"I had almost convinced him that day in Green Park until you arrived and made him so angry," said Rowena. "He wants to believe me, I think. I am his sister, after all. He wouldn’t want me to be married to a killer. And he knows that I believe in you."
Alaric drew a deep breath. If she was leading him into another trap he stood a good chance of being made a fool of again. But her arguments were persuasive. Why should he put more faith in Lady Bingham’s word than in Rowena’s? He knew from experience that Rowena was by far the more honorable woman, and that Marguerite would do anything she could to hurt him. She had been trying to drive a wedge between him and Rowena for months. Had he allowed her to succeed at last?
Rowena’s violet eyes shimmered with tears. "Please, Alaric. If we can put this matter behind us, it will make a great difference in our lives. I would do anything to repair the harm I have caused, but there is no way I can make it better except by convincing you that I speak the truth. Please meet with my brother."
"What makes you think Malcolm will wish to meet with me?"
Rowena grimaced. "He won’t; he is almost as stubborn as you. But he knows that he can never come home until this mystery is fully solved. That will be enough inducement for him."
Alaric shrugged. Perhaps he was being an idiot, walking into a trap with his eyes wide open. But he couldn’t stand being estranged from Rowena. He had to know for sure if she was honest or not. This was the only way to find out.
"I will meet with Malcolm," he said softly. "But," he added, raising his voice as Rowena gave a tiny shriek of excitement, "But that does not mean that I will believe him."
"I am sure you will be convinced, Alaric." Rowena bobbed up and down with joy. "Thank you, Alaric. You will not regret this, I promise you."
She stood suddenly and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed his arms around her and drew her close. He could feel the warmth of her bare skin through his clothing, and he felt himself begin to grow hard again.
"I hope not," he said. "And in the meantime, I think we should get you to bed."
Rowena looked up and smiled. "Only if you come with me."
"Trust me. You will not be alone tonight." Alaric swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the room.
Chapter 33
Rowena paced up and down the library, eying Alaric nervously. He looked up from the book he was reading and watched her as she moved back and forth across the room. He stirred slightly in his chair, remembering the night before and the heat of their passion. He realized that it had been an incredible relief to him to finally discuss the anger that lay between them, and to find that he might not be estranged from her forever. The wound that had been opened by her lies was partially healed now, and he felt a glimmer of hope that all would be well. But he needed to tread carefully. If this was yet another trap, it could prove fatal for him.
"There is no need for this anxiety, Rowena. I gave you my word to listen to Malcolm, and I will do so."
Rowena sighed. "I am sure you will, Alaric. But how do I know he will listen to you? And what if you do not believe him? I could not stand to see the two of you quarrel again. This is all the world to me."
Alaric closed the book and stood up, walking over to her and taking her hands in his. Rowena closed her eyes, savoring his closeness. She could remember few times that Alaric had offered her a spontaneous caress unconnected to lovemaking.
"I am already half-convinced that you are right," he said soothingly. "You were very eloquent on your brother’s behalf. And I should not take Marguerite’s word over yours or anyone else’s. Even a flighty fellow like Malcolm may be more reliable than she is."
"Malcolm is not flighty," protested Rowena. "He is rash, and heedless perhaps, but he means well."
"I will not comment on the materials the road to hell is constructed with," murmured Alaric, squeezing her hands gently. "Your brother and I have a difficult past behind us, but I believe I can set it aside for your sake, and for the sake of solving this troublesome mystery. All that is necessary is that he be willing to do the same thing."
"I am sure he will be," said Rowena, though even to her own ears her voice sounded uncertain. Malcolm, she had learned, was inclined to be headstrong.
Ferguson opened the door and paused when he saw his master and mistress standing so close together. With a gentle smile Alaric set her aside, and Ferguson bowed.
"A gentleman is here to see you, my lord. He says his name is Bates." Ferguson managed to convey the distinct impression that he did not believe this for a moment.
Alaric suppressed a smile. "Send him in, Ferguson. We are expecting him."
