“Maybe four or five...” he deliberately underplayed the incident.
“And you took them all on and survived?” Jace’s voice held awe.
“Looks like it.” Hearing his friend’s wry laugh, he bristled. “It wasn’t funny. I didn’t even know I had those skills. I was certain I was about to meet my end. I don’t know who was more surprised when my leg shot out and kicked the first man, them or me! And then my body reacted without my willing it. It spun and heaved several others into oblivion. After I handled one or two more, the others ran away, so I…”
Jace laughed quietly then looked thoughtful. “That means they have you pegged, my friend. They must have wanted you alive, to get the documents. But their attempt to burn your house down, with you in it, means that now they’re desperate enough to kill you and hope the documents go up in flames too! We’ll have to ensure you are well protected until the Chief gets back to town.”
“At least now I know who I am, and who my enemies are.” Or most of them. He began moving towards the back door. “Can we meet at Sylvester’s tonight, at eleven, to discuss our plans to keep me and my household safe?” He opened the door. “And could you get in touch with my brothers and ask them to arrive a bit later. They must be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“Your brothers went to your house and your “wife” told them she was renting the place for the Season and had never heard of Viscount Selwich.”
“Oh – my – god!” He gave a humorless laugh at how complicated life had become while he was without his memory. “I’ll wager that took them aback.” He stepped outside. “Just make sure you don’t let the Vanisher or his cohorts anywhere near her.” He set off toward the park.
Jace shook his head. “Reed, my friend, you’ll be wed before the summer is out.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Foster, where have you been? I’ve been home for a good half-hour! I have to talk to you!”
“What about?”
Tally noted he hadn’t replied to her question. “First, where is Mr. Gordon?”
“He went out a little while ago,” he said quietly, then seeing her activity, his voice rose to its normal tone. “What are you doing?”
“Packing! We have to move out. Immediately!” She was in her bed chamber haphazardly stuffing her clothes into her valise.
“You mean we have been in the wrong house all along?” Despite their recent suspicions, he sounded disbelieving. “You best fold them gowns, Missy, or you won’t be able to wear them. You have no maid to iron them for you,” he cautioned her, more from habit than from any real concern about the state of her clothes.
“As if I’ve never done that before,” she scoffed. She went to gather more clothes, piled them on her bed and, heeding his advice despite her disclaimer, began to fold them. He was right. It would cause her untold extra work.
She was too overwrought. She needed to regain her composure.
“Mr. Hornings said Monsieur had rented the house next door, not this one,” she explained. “At first, he was very angry. He told me I was responsible for him breaking his word to his client. I was relieved Mr. Mason was with me.”
She couldn’t hold back a smug little grin. “You should have seen how quickly the lawyer softened his tone once Mr. Mason moved forward and, in his quiet but implacable manner, told the man to stop browbeating me.” She laughed a little as she recalled the attorney’s reaction. “Mr. Hornings almost apologized, he was so intimidated. And when I showed him Monsieur’s letter, he unbent enough to allow that the error did appear to be Monsieur Moreau’s.”
“He’s given us until the day after tomorrow to move out, but I want us to be gone sooner. This very minute, if I could manage it.”
“Before your grandmother arrives!”
“Yes! The sooner I can be gone from here the better.” She was anxious to set things straight. “If I hadn’t been in this room when Mr. Gordon climbed in that night, I’d never have shot him. We wouldn’t be in this muddle and I certainly would never have had to pretend to be married.” She knew it was unreasonable, but she felt that most of her troubles would disappear once they left here.
“I seem to remember that was the scheme you and Monsieur concocted prior to our coming to London,” Foster reminded her. “The only hitch was, a real husband showed up!” He chortled.
“You think that’s amusing, do you?” But he was absolutely right. If only Monsieur came home now and she could begin her dreamed-of future all over again. A little tarnished now, it was true — there was still the matter of her father’s name being forged on her paintings — but she’d be very thankful if that was the only thing she had to resolve after the madness of the past few weeks.
“How are you going to break the news to yon Gordon?”
“Carefully?”
He grimaced at her weak attempt to be funny. But she was actually being quite serious. She was not looking forward to that confession!
“He’s not going to take it well when he finds out you two aren’t married. He likes being your husband a little too much for my peace of mind! I’d better have my blunderbuss ready.
“He’ll probably have us thrown into Newgate! Especially if he finds out I’m the one who shot him.”
Foster surprised her by shaking his head, making a complete reversal. “He’s not like that. He’ll understand.” He sounded quite certain.
“Since when have you become an admirer of his?”
“Mebbe about the time he saved your neck outside Moreau’s studio?”
She winced. Foster was a sarcastic old dear, but he rarely sharpened his wit on her. He usually preferred to bludgeon her with a direct hit. His acerbic tone meant he thought she was being unfair.
“And I’m grateful for that.” She shook her head morosely. “I’m going to have to tell him all of it.” She snagged her nail on the strap buckle of her valise. Could nothing go right? What had she done to deserve such bad luck? “While he was anonymous, it seemed less... serious… to continue with the marriage charade, but now that I know who he is… what he is, I’m terrified.”
