Pearce dipped his head out of respect. “Forgive me for not rising, my lady. My wound isn’t quite healed.”
“Lieutenant?” She glanced at Christian. “Did you serve with Lord Wolverton then?”
“Proudly.” Pearce inclined his head toward Christian. “There wasn’t a better commander on the field.”
She lowered her voice, but Cook’s snoring that was coming from her room would have covered any noise. “And now you work for the Falcon Group.” Alice remembered Christian mentioning it once. “You were the stable hand that was stabbed yesterday.” The pieces were fitting together. He was one of the men her father had called in and the one who had chased the intruder. Alice had wanted to question him earlier, but he’d been drugged with laudanum.
“Yes. It’s a good thing I’m tough as leather,” Pearce said, puffing out his chest, then wincing. “Happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to take my own knife out of my boot.”
Alice leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table. “Did you see the intruder? Could you identify him?”
Pearce shook his head. “It was dark, and he was wearing a black stocking cap with some blonde hair sticking out the end. He was a large chap, though, with a longish nose.”
Blonde hair. Long nose. Pembroke. Alice looked at Christian, who stared back at her with a solemn expression. Yesterday she would have suggested that any number of men could have fit that description. But with the bundle of clothes, coupled with the amount of money from the sale being exactly what Pembroke needed, it didn’t seem like coincidence. The money had just been one more piece of evidence against him, and now they had Pearce’s witness to add to it.
“That is nearly the same description I got from the witness who saw the man that killed Thomas.” Christian grimaced, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “And he nearly killed you, Pearce. After all the battles you survived in Spain, I could hardly bear the thought of you dying at home, on English soil.”
Pearce coughed and held his side. “I’ve still got a few good years left in me, I suppose.” He stood slowly, leaning heavily on a cane. “I’m sorry I don’t have more information, but we'll all be watching for anyone who doesn’t belong here, and we’ll help in any way we can.”
Alice watched as Christian got up to help Pearce to the servants’ entrance so he could return to the stables. His normal military posture was bent over to provide support for Pearce. Sometimes he seemed every inch the marquess he was—arrogant and sure of himself― but he’d constantly showed her that he cared for people, whether servants or friends. He was concerned for Viscount Carlisle and even now was helping an old friend to the door. Christian had shown tenderness to her as well after she’d been attacked, and then again this afternoon when he’d helped her to the boat. He was a complicated man, and he hid a caring heart.
Christian rejoined her at the table, and she was suddenly very aware that they were alone in a darkened kitchen with only a candle between them. “He was very lucky he wasn’t killed,” she said, glad her voice didn’t betray her warm thoughts of the man sitting across the small table from her.
Christian leaned forward, closing the distance, and her heart skipped a beat at his nearness. His eyes were fathomless in the dim light, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze. He reached out and took her hand, letting his thumb skim over the back, his touch heating her skin like a stoked fire on a cold day. “I want you to be very careful tomorrow. Heed your father’s words. Desperation can make men into monsters. Don’t take any chances at all.”
His touch sparked tingles through her hand and up her arm, as if a fire was spreading through her body. How could one man affect her so? “And you as well. This is a dangerous game Pembroke is playing.”
She couldn’t look away from him, the candlelight and shadows drawing a curtain around them until it was as if they were the only two people in the world. His hair looked like burnished bronze, and her fingers itched to touch it. Was it as soft as it looked?
“I know tonight was difficult for you, finding out about Pembroke’s guilt, but you can’t be anything other than amiable to him, or he’ll know something is amiss and bolt.” Christian gently touched her cheek. “Much as I hate the idea of you being near him at all.”
“Christian,” she started, her voice quiet, savoring his given name on her lips. “I wonder . . . Well, as part of your circle, I need to ask you something. Did you ever have nerves before a coming battle? I know what’s expected tomorrow with the list and Pembroke, but part of me is frightened that it won’t go as planned. That we might lose the list and what repercussions there would be if we did.”
