Elaine must have kicked him, for Edwin bowed. “No offense intended on your esteemed parents, sir, or your honor. But Amanda belongs with us.”
“It is too dangerous.” Rex touched the bandage on his head. “There are people who do not wish to see her exonerated. They will go to desperate lengths to see your father’s murder become a closed case.”
“So she said. I cannot like it.”
Rex glared at the halfling who wanted to take Amanda away. “Do you think I enjoy having bricks tossed at me? Your sister is safe here, and respectably chaperoned.”
Edwin knew he’d been outgunned. He bowed again. “If you send me a reckoning, I shall pay her way, of course.”
“Do not be more of a fool than you have been. Your sister lacks nothing her own godmother cannot supply. You cannot take umbrage at that, can you?”
Edwin swallowed, his pride as well. “Very well, I shall speak to the solicitor about transferring what funds I can to her account, with your permission. My sister’s dowry is intact, but she will not be needing it this year while we are in mourning.”
Amanda stepped forward, outraged. “I will not take Elaine’s dowry!”
Edwin stood firm. “She is too young to wed, and our father stole yours.”
Rex respected the young man, although the sister was a twit, and still crying. For the loss of her dowry or the postponement of her elopement, Rex neither knew nor cared. He was only happy the chit was not his responsibility. “I will be happy to sign whatever documents are required to release the funds. I know you will do your best with them.”
Amanda silently thanked him with her smile. Then she said, “There is more to tell you.”
Damn, Rex was hoping the pair would leave so he could have Amanda to himself again. “Yes?”
The sister stopped acting like a watering pot now that no one was blaming her for anything. “Aunt Hermione went insane after Father’s death. She wanted to tear up the carpets and the molding the night before we left for the country. The surgeon had to come and give her laudanum.”
Rex started to nod until he remembered his sore head. “She was looking for the money. So she knew her bother had stashed it somewhere.”
“But I did not, or I never would have agreed to leave,” the girl said. “Except for all the gossip, you know.”
She knew Amanda was in prison, and the brat was worried about gossip! Rex glared at the female to go on.
“When . . . when we buried my father, Aunt Hermione started raving at his grave. All the neighbors heard her, and the servants. We thought she was grief stricken, but Amanda thinks it might have something to do with the . . . the crime.”
“Continue.”
“She raged at our father for not taking her with him as he’d promised. We thought she meant to the grave, which was queer enough, but then she carried on about how he was going to buy a title and take her to court.”
“He was going to pay off Prinny’s debts in exchange for a barony or some such? His ambition must have known no bounds if his own baronetcy was not good enough.”
“Aunt Hermione said he was going to be a count.”
“A comte,” Edwin corrected. “A French noble. We all thought she was turning into a bedlamite, out of shock and sorrow. Father was her only kin, you know.”
“But she was not dicked in the nob, was she? Your father told her they were going to France, with his new son-in-law, I suppose. Deuce take it, my cousin was right all along. Hawley was sending money to Napoleon, from the poor fools who thought they could get rich on sunken pirate’s loot. He never intended to finance any treasure-hunting expedition, only his own advancement on foreign soil.”
Edwin said he thought Rex’s assumption sounded correct. “He also wrung what he could from the estate, and stole more from Amanda’s inheritance. According to Aunt Hermione, Father was going to have Elaine wed next month by special license. Napoleon was going to win the war, he believed, and the emperor was going to build a new court around himself, full of his loyal supporters. Those who contributed the most money, I suppose.”
“We told the neighbors Aunt Hermione was too overwrought to know what she was saying,” Elaine told Rex. “Didn’t the French try to do away with all the aristocracy?”
“Napoleon is restoring some titles,” Rex explained, thinking aloud, “in exchange for loyalty. And money.”
Edwin handed his sister yet another handkerchief. “We are hoping you will not spread this around. I’d rather people think Father died during a robbery or whatever, rather than as a traitor.”
