A Stolen Heart

by Candace Camp

  “But I thought you said—”

  “I seen ‘er.”

  “Her!” Alexandra sat forward. “It was a woman?”

  Maisy realized that she had let some of her precious information slip. “I din’t say ‘at.”

  “You said ‘her,’” Sebastian reminded her. “Now, come clean. Tell us what you know about her.”

  “I’ll do what I can to help Red Bill,” Alexandra told her. “The person who hired him is the one I want to see behind bars.” She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a coin, which she laid on the table between her and Maisy. “Here’s a little something to help tide you over until your man’s out of jail again.”

  Maisy looked indecisively from Alexandra’s face to the coin, then to Sebastian’s implacable countenance.

  “I don’t know ‘er name. I only seen ‘er. She come to our place a couple weeks ago, told Bill she wanted ‘im to take care of the old lady.”

  “The old lady? My mother?”

  Maisy nodded. “I guess. She told ‘im where she was and all. So Bill ‘ired someone to do it. Only that silly oaf Peggoddy made a mull of it!” Her voice dripped scorn. “So she come back to Bill. Spittin’ mad, she was. Says ‘e made a mess of it and she refuses to pay ‘im. Bill weren’t ‘aving none of that, though, and finally she says she’ll pay ‘im, but ‘e’s gotta finish the job, like. An’, she says, ‘e’s got to get rid of that innerferin’ American bitch, too.”

  Sebastian made a choked noise, and Alexandra shot him a quelling look. “Indeed?”

  “So Bill did it ‘imself. ‘E din’t trust nobody else again.” She sighed. “Worse luck for ‘im.”

  “How did she get hold of him? I mean, how did she know to come to Red Bill?”

  Maisy shrugged. “Ever’body knows Red Bill. If she asked around, she’d ‘a found out well enough.”

  “You have no idea what her name is?” Alexandra asked.

  Maisy shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell us sumfing like ‘at, now, would she?”

  “What did she look like?” Sebastian asked.

  Maisy looked thoughtful. “I din’t see her real good like. She wore a cloak, see, and pulled the ‘ood forward so ‘er face was in shadow. She wore a half mask, too.”

  “Could you tell anything about her?” Alexandra asked. “Was she young or old? Tall?”

  “No. She weren’t tall. Leastways, not tall as you. But not as short as me, either. I couldn’t see if she was young.”

  Alexandra sighed. Since Maisy was quite small and Alexandra was a very tall woman, most of the women of London would fit Maisy’s description.

  “What about her voice?” Sebastian asked. “You heard her speak, at least. What did she sound like?”

  “I dunno.” Maisy gazed at him blankly. “Like a toff, like you.” She turned toward Alexandra, a thought dawning on her face. “But not like you, miss.”

  “So she was English. Not American.”

  Maisy nodded. However, she seemed to have come to the end of her knowledge. Not all the prodding or questioning that Alexandra and Sebastian could do could dislodge any further nugget of information from her. Finally, Alexandra slid the coin across the table to the woman and promised to speak to the authorities on Red Bill Trimble’s behalf. Maisy was quick to take the coin and jump up from the table. Alexandra watched her hurry through the kitchen and out the back door, and she turned to Sebastian.

  He was watching her, his face faintly questioning. “Well?”

  “Well, what? Do you believe her?” Alexandra stood and started out of the kitchen.

  Sebastian shrugged as he rose from his chair and joined her. “I don’t know. She certainly didn’t give us any real description of the person—not tall, not short, disguised by a hooded cloak as well as a mask. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to make something like that up. She made a coin out of it, as well as whatever help we might be able to give her Mr. Trimble.”

  “It would be just as easy to tell the truth as a lie, I would think.”

  “Provided she knows it.”

  “You don’t think she is who she says?”