Ferguson bowed again and exited, and a few moments later Malcolm appeared in the doorway. He wore the same brown wig that he had been sporting in Green Park, and Rowena had to stifle a giggle at his appearance, for it had slipped slightly and his own blonde hair could be seen underneath it.
"Come in, Malcolm," she said hastily, coming forward and taking his hand. He smiled and gave her a brief hug, and then turned towards Alaric with a challenging look.
"Good morning, Brayleigh," he said.
Alaric stepped forward and extended his hand. "Good morning, Arlingby. Or should I say Wroxton? You are the new Earl."
A certain tension seemed to go out of Malcolm. "Since my father’s unfortunate death last year," he answered. "That is one of the reasons I returned to England."
"That and the news that your sister had married the devil, I gather," said Alaric.
Malcolm stiffened. "I was concerned, naturally. I had no reason to think that you meant anything but harm to members of my family."
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "You always were rash, Wroxton. Did you really think I had been plotting for twelve years to increase your misery by marrying your sister?"
"I think you were ripe for any sort of mischief that might hurt me or my family." Malcolm’s voice rose as he spoke.
"You delude yourself. I have had a great many things to think of in the past twelve years besides you and the Arlingbys. Vengeance has not been a consuming passion of mine--though it would seem to have dominated your life. What a pity." Alaric sneered slightly.
"Damn you, Brayleigh. I came here because Rowena assured me that you would be reasonable. I see that you have fooled us both once again. No doubt the magistrates will be coming to arrest me at any moment. I knew I should not have trusted you." Malcolm’s hands clenched into fists and he took a threatening step towards Alaric.
"Stop it this instant!" Rowena’s voice cut through the ominous atmosphere of the room like a knife. "I have no idea what the two of you think you’re doing, but this is utterly ridiculous. Can’t you spend two minutes together without quarrelling?"
Alaric tore his eyes from Malcolm’s angry face and turned towards Rowena. Her face was flushed, and her spine alarmingly straight. She looked as though she would quite happily tear them both to shreds. The tightness around his mouth disappeared and he smiled slightly.
"I apologize, my dear. It seems that your brother brings out my worst instincts. I am afraid it was always this way."
"You should apologize to Malcolm, not to me. He is a guest in our home, and he deserves to be courteously treated."
Alaric looked faintly taken aback, but he turned to Malcolm and smiled slightly. "Rowena is right. You deserve better. My apologies, Wroxton."
Rowena turned to her brother, who looked startled and suspicious. "And you will apologize as well, Malcolm. You came in here looking for a fight, and it is hardly surprising that Alaric obliged you, under the circumstances."
"Dash it, Rowena, how can you stand it? The man acts as though he’s royalty, ordering everyone about--"
"That’s enough, Malcolm. I asked you to apologize, and you will do so. Alaric is no longer the same man you knew twelve years ago. The two of you need to forget this ridiculous competition you have indulged in and begin to behave as the adults you supposedly are."
Malcolm stared at his sister. "Lord, Rowena, when did you become such a termagant? You were such a quiet little girl. I’d say your husband needs to take you to task. You can’t talk to us like that."
Alaric grinned and offered his hand to Malcolm again. "You see, Wroxton, I am quite henpecked. Do you think I would have saddled myself with a shrew like that for any reason except my own desires? I believe the two of us need to work together, if only to prevent her from riding roughshod over us."
Malcolm took the proffered hand and shook it, still giving Rowena a dubious look. "I apologize, Brayleigh, for my hasty words. It was wrong of me to presume you meant me harm."
"And I apologize for my remarks. It is difficult for me to remember that we are supposed to be friends now. I will try to do better in the future."
The men stopped and looked at Rowena, who nodded approvingly. "That is much better. I believe that we can progress from here."
"Please sit down, Wroxton," said Alaric, indicating a high-backed chair and moving towards a low table where a crystal decanter and tray of glasses awaited. "May I offer you some brandy?"
"Thank you." Malcolm took the glass and drained it in one gulp. "I never thought I’d be in this house again. Do you remember the last time I was here?"