Rex could not promise silence. “Too many people were involved in his scheming. The Frenchman, his investors, whoever pulled the trigger. But I have a . . . connection who can be very discreet. He’ll want to speak with your aunt. Did she come to London with you?”
“Yes, we feared she would do herself harm in the country. Or convince the neighbors that we were all French sympathizers. I do have a servant watching to see if she uncovers more of the missing money.”
The lad had a good head on his shoulders. “Good. Make sure she does not leave your house until I can get men there to follow her. Who knows but she might lead us to more of the plotters. In fact, I’ll need both of you to promise to stay handy until Amanda is cleared, because we might need your testimony.”
“Of course.” Edwin shook Rex’s hand. “On my honor.”
“And your promise, too, Miss Hawley. No elopements. No running off with your young man.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Edwin promised I can have a lovely wedding next spring. With flowers and ribbons and—”
Amanda saw Rex’s eyes start to cross so she rescued him by hurrying her relatives out to watch Aunt Hermione.
When she came back into the room after seeing them to the door, Rex was making notes on the papers he kept at his bedside. She stepped in quietly, taking the time to study him. The bandage on his head made him look as exotic as a turbaned sheikh, needing only a ruby or an emerald pinned to the front to complete the image of wealth, power, and pride. His nose was nearly straight now, and the day’s growth of beard lent a shadowy, raffish look to his strong jaw. He looked up at her with those incredible blue eyes just then and Amanda sighed. Had there ever been a more handsome gentlemen?
He misinterpreted her sigh of appreciation for one of distress. “I am sorry that your relatives’ behavior cannot be swept under the carpet.” He tore a page from his notebook. “I’ll have to send a message about the aunt to Harry, you know.”
“I know. Elaine will recover. After all, Aunt Hermione can be considered batty. What is a lunatic to a murderess in the family, or an embezzler, or a traitor, for that matter? And if her Martin loves her, a closet full of skeletons will not deter him.”
Rex set his papers and pencil aside and patted the place next to him on the bed.
Amanda looked at the open door, then at Rex smiling at her. Gracious, could she really be that wanton? His smile widened, showing a dimple on the side of his face that wasn’t scarred. She could be. She handed Rex’s note to the footman in the hall, telling him to see it was delivered immediately. Then she shut the door, kicked her slippers off, and climbed up to the tall bed. Rex tucked her against his side, where she fit perfectly. She could smell his scented soap, and marveled at his long dark eyelashes. No, there had never been a more handsome gentleman, and she was determined to enjoy his company, and his kisses, while she could. She sighed again, this time in satisfaction and expectation.
This time he ignored her sigh altogether, but did give her shoulders a shake. “You are as much a peagoose as that rattlepate stepsister of yours. I suppose you would not name the chit out of loyalty.”
“Not entirely. There was simply no reason to bring her name into your investigation. I told you I knew young Martin could not have killed Sir Frederick.”
“But you could have cleared your name of fast behavior, at the least.”
Amanda shrugged, rubbing against his chest not quite by accident.
“Those who wished to think ill of me were going to, anyway. Elaine could not have weathered the gossip, while I always had your mother’s support.”
He was still angry. “And that is why you did not go to her years ago, when you realized what that bounder Hawley was doing?”
“Elaine was too young,” was all she said.
“You were too good, too loyal, too unselfish. And too closemouthed, dash it. You could have trusted me.”
Amanda pulled away a bit. Now a hair could fit betweenthem, if it lay sideways. “That was not my tale to tell, especially not without your trust in return.”
It was Rex’s turn to sigh. “Yes, it is past time I told you about my family curse. At least the Royces have never produced a ninnyhammer like Elaine.”
“She is not a blood relation.”
“Thank goodness.” He pulled her back, across his lap, in fact, so he could wrap both arms around her. “Remember what I said about the weak chin occurring through generations in certain families?”
