Читать книгу Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12 - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 60

Alec was back at Two Crows Castle less than an hour later. Deuce take it, he thought, but he almost found the ruination of this old place a relief after the glitter of the ton.

Garrett came up to him as Alec heaved off his coat. ‘We tracked down that oily cove Marchmont at his theatre today, Captain, like you asked us to,’ Garrett announced. ‘He told us—after a bit of persuasion—that he gave the girl Linette the push because she wouldn’t—oblige him like he wanted.’

‘Yet he suggested,’ grated Alec, ‘that she find work at the Temple of Beauty?’

‘It was Mr Marchmont’s opinion—’ and Garrett’s voice, too, was full of contempt ‘—that the experience would stand her in good stead.’

Alec ground out some words beneath his breath.

‘Then we got into the Temple of Beauty, Captain—we bribed a footman who made sure the way was clear. And in the office we found that little green book what you told us about, hidden inside a heavy great thing called The Myths of Ap—The Myths of Aplo—’

‘Apollodorus.’

‘That’s it, Captain. It said that your brother, Lord Stephen, had indeed been there three years ago. The summer of Vittoria. In fact, he visited several nights in a row—it was in Dr Barnard’s notes. Here you are, McGrath wrote it down: Paid particular attention to the young blonde innocent from the country. Reckon his lordship took her away for his own purposes …’

Alec was breathing hard. That must be it. His brother, Stephen, had seduced Rosalie’s sister. Was quite possibly Katy’s father. That was why Stephen had been after Rosalie that night at Dr Barnard’s; why he had hunted Rosalie down at the poetry reading, after setting fire to her home; why Stephen had sent that threat and offered the underworld reward for her. His damnably craven brother wanted to stop her search. Perhaps more.

How in hell was he going to tell Rosalie?

His next question—should he tell Rosalie?

Rosalie didn’t even know that Stephen was Alec’s brother. Hell’s teeth, she would fly at Stephen, she would go for him hammer and tongs; she wouldn’t care that Stephen, as well as being despicable, could also be damnably dangerous, with his money and his powerful friends.

Alec would have to deal with Stephen himself. He fisted his hands. The question was—how? Not, unfortunately, by telling her the truth.

Garrett was still watching him. ‘She’s out in the garden, Captain,’ Garrett said quietly. ‘And we’re keeping an eye on her, never fear.’

It was a little after ten and the darkness outside was illuminated by the pale moon’s glow. The lingering scents of rosemary and lavender filled the air, because Rosalie had been working earlier to uncover an old herb garden. But now she was just sitting on a bench and watching the stars come out, with Ajax lying by her feet. Why are you waiting up for him, you fool? He could be hours. If he came back tonight …

The thought stabbed her. So she’s back in town.

Time and time again she’d told herself she was mad to allow this man whom fate had hurled in her path to hurt her so, but apparently there was no end to her stupidity. Indeed, she was just getting up to go inside when she heard the back door opening into the yard; as Ajax barked eagerly, her stomach did a painful flip-flop.

Alec came around the corner and stopped when he saw her there. The silvery moonlight outlined the stark masculinity of his features. Be calm. Be controlled.

He came closer. He’d taken off his coat on this warm night, so only his white shirt covered his powerful upper torso. Ajax jumped up to greet him, pawing at his tight cream kerseymere breeches and polished boots; Alec simply stroked the dog’s shaggy head. ‘Mrs Rowland. I thought you would be in your room by now.’

His dark, brooding gaze caused her pulse rate to race. Somehow she smiled back and gave a little shrug. ‘It’s such a lovely night.’

‘You’ve been looking at the stars?’

‘Looking at the stars.’ She nodded.

‘Tell me what you see.’

‘There’s Vega—the brilliant blue-white star in the constellation of the Lyre. My mother used to say it was the sign of summer returning when Vega climbed overhead—’ She broke off. Stop babbling, you fool. ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself at your party, Captain Stewart?’

