Lady Bingham leaned seductively towards Martin, who had scrambled hastily to his feet upon her entrance. He turned a brilliant shade of red and stammered out a greeting, his eyes attempting, and failing, to settle anywhere except on her nearly exposed breasts. Lady Bingham cast him a bewitching smile and then promptly forgot him.
"And who is this?" she asked, giving Rowena a curious glance. "I did not know you had a daughter, Lady Belmont."
"My niece, Lady Rowena Arlingby," said Lady Belmont repressively.
Lady Bingham favored Rowena with another of her calculatedly dazzling smiles. "How delightful," she purred. "Then you are Malcolm's sister. We should be the very best of friends."
"You know my brother?" asked Rowena, surprised.
"Very well indeed," answered Lady Bingham. "You must call on me and we shall have a comfortable chat. I am also a good friend of another acquaintance of yours, Lord Brayleigh." She watched Rowena closely she spoke.
Rowena managed to appear unconcerned, though the words caused a wrenching sensation in the pit of her stomach. "I am sure you are well-acquainted with any number of people, Lady Bingham," she replied.
The baroness's eyes narrowed. She shut her fan with a snap. "Do you know Lord Voxley?" She beckoned the red-headed gentleman forward. "Lord Voxley, Lady Rowena Arlingby."
Lady Belmont made a hasty movement as though she would step between Rowena and Voxley, but then stopped herself. With an amused look, Lord Voxley took Rowena's hand and kissed it.
"Charmed," he murmured. "You are a vision of loveliness, Lady Rowena."
Rowena felt an unaccountable urge to snatch her hand from his moist grasp, but restrained herself. She smiled politely.
"Well, we are very cozy here," observed Lady Bingham. "I came to talk to you, Lady Belmont, because I am charged with a message from Malcolm. I saw him before I came home, and he begged me to bring you his best wishes."
"You saw Malcolm?" repeated Lady Belmont, obviously struggling to contain her astonishment.
"Indeed. He was in Paris at the same time I was. Oh, it was a mere coincidence; it has been years since Malcolm and I have been...close. But it was delightful to see him. He is irresistible, as always."
Lady Belmont swallowed. "I thank you for bringing me his message, Lady Bingham."
A pause followed this exchange, and Mrs. Brierton seized the opportunity to depart. "I really must be on my way, Louisa dear," she murmured, gathering up her shawl and looking askance at Lady Bingham. "Come, Martin."
Martin tore his eyes from Lady Bingham's chest and, muttering something polite to Rowena, followed his mother from the box. Lady Bingham smiled brilliantly at Lady Belmont.
"And now it is just the four of us," she said. "How cozy. Shall we renew our acquaintance? And I would so enjoy getting to know Lady Rowena better. I daresay she would be delighted to hear some tales of her brother."
Rowena smiled. The tension in the box was palpable, but she felt that this was a not to be missed opportunity to learn more about Malcolm. She was not sure exactly what Lady Bingham's relationship was to her brother, but it seemed likely that she might know something of the events of twelve years before. She opened her mouth to begin her questioning.
The door to the box flew open again and the occupants swung around to see who the newcomer might be. Alaric entered, a look of fury darkening his countenance. Rowena drew in her breath, beginning to understand why he inspired so much awe and fear. He looked quite capable of committing murder. He glanced quickly from Lady Belmont's mortified face, to Rowena's curious one, to Lady Bingham's self-satisfied smile.
"Good evening, Lady Belmont," he said mildly. "Lady Rowena, how pleasant to see you again."
Lady Belmont appeared ready to sink through the floor of the box. "Brayleigh," she whispered.
"Good evening, Lord Brayleigh," said Rowena brightly. "I have been making the acquaintance of Lady Bingham."
Alaric turned his frosty gaze on Marguerite. "What a pity she cannot stay and chat. I have been charged by Mrs. Werwent to bring Lady Bingham to her box."
"But Lady Belmont’s box is so comfortable," said Marguerite her voice light. "I am sure Caroline can wait until the next interval."
Alaric placed his hand on Marguerite’s arm and raised her to her feet with no more effort than if she were a feather. "I understood the matter to be quite urgent. You will come now."