His fingers tightened around hers as he contemplated his answer. “Much as I wish I could say I didn’t feel afraid and nervous before a battle, the answer is yes. Thinking about what was to come, feeling the dread around us like an intruder who stole conversation, jokes, and hope. We’d all sit at the fire, writing letters that we hoped weren’t our last, talking of home, saying a prayer in case we met our Maker the next day. But we all embraced one other before we retired with a hearty slap on the back and a ‘In victory or defeat, we stand together.'” He reached out to cup her face, and she leaned her cheek into his palm. “There will be no defeat for us tomorrow. I promise you that.”
She wanted to believe him, to seal that promise as a vow. Closing the small distance between them, she brushed her lips with his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He gently tugged her back to him and pressed his lips more firmly to hers. Her heart raced as his kiss deepened and everything else faded away. There weren’t any other feelings to sort out as long as his mouth moved over hers. Her hand reached up to his face, feeling the stubble there as her fingers traced his jaw. She closed her eyes, her heartbeat pounding his name through her veins. Christian. Christian. She savored the kiss, but the timing wasn’t right. Not yet. Reluctantly, she drew away.
“Alice?” he started, but she put her fingers to his lips.
She rose from the table, wanting to kiss him again, but knowing she shouldn’t. If she did, she wouldn’t want to stop. Her feelings for Christian were complicated and confusing, tangled up in their work to build a case against Pembroke. She needed more time to think and not to have a threat of danger hovering over them. “Tomorrow we'll stand together. In victory. Then perhaps we can continue this . . . conversation.”
A corner of his lips curved into a half smile as he moved to stand in front of her. His thumb traced an invisible trail down her cheek to her jaw. The embers of need flared between them again, and Alice’s feet were rooted to the floor. She wanted his arms to come around her, to feel his kiss on her lips, his hands in her hair. No man had ever affected her thus, and it was a heady feeling.
His eyes were dark and shadowed as he looked at her, his breaths shallow. Alice’s heart thrilled at the thought that he wanted the same thing she did.
But he stepped back, breaking the spell around them. “Until tomorrow then,” he said, his voice hardly more than a low growl in his throat.
“Until tomorrow,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak out loud. She let her fingers linger on the lapel of his coat for just a moment longer before she turned and walked from the room.
A chill enveloped her as soon as she left Christian in the cozy kitchen. Touching her lips, she walked upstairs, unable to keep the smile from her face. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow to be over and to have the list safe. Then, maybe she could explore the connection she had with Christian and see if they could suit as more than partners in espionage.
Chapter Twelve
THE MORNING BOASTED a fine drizzle of rain that tapered off as the men all gathered on the east lawn, their mounts anxious to start the shoot as the dogs danced around the horses’ feet. How many times had Christian and his brother John joined their father to hunt on just such a morning? Being home in England had brought all sorts of memories to the fore, some good and some that hurt to think about. Everything was different now. Chr
istian pulled his greatcoat closer around him, wishing he were still in his warm bed with a cheery fire going in the hearth. He’d spent too many nights on the cold ground in Spain, and his body craved the comforts he’d taken for granted before the war.
Soon enough, the duke led the shooting party into the woods. Christian watched the men ride off, but Pembroke hung at the back of the group. Maneuvering nearer to him, Christian gave himself the task of staying close to Pembroke in case he was planning another attempt on an agent’s life. Christian didn’t recognize all the operatives the duke had summoned to the house, of course, but anyone with the list would know who to target. But perhaps Pembroke would think twice about any further attempts if Christian was close by.
Pembroke didn’t look pleased at Christian’s proximity, but he didn’t say anything as they rode on. When the horses slowed to a canter, and the other men had drawn far ahead of them, Christian decided to open up the conversation. “Have you known Edward Carlisle long?”
Pembroke gave him a sidelong glance, as if surprised Christian was speaking to him. “Our family estates are next to each other. We grew up together.”
