by Stella Riley
‘No. And I wouldn’t know where to start looking for one. Look … none of this is anything to do with me and I can’t see why you think it is.’
‘I’m coming to that.’ Eden let another silence develop before saying, ‘Why do you want your mother’s letters to Stephen Neville?’
‘Why do you think? If it was your mother, wouldn’t you want them?’
‘You’re saying you wanted them for purely sentimental reasons.’
‘Yes.’
This time Eden detected a difference. It was very possibly the first lie.
‘I see,’ he said mildly. ‘So … not because you have reason to question either your own or your brother’s legitimacy?’
The blood drained slowly from Mr Wakefield’s skin and his hands clenched on the carved arms of his chair. He said, ‘No. Not at all.’
Ah, thought Eden. The second lie. And now I know how bad he is at it.
‘Try again,’ he said mildly. ‘We both know that isn’t true.’
‘Do we?’ muttered Gilbert. ‘I’m beginning to wonder what the hell you do know.’
‘The same thing you do. I know that one of you – I’d guess your brother – was sired by Stephen Neville.’
Gilbert sucked in a raw breath and sagged against the chair-back. Finally he said, ‘So. It’s true, then.’
‘Weren’t you already sure that it was?’
‘No.’ He paused, plainly struggling to master both thoughts and words. ‘Mother whispered something of the sort. But she was dying, semi-delirious and … and Edmund hadn’t been treating her kindly for quite a long time. She said it, yes – but, as much as I wanted it to be true, I didn’t dare rely on it.’
‘So you needed the letters to find proof. That’s understandable. And supposing you found them and they supplied it – what then?’
‘I don’t know.’ Seemingly unable to sit still any longer, Gilbert surged to his feet and swept away across the room. Then he said jerkily, ‘Edmund and I don’t get on. No. That’s an understatement. There’ve been times in recent years when I’ve hated him and he me.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Needless to say, I’d like to take the title from him – but, since my father accepted him, that’s a damned sight easier said than done. In truth, I don’t know what I’d do or even if I could do anything. I just felt I had to know.’ He stopped and then, as if the words were being wrenched from him, said, ‘Hell. Since you know so much, I may as well tell you. Mother was dying and it was near the end. I’d been sitting with her and that’s when she told me about Edmund. There was something else she seemed to want to say but she drifted off to sleep. A servant called me downstairs on some foolish pretext. I wasn’t away more than ten minutes but when I went back, she’d gone. She’d gone … and Edmund was there, holding her hand and smiling fondly at her in a way I’d never seen before.’
The inference was plain enough. Eden said slowly, ‘You think he … hastened her end?’
‘I suspected it. I still do,’ replied Gilbert bitterly. ‘That’s a terrible thing to think of one’s brother, isn’t it? But not quite as terrible as not being sure.’
‘No. No, I can see that.’ Eden continued to survey the other man while he debated the various courses of action. Then, making up his mind, he said slowly, ‘You’d better come and see the rest of what Mistress Neville and I have found. If my own suspicions are correct, there is a great deal more to your brother than meets the eye. And from what you’ve just told me, I doubt any of it will come as a shock.’
* * *
When the door slammed behind Eden, Lydia remained quite still staring at the food on her plate. Her appetite had gone and, even if it hadn’t, she didn’t think she could swallow past the foolish lump in her throat. Last night’s rosy dreams evaporated without a trace and, trying to replace misery with resentment, she said, ‘He didn’t have to jump to conclusions quite so readily.’
Nicholas continued placidly eating. ‘No?’
‘No. I wasn’t going to lie to him. He ought to have known that.’
This time Nicholas said nothing.
‘He was just being deliberately difficult. He’s good at that. And he always has to know best. At times he – he can be positively infuriating.’
‘Because he’s usually right,’ said Nicholas finally. ‘In instances like these, he does know best. And when you stop sulking, I hope to hear you admit it. Meanwhile – if you’re not going to eat that – I suggest we go and do what he asked us to.’