She touched his chin, stroking the soft bristle there. “Yours is wondrously fine, square and manly, but with that tiny indentation in the center.” She kissed his chin, then used her tongue to measure the size of the cleft. He had to kiss her chin in return, then her eyelids and the tip of her nose, then her lips. Then her lips again, and still.
“Are you well enough for such strenuous activity?” Amanda asked when they paused to breathe.
“Seeing as how I will likely expire soon if I do not make love to you, I am fine.” He kissed her once more, long and deep, their tongues taking turns. “As long as I do not move too fast.”
“I am not in a hurry.” Pleasure like this was far too delicious to rush.
Rex smiled, changing the kiss from sensuous to silly. Amanda found she liked that, too, especially when he said how much he had missed her.
“Me, too. But is this a ploy, Lord Rexford, to keep from telling me your deep, dark secret?”
“No, it is to keep you here, in my arms.”
“In that case, it is working, on both scores. I am not leaving, and your entire family might turn into were-wolves once a month. I do not care.”
“It’s the truth.”
She let her hand drift down his chest over his nightshirt, then lower. “What, that you howl at the moon?”
Rex was already ready to howl, but he did not stop her hand. He bent his head to lick at the soft skin that rose above the low neckline of her gown, while his own hand crept under her skirt to her ankle, her calf, her thigh, her hidden curls. “Do you believe in magic?”
“I do now.”
Chapter Thirty
We’ve got him, Rex!” Daniel shouted up the stairs from the front entry. “We’ve got him!”
Rex did not care if his cousin had Bonaparte by the ballocks right then, but Amanda quickly leaped off the bed and tried to find her shoes. She should have been trying to fasten the back of her gown, Rex thought as his cousin burst into the room, Verity leaping beside him in matching exuberance. Rex stood to shield Amanda from Daniel’s view.
“We’ve got Brusseau!” Daniel skidded to a halt, tripping over the dog. “I say, sorry for not knocking. Um, Rex, had you ought to be doing what you are?”
“Getting out of bed? I am nearly recovered.” He wasn’t. His head ached, and so did the seat of his unsatisfied desire.
“That ain’t what I meant.”
Doing up Amanda’s gown? Rex did not think that was what Daniel meant, either. He did not wish to discuss the matter. “How did you find Brusseau?”
“He was boarding one of Johnston’s ships with the crewmen, carrying a trunk, making a getaway. He didn’t walk like any sailor, though, or talk like one. Remember that captain we talked to about going after that sunken pirate gold? It was his ship Brusseau was boarding, and the captain said he never saw the bloke before.”
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs in the butler’s pantry, trussed like a Christmas goose. Dimm and his nephew are keeping watch. I thought we ought to wait for Harry. I promised to let him know when we had the villain in chains.” He looked toward Amanda, gauging if she could be trusted. “National security, don’t you know.”
“I sent for him an hour ago.” Rex told Daniel about Amanda’s relatives’ visit and what they had learned. “He should be on his way. Bring them all up when he gets here.”
“Up here?”
“I doubt my mother would welcome the interview in her drawing room. Besides, I don’t think I am ready for the stairs.”
Daniel muttered, “You didn’t think you were ready for leg shackles, either.”
Rex shot a dark look at his cousin, but smiled for Amanda as he finished with the bothersome buttons and ties. “You better leave, my dear. This could get ugly.”
“You are not going to . . . ? That is, you wouldn’t . . . ?” She looked from Daniel to Rex.
“Beat the truth out of the valet? Is that what you still think of the Inquisitors? No, we will not harm him—”
“Unless he tries to escape,” Daniel interrupted, grinning wickedly.
“He is tied up. But we might have to strip off his clothes to see if Verity left bite marks. You would be embarrassed.”
“Oh, of course. But you do not think he is the killer, do you?”
“No, we already asked that.”
“You believed what he told you? The man was trying to leave the country!”
Both cousins shrugged.
