“I mean to.” Tamar smiled with even greater frost. “Collecting my debt before you spend your winnings.” He put out his hand toward Julian’s pile of notes and coins, and at once, Julian slapped his own hand over it, protective and aggressive.
Tamar let his smile broaden, while he looked directly into his brother’s eyes and tapped him admonishingly on the cuff, almost exactly over the place he hid cards. There was one there now, he could feel it under his fingertips.
“Really?” Tamar said softly.
“This fellow owe you, Tamar?” the old gentleman asked. “Don’t mind taking a break while he pays you.” He hoped, no doubt, that the break would change his luck. It might, though hardly for the reasons he imagined.
“He does,” Tamar confirmed. “Don’t you, Julian? And we always pay. In full.”
His meaning was clear, and Julian saw it right away. He had to pay up everything, including the pictures he still held, or Tamar would reveal the cards hidden on his person. From the hard faces at this table, they wouldn’t treat cheats lightly. The may have come to fleece the unsuspecting themselves, but being fleeced in return was quite unpalatable.
“Damn it, Tamar, later is better. I have to run with the luck.”
“It’s about to change,” Tamar said flatly.
Julian snatched up his hand with fury, and Tamar swiftly scooped up the winning. “Come, let us settle up,” he said cheerfully and led the way to the door, leaving Julian no choice but to follow his money.
Trotting after him toward the reception desk. Julian snarled, “Rupert, give me the damned money or I’ll—.”
“Or you’ll what, Julian?” He smiled at the clerk at the desk. “My brother is leaving early tomorrow morning and would like to settle his account now.”
“No, I bloody wouldn’t!”
“Yes, you bloody would. Or you can walk back in there and I’ll shake all the cards out of you.”
Perfectly wooden-faced, the clerk presented the account on the desk, somewhere between the two men.
Tamar whistled. “You like to live well, eh, Julian?” He emptied the card winnings on the desk and counted out the reckoning, adding a little extra. “And the room key, if you please.”
Julian’s face went from angry to ugly. “Far enough, Tamar, you have no right to—”
“No right?” Tamar repeated. He actually laughed. “You’re here with my money and I want it back. We can call the Watch if you like, but…”
“Damn you,” Julian said between his teeth.
Tamar scooped up the remaining money with the key. “Lead on.” He whirled around toward the stairs, and that was when he saw Serena and the Grants at the dining room door. They must have heard everything. The world tilted and righted itself.
It didn’t matter, nothing mattered since she couldn’t be his. She might as well see the full awfulness she was avoiding.
He gave an ironic bow, then followed Julian upstairs, ready to dodge any backward kicks his brother might aim at him in order to avoid these losses.
The pictures were easily located, propped up inside the wardrobe in Julian’s chamber. As far as Tamar could remember, they were all there, including Daxton’s portrait.
“How did you find me?” Julian asked.
“I know you,” Tamar said shortly. He glanced up from the bed where he’d piled the paintings. “Did Rivers help you?”
“He thought it was funny.”
In spite of everything, it still hurt. Julian knew what Rivers was. But he hid that pain along with all the others. “I’m sure you both found it absolutely hilarious. You didn’t even pay him, did you?”
“No, though he thinks I will.”
“Don’t,” Tamar said, wrapping up the pictures together. “From now on, he gets nothing from any of us.”
Julian blinked. “And if he tells?”
“Then I’ll stand trial for murder. Who knows, Julian? You might get to be marquis after all. I wish you joy of it. There’s certainly no fortune in it.” He paused, then took out one of the seascapes and threw it back on the bed before picking up the others. “See what you can get for that.”
Julian frowned. “You’re giving me one? Why?”
Tamar shrugged. “You showed me I could get more for them. Call it your reward. There won’t be another. Be on the stagecoach tomorrow.” And he left, what was left of the money in his pocket and his pictures under his good arm.
He supposed it had been a good day. It just felt like a bad one because there would no Serena at the end of it.