He had tugged loose his cravat—the Gordian knot—and unwittingly rumpled his hair. Already, dark beard-growth was shadowing his lean jaw. He was looking like Captain Stewart of Two Crows Castle again. And, oh, she had to resist the physical onslaught on her beleaguered senses.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘It was tedious. These affairs always are. So I left early.’ He was looking around the garden with an air of mystification. ‘You’ve done something to it all. It looks different.’

‘To be truthful, I was glad to find something here that I could do,’ she said quickly. ‘And Garrett recruited some men to help. I hope you don’t mind?’

‘Twisting us all round your little finger, Mrs Rowland? No. Why should I?’

‘There are so many wonderful plants out here.’ She was pointing. ‘My mother used to have this one—it’s called anemone pavonina. Isn’t it beautiful?’

He was looking at her, not at the scarlet flowers. She just kept on surprising him with her knowledge. With her own damned beauty. ‘You told me your mother loved her garden in Oxfordshire. But surely it was only small?’

‘Yes, but her home in France used to be famous for its gardens; people would travel from far and near to admire them—’ She broke off, seeing his expression.

‘Would travel … Where did your mother live?’

She had frozen. ‘I thought I told you. She was born in a fine house—a château …’

‘You didn’t tell me that.’ He was watching her with a slight frown. ‘It strikes me you’ve seen even more changes of fortune than me.’

Around the lantern that hung by the back door, the moths fluttered in a distracting dance. She felt as if she were being drawn to a flame also, helpless as those poor creatures. Alec. She remembered his kiss. His hands caressing her. Heat flooded her at his nearness.

She eased her dry mouth and tried to smile. ‘I’ve only really known our rather penny-pinched existence in Oxfordshire. My mother’s family’s fortunes vanished during the Revolution and she always told us that all her relatives fled from Paris.’

‘You have lost a great deal in your life, Mrs Rowland.’

She lifted her gaze to him steadily. ‘So many have lost more. You know that.’

‘You’re thinking about my soldiers?’

‘Indeed. I know nothing about war, but I hate to hear it glorified. I know that Lord Byron visited the field of Waterloo and detested all the pointless spilling of blood. The red rain, he called it, that made the harvest grow, but achieved so little else …’ Her voice faded away.

For one brief moment Alec recalled the horrors of the battlefield. The screams of the dying. The heaps of dead … He turned to gaze at her, unable to help himself. Such tenderness. Such—awareness of all the sadness in the world. So very different to those harridans who’d surrounded him at Lord Fanton’s tonight, with their simpering daughters who adored a war hero in uniform, but knew nothing of the reality of war. Damn it all, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to take her in his arms, carry her up to his bed and soothe away the sadness in her eyes by making passionate love to her.

You fool. He clamped down hard on the arousal that was pounding through his veins. ‘Rosalie. I think I might have picked up some more news about your sister tonight.’

‘Oh, is that why you went out?’ Immediately she could have bitten her tongue off. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘Ridiculous of me to expect you to become as obsessive about my sister’s story as me.’

‘Obsessive is hardly a fair word,’ he said, ‘for a search after justice like yours. But will you tell me exactly what you remember about the threats that were delivered to your friend Helen?’

Her brow puckered slightly. ‘When her press was wrecked? And the fire started? Let me see. The first note said, Gossip-raking bitch. That was all. But the second one said, Write one more word about Lady A., and you and those close to you will be the target next, not just the house.’

Alec was very still. ‘Do you know who this Lady A. is?’

‘No. But I do know that she had a maidservant whipped and dismissed for dropping a vase. Helen wrote a piece about it.’ She was looking up at him anxiously. ‘Does that help?’

Alec had heard that story, too. About his stepmother, Lady Aldchester. Somehow he forced a smile. ‘Possibly. Look, it’s getting cold, you’re shivering. Don’t you think it’s time to go inside?’