  “Oh, I presume she is probably the common-law wife of the man who attacked you. Obviously she knew enough about the matter to come to you with her ‘information.’ And she knew that Peggoddy was hired the other time. But whether she actually saw the transaction between Trimble and this other person—” He shrugged again, then added, a twinkle in his eyes, “Although, I must say that comment about getting rid of that interfering American bitch does have a certain ring of truth about it.”

  Alexandra made a face at him. “You would latch on to that, of course. Still, it does make it seem authentic. I’m not sure we can credit Maisy with enough imagination to think up such details. I am inclined to believe that she is telling the truth.”

  They walked down the hall to the drawing room, but neither of them sat down. Alexandra wandered to the window and stood looking at the street. Sebastian lounged in the doorway, watching her.

  “Why do you think it’s the truth?” he asked.

  “Because she said it was a woman. That is too strange. If one were making it up, the natural thing to do would be to say it is a man. Isn’t that what you were expecting? Weren’t you surprised to hear her say ‘she’?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian admitted. “Of course, I suppose she could have said it to throw us off the trail—if she wanted the money but was scared of the man coming after her if she betrayed him.”

  “Or if someone hired her to tell us the story so that we would be led astray.”

  “Do you honestly think that?”

  “No,” Alexandra admitted quickly. “That seems far too devious. The truth, I find, is usually simpler—and rarely clever.”

  “I agree. If she didn’t tell the truth, I think it was because she didn’t know it or was scared of the person who hired Trimble.” He paused and looked at Alexandra. “It seems we are talking all around the real issue here.”

  Alexandra sighed and nodded. “Yes. Who is the woman?”

  “It can’t be Lady Ursula.”

  “Who else could it be?” Alexandra countered. “The woman we know it can’t be is Aunt Hortense—or any other person in my family. Maisy was definite that the woman was not American.”

  “Unless she disguised her accent in order to fool them.”

  Alexandra grimaced. “An American who is able to sound so like a toff that an Englishwoman is fooled?”

  “I agree. It sounds unlikely. But I don’t think we can rule out your American family entirely. They could, after all, be operating through an English friend or distant relative.”

  “Then they would be letting yet another party into the situation—it seems unlikely. The obvious answer is an Englishwoman who would stand to lose something if I am the Countess’s granddaughter. And who else could that be except Lady Ursula?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I have known the woman all my life. She is overbearing, annoying and sanctimonious. But I cannot imagine her killing to keep her mother from claiming you as her granddaughter.”

  “Then who else could it be? Penelope?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Who, then?”

  “There must be some other person who we don’t know about. Some reason they want your mother silenced and you out of the way.”

  “What other reason could there be?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. At least when I am engaged in a fight, I usually know who my opponent is.”

  “Perhaps we should leave for the United States. It is just that I am scared to do so while Mother is still—”

  “It’s impossible. You cannot move her now. Besides, I—”

  Alexandra turned toward him, her chest tightening. “You what?”

  “I do not want you to.”

  “It is the only answer.” Alexandra tried to keep her voice steady. “It will nip the scandal in the bud.”

  “So will marrying me.”

&
nbsp; “That is a rather large sacrifice on both our parts, don’t you think, for being forced to spend the night together by a freak accident?”

  He crossed the room to her, his eyes boring into hers. “It was more than that. What they are whispering is exactly true. You were in my bed. We made love.”

  Alexandra found it difficult to breathe. Her knees trembled, and she was afraid she might embarrass them both by slumping against him.

  “It isn’t as if I were a naïve maiden,” she told him shakily. “I went into it with my eyes open.”

  Her eyes strayed to his lips. She remembered how they had felt against hers. The truth was that she wanted to feel them again. Brazenly, right here in the drawing room in the middle of the morning, she wanted him to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  “Dammit! You were a maiden, naïve or not. Why are you so stubborn? Why won’t you marry me?”

  Because you haven’t said you love me, she wanted to cry, but she held back the words. Words of love were no good if they were forced.

  “You are a British lord. You can scarcely marry an American nobody.”

