Her hands clenched in her lap. Why couldn’t she see her father’s face? Hints of his voice played through her head, but the words were ones an adult would speak to a child. No memories emerged from any time more recent than when she had been barely old enough to have a tutor.
“You did not answer me,” Timothy said, his voice still harsh with barely repressed anger. “Where are you going at this hour?”
“I am going home.”
“Home?” He stared at her as he whispered, “You have remembered who you are?”
“Not completely.” Closing her eyes, so she was not tempted to soothe the emotions in his, she whispered, “All the answers you need are in a letter I left on your desk.”
“You wrote me a letter and—”
“The letter is from your solicitor.” She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes. She could not hide from the truth. “It was misdelivered to me, but it told me that I am, in truth, Helen Loughlin.”
“Loughlin?” he choked, and she knew he had made the connection as swiftly as his grandfather had.
“It seems that your finding me was a most happy happenstance for your cousin, who may not have been as puzzled by the truth as I was.”
Timothy cursed with rare fervor. “Of course he knew who you were. He and Uncle Arnold have called several times on Sir Philip in recent years.”
“Enough so that your uncle owes my father a heavy debt.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “But that is not important. What is important is that my father must be frantic with worry that his daughter is dead. I must not delay a moment longer going home to reassure him of the truth.”
“Let me send a rider. The message will reach your father far more quickly than a carriage.”
“Thank you, but no.”
“You can leave on the morrow.” He reached for her hands. “If—” He cursed again when she drew her hands away.
“I must leave now.”
“At the very least, allow me to escort you home. You should not be traveling alone all night.”
“Yes, you may escort me home.” She held up her hand to halt him from replying before she had said all she must. “But only because I want you to assure my father that nothing untoward happened between us, in spite of your cousin’s determination to see you enjoy the rights of the lord of the manor with me.”
He slapped the side of the carriage to give the command to leave. The sound of the endless ringing of the bells grew fainter as he said, “I would never have done something to dishonor you, Serenity. I mean, Helen.”
She looked down at her gloved hands again. “Mayhap it would be better if you addressed me as Miss Loughlin, my lord.”
He grasped her hands. “Sweetheart, do not toss what we share aside as if it had no value.”
“What value can lies have? They have no more substance than the colors of a rainbow, even though they are just as beguiling and seductive to the want-witted.”
“’Tis no lie that when I hold you in my arms, I am certain that nothing in the world can be as wondrous. Then I kiss you and—”
“Timothy! No more!” She pulled away, edging to the far side of her seat. “I have been mired too long in lies, and I do not trust myself to know what is the truth any longer.”
“I know what I did was wrong. Even doing what I did for a good reason was wrong.”
She nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“You will allow me no latitude on this, will you?”
“If I do,” she whispered, leaning forward to cup his face in her hand, but pulling her fingers back before they could touch his rough skin, “my heart will demand the same latitude.”
“Your heart?”
She did not dare to close her eyes, although she wanted to shut out the hope blossoming in his. If she shut her eyes, she doubted if she could keep the tears from slipping past her lashes. “Even though I knew it was ludicrous, I could not keep from falling in love with the man who cared so deeply for his grandfather that he would go against his principles and devise this story to make him happy.”
“I have succeeded only in making everyone miserable, including you.”
“You have given Melanda a great deal to crow about. She will deem this a first-rate theatrical put on solely for her enjoyment.”
He rose enough to switch seats so he sat beside her. Putting his arm along the back of the seat, he whispered, “I care nothing about Melanda and how she rates the world about her, because she dares not allow anyone too near unless that one can advance her in some way.”
“She seems to think that Felix is that one.”
“She may change her mind when she learns of his scheme to ruin you and your father to get his vengeance.” He tried to smile, but failed. “Or mayhap not. They are, as you have mentioned more than once, two of a kind.” His voice grew somber. “We are speaking of Melanda and Felix when I wish to be speaking of us. Let them worry about their own future together. What of ours?”
She looked at him and whispered, “I don’t know.”