Lydia watched him leave the room, her vision slightly blurred. Then, dashing an irritable hand across her eyes, she got up and followed him.
For perhaps an hour, they worked in silence. Then, unable to help herself, Lydia said, ‘What do you think he will do?’
‘What will who do?’ asked Nicholas abstractedly. And when she didn’t immediately answer, ‘I can’t speak for your Mr Wakefield but --’
‘He’s not my Mr Wakefield!’
‘Oh. Well, if you say so. As for Eden, he doesn’t kill people unless he has to. I thought you’d already know that.’
‘I do know it! Nick – will you stop being so angry? It – it just came out wrong.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s not me with whom you need to make it right. But just for future reference and in case you don’t appreciate what he’s already gone through on your account … do you know about his wife?’
‘Yes.’ She hated how small her voice sounded.
‘Then you’ll know why he reacted as he did. Given the circumstances, any man alive would have done the same.’
Lydia opened her mouth, then closed it again as a startling possibility dawned. She said slowly, ‘What circumstances, Nick? Are you saying he … that Eden …?’
‘I’m not saying anything. I’m trying,’ said Nicholas, hiding his smile behind the document he was currently perusing, ‘to get on with this. So do you think we might stop talking?’
It was a further hour before the sound of the shop door followed by footfalls on the stairs had Lydia shooting to her feet, one hand clenched hard over the other. Then the parlour door opened and Eden was ushering Gilbert Wakefield through it. She froze and had to remember to close her mouth.
‘As you can no doubt see,’ announced Colonel Maxwell coolly and without preamble, ‘Mr Wakefield and I managed to reach an understanding without recourse to violence. Since it seems he is Gaius, not Janus, and he has his own reasons for wanting the answers we are currently seeking, it seems reasonable to pool our resources.’
Seeing that this speech had left Lydia lost for words, Nicholas stood up and offered his hand to the newcomer. ‘What we’ve learned so far, suggests this isn’t going to be much fun for you.’
‘Perhaps not,’ replied Mr Wakefield, taking it. ‘But I’m sick of wondering.’
When everyone was seated around the table, Eden picked up the fruits of his night’s work, gave a prosaic précis of their discoveries and then, with Gilbert’s permission, related that gentleman’s suspicion about his mother’s death. Throughout all of this, he avoided making eye contact with Lydia – who, in turn, avoided looking directly at Mr Wakefield. Nicholas started to feel as if pitfalls were lying in wait all around them.
At the end, Eden said, ‘And now to progress. Mr Wakefield … you will doubtless wish to read some of the letters and we’ve laid to one side those of most interest so I suggest you begin with them. Lydia … there are still some here we’ve yet to look at. And Nick … I thought you might check that all is well at the lorinery, set Henry’s mind at rest concerning Lydia’s safety and ask him to send Peter here to escort her home later this afternoon.’
Nicholas came gratefully to his feet.
‘I’ll see to it. But before I go, there’s something I want to show you. I found it this morning.’ And he handed over a single sheet of paper.
Eden glanced at the tightly-scripted sheet and then sharply into Nicholas’s face.
‘Hallelujah. I think. Are there any others like this?’
&n
bsp; ‘No. After I found that one, I went through all the rest.’ He grinned. ‘Enjoy yourself.’ And he walked out, leaving Eden once more staring at the page in his hand.
‘What is it?’ asked Lydia tentatively.
‘My morning’s work,’ he returned with a brief, impersonal smile, ‘It’s in code. A new one, unfortunately – so, since I work quicker in complete silence, I’ll take it into the back parlour. But do feel free to tell me if you find anything new.’ And following Nicholas from the room, he closed the door behind him.
It was at that moment that Lydia felt she could cheerfully have hit him. She stalked to the door and jerked it open again, muttering not quite under her breath, ‘Stupid, stupid man!’
Eden heard it and continued into the back parlour, smiling a little.