Her voice rose with each word. She was in so much trouble! “But now, even though he hasn’t got his memory back, I have to risk telling him. What if, by doing so, I impede his chances of regaining his memory?”
“I suspect he has more of it back than we know and the rest will be coming back real soon,” Foster said. “I didn’t tell you earlier, because I didn’t want to worry you none, but I think he may have remembered more than he’s been letting on.”
She stopped her folding and looked up sharply in askance.
He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Today, I spotted yon Gordon leaving the house by the back door, so I followed him. He went all the way to the park and out the other entrance, down the lane behind the houses across the street and into that house where those men be spying on us. Once he was inside, I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I saw enough. They know each other.”
“And you still don’t think I should be worried!” She couldn’t believe Foster hadn’t told her this, the moment he came in.
“I know it sounds strange, Missy, but I’m not as worried as I used to be. I’ve seen the way he is with you and I’m confident that Gordon… or Eames… or Selwich, whatever name he goes by, has no evil intentions towards you. Quite the opposite.”
Upset with her own dire imaginings, she was no longer hearing what he was saying. Full of nerves, she paced. “Could this day get any worse? First, a proposal and now this!”
“What proposal?” Foster looked alarmed.
“Mr. Dubuc. I met him at the Library today, after going to the lawyers. He’d led me to believe he had something important to tell me. I thought he must have news from Monsieur. You know, in reply to the letter he said he’d try to deliver to his uncle on my behalf.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. How was he gonna do that if he don’t know where his uncle is?”
She flashed him an affectionate grin.
Trust Foster to catch the inconsistency of it. “Exactly what I’ve wondered... but it was worth a try.” Her smile faded. “I was mortified. He got down on his knee and proposed! He probably thought that, by promising to try to deliver the letter — even if he had no idea how to do that — he could turn me up sweet and I’d accept his proposal.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t know me at all, does he?”
“I take it you refused him?”
She gave him a “did-you-have-to-ask” look.
He began to stroke his pugnacious chin.
It was a sign he was thinking. She noticed his swollen knuckles and winced in sympathy with him. He must be in terrible pain, yet here he was listening to her woes, determined to help her out of this morass. What would she do without him, her staunchest friend and supporter?
“Mebbe he has something to do with his uncle’s disappearance.”
“Of course not.” She discounted the idea as easily as she had the first time he suggested it. Despite his age, she’d be more inclined to blame Beauclaire, the agent, for both Monsieur’s disappearance and signing her father’s name on her paintings. Monsieur’s friend made her feel uncomfortable, with his odd questions and comments. And like she’d said to Reed, why would Mr. Dubuc want to bite the hand that fed him?
She turned back to her packing. “We don’t have time to think about that now.” She sighed morosely. “Best get started on your packing, Foster. The sooner we move our things next door, the sooner we can begin a new slate. If he’s recovered his memory, Mr. Gordon might even evict us!” She finished buckling the strap on her valise and straightened. “If you think about it, this is the perfect solution. Especially now that my grandmother insists on moving in with us.”
That made Foster budge. He hobbled to the door, faster than she’d seen him stir in a long time.
Shaking her head and smiling at his reaction, she said, “I can’t have her living in the same house with Reed.”
“Amen to that,” he agreed and pulled the door shut on his way out.
That was the silver lining in this dark cloud, she realized. She didn’t know how she was going to explain their move to Reed, but she was relieved Grandma Lawton was going to live in a house minus him. With her ill luck of late, she’d count herself fortunate if she emerged from this mess with her reputation intact and not being forced into getting married.
* * *
Reed had just returned from his meeting with Jace. He heard Tally moving about in her room and went to join her there, ready to have it out with her. First, though, he was going to act the loving husband and see what she would say to him.
“Hello, my sweet.” He leaned down to drop a kiss on her lips. She turned her head so that his kiss landed on her cheek.
She was upset. Yet she didn’t even know that he’d recovered his memory. Something else must be troubling her. Had there been another attempt on her life?
There he went worrying about her again! He mustn’t allow himself to be sidetracked. He was furious with her and itching to let her know what he thought of her! “What have you been doing this fine day?”
“This morning we went to the library, as I told you. Foster put the book we got for you on your night table.”
She was fidgety... nervous.
And she would be even more so if she knew that his memory had come back, that he knew her for the lying jade she was!
“You’re packing. Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes, I’m moving out of this house and into the townhouse next door.”
“Moving? Next door?” He hadn’t expected this! He didn’t have to act startled, he was in fact astonished. Something had happened while he was out. Had the attorney come early? And what was this about next door?
Here he’d been preparing for a battle royal with her, but not this. Not to find her slinking away without an explanation. Perhaps he should have expected it, after hearing that his brothers had been here and met with her. What had they said? Done?
“Why ever for?” he asked, then listened in silence while she explained about the error in houses and why it was imperative that they move as soon as possible.