Eighteen
Felix reached for a glass of brandy. He needed something to ease the ache in his skull. Those blasted bellringers! That tradition would come to an immediate end on the day he became earl. A man should not face Christmas morn with the echo of endless ringing banging through his head.
“You look distressed, my love,” Melanda cooed as she leaned over the back of his chair. Dipping her finger in his glass, she rubbed the brandy against his forehead. “Another headache?”
“Yes.”
“You should not be suffering from a headache.” She bent and kissed his cheek. “Not tonight.”
He tipped the glass back and drained it. “If those accursed bells would just stop.”
“You should be used to them by now.” She laughed as she filled his glass again and came around from behind the chair to sit on its arm. Taking a glass, she poured some for herself. “A toast, Felix?”
“To what?”
She laughed at his grumble. “To us would be a good start.”
“Start? Everything has come to an end. Nothing has gone as I planned.” He took her hand and gave her a weak smile. “Almost nothing.”
“You are too glum when you should be happy.” She rested her cheek against his. “Your grandfather’s guests are enjoying themselves, and I saw your father leaving the ballroom with Mr. Younger and Lord Edsley.”
He groaned. “Dash him! Edsley has a certain skill with the devil’s books that might cost my father dear.”
“Edsley was well into his third bottle of wine.” She gave him a sly grin. “I made certain that he had his choice of several more in the room where they had retired to play cards.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” He chuckled.
“You shall be asking yourself that again when I tell you what I came in here to tell you.”
He sat straighter. “Something more?”
“The very best of tidings. She is gone.”
“She?” He scowled. Only two people created this abhorrence in Melanda’s voice. “Theodora?”
“That beastly child?” Her nose wrinkled. “No, not her. She is gone.”
“Serenity?”
She laughed and nodded.
“She is gone?”
Melanda rose and reached for another chocolate from the box set on the table by the window. “I just heard that Serenity skulked out of Cheyney Park like a thief not an hour ago.”
“And Timothy?”
She raised hooded eyes toward him and smiled. “I let your grandfather’s heir know that his erstwhile betrothed was on her way home.”
“Home?”
“To Sir Philip Loughlin’s country estate near Robin Hood’s Bay.”
Felix stood, swaying. He waved aside her hand. “She knows the truth?” He rubbed his eyes. “By all that is blue, how did that happen?”
Sitting in his chair, Melanda reached into her bodice and drew out a crumpled page. “Poor, dear Miss Loughlin. This letter was delivered
to her in error. It seems your cousin has developed such a tendre for Serenity that he was determined to find out the truth about her past so he could put her mind at ease about who she was before you persuaded her that five hundred pounds was the proper price for her to play Timothy’s supposed betrothed.”
Snatching the letter, Felix scanned it. Melanda was wrong. This letter made it clear that Timothy had set the solicitors on a search for those blasted children within days of the carriage accident. When writing that letter that he had pretended to take out of the apron’s pocket, Felix had been certain that Helen Loughlin would do as he suggested and take on the role of Serenity Adams if she thought some children were dependent upon her for their survival. Everything he had heard had convinced him that Helen Loughlin was as loyal and honest as her accursed father, so he had been sure she would take this bait.
She had, and so had Timothy. In his determination to repay “Miss Adams” for helping him, Timothy must have started this search for her nonexistent siblings. That search had led to the truth. Too soon! Too blasted soon! If the letter had arrived even a day or two from now, his revenge might have been assured. Now …
With a curse, he threw the letter onto the hearth. He did not wait to see it turn brown and catch fire. Why had not he invented some other tale that would have compelled her to help Timothy, yet would not have created this longing to find her fictitious brother and sister?
“She is gone, Felix,” Melanda murmured, coming to her feet and draping her arms around his neck. “And so is Timothy.”
“They will not get far. It was beginning to snow when I came in here.” He scowled at her. “Why did you tell Timothy that she had left?”