Since Gilbert was sitting by the hearth, already immersed in reading, Lydia took the remaining letters to the window-seat on the far side of the room. The fact that it was decidedly chilly there served only to deepen her black mood. After a while, Gilbert lifted his head, his expression completely bemused and said, ‘This is … I don’t know. Mother seems to have suspected Edmund of all manner of things for years. I had no idea.’
‘No. I suppose you wouldn’t.’
He looked at her. ‘I had no idea about the rest of it, either. Of the trouble and danger to you and yours for which the Colonel believes him responsible. I’m exceedingly sorry for it. Until today, I honestly thought the secret of his birth was mine alone. Obviously, he’s known for as long – if not longer – than I have.’
‘Obviously.’
Gilbert laid aside the letters and walked over to her.
‘Lydia … have I offended you in some way?’
She drew an impatient breath and finally met his eyes.
‘No. It isn’t your fault. I did something stupid earlier and am still kicking myself.’ She paused and made a small helpless gesture. ‘Do you really suspect your brother of murdering your mother?’
‘Yes. To be brutally frank, I think he put a pillow over her face. But I can’t prove it.’
‘If he could do that,’ said Lydia slowly, ‘he’s capable of anything.’
‘Yes. That’s what I’m beginning to realise.’
Lydia turned back at the letter in her hand and realised that, since she hadn’t absorbed a single word she’d read since Eden left the room, continuing was pointless. Rising, she said abruptly, ‘I’m sorry. Please go on reading, Gilbert. I need to speak to Colonel Maxwell.’
She entered the neighbouring room and shut the door behind her. Eden remained hunched over his work as if he hadn’t heard her come in. Lydia cleared her throat and waited. Finally, without looking around, he said, ‘You’ve found something?’
‘No. I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry if I gave a mistaken impression before. I wasn’t going to lie to you. I’ve never done that and I never will.’
Eden laid down his quill and swivelled to face her, his own expression unreadable. In the last hour, he’d come to the conclusion that enough was enough. It was time to clear away any misconceptions … and with Lydia the quickest way of doing so was to be inflammatory.
‘You don’t need to either explain or apologise. It was unreasonable of me to take offence. After all, it isn’t as though you and I have any definite understanding, is it?’
That caught her unprepared. She stammered, ‘I – I thought we had.’
‘Well, come to that, I suppose I did, too,’ he said pensively. ‘I thought you were considering my offer of marriage. But perhaps you were reconsidering Mr Wakefield’s similar offer?’
‘No!’ Lydia stared at him in utter horror. ‘How can you think that?’
He shrugged. ‘Since, until this morning, I was entirely ignorant of the nature of your relationship with him, it’s a possibility that can’t be discounted.’
‘Then discount it now. I told you I’d refused him.’
‘So you did.’ He waited and when she continued to stare at him without speaking, ‘Was there anything else?’
‘Yes.’ She sat down with a bump on the nearest chair and without stopping to think, said rapidly, ‘I can’t do this any more. I just can’t. I still don’t know whether you actually want to marry me or just think you should – but it ought to be perfectly plain what my answer was always going to be.’
‘Odd as it may seem, I don’t find this a subject for guesswork, intuition or assumptions.’
His apparent nonchalance added intensity to the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions boiling inside her and, unrecognised at the back of them, was a determination to splinter his infuriating composure. She snapped, ‘Why not? Any one of those would have told you the truth – unless you thought I fell into bed with you on a whim because you happened to be handy. Did you?’
Eden had to repress a flicker of involuntary amusement. ‘No.’
‘No. I lay with you because I’d wanted you for weeks but never thought it would actually happen. And suddenly you gave me the chance of something I’d only dared dream of and it – it was …’ She stopped and shook her head, breathing rather fast. ‘Then immediately afterwards you asked me to marry you. You – the man who’d always sworn he’d never re-marry. What was I to think? I’d never expected you to offer and couldn’t account for it except in one way. So it didn’t matter how badly I wanted to say yes; that I’d have sold my soul for the privilege of being your wife. I couldn’t risk you wanting to change your mind but feeling you couldn’t do so – or regretting it once the deed was done. Because that would have hurt worse than giving you up.’