  “I can do whatever I please. I usually do.”

  “I have told you about my mother,” Alexandra reminded him stiffly.

  “Yes. What does that matter?”

  “You think your family would want you to marry someone with madness in her family?”

  “She is probably no madder than a good number of peers I’ve met. Every noble family has one or two skeletons in their closet. Mrs. Ward would probably be considered merely an eccentric.”

  “Don’t be flip. She is…peculiar in her actions and her words. People would be bound to notice, and they would comment on it.”

  “I believe I have told you how little public opinion means to me.”

  “But you have to think about the future—your heirs.”

  “I am thinking about the future.” The expression in his eyes sent heat spreading through Alexandra’s loins. “You are the woman I want to have heirs with. I know you, Alexandra, and I see little chance that you could have a child who was not quite sane.”

  Alexandra turned away, breaking the spell his eyes cast on her. “No. Please stop.”

  “I won’t,” he replied. “Besides, your reason is most likely invalid, anyway. The way things look right now, Mrs. Ward probably isn’t even your mother, so it doesn’t really matter whether she is wholly sane or not.”

  “But we don’t know!”

  “There are many things we don’t know. We cannot foretell the future. But we cannot live our lives in terror that something bad might happen.”

  He started toward her again, but much to Alexandra’s relief, her aunt walked into the room at that point, and Alexandra seized the opportunity to flee.

  THERE WERE NO UNTOWARD EVENTS over the next two days. No one tried to break in; there were no fights; no more ragamuffins came knocking on the door wanting to give them information.

  However, Alexandra found the atmosphere anything but tranquil. It was extremely unsettling to have Sebastian around all the time. It was not that he irritated her nerves, for she discovered that he was surprisingly companionable. Nor was it that he bored her, for he was ever an interesting conversationalist. But she could not be easy. His constant presence was a reminder to her of the night they had shared—and of the many more nights they could share, if only she gave up her scruples.

  But she refused to go into a one-sided marriage, where she loved and he did not, and Sebastian was maddeningly silent on the matter of love. Sometimes he tried to persuade her with reasoned arguments about the ruination of her reputation. Other times he teased her, laughingly reminding her of what a catch he was on the marriage mart. Now and then he lapsed into a brooding silence, watching her. And, far too often for her peace of mind, he looked at her with hot, hungry eyes or slipped behind her in one of the corridors and planted a kiss upon her neck or ear or cheek, and asked her in a husky voice when she would give in to him.

  But never once did he say that she was the love of his life, that he could not live without her. Alexandra supposed it was a foolish thing to expect, especially given the businesslike transactions that British noble marriages seemed to be. But she could not help it. She wanted a marriage of passion, not reason. She wanted a husband who loved her beyond all else, the way her father had loved her mother.

  She spent an extra amount of time in her mother’s room, relieving Willa and Aunt Hortense. At least Sebastian did not disturb her there. But sitting alone with her silent mother, she found that she could not escape her thoughts, and those invariably returned to the night of love she and Sebastian had shared.

  One afternoon she was sitting beside her mother, her hand clasping Rhea’s, talking to her about her indecision regarding Sebastian, when she felt her mother’s hand close around hers.

  “Mother!” Alexandra was instantly on her feet, leaning toward Rhea. “Can you hear me? You squeezed my hand. Are you awake? Do you understand me?”

  But Rhea’s face was as blank as ever, and her hand was already slack again in Alexandra’s.

  “Willa! Aunt Hortense!” Alexandra rushed to the door of the room and called into the hall.

  A moment later, both women came hurrying into the room, their faces anxious.

  “She squeezed my hand!” Alexandra announced.

  “What?” Willa looked dumbfounded. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I am positive. I was talking to her, holding her hand, and suddenly she pressed my hand. I’m certain of it.”

  “The doctor said sometimes their muscles will involuntarily contract when they are in this state.”