That explained the betrothal between Pembroke’s sister and Carlisle. “Did you get a chance to sort out the business you two were discussing at the ball?” Perhaps if Christian pressed, Pembroke would reveal something he wasn’t planning on sharing and give a clue as to when the exchange with the French buyer would take place.
“No, not really. Edward is a changed man since he’s returned from war. It’s very difficult to find a time when he’s sober enough to discuss business.” Pembroke adjusted the reins in his hand. “But I am determined to try again when I return to London.”
Christian moved a tree branch aside so he could pass under it. They would soon be at the appointed place to wait for the gamekeeper’s men to flush the game birds out to the men waiting with their rifles. Then his chance to speak with Pembroke would be over. “Perhaps I can help,” he offered.
“I don't see how you could. Edward doesn’t listen to anyone these days.” He looked down, letting out a great sigh, his chin dipping. “And I’ve made matters worse by giving him a weapon to hold over me.”
Christian straightened in the saddle. Did he mean the gambling vowels? Or had he told Edward about the list? “What weapon is that?”
“It’s a family matter, I’m afraid. But once I return to London, I’ll be able to make it right.” Pembroke clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead, the tension flowing from him. “I feel I must be direct, Lord Wolverton, since you have sought me out this morning. I’m working to secure the affections of Lady Alice, and I have felt in recent days that you are perhaps my rival in that endeavor. But I assure you, I will soon be taking the next step of securing her hand in marriage, now that I have received her father’s permission to court her.” He stared at Christian, obviously staking his claim to the lady.
Christian furrowed his brow as Pembroke’s words sank in. If the goal was to dismantle the Falcon Group, and he knew Lady Alice was a member of it, why would he court her? If Pembroke’s demeanor was any indication, he truly saw Christian as a rival. A niggling doubt started to form in the back of his mind. Had they been too hasty in believing Pembroke guilty? Or was Pembroke a master manipulator?
Either way, he didn’t want him courting Alice. Christian leaned back in the saddle and met the earl’s gaze. “Do you have Lady Alice’s permission as well?” After their kiss in the kitchen last night, Christian had thought of little else. Yet, even imagining Pembroke bringing her flowers or speaking with her alone was out of the question. Christian wasn’t sure what was between him and Alice, but he wanted the chance to find out.
“I plan to speak with her at the masquerade this evening,” Pembroke told him brusquely. “And I expect to have happy news to share very soon.”
“You’re that sure of her regard?” Christian was curious. If Pembroke was planning on revealing the Duke of Huntingdon’s role in the Falcon Group as well as Alice’s, how could he expect to marry her? Something wasn’t right.
Pembroke slowed his mount to come alongside Christian’s. “Lady Alice has heard some distressing rumors about me that aren’t true. She has stayed by my side and believed the truth as I told it to her. That kind of loyalty is hard to find, and I don’t plan to let her get away. A loyal wife makes for a happy life.”
Alice was loyal. Christian silently agreed on that. Clever. Kind. He could think of a long list of words to describe her, but it was one he didn’t care to share with Pembroke. “And have you shared these rumors with her father?”
Pembroke looked at him with disdain. “Come, come, Lord Wolverton. Don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumor that I killed Thomas Norwich. Half the ton is whispering about it― and have been since the day his body was recovered. The duke is well aware of the situation I find myself in.”
They were nearing the field where the other men were already forming a line in preparation for shooting the birds. Their conversation would soon have to turn to more polite topics, but Christian wanted an answer. “Did you kill him?”
“Of course not. An investment I made fell through, and I was angry with Thomas, but not enough to kill him. I left him alive and went home to finish off a bottle of brandy. The next day I was accused of killing him.” Pembroke shook his head, his grip on the reins so tight his knuckles were white. “I liked Thomas.”