The baroness's blue eyes narrowed. Alaric's grip on her arm was painful, and she very much feared she would have a bruise in the morning. It was obvious that he was in a towering fury. Perhaps she had gone too far this time.
"Very well, if she is so insistent," she said. "I will speak to you some other time, Lady Belmont. It was a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. And I so enjoyed meeting you, Lady Rowena. I look forward to our chat."
Alaric did not release her as he guided her to the door. "Good evening, Lady Belmont, Lady Rowena," he said calmly. "Come along, Voxley."
Lord Voxley shrugged and stood, bowing politely to the ladies. He followed Alaric and Marguerite from the box.
"The audacity of the man," said Rowena, her anger sparked not only by Brayleigh’s actions, but also his very apparent familiarity with the baroness. "How dare he come in here and drag Lady Bingham away like that? I was just about to ask her about Malcolm."
Lady Belmont sank back in her chair, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. "Hush, Rowena. I never thought I would be grateful to see Brayleigh, but tonight I was, although surely the gossip will be only that much worse now. The look on the man's face! Child, I cannot but think that he has intentions towards you, and I fear they are not good. Goodness, we must be the focus of every eye in the theatre. I was never so mortified in all my life."
"And why is that, Aunt Louisa?" Rowena's violet eyes sparkled with curiosity. "How is it that Lady Bingham knows Malcolm, and why should that distress you so?"
Lady Belmont shuddered. "She is little more than a lightskirt, and not a suitable topic for conversation, Rowena. You will not make a friend of Lady Bingham. I trust you understand me?"
"I don't think I want to be her friend," answered Rowena frankly. "But I would like to ask her some questions about Malcolm. I do wish Brayleigh hadn't taken her away."
Lord Belmont entered the box, and his wife almost threw herself on his chest. "Take me home, Jonathan," she demanded. "I feel a spasm coming on. It has all been too horrible."
"I saw Lady Bingham in here," said Lord Belmont, looking cautiously at Rowena. "What did she want?"
Lady Belmont closed her eyes. "Please, Jonathan. I cannot bear to stay here a moment longer."
"But Aunt Louisa, we will miss the rest of the performance," objected Rowena. "It would look excessively odd if we were to leave immediately after Lady Bingham's visit to our box. If you are concerned about appearances, it is best that we stay until at least the next interval."
Lady Belmont gave Rowena an uncertain look, and then nodded. "Very well. But not a question out of you, Rowena! If you so much as say Lady Bingham's name even once we shall leave immediately, gossip or no gossip."
"But Aunt, I need to know how Lady Bingham came to be acquainted with Malcolm," protested Rowena.
"Not another word, Rowena." Lady Belmont seated herself and glared out over the sea of faces in the theatre, most of them, it seemed to her, turned towards the Belmont box. "If you have a shred of feeling for me you will respect my wishes."
Rowena seated herself, frustrated at her aunt's refusal to answer questions, and with her own lively curiosity further roused by the night's events. Perhaps Lady Bingham knew something that would help to clear Malcolm's name. She would tell Lord Brayleigh tonight that this was a lead they should definitely follow.
Alaric dragged Marguerite down the corridor, icy rage stamped on his face. He had arrived at the opera late, not having meant to attend at all, but drawn there by his knowledge that Rowena was present. He had been annoyed enough with himself for yielding to this temptation, but when he had seen Mar
guerite in the Belmont box, chatting familiarly with Rowena, a cold hand had seemed to grip his heart. He could only imagine what she might be saying, and he knew immediately that he had to stop her. It was unfortunate that her removal from the Belmont box had to be conducted so publicly, but he had never been one to shrink from an unpleasant task.
"Alaric, you're hurting me. And everyone is staring," said Marguerite, her voice plaintive.
Alaric stopped, but did not let go of Marguerite's arm. "You deserve to be hurt, and I have never known you to object to attention," he ground out, staring down at her. "What do you think you were doing back there?"
"Renewing my acquaintance with the Belmonts, of course," said Marguerite, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And meeting your little Lady Rowena. She's very charming, my dear, but a trifle naive, don't you think? Rather like a fluffy white kitten."