‘You don’t seem to --’
Lydia cut him off. ‘Stop. You wanted the truth and you’ll damned well sit there and let me finish.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ Oh sweetheart. Only you could approach a moment like this as if it was a cavalry charge. ‘Please go on.’
‘I’m in love with you.’ she said baldly and without emphasis. ‘I’ve probably been in love with you throughout virtually our entire acquaintance. Perhaps you’ll think I should have said so before – but I didn’t know if you’d welcome it so I didn’t. Instead, I prevaricated and said I needed to think but that we could be l-lovers, if you’d like. That alone should have told you that it was you I wanted; just you – with no conditions attached.’ Lydia swallowed hard and added, ‘And it hasn’t changed.’ She stood up. ‘Well then, now you know where you stand and I’ve made a complete idiot of myself, I’ll l-let you get on with what you were doing.’
‘Wait.’ Eden also rose. ‘Don’t I get a turn?’
His tone was plaintive but the look in his eyes was something very different.
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Thank you. For the time being, I’m going to keep this very simple. I didn’t ask you to be my mistress. I asked you to marry me and I have been waiting, not very patiently, for you to say that you will. I didn’t offer marriage out of any sense of duty or obligation. I offered it because I want, with every fibre of my being, to spend the rest of my life with you. In short, I love you.’ His smile, as he held out his hand to her, was slightly crooked. ‘I just … love you.’
Something unbelievably beautiful seemed to fill her chest; something too vast for her to immediately comprehend. Tears filled her eyes and, reaching out to grasp his fingers, she said, ‘Oh. That is … I … oh. I don’t know what to say to you.’
‘Good. Then don’t say anything,’ he replied. And, unable to wait any longer, pulled her hard against his body and folded his arms about her. ‘In fact, stop thinking as well. I’ve been wanting this for the last hour and more.’
Later, curled up on his knee with her mouth against his jaw and her hands tangled in the long, mahogany hair, she managed to murmur ruefully, ‘I made a mess of it, didn’t I?’
‘Did you?’ He traced her clavicle with one teasing finger.
‘Yes. It didn’t come out at all the way I’d imagined.’
�
��That’s a shame.’
Lydia tried to concentrate. ‘You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’
‘No, darling – and at the moment I don’t much care.’ His fingers trailed down to the disappointingly modest neckline of her gown and he felt her breath hitch. ‘Ah. That’s encouraging. I was beginning to worry.’
‘You weren’t.’
‘How would you know? My amour-propre is very frail.’
She laughed against his mouth and then sighed as one finger dipped inside her bodice.
‘I think you always knew I’d marry you.’
‘Let’s say I felt there were reasonable grounds for hope. And before you ask,’ he said, his voice becoming slightly unsteady, ‘that was because I knew you hadn’t fallen into bed with me just because I happened to be handy.’
Lydia hid her face against his neck and mumbled, ‘That might have been better put.’
‘It might. But your turn of phrase is a constant delight to me. As is your warmth, your obstinacy, your intellect … and your delectable body.’ He cuddled her a little closer and said, ‘You can think of compliments to shower on me later. Don’t trouble your head right now.’
Silence fell between them while she kissed her way up his throat. But after a while, she said, ‘Now we’re officially betrothed …’
‘Mm?’
‘I thought … that is I wondered …’
‘Yes?’ Eden knew what she’d wondered – or at least hoped that he did. ‘What?’
‘Well, when Peter comes I thought I could go home for a change of clothes.’ For a nicer gown and my pretty new petticoats and corset. ‘Then perhaps I could … come back?’ She felt his body’s immediate reaction to the implication of her words and couldn’t resist adding innocently, ‘After all, once you’ve broken Stephen’s code, we might have new information.’
‘Witch,’ he grumbled into her hair. ‘Yes. Come back. But if you think I’m spending the night poring over bloody codes, you’ve another think coming.’