His last claim was said with so much sadness, not even an accomplished actor could have feigned it. Christian now saw why Alice believed in Pembroke’s innocence. He was starting to question his own beliefs about the man’s guilt. But what else explained the evidence they'd already gathered?
“I’m sure being accused was very difficult,” Christian said, trying to look at the situation from Pembroke’s perspective. A failed investment, followed by an allegation of murder, were enough to crush any man if he was innocent. But Pembroke had the access and means to put together a list of agents, and the payoff would solve all of his problems. Had he succumbed to the temptation? Evidence indicated he did, but Pembroke’s demeanor suggested otherwise.
After ducking under more trees to try and catch up to the rest of the party, Pembroke let out a puff of air. “It’s been extremely hard for my mother and sister.” His jaw hardened. “The tabbies of the ton are ruthless.”
Christian agreed. Since he’d entered society as a young man, he’d seen whispers and rumors ruin a reputation all too often. “But you're confident you can make things right by marrying Lady Alice?”
“With a connection to the Duke of Huntingdon, no one would dare give us the cut direct.” Pembroke looked over at Christian. “And she would be happy, I assure you.”
Christian doubted someone like Alice, who had so much spirit and passion, could ever be happy in a marriage where she was valued only for her loyalty and connections. She needed someone who would celebrate her unique talents in serving her king and country and who would love her for the vibrant woman she was. Someone like me.
The thought came so unbidden that he hardly had time to consider it more thoroughly before he heard himself say, “I’ll not be stepping aside. I, too, believe I can make Lady Alice happy.”
Pembroke frowned. They were within listening distance of the other men now, and their conversation was nearly at an end. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, that you would withdraw your suit when you realized how serious my intentions were.”
Christian shrugged. Now that he’d spoken his feelings for Alice, it was as if his course of action had crystallized. She was his match. “While I was in Spain, I never shied away from battle, and I won’t in England, either.” He cocked his eyebrow and gave Pembroke an icy stare. “And Lady Alice is worth fighting for.”
“She has sought out my company during the entire house party. Seeing as her feelings are so obviously engaged, I don’t think I shall have any trouble securing her hand. But we shall see who the lady chooses.” Pembroke barely gave him a nod as a b
y-your-leave before he nudged his horse forward to join the other gentlemen.
Christian watched him go. Alice had sought out Pembroke’s company for the sake of the investigation, but he’d wondered several times if she’d developed a tendre for the man. She’d certainly been affected when they’d found the bundle of clothing in Pembroke’s dressing room and she'd held the evidence of his guilt in her hand. Of course, Christian had also spent quite a bit of time with Alice to ferret out the traitor. Last night in the kitchen, she’d said they’d continue the conversation when the traitor had been caught. What kind of conversation did she mean, exactly?
Christian wasn’t used to feeling so unsure. The masquerade promised to reveal the traitor’s name and, hopefully, his buyer’s. But would it also reveal Alice's feelings for him? If he did pursue her, would he have a chance of standing with her at his side?
Since coming home from the war, Christian had felt adrift, trying to make sense of a world that was in chaos. He’d felt needed on the battlefield and working for the Falcon Group. He hadn’t wanted to take over his brother’s or his father’s positions, but that was exactly what was going to happen, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change the circumstances. Furthering his acquaintance with Alice had provided an anchor for him that he hadn’t known he needed and he didn’t want to give her up if there was any chance for him as her suitor.
Dismounting, Christian handed his horse’s reins to the waiting groom and turned his thoughts to the task at hand. He took his place on the end of the line of gentleman who laughed and conversed as they waited. He let the rifle in his hand point downward. It was strange having a gun in his hand on English soil. He had no desire to shoot birds, or to lift a rifle against a living thing ever again. Standing there, waiting for the gamekeeper and the beaters, in company with a row of armed men, reminded him too much of waiting for battle to begin. Though this was different in the fact that this morning was filled with jovial greetings and slaps on the back, which had never happened during the war.
The Marquess Meets His Match Page 10