  “It wasn’t that. I am sure she heard me—on some level. She hasn’t reached full wakefulness yet. But it will come. Surely this means that she is beginning to wake up.”

  Aunt Hortense grinned. “Yes. It must mean that. We must watch for more signs.”

  They stood around the bed, gazing at the still, silent woman. Rhea did not stir or twitch. But Alexandra was not discouraged. She resumed her vigil, not leaving Rhea’s side until it was time for supper and one of the maids came to take her place.

  Alexandra had thought to go back to her mother’s side that evening, but supper seemed unusually long, and after that, they had to sit through a tedious piano recital from Willa. Hearing her play, Alexandra wondered if the Countess was forced to sit through her piano pieces every evening. If so, she must have the patience of a saint, Alexandra thought. Whatever warm and wonderful qualities Willa had, she was not an accomplished pianist.

  Alexandra began to feel quite sleepy. She yawned, trying to cover it so as not to hurt Willa’s feelings, and more than once she jerked awake and realized that she had nodded off. She decided to go straight to bed, only stopping by her mother’s room to say good-night to her unresponsive form.

  She sighed and left the room, trying not to let Rhea’s lack of response discourage her. It would happen; she would awaken. She must just have faith.

  Alexandra stopped abruptly a few feet from her door when she saw that Sebastian was standing beside it, leaning negligently against the door frame.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked irascibly, walking around him to open the door.

  “Waiting for you,” he replied, reaching out and catching her wrist with his hand.

  He stepped closer, looming over her. “I have been having trouble sleeping, Alexandra.”

  “I hardly see how that is my concern.” Alexandra replied lightly, although warmth was already stirring in her at the implication of his words.

  “It is because of you. I used to be quite content with being by myself. I find that I am not any longer.”

  Sebastian bent his head and brushed his lips against her hair. “I want you in my bed again.”

  “If this is another ploy to try to convince me to marry you…”

  “No, just the plea of a desperate man. I was watching you all through that execrable piano recital. I kept thinking about th
at night in the highwayman’s lair….”

  He raised her arm and kissed the tender inside of her wrist. “Come to my room tonight.”

  “Are you mad? Under the same roof with my aunt and mother? Not to mention Willa.”

  “Then marry me, and we shall be under our own roof.”

  Alexandra grimaced. “You are not getting around me that easily. Besides, I’m terribly sleepy. Didn’t you see me yawning all evening?”

  “I thought that was due to Willa’s piano playing,” Sebastian said, and Alexandra chuckled. He brushed his knuckles slowly down her cheek and leaned over her, saying in a low voice, “I’ll lay you odds that I have a remedy for your sleepiness.”

  His husky voice stirred a longing in Alexandra’s loins, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

  “Stop.” Alexandra shook her head in mock exasperation and went on tiptoe to brush her lips lightly against his cheek. “Good night, Sebastian.”

  “You call that a good-night kiss?” His arm swooped around Alexandra, and he lifted her into him as his mouth came down to claim hers in a dizzying, lengthy kiss.

  When at last he released her, Alexandra stood for a moment dazedly gazing into his face, her lips slightly parted. He let out a groan.

  “If you continue to look at me like that, I can guarantee that I won’t leave you.” He bent and pressed his lips against Alexandra’s forehead. “Dream of me tonight.”

  He turned and strode briskly down the hall toward his room. Alexandra let out a shuddering sigh and went into her room. One of the upstairs maids was waiting to help her out of her dress and into her nightgown.

  Languidly, Alexandra let the girl brush her hair and tie it back with a pink ribbon. Usually she hadn’t the patience for letting someone fuss over her hair like that; she wouldn’t even have used the services of a maid if it had been possible for her to reach all the tiny buttons down the back of her dress. But tonight, she was too tired and lazy to protest. Indeed, her eyes drifted closed as she sat on the bench while the maid brushed her hair.

  “Miss!”

  Alexandra opened her eyes and blinked at the maid standing over her, her hands on Alexandra’s shoulders.