,” he said.

  “Yes, I suppose so. I was preoccupied.”

  “About what?”

  Drawing a deep breath, she told him about her theory that he might be the person in danger. When she finished, he said, “I think you could be right. Actually, Nathan and I discussed that same possibility earlier.”

  Dear God, she didn’t how she’d bear it if something happened to him. “I hope you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I also wanted to tell you that I think someone was watching me today.”