“Did you want to see his face yourself?” She walked her fingers up his arm. When he shoved her hand away, she pouted and said, “To own the truth, I did not tell him. I overheard him talking to Mrs. Scott.” She sniffed. “’Tis about time someone eavesdropped on her.”
“Why did not you come to tell me right away?”
“I have.” She ran her hand along his arm again. “Don’t fret, my love. Everything has worked out just as you had hoped.”
“Nothing has worked out as I hoped!” He peeled her arms off him and shoved them away.
“It must have in one way. Your grandfather is certain to be furious at Timothy for being a part of this scheme.” Her nose wrinkled as she reached for another chocolate. “You know how the earl says he expects more from his heir.”
“Yes, his beloved heir who must do no wrong, and his other grandson who can do no right.”
“Oh, Felix, don’t be petulant. What do you care?”
He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. “How can you ask that? After all I have done?”
“It has obviously failed. Timothy is sure to bring her back here, and then, being the honest trout that he is, he will go to your grandfather and confess the whole.”
“Be quiet,” he muttered, rubbing his aching forehead. He did not need Melanda’s vexing comments now. He had to think—and think fast. Father would be outraged when he heard of the chain of errors that had unraveled the carefully arranged pattern of lies.
Grandfather … He gulped. Grandfather would disown both him and Father, because the old man had become as fond of the woman he knew as Serenity Adams as if she were his own grandchild.
He knew what he must do. He must not delay.
Snow pelted the road, and wind blew against the lowered curtains on the windows. When the carriage slid as the road grew steep, Serenity gripped Timothy’s arm.
“We must turn around,” he said quietly.
“Yes.” She shivered with more than the cold. “Take me back to Cheyney Park.”
Opening the door in the top of the carriage, he shouted an order to the coachee. “Stay calm,” he added as he drew her into the curve of his arm while the carriage rolled to a stop, then began the slow back-and-forth to turn it on the narrow road.
“We are not far from where the other carriage fell from the road.”
“I know.” He tipped her chin toward him, although she could not see his face in the shadows. “Make me a promise.”
“If I can.”
“Promise me that you will not flee again. Promise me that you will let me take you home to your father.”
She whispered, “Yes, but I already agreed to that. Why are you asking me to promise again?”
“There may be much more to this than I had first thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that—” His voice became a roar as the carriage slid along the road like the sleigh when the horse had bolted.
This horse screamed in horror when the carriage continued to careen out of control down the road. She heard branches strike the side. No, not just branches, but another vehicle. What was happening? Had another carriage lost control on the icy road?
She buried her face against his chest, not wanting to think that she had destroyed her best chance at her future in this attempt to rediscover her past. Any answer was lost when she was thrown against the carriage wall. Pain seared her head; then there was nothing but the echoes of crashing.
Felix leaped down from the box. Yes, this was the spot. It had taken longer than he had expected to turn his carriage and hurry back here. The roads were even more slippery than he had guessed. If he had not taken care, he would have been the one with an out-of-control carriage.
Water splashed onto his best breeches, but he did not care. Excellent! This time there would be no mistakes, because he had done the deed himself. He should have learned from his father by now that depending on others led to slipshod results. A job that needed to be done should be done by oneself.
Yet that had not been possible before. It would not have been easy to concoct an excuse to leave London before Timothy on the way to Cheyney Park, but he should have found a way instead of letting others make a jumble of all this. When his father had learned that Miss Loughlin would be at the masquerade at Hess Court, Felix had known his chance had arrived.
That had been bungled, but not today.
He walked to the edge of the road. Trees were broken where the carriage must have crashed through. He did not have much time. Someone might see the beast and then come to investigate. But he would not leave this time without making sure the deed was done—and done completely.
Grimacing as his boots sank more deeply into the mud, he picked his way down the hill. He cursed when his feet slid out from beneath him, and he dropped to sit in the mud.
As he pushed himself to his feet, he heard behind him, “You will find nothing down there, Felix.”
Serenity held her breath as Felix slowly faced Timothy. She did not share Timothy’s certainty that