Regardless of the circumstances, it seemed blame was to be forever laid at his door. Be damned if he would accept that. “If you’d marry me your sarcasm would be totally unnecessary.”
Laurel glared at him but didn’t say a word.
“Don’t think I’ll let George step into my place. I’ve asked you to marry me.” He swiped his hand through his hair. “What more do you want?”
Laurel dismissed him with a flick of her lashes. “For all your reputation with the ladies, you have very little understanding of women.”
“As you say, but if you think to drive me away, think again. You know me better than that. I won’t simply walk away.” He gave her a moment to absorb his words. “I need you, Laurel and you need me as well. Give us a chance.”
She sensed a reckless determination in him and an indomitable will stronger than hers. His solid character and ferocious will had been a major factor as an exceptional commander of men during the war and those same traits appealed to her as well. What she wouldn’t give to have his protective instincts to rely on, his shoulder to lean on and his strength brought to bear in her favor.
“Stubborn little Laurel, what am I to do with you?”
He caught her hand, drawing her closer. His warm breath caressed her cheek and her resolve to resist him gave way to the yearning to be in his arms once more. His head lowered and his lips met hers. In spite of her good intentions, she was helpless against the passion he could always rouse in her. Unintentionally her lips softened and he deepened the kiss. She melted against him until she absorbed his warmth, his taste, his very essence.
Laurel ended the embrace abruptly and pushed against his chest, closing her eyes to shut out his image. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.
Adron dropped his arms, but he continued to study every nuance of her expression. His jaw tightened and he appeared resigned. “I came to tell you I’m leaving for London in the morning. George thinks he’s found the jeweler that made the replicas of the jewelry.”
Her stomach lurched. “Adron, that’s wonderful. I can’t believe this turmoil will finally be at an end.”
“Don’t allow your hopes to run too high. All is not quite finished but things will be resolved soon. I promise.” He hesitated. “Then we can concentrate on us again and our future.” Adron caught her hand and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I have confidence in the Runners I hired. Trust us.”
“I do but I feel helpless, put aside.”
“Out of danger,” he growled and suddenly warned, “Don’t you dare persuade George to accompany you to Landings. Do you understand?”
Adron stared at her until she nodded, then he exited the room, leaving her to catch her breath. Somehow she found comfort and reassurance in his promise to not let her escape. He insisted he would marry her regardless and her heart beat a little faster.
Adron emerged into the hall with a scowl on his face. Frustrated with her refusal to accept him, he wanted to ride with the wind until he could no longer feel, but his stallion didn’t deserve such treatment. He thumped the wall in passing and one of the upstairs maids ducked out of sight. Adron had to leave the house, to get outside, anywhere but confined inside these walls.
He strolled aimlessly toward the stable when the reflection of the bright moon on the lake drew his attention. Adron headed to the far side of the lake, stripped before he dove into the water in the hopes to lessen his irritation. Stroke after stroke he punished his body until exhaustion finally forced him to swim to shore. He donned his trousers and flung his lawn shirt over one shoulder, calmer now and much refreshed.
Climbing the stairs to his room, he flung himself into bed and shoved his hands behind his head, aimlessly watching shadows flitter across the ceiling. He tried to focus on his trip tomorrow but Laurel kept intruding.
Why couldn’t Laurel understand? He acknowledged part of his problem with Laurel was his concern for Rhonda, but his cousin needed him and he couldn’t simply turn his back on her. His jaw worked. Laurel would always come first with him, however, she seemed not to recognize that fact and that was entirely his fault. When love had finally captured him, he’d been so bitter and judgmental he hadn’t recognized what had been before his eyes. Now Laurel doubted his sincerity and his motives. He wished a thousand times he could start fresh with her.
Adron punched his pillow, determined to forget his problems for the night and finally drifted to sleep where he began to run. The horror of blood, death and his helplessness to prevent the nightmare from happening had him on the side of the bed gulping for air. Sweat beaded his forehead. Grateful to find himself awake, he shook his head to clear the last of the cobwebs away and after several minutes he laid down again but he couldn’t sleep.
Dawn crawled over the horizon with a soft glow and he climbed out of bed determined to be on his way before the household stirred.
Laurel tossed about, turned over again and adjusted her pillow but she couldn’t fall asleep. Adron appeared behind her lids the minute she shut her eyes. He floated through her thoughts even with her eyes open. His plea for her to give him a chance, actually to give them a chance continued to echo in her mind. Had she been too hard on him? He kept saying he wanted her, needed her and that she needed him. Indeed, what else did she want?
Perhaps he did love her after all and simply didn’t know how to say the words in any meaningful way. But there was a stumbling block she must consider, his blindness regarding his cousin. He still saw her as his defenseless young cousin in need of his protection instead of the mature, conniving witch she actually was.
As Adron had pointed out, she stood a chance of losing him because she feared what might happen. If only she could manage to push her past behind her, not judging everything based on what had happened before, would she find herself accepting Adron’s offer? Adron was strong and reliable, not wounded in body and spirit as Robert had been.