Serena… As he ran downstairs, he wondered what the devil she’d been doing here at the hotel. Was she looking for him?
He’d almost forgotten about Linnet, who rushed at him from the bottom of the stairs with great glee. “That man owed you money and you got it back! Everyone’s thrilled for you, and so am I!” To prove it, she flung both arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.
“Well, for that, I’ll take you to supper,” he said, laughing as he placed her hand more decorously on his arm. Only then did he see across the foyer to the sofa where Serena sat with the Grants on either side of her. She looked…stricken.
Tamar felt sick. She must have been waiting for him, to make sure of his wellbeing. He didn’t want her to be hurt. He didn’t want to do the hurting, but there was no way out of this. He was so unsuitable it was laughable. And she might as well know it.
There was nothing for it now. With Linnet on his arm he crossed the hall and paused to bow. “Ladies. Grant.”
Grant nodded. “I see you got your pictures back.”
“I did.”
Serena rose to her feet. “Congratulations,” she said in a curiously hard voice that almost broke his heart. “Now there is just your bailiff to deal with and your life will be rosy. Goodbye, Lord Tamar.”
In spite of everything, it was the goodbye that did it. Because she’d been hurt by the wrong thing. Although Linnet’s presence here was innocent, she would not consider that, any more than she seemed to consider the obvious things of which he was guilty—poverty, failure to bring up his siblings decently, murder…
But, of course, she didn’t know about that. Yet.
Through the haze of pain and anger, he saw her walking away, following Kate toward the front door.
“One moment,” he said to Linnet and hurried after them. He caught her almost at the front door, planting himself squarely in front of her, separating her from Kate and Grant. “Why do you look at me like that? I’m no different from this afternoon.”
“No. I just see that you have not been truthful. Friends should at least be truthful.”
“Yes, they should,” he snapped back. “So, here’s the truth about the damned bailiff. His name is John Rivers and he really is a bailiff. It’s a family firm. But, of course, he doesn’t dun me for debts. For years I’ve paid him to keep quiet about a crime I committed.”
Her eyes widened with bewilderment. “What crime?” she asked.
“Murder,” he said with relish, and walked back to Linnet.
Chapter Thirteen
Lord Braithwaite had barely risen from his bed, had not even approached the crucial matter of his cravat, when his servant informed him that his lady mother wished to see him in the breakfast room.
The earl, being a well-mannered and tolerant man, did not groan. But he had his mind on the important speech he was to give in the House of Lords today and he really did not wish to be distracted by whatever trivialities his mother deemed important today.
However, she was his mother. And she never gave up. So, he tied his cravat in haste, allowed his valet to help him into his coat, and went downstairs to the breakfast room.
“Where is the fire, Mother?” he inquired flippantly, seating himself beside her at the table and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Nowhere, yet,” she snapped. “It is what I’m trying to avoid. We went the wrong way to work with your sister. We shouldn’t have sent her away.”
; Braithwaite, who had said so at the time, refrained from comment.
His mother picked up a letter she had been reading. “I received this from Kate Crowmore, who for reasons best known to herself, married the new vicar of Blackhaven.”
“I know,” Braithwaite said mildly. “He seems to be an excellent fellow. I like him.”
“Well, that is nothing to the purpose.” The countess waved the vicar aside. “Kate has asked my permission to relax the constrictions we placed upon her, and chaperone her to the Assembly Room ball and a few other events in Blackhaven. Using her own experience, she surmises that without respectable distraction, Serena will no doubt make her own, which should be a terrifying prospect for all of us.”
“She’s joking,” Braithwaite observed.
“Well, of course she is. It’s her way, so as not to give us offence, but she does speak the truth. We were too harsh with Serena.”
Braithwaite shrugged. “I was angry. So were you. Write to her as well as to Kate, and give permission for her to enjoy herself.”
“No, I think we must go there. Immediately.”