"You may keep your opinion of Lady Rowena to yourself," snapped Alaric. He glared over her shoulder at Lord Voxley, who stood behind Marguerite, a vacant look on his handsome face. "Your company is always so charming, Voxley, but I believe we can dispense with it. I have a matter of a private nature to discuss with Lady Bingham."
Voxley gave Marguerite an inquiring glance, and at her nod, strolled off.
"Your latest toy, Marguerite?" asked Alaric.
"He amuses me." Marguerite wrenched her arm out of Alaric's grip. "But not nearly so much as you did. We could have a great deal of fun together again, Alaric."
"I am not interested in your sort of fun." Alaric gave a forbidding look to a matron who looked as though she was about to approach them. She turned away hastily.
"What a pity. But I gather you are finding your enjoyment elsewhere. All the talk is of your intention to seduce little Lady Rowena."
"My intention to do what?" demanded Alaric.
"To seduce Lady Rowena." Marguerite turned wide blue eyes on him. "Alaric, do not look so surprised. No one thinks you seriously wish to marry the girl, and what other reason can there be for your behavior?"
"My behavior is none of your business."
Marguerite shrugged. "Your reputation, of course, cannot be damaged any further. But Lady Rowena could speedily be ruined. They say you wish to add her to your collection. Oh, not the one of art work, of course, but the one of beautiful women. Just think, Lady Rowena and I shall soon be members of the same company."
"You are disgusting." Alaric stared down at her beautiful face, wondering how he could ever have been taken in by her. It seemed impossible that once he had desired her with a soul-consuming passion.
"At least I have never killed anyone," said Marguerite sharply.
"Nor have I," said Alaric. "Not that I care if you believe I did."
"You have a stone for a heart, Alaric."
"At least I have one. Yours, my dear, shriveled up and blew away years ago. Now, you will listen to me. You will stay away from Lady Rowena Arlingby. If I hear that you have spoken one word to her, that you have even looked at her, you will find yourself compelled to return to France. Do you understand?"
Marguerite looked up into Alaric's furious face and shivered. "Why does she mean so much to you? Do you still want revenge on Malcolm that badly?"
"This has nothing to do with Malcolm. This has only to do with you and me. I trust you will obey my orders."
"And what if Lady Rowena comes to me?" asked Marguerite. "Am I to cut her dead?"
Alaric sighed. "Why would Rowena come to you, Marguerite? I am sure she knows her aunt disapproves of you heartily."
"Because she has learned I am a friend of her brother's," said Marguerite artlessly. "Surely the child is curious to know about him."
"You mean you told her you know Malcolm." Alaric's voice was sarcastic. "If she comes to you, Marguerite, you are to send her away. She is not to be bothered by your malice."
"I am not the one attempting to seduce an innocent, Alaric." Marguerite waved her fan gently. "You are no better than I am."
"Perhaps not. Nonetheless, you will not meddle in my affairs." Alaric placed a hand under her chin and tipped her head up. Their eyes met, his determined, hers full of challenge. "You will do as I say, or you will regret it. Good evening, Marguerite."
Alaric turned on his heel and walked away. Marguerite gazed after him angrily.
"We shall see, Alaric, who wins in the end," she murmured.
Chapter 9
Alaric dismounted from a hackney cab and signaled to the coachman to wait. He walked casually down the alley leading to the Belmont garden wall, keeping an alert eye out to make sure no one was watching him. London was a dangerous city, and there were always thieves about, but he was well able to defend himself and felt far more worried that he would be sighted by some inquisitive member of the ton, or a servant, who would doubtless spread gossip.
Alaric reflected bitterly on Marguerite's behavior earlier at the opera. The sight of her with Rowena had made him furious, and her obvious attempt to meddle in his affairs only made him angrier. He would have to keep her away by any means possible. And he would have to find a way to still her malicious tongue. He could not have it said that he meant to seduce Rowena. Seduction would mean marriage, or the girl's ruination, and he could not have either. Still, the thought lingered in his mind. Rowena would make him a suitable wife, and he should marry and raise an heir. He resolutely quashed the idea. It was a foolish notion, brought about by his wish to protect Rowena from Marguerite. She was a diversion, nothing more, and he would soon be weary of her.