Ajax nudged at her hand and she fondled him abstractedly. She picked up her shawl. ‘Alec—’

‘Hmmm?’

‘Alec, I’ve been thinking. Up till now, my one aim has been to find this man and confront him. But now I’m starting to think that perhaps I don’t want Katy’s father to know about Katy.’ She looked up at him anxiously. ‘Do I sound very foolish? You see, I don’t want him to have anything at all to do with her.’

His hard-boned face was grave. ‘Then what do you want, Rosalie?’

‘Oh, I was thinking that I’d find him and get an apology from him, perhaps. Above all I wanted to make him realise just what he’d done to Linette. But now?’ She gave a little sigh. ‘Sometimes, I wish I’d never even begun this.’

Then she realised that his hand was over hers, his strong, long-fingered hand that had wrought such wicked magic on her at his father’s house. He meant it as a gesture of friendship, she knew, of reassurance, but it felt so wonderful that she hardly dared to breathe. Suddenly all she wanted was to lean into him, and lift her face to his, and perhaps he would kiss her again …

No. He is not for you. The moths were still fluttering helplessly round the lantern, scorching themselves. It was time to pull herself away from a similar fate.

Alec was saying, steadily, ‘You know the story of Pandora’s box, don’t you, Rosalie? I’m afraid you’ve opened it and there’s no going back. The threat is still there—my men hear the word on the streets. You still need guarding, as does Katy.’

‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry; you’re more patient with me than I deserve.’ She dragged herself away from him and pulled her old shawl around her with resolution. ‘You’re right, I really must go in now, it’s getting chilly. Tomorrow, I thought perhaps we could find out if anyone remembered Linette from that place off the Ratcliffe Highway, where she died. Your men might be able to help.’

‘What a good idea,’ he said, heartily despising himself for his duplicity. ‘I’ll speak to Garrett in the morning and get him to send someone out there.’

She hesitated. ‘Alec, I don’t know why you’re helping me like this, but I just want you to know that I’m truly grateful to you for offering us shelter here. I don’t know why you became estranged from your father, but I think it is his loss, not yours!’

‘Please don’t make me out to be anything that I’m not.’ His eyes, she saw, looked bleak. ‘I must warn you again that I have nothing, I am nothing beyond the man you see before you. I’ve been living a hard life, with hard men, for years, which alters a person and not necessarily for the better.’

She lifted her head, her eyes bright with—what? Defiance? Obstinacy? ‘I don’t believe you have nothing, Alec Stewart!’ she said steadily. ‘I don’t believe this—this façade you put up, of being of no worth to society! You have this house, for a start.’

‘A wreck,’ he said, shrugging bitterly as he looked around. ‘A ruin.’

‘No!’ she persisted. ‘It’s of enormous value to many poor ex-soldiers! And you have your reputation as a hero of the war. Your superlative skill as a fencer. You have friends like Lord Conistone, Mary told me.’

His face softened at last. ‘Lucas is one in a million.’

‘And some might say that you are also,’ she breathed, so quietly that she wasn’t sure he heard her at all.

But unless her whole world was totally awry, Alec Stewart was good and brave and true. And she’d discovered it too late. ‘Now, I really must go in,’ she went on lightly. ‘I’ve already taken too much of your time. But, Captain Stewart, I’m so very glad to have your help. Goodnight.’ She turned to walk steadily into the house, leaving a faint trail of the scent of her skin and hair.

Alec watched her go. A flower—honeysuckle—lay close to where she’d been sitting. He picked it up, then let it drop again as the stars twinkled in the dark sky overhead. Her sweet face had brightened with such hope just now when he’d told her he might have found more news of her sister.

The dog had come to nudge sympathetically at his hand. ‘Well, Ajax,’ Alec said softly, ‘I’ve landed myself in one hell of a mess, haven’t I, boy?’

How was he going to tell her that the villain they were looking for was his own damned brother?

Family loyalty. Oh, God.