“Well, if you feel you must,” Braithwaite said.
“We. I said we. We may leave before midday and—”
“I can’t go anywhere today,” Braithwaite said firmly. “I have commitments. To be frank, I don’t see why you have to go either. A letter will suffice.”
His mother shook her head stubbornly. “No, I need to see Serena. I know she said she was relieved to be no longer engaged, and I believe it’s true, but her mood was…strange. I believe part of her was hurt, and our reaction of immediately sending her away truly does make her ripe for mischief. I believe she needs me and I require your escort.”
“I’m sorry to disoblige you,” Braithwaite said with as much patience as he could muster, “but I cannot go today.”
His mother frowned and shifted with annoyance in her chair. “I will wait until tomorrow then, but no longer!”
*
“Where is Lord Tamar?” Helen demanded, in the middle of her lessons.
“I don’t know,” replied Serena, who had taken to disrupting her sisters’ lessons once more. It had been two days since her abduction and she was more restless than ever.
“He said he would paint us,” Helen said accusingly. “Why don’t you send him a note to remind him? After all, you like him, too.”
I did, but he’s not the man I thought he was. The vision of the unknown woman kissing him with such familiarity kept repeating in her mind. That and his face, unaccustomedly harsh and brutal. Murder.
Maybe, she kept them deliberately in her mind to make herself grateful for his absence, to stop herself missing him. It didn’t work.
“We could walk down to Blackhaven this afternoon,” Alice suggested. “We could call it an art lesson, Miss Grey!”
“Oh, yes, do let’s,” Helen agreed with enthusiasm.
“Right now, you must return to your numbers,” Miss Grey ordered, fixing Serena with her gaze.
Serena gave a faint, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, and slipped out of the school room.
A few minutes later, she found herself in the drawing room, sitting by the pianoforte with her fingers spread over the keys. She’d done all this before, on the day she’d first seen Tamar striding across the garden.
She couldn’t help turning her head, but she could see no one at all, let alone a tall, disheveled figure burdened by an easel and a battered satchel. She couldn’t understand why being so wrong about him hurt so much. Perhaps because at heart she didn’t really believe it. She just knew he was pushing her away, abandoning her. The reasons, true or not, seemed to take second place in her confused mind.
What kind of immoral fool does that make me? she wondered, pressing on the keys to see what sort of a sound they made. Discordant. She didn’t care about his poverty, or his womanizing, or even his crime. She cared that he wasn’t here.
Unbearable thought. Hastily, to make herself think of anything other than him, she began to play. It began badly, loudly, but as the music came back to her, she played as it was meant to be, and was still playing when Mrs. Grant was announced.
“Goodness,” Kate said. “You’re a lot better than I ever was.”
Serena smiled faintly. “I doubt that. I’m certainly a lot worse than when I was nagged to practice.” She closed the lid and stood up to ring for tea.
Kate came closer, examining her with calm perception. They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday night at the hotel.
“You’re looking pale and wan,” Kate observed. “Are you ill?”
“Not at all. I suppose I haven’t slept well since Sunday. Wretched spies.”
“Or wretched marquis?” Kate suggested shrewdly.
Serena laughed. It sounded unnaturally brittle. “Of course not. I haven’t forgotten he saved me on Sunday.”
“You haven’t forgotten he was with another woman on Sunday either.”
Impatiently, Serena waved that way, but Kate wouldn’t let it rest.
“Everyone knows Tamar doesn’t gamble,” she observed. “I daresay he needed someone to give him an excuse to be there.”
“You’re quite mistaken if you imagine I care about such things.”
“Am I?” Kate said with deliberation.
Serena looked away.
“Well, I have come to talk to you about other things,” Kate said at last. “Namely, entertaining Catherine.”
Serena brightened. “I sent her a note suggesting she meet us for an ice and a visit to the circulating library. If I can prevail upon Miss Grey, I’ll bring the girls—they tend to distract people! And I thought a moonlight revel on the beach might be something a little out of the ordinary.”