“I see.” Was she not going to tell him, even now, that he owned this house? He’d kept the lawyer’s letter, expecting to be there. He’d wanted her to feel the heat of embarrassment at being evicted and, then, he’d planned to straighten matters out temporarily until he knew what was what. But surely she had to know he was the owner. She’d been living here before he even arrived.
Maybe she’d react if he went along with it. “Well I don’t have much, so my part should be fairly easy. I can help with the rest of the household items.”
He certainly had no intention of telling the little liar he’d finally recovered his memory. He would play this out.
He wanted her to leave. He did, didn’t he?
But before she did, he needed to understand what it was all about. Could it be as simple as her being in the wrong house, him climbing in the window and her, terrified, shooting him? Sounded unbelievable and like a lot of coincidence to him.
If it wasn’t that, then what was her ploy? What did she want from him? Why hadn’t she just told him the truth?
“No!” At his surprised look, she seemed to realize she’d reacted too vehemently and, after a calming breath, she began, “as to that… you and Mason will be remaining in this house.”
She glanced at him nervously, not knowing what to expect.
And so she should. She hadn’t revealed important facts to him when she should have, so he didn’t see why he should reveal his memory recovery to her.
She gave him a piercing look. Did she suspect he knew something more than he was letting on?
But she couldn’t know his memory had returned. No one knew except Jace.
It must be his damn foolish guilty conscience at not telling her, that was making him think she knew more. But she was the one at fault here, not him!
Moving behind her, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “Why do you want me to stay here if you are going? My place is beside you.” Hah! What was she gong to make of that?
He nudged her chin up gently with a finger. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He was amazed at his self control. He was giving her enough rope to hang herself. He was torn between wanting to kiss her into submission and wanting to shake her for all her lies.
“I... You...” She was struggling to find words. To say what? To tell him that he meant nothing to her, that she’d taken care of him expecting some reward?
“Yes, my dearest Brown Eyes, tell me what is in your heart.” Your black heart full of lies! As if he’d believe anything she told him now. He wanted to! Wanted to believe she was fond of him, but how could he ever trust her again?
She looked into his face, searching, trying to penetrate within. She sensed he was behaving differently, but didn’t know why. Well, she could wait for her answer. Just like he had waited for her to help him find his memory!
There was a sudden pounding on the door. Damnation! If that was Foster again!
He didn’t want to be interrupted. He had too much to ask her. Too much to learn about her reasons for doing what she did. Too much to tell her about how betrayed he was feeling.
But this time it wasn’t the butler who intruded. Someone was at the front door and Foster was likely the one who answered it. He probably knew his Missy was in here attempting to confess her deception. Those two were thick as thieves.
Reed understood the servant’s untimely interruptions now. He’d been trying to save his “Missy” from Reed’s advances. He inhaled sharply. What if they’d completed the deed! They’d come awfully close. Would he have remembered then? Would he have known she wasn’t his beloved spouse but a complete stranger, a lying baggage and a total fraud?
He didn’t want to even think about that!
Joseph came skidding to the door.
“Ma’am.”
“Yes, Joseph?”
If she
wasn’t remonstrating with the boy for running, she must be really distressed. The boy’s racing about was a continuous scold between them.
“Mr. Foster said to tell you that yer grandmother is here, with her bags, ready to move in.” Joseph’s eyes grew big at the mention of her baggage, which must mean there was a mountain of bags. The child was becoming such a miniature replica of Foster, Reed found himself smiling. His good humor, however, vanished quickly. As soon as the boy’s message repeated in his head.
Good Lord! He knew who her grandmother was! His grandmother’s best friend!
Lady Lawton. A formidable, outspoken dowager. And he’d just about told her he was wed to her granddaughter!
Yet, she’d said nothing? Why not? What was her game?
More to the point, what game did she think he was playing? And did she intend to do something about it?
He had no idea why Tally had perpetuated the lie, but he was confident he knew how to handle her. Her grandmother was another matter. Dealing with her could become complicated and would involve his family.
She could so easily have raised a hue and cry and, in the circumstances, he would have dishonored his whole family had he refused to offer for Tally. If the plan was to ensnare him into marrying her grandchild, why had she kept silent?
He didn’t know the answers to those questions, but he was certain of one thing: he wasn’t staying around to meet her again, now that he knew who she was and who he was!
“I’ll start getting my things together, while you see to your grandmother.” He was out of the room in a flash. He ignored her half-hearted “Oh but…” and headed for the back stairs, taking them two at a time, all to avoid coming face to face with her relative. Reflecting on it, he was pretty sure he’d seen relief on Tally’s face as he left. Seemed she was no keener on him meeting her grandparent than he was.
If so, she couldn’t be trying to entrap him. What better way to force him into marriage than to have her eminently respectable grandmother witness them living in the same house together?
He needed to think about this a little more. Yes, moving with her would embarrass her and he was curious to see how she planned on ending this farce, but he was too worried about her being harmed by the Vanisher to allow himself that luxury. Naturally, he had no intention of living next door with her! He just wanted to make her worry about it for a while. To punish her for what she’d done.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 37