"Vividly. You threatened my life, I believe, and I responded by telling you to go to the devil." Alaric took a sip of his own brandy and settled into a chair across from Malcolm.
"Which I did, unfortunately. I’ve lost twelve years of my life, Brayleigh. You can hardly blame me for being bitter."
"It is a pity that you wasted your hatred on the wrong person. I did not kill Ingram." Alaric raised his eyes and looked directly at Malcolm. "It is necessary that you believe that before we go any further. I will not have you abusing Rowena’s trust in an attempt to pin his death on me."
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. "I would never hurt Rowena in such a way. And how do I know that you are not doing exactly what you suspect me of? I have no guarantee that you did not marry Rowena in an attempt to lure me back here and turn me in."
Rowena sighed audibly. "It seems the two of you will simply have to forget your past suspicions. I have no trouble believing you both to be innocent. Why cannot you each make the same assumption?"
Alaric surveyed her over the top of his glass. "We lack the habit of trust, I believe. It is one of your most charming qualities, my dear, but Malcolm and I have been put through a great deal in the past, and we each believed the other to be at fault. That is a difficult thing to dismiss."
"You will have to trust one another," said Rowena flatly. "Or, you will have to trust me when I tell you that each of you is innocent. Will that suit you?"
Alaric looked at her consideringly. "Very well. I will take your word for it, Rowena. If you say Malcolm is innocent, I will believe you, despite the evidence to the contrary."
Malcolm gaped at him. "You are taking Rowena’s word for it? Brayleigh is accepting the judgment of another?"
Alaric rose and brought the brandy decanter over to his chair, and poured both himself and Malcolm another glass. "You see, Rowena has wrought a remarkable change in me," he murmured.
"I’ll say she has. Are you in love with her, Brayleigh?" Malcolm took another sip of the brandy and fixed Alaric with an accusing eye.
Alaric blanched. "I respect your sister greatly," he said softly. "Her opinion carries a great deal of weight with me."
Malcolm laughed shortly. "So you haven’t changed completely. Still no heart, eh? Well, if you can trust your wife, I can surely trust my sister. We are in agreement; neither one of us killed Ingram. What do we do now? Any suggestions, Rowena?"
Chapter 34
Rowena jumped. When Malcolm had asked Alaric his startling question, her heart had begun to pound in her chest, almost drowning out her husband’s reply. She could expect nothing more than his respect, she thought fiercely. After the turbulent past few weeks she was lucky to have even that. And she could hardly expect him to admit to Malcolm that he loved her. But she still felt a sense of emptiness at his response.
"Suggestions?" she stammered.
"Now that we are agreed on our collective innocence, we need to proceed with discovering who is the real killer," said Malcolm. "You have been thinking about this far longer than either Brayleigh or myself. How do you suggest we go about investigating this matter?"
"Yes, enlighten us, Rowena," said Alaric teasingly. "You have been pestering me about this since we met. How should we proceed?"
Rowena glowered at him. "You know very well that I have no plan. It has taken all my wit and energy to get the two of you in the same room without killing each other. I have had no time at all to waste on the true culprit."
"It seems that we will have to begin from the beginning," said Alaric. "If I did not do it and Malcolm did not do it, then who did?"
"Someone who wanted the Pearl of Sirsi?" suggested Rowena. "Surely there are other collectors of antique objects who would have an interest in it."
"Perhaps. Dennington is a collector, and Yarling has an extensive, though indiscriminate, accumulation of jewels and precious stones."
"Yarling...I hadn’t considered him. I could see Yarling doing it," said Malcolm.
"Why?" asked Rowena. "Is he particularly villainous?"
"He’s got red hair," explained Malcolm. "I’ve never liked red hair."
"Unfortunately, that is not enough of a reason," observed Alaric. "And I seem to recollect that Yarling was out of the country twelve years ago, visiting his Irish estates. He could hardly have orchestrated this crime from there. No, I think Yarling is not our culprit. And Dennington is far too old; even that long ago he was confined to a bath chair. He wouldn’t make a suitable suspect."