“And cold at this time of year!”
“And possibly wet at any time of year.”
“Not insurmountable problems, though,” Kate said thoughtfully. “It will take some planning, so we could even get Catherine to help.”
“That’s what I thought. And we will need all the old biddies to pronounce it respectable, so Mrs. Winslow’s support would be useful.”
“Well thought out,” Kate approved. “All I could think of was a theatre party! Which I have arranged, at least and shall write to Mrs. Winslow this afternoon. Oh, and Mrs. Penhalligan is to hold a rout next week.”
“Who is Mrs. Penhalligan?” Serena asked, dredging her memory.
“A widow. She came here for her health after her husband died—on the Peninsula, I believe—and liked the town so much she bought a house here. She has a son of about Bernard Muir’s age and two daughters, who are now trying to drag her out of mourning. They had persuaded her to hold a small party and invite their friends, but I have worked on her to expand it!”
Kate wiggled her eyebrows in a theatrically wicked manner, and Serena couldn’t help smiling.
“You are ingenious,” Serena approved.
“I am. You should receive an invitation today. I assured her you were very condescending.”
Kate wrinkled her nose. “Does she think I am some great lady? She’s going to be disappointed—or perhaps just relieved!”
“Well, you are the greatest lady currently in Blackhaven, and the town reveres your family.”
Serena sighed as the tea tray was finally brought in. “Speaking of my family, I’m not really obeying the strictures of mine, am I?”
“Well, I did write to your mother. And if you don’t receive a furious letter in the next day or so forbidding you, I think you might consider it consent.”
“With Wicked Kate as my chaperone?”
Kate looked unnaturally prim. “My dear, I am no longer wicked. I am the vicar’s wife. Oh, and speaking of the vicar, he does have duties, so we can’t make him escort us to everything. I thought we might prevail upon Bernard Muir.”
“Truly?” Serena said doubtfully. “Doesn’t he admire you excessively?”
“Oh, that was months ago. Now he is in love with a
mill owner’s daughter who is also a fabulous heiress and that is lasting much longer. Unfortunately, her parents don’t like the match.”
Serena bridled on her old friend’s behalf. “What is wrong with Bernard?”
“He doesn’t have a title. They think because the girl is so rich and so beautiful, they may look as high as they like for a husband.”
“They should talk to Lord Tamar,” Serena said brutally. “It would be his perfect solution.”
“I daresay the girl would come around. She is quite malleable, and Tamar is handsome and good natured. Would you really wish them well?”
Serena looked away. “I am angry with him. But I do not wish him ill.”
“My dear, you are more than angry.” Kate nudged her arm. “I don’t like to see you so down. I heard what he said to you, but truly you don’t know the circumstances or even if he meant it literally—”
“I don’t care if he meant it literally,” Serena all but snapped.
“Then it is the actress. All men have women in their past.”
Serena cast her a glance that Kate read easily enough.
“According to Tristram,” Kate said, “she accompanied him to the club to give him an excuse to be there. Everyone knows Tamar doesn’t gamble.”
“I don’t care about her either,” Serena said, pushing her teacup across the table and rising to her feet.
“Then what?” Kate demanded. “Because you cannot pretend to me that you suddenly don’t care for him.”
“But I don’t. He isn’t who I thought he was. Don’t you see, Kate? He found it too easy to push me away and be back in her arms—if he ever left them—the very same day! I read too much into a silly flirtation. I hate him because I was fooled!”
Kate searched her face. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Serena turned away, walking to the window. “And I saw it in his eyes. He was trying to push me away, to hurt me, in order to make me leave him alone. Let it be, Kate, I have some pride. Did you come in the carriage or walk?”
Kate permitted the change of subject. “I walked since the weather is fine.”
“Then we shall accompany you back to Blackhaven. The girls have decided Miss Grey looks peaky, so we are all going to make her drink the waters.”
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