She missed being held in Adron’s arms and suddenly her heart overruled her head. First thing in the morning, she would accept him before he left for London. With the decision made, she rolled over and went to sleep.
Bright sunshine peeked into her window and brought her fully awake. Without waiting for her maid’s assistance, she scrambled into her garments, twisted her hair in a knot atop her head and hurled herself down the stairs in search of Adron—but she was too late. She sucked in a choking breath and forced back a sob. He was already gone.
Chapter 21
Disgruntled, Adron drove most of the day frowning and cursing the inclement weather. The necessity to travel to London at this critical moment was little short of madness. He hated the thought of racking up at the Mivart’s hotel because his townhouse was undergoing extensive renovations. A cloudburst finally forced him to abandon his quest to reach the Red Lion and he pulled up in a small village at the Dragonshead Inn. His lips curled in amusement at the name as he climbed down from his carriage. The smells of wet horses mixed with the pungent odor of a stable greeted him as he handed the reins to the ostler, gave orders about the care of his horses and hurried inside out of the pelting rain.
He stamped his boots, shook droplets from his driving cape and glanced around. Much to his surprise, Horace sat at a table in the coffee room devouring his meal. Adron strode across the room. “Horace, what’s amiss?”
Horace looked up with his spoon half way to his mouth and allowed the bite of mutton to fall back into his bowl. Scraping back his chair, he stood. “Milord. The rat escaped our trap.”
Adron let out an expletive. “Finish your meal. Then we’ll talk.” He turned and called, “Landlord.”
The chap behind the counter wiped his hands on his apron and came around the bar. He bowed. “Milord.”
“I’ll have some of this mutton stew and ale. It smells delicious.”
“At once, Milord.” He bowed again and set
about filling the order.
Horace settled back into his chair and gulped his ale. “Like I was saying, our Mr. Oather Dimty was long gone. He wasn’t even there when we started looking for him.”
The conversation lagged as the landlord returned with a bowl of stew and a tall glass of ale. Adron nodded, took a bite, and waved his spoon. “Most satisfactory.”
Horace resumed eating and after he finished his meal, he drank the last drop of ale before continuing where he left off. “I waited around but not a hair of this Dimty fellow showed. Finally I asked the bloke as owns the rooms about Oather Dimty. He said as how the chap paid his shot, then he up and left. Took every stitch he owned and some as wasn’t his. He won’t be back but I set that Runner bloke to keep watch so I could report to you.”
Adron wiped his fingers on his table napkin and glanced over at Horace. “You’ve done well. If Dimty is the thief, the officer can earn his keep and locate him for us. Nothing is proven of course, but Lady Laningham insists she will know the thief if she ever sees him again. His eyes would always haunt her, she said.”
“Kinda dangerous.”
“Why do you suppose I want this Dimty character found?” A hard edge crept into Adron’s voice. “If he is the thief, he’ll want to silence her. I’m almost positive he murdered Robert as well.”
Horace’s eyes widened. “Murder you say?”
“Exactly so. I want you back at Kendlewood to keep watch.”
Horace started to scrap back his chair. “I’d best be leaving then, soon as I pack my gear.”
“No need. In the morning will be well enough. I’ll rest a bit easier with you there to watch over the family, especially Lady Laningham.”
Horace shook his head. “I shoulda been quicker that night. I would’ve nabbed him.”
“There is no saying what might have happened but as things stand, I’m fairly certain Oather Dimty is the thief even if he isn’t the murderer.” Guilt swamped Adron when he thought about his failure in guarding Robert’s treasures for his heir. “I imagine the jewels are long gone.”
Horace sat on the edge of his chair. “Seems likely he’d be long gone too. A wise bloke would ride some and he ain’t dumb. By now I suspect his kinfolk probably warned him we was after him.”
“Possibly. If I discover that’s the case, I’ll have Percy’s hide. As it is, I’m tempted to return to Landings with all speed and have it out with him.”
Horace folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows. “Likely he would admit to it?”
“Possibly not.” Adron’s lips tightened. “I’d relish beating the information out of him just the same but it’s likely the jeweler responsible for the paste jewelry has been located. I have a name along with his direction. He may well lead us to the thief and possibly the murderer.”
“If we was to pin down the crook without guessing every move to make, well that would be bang up.”
“Indeed.” Adron yawned. “I’m ready to find my bed. The last few days seemed an eternity.” He stood and stretched. “I’ll see you in the morning before you leave.”
What with one delay after the other the next morning, Adron entered London at an advanced hour and headed straight for the Mivart’s hotel where he planned to put up for the night. Before he could relax, his mind was set on speaking to the magistrate at the Runner’s office in Bow Street and he headed in that direction.
Adron grimaced, wondering if time would allow a visit to the jeweler after he spoke with the magistrate. He was soon bowed into the magistrate’s office.
“Milord, I hope my Runners are proving satisfactory.”
“I have no complaints against the Runners I hired, both are excellent fellows. I admit I had high hopes of uncovering the plot against my late cousin’s estate.” Adron leaned forward in his chair. “So far nothing much has come to light but evidence points toward Oather Dimty. I’ve taken the liberty of writing down his description for you, all we know of him in fact.”