"What a pity. Is there no one else?" asked Rowena.
"Not that I can think of," said Alaric. "Most collectors are fairly straightforward people. They offer to buy something, and if it is not forthcoming they retire from the field. I am an exception, of course, but even I have never killed to satisfy my desires."
"Then why would someone else go to all this trouble?" demanded Malcolm.
"Possibly to get rid of you, Malcolm," said Alaric. "You will notice that this little plot worked very well to get you out of the way. Who would stand to profit from your death?"
Malcolm shook his head. "I can’t think of anyone. I had my share of enemies, but you were chief among them, Brayleigh, and we have agreed you are not to blame. I had nothing much that anyone would envy me."
"You were heir to an earldom," pointed out Alaric. "And now that your father has died, someone besides you is the Earl of Wroxton."
Rowena’s mouth fell open. "Cousin Felix? Do you think cousin Felix could have done it?"
"It is a possibility. He was the person with the most to gain from Malcolm’s death or disappearance."
"It can’t be Felix," objected Malcolm. "He’s got to be fifty if he’s a day, and he’s dead boring. It wouldn’t occur to him to do anything so drastic. Besides, he didn’t need the money. He’s a rich man in his own right. Inherited a pile from old great-aunt Augusta."
"Perhaps he wanted the title," argued Rowena. "And he would have been only thirty-eight twelve years ago. Perhaps he craved the title, not the money. Maybe," she said, warming to her argument, "Margaret wouldn’t marry him without a title, or at least the promise of one. He may have been driven to such a crime in order to win his bride."
"They were married fourteen years ago, before any of this happened," said Malcolm bluntly. "I remember the wedding; Father made me go to it. Deuced dull affair, and the champagne was terrible. Margaret couldn’t have been happier with Felix, title or no title; her family was just barely making ends meet before she landed him. I’m sure he’s been supporting the lot of them ever since."
Rowena’s face fell. "Well, perhaps she began to work on him after the marriage. Perhaps her ambitions grew grander as time passed."
Malcolm gave her a pitying glance. "I don�
�t see it, Rowena. Margaret has no more ambition than a mouse. She wouldn’t let Felix come to town after their marriage and dresses only in gray and brown; not the sort of woman who wants to make a splash in the world."
"It does seem to be a weak theory," admitted Alaric. "Though it would have suited us admirably. Does no one else dislike you, Malcolm?"
"Scores of people," said Malcolm cheerfully. "But none of them would go to such lengths to do away with me. Any of the men I knew would have challenged me to a duel or had me shot by a footpad. Whoever did this went to a great deal of trouble to concoct a complex plot. Looks like something a woman would do."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Rowena. "Are you implying that women are less bold and more given to deceit than men?"
"Not at all, not at all. Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, Rowena," pleaded Malcolm. "Dash it all, when did you get so touchy? I only meant that none of the men I knew would have had that sort of finesse. Took a lot of planning, and a thorough knowledge of what both Alaric and I were up to, after all."
"What women disliked you?" asked Rowena curiously.
"None of ‘em," said Malcolm smugly. "I was very popular with the ladies."
Alaric laughed. "Surely you had hurt the feelings of one or two here or there," he said. "What of Melinda Marlowe?"
Malcolm flushed and glanced at Rowena. "That blew over quickly. And I can hardly see Melinda Marlowe creeping about with a pistol in an orchard, damn it."
"No, you are right," said Alaric. "I don’t think she would have done it. What a shame. All our leads are going nowhere."
"What did you do to Melinda Marlowe?" asked Rowena curiously.
"Nothing, nothing at all. That is entirely beside the point," said Malcolm hastily. "We are discussing who may have wanted me dead."
"I think we should consider another possibility," said Rowena slowly. "What if the plot was aimed not at Malcolm, but rather at Alaric?"
"What are you talking about?" asked Malcolm crossly. "It was I who was almost hung."
A Collector's Item: Rowena's After Dark Regency Romance (The Arlingbys Book 1) Page 30