Harry arrived, apologizing for not putting Thibidoux’s name on the initials list. “We were aware of his presence, of course, but we thought he was a Royalist, waiting for the Corsican’s defeat to claim his ancestral lands. Instead, it seems, he was trying to buy them back from Napoleon. I am not perfect, as you must know by now. “
If that was an apology for the disguises and deceptions, Rex was not accepting. “We will discuss your lack of perfection in a few weeks, brother, at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Parlor. Perhaps you might tell me, meanwhile, how Lydia Burton’s name did get on your list.”
Harry laughed. “She’s an old friend who wanted to meet you, that’s all. I couldn’t resist.”
“Maybe you prefer pistols to fisticuffs?”
Daniel was trying to figure which brother to place his money on when Lord Royce entered the room. They all knew the case was far beyond a murder investigation by now and the earl wanted to hear what went forward, too. The safety of the kingdom might be at stake, to say nothing of his wife’s godchild. The dear girl could be more if his sap-skulled son could be brought up to scratch, the gudgeon. Heaven knew the countess was practically throwing them together these days, hoping nature and youth would get the job done. If Amanda’s tousled look when she hurried past him in the hall were any indication, his wife was right and he’d hear wedding bells soon. He just did not want to hear the patter of little feet first. Lud knew there was enough scandal in the family already. But a grandson, ah, that was enough to warm an old man’s heart, if his wife’s welcome hadn’t already. The earl’s joy would be complete if they could not only free Amanda of suspicion, but connect Nigel Turlowe to the crime.
Inspector Dimm and his grandnephew Clarence dragged Brusseau into the room. Clarence left and Dimm went to stand by the window, observing the Royce males, thinking what a rare tale he’d have to tell his own grandsons.
There were so many truth-seers in one place a lie could not have gone unnoticed if it hid under the carpet.
“Wait,” Rex told them. “Get Amanda to identify the man as her stepfather’s valet first.”
“But both of us questioned him before,” Daniel complained.
“This has to be a thorough interview, following proper procedure. Don’t you agree, Mr. Dimm?”
The Runner scratched his head. He’d never heard of conducting a murder investigation in a swell’s bedroom, surrounded by that same nob’s relatives, while the gent wore a robe, a bandage with a flower stuck in it, and no shoes. “Seems all right to me.”
/> They sent for Amanda, who nodded. “That is Brusseau,” she said. Then they ushered her from the room again.
Brusseau was shaking, looking from one to the other. “My name is Brusseau. I did not kill Monsieur Hawley. I did not throw a brick at Monsieur Rexford.”
Damn.
Rex saw blue. His father heard a clear chime. Daniel felt no itch, and Harry tasted his own disappointment.
“Do you know who did?” Harry asked.
“My name is Brusseau. I did not kill Monsieur Hawley. I did not throw a brick at Monsieur Rexford.” This time the valet said it in French. It was still true.
Lord Royce asked, “Do you know Sir Nigel Turlowe?”
Brusseau repeated his rote statement.
Daniel flexed his knuckles. Harry cleaned his fingernails with a wicked-looking knife that had been up his sleeve. Dimm cleared his throat until they both stepped away from the prisoner.
Damn.
Dimm suggested they strip him.
There was no need, but they did it anyway. The man had no bites, no bruises, and not a lot to be modest about.
Rex cursed again. “He didn’t throw the brick, the dog didn’t take a chunk out of him. He’s not guilty, as far as I can see.”
“But he was trying to escape,” Daniel said. He must be guilty of something.”
No one noticed Murchison in the corner until he made a snorting sound in disgust. “His name. Ask him that.”
“We know he is Brusseau.”
“His first name.” Murchison turned his back and started to tidy the room.
Brusseau would not answer that question.
Dimm pulled the man’s papers from his own pocket, the ones they’d taken along with knives, pistols, and a sack of coins from Brusseau’s trunk. The Bow Street Runner adjusted his spectacles.
“Is your name Claude?”
No answer.
Four voices almost shouted: “Yes or no, damn it.” Four angry men advanced on one naked Frenchman.
Truly Yours Page 27