The magistrate pulled the paper across his desk, perusing the information. “Well this should prove helpful.”
“Lady Laningham, my cousin’s widow, had a good look at the thief when he tried to rob her. We think he may well be in London and I’m more than anxious to bring Dimty to account if he is the culprit. If you would be so kind, please inform me the moment you take him into custody.”
The magistrate stood and inclined his head. “Of course, Milord. We’ll soon have the perpetrator caught by the heels.”
“I’m at the Mivart’s hotel while I’m in town. A message will reach me there or send a note to my establishment. Either way, the information will reach me.”
“I’ll be in touch,” the officer promised as Adron took his leave.
Adron climbed into his curricle and snapped the reins ready to find the jeweler. He drove his bays at a clip appropriate for town traffic, impatient with the necessity for the slow pace but he finally arrived at Five Brinkley Place. The placard above the door invited passersby into the premises of one F Guneram, Master Jeweler.
The establishment appeared a little seedy to Adron, the sort of place for double-dealing. He pushed into the shop and glanced around the dim interior. Picking his way through the small, cluttered room, he headed to the back of the building where a lantern burned above a jeweler’s worktable. Adron eyed the man seated at the table with his unkempt, fringe ringing his baldpate and noted the tools in his hand. The jeweler raised his head and squinted from under his jeweler’s glass causing his hair to brush the collar of his rough shirt.
“How do. How can I serve ya?”
Adron strolled over to the table and laid a paste necklace on the table. “I believe this is your work. It’s a fine replica of the original piece.”
The jeweler glanced at the item and frowned. “It’s mine. Don’t need to look no closer.” He peered up over his glasses. “Something wrong with it?”
Adron tensed and his mouth went dry with excitement. He would soon have the name of the culprit. “I take it you know the gentleman that had the replicas made?”
The jeweler stared at Adron as if taking his measure, inspecting him from his well-cut jacket to the shiny Hessians on his feet. “Who might be asking?” The jeweler’s voice had become a little less forceful.
“Here’s my card.”
The jeweler stared at the card and his belligerent stance relaxed. “My apologies, your lordship. I didn’t mean no disrespect. Can’t be too careful dealing with folks.”
“The jewelry belonged to my ward. I demand an explanation as to why you made a copy of a family heirloom.” Adron gazed at him through his quizzing glass until the jeweler fidgeted and glanced down.
“There was a young chap, slender, dressed to the nines. Can’t say as I remember the color of his hair cause he always wore a hat but I remember his eyes true enough. Green, a peculiar shade of muddy-green I calls it. He wanted me to make replicas of his family jewels.” With a sardonic grin he continued, “The gent finally got caught at his game, did he? He said as how the ladies would do anything for such. If they was foolish enough to think he gave ‘em a fancy necklace, that was the gel’s look out.”
Adron couldn’t help but remember that Percy’s eyes were an odd shade of green. He allowed his tone to become accusatory. “Surely his story sounded a little farfetched. That jewelry had been stolen.”
“No sense in asking questions of the Quality. It ain’t healthy.” The jeweler stood and hobbled over to a desk to search though a stack of papers. “Here is what he signed. Says his name is Samuel Norton and he lives in rooms off Longfield Street.” He shoved the paper at Adron. “His direction is writ on the top.”
“Thank you for your help.” Adron slipped the paper into his vest and turned to leave.
“I hope this here is the last of it,” the jeweler
called after him.
“So do I.” The door shut behind him.
Adron headed to Longfield Street and discovered there wasn’t a number 224 on the entire street. After an exhaustive search, a savage oath escaped him. Seemingly only Laurel could identify the thief and that thought kindled an urge within him to race back to Kendlewood. He abandoned the idea. Sheer foolishness. After all, he’d sent Horace to guard her and tomorrow would do as well. He made his way back to the Mivart ready for a meal and a few hours to mull over what he should do next.
Deep in thought and filled with a restless unease he entered the hotel, heading straight for the stairs. A female voice penetrated his concentration.
“Adron. Here I am.”
He glanced over his shoulder and halted. “Rhonda, my dear. I didn’t expect to see you in town.”
Rhonda, with her maid trailing discreetly behind, hurried toward him. “How wonderful to find you here.” She reached for his arm and wrapped her fingers around his elbow. “You may escort me in to dinner.”
“What are you doing here?
“Waiting for you to take me to dinner. I deplore eating in my chamber but what is a lady to do?” Rhonda sighed and continued, “I took a chance that you would be here. I hoped you’d do the pretty with me and accompany me about town.”
He tried to wipe the look of horror off his face but her laughter told him he had failed.
“Naturally I’d rather be a widow. A rich widow without the restrictions placed on unmarried ladies.”
“Rhonda, you’re a minx.” He grinned and relaxed, realizing she wasn’t serious. “I suppose I could take you in to dinner. Have you settled in yet?”
“My luggage is being carried to by suite at this very moment. I’ll be ready in one hour flat. I promise.” She beamed up at him.
Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman Page 24