When he climbed the garden wall a few moments later he found Rowena waiting for him. She stood near the house, a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders, still dressed in the shimmering violet gown she had worn at the opera. She looked like a ghost, the moonlight bathing her in its pale glow, illuminating her own exquisite fairness. Alaric paused, enchanted by the sight.
Rowena broke the spell by striding towards him, a determined look on her charming face. "What did you mean by your behavior tonight?" she demanded. "Why did you drag Lady Bingham from our box like that?"
Alaric smiled. Her directness was part of her charm, he thought. He could rely on Rowena to say exactly what was on her mind.
"I had the impression that your aunt was not enjoying her company," he said coolly. "It seemed only polite to rescue her."
Rowena paused, the annoyance in her expression fading a little. "It was not because of me?"
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "I certainly do not think your aunt would consider Lady Bingham a suitable companion for you."
"Then you were being prudish. I had not thought it of you, my lord."
"Prudish? I have been accused of many things in my time, but I believe that is not one of them." Alaric took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Believe me, Rowena, you do not want to become acquainted with Lady Bingham."
"Oh, I do not care to be her friend," said Rowena eagerly. "She seems to be a remarkably foolish woman. But she knew Malcolm, and has seen him recently, in Paris! I believe we might be able to get some information from her. You seem to know her, my lord. Was she acquainted with Malcolm at the time of the murder?"
"She certainly was," said Alaric grimly. "But her opinions would be of no use to us."
"I don't know how you can say that, my lord. You are obviously a longtime friend of hers." Rowena's voice sounded a touch perturbed.
"That is how I know she would be unable to help us, and I would hardly call her a friend. Lady Bingham is neither observant nor intelligent. If she recalled any details of the events we are concerned with at all, they would be highly suspect."
There was a pause. "How well do you know Lady Bingham, my lord?" asked Rowena in a small voice. She hated herself for asking the question, but it had simply popped out against her will. Despite her claim that her only interest in Lady Bingham was that lady’s friendship with Malcolm, deep inside she knew that she was far more curious about any relationship the woman might have with Lord Brayleigh.
"She is an old friend," sai
d Alaric curtly.
"Is that all?" Rowena's voice was very small.
"What do you mean by that?" Alaric took her delicate wrists in his hands and squeezed slightly.
"Only that you seemed to know each other very well." Rowena's eyes rose to meet his for a moment and then dropped behind the shield of her long, pale lashes.
Alaric cursed silently. Rowena was no fool, and she was bound to hear of his past with Lady Bingham sooner or later. It would be better if she heard it from him, rather than some gossip, or even worse, Marguerite herself.
"Lady Bingham was once important to me," he said severely. "That was long ago and I regret it now."
"Was she your mistress?"
"Rowena, you must not talk in that manner." Alaric was genuinely shocked. "That is not something we should discuss. It is highly improper."
"Nonsense. I am meeting you alone in a garden in the middle of the night; I can think of nothing more improper than that. No one watching us would realize that we are merely friends bent on unraveling a mystery." Rowena spoke airily, hoping to convince herself. "I need to know about Lady Bingham if I am to determine whether she would be of help to us or not."
Alaric grimaced. "I fail to see how she could help. It is entirely unimportant."
"I believe I should be the judge of that." Rowena folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
Alaric groaned. "Very well. Marguerite was my mistress twelve years ago. I was very much infatuated with her; I foolishly believed myself to be in love. She was married already to old Bingham, but we were not at all circumspect, I am ashamed to admit."
"She is very beautiful," volunteered Rowena in a wistful voice.
"Very," responded Alaric drily. "But you are far lovelier, Rowena."
She colored and looked away. "Please, continue your story, my lord."
"I would rather not. It is not a pleasant tale."
Rowena swallowed. "You must tell me; it is important to me."
Alaric shrugged, his temper rising slightly. "Your brother also was quite enamored of Marguerite. He decided he would take her from me. I regret to say we both behaved like the callow fools we were, and the entire situation came to have a life of its own."
A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1) Page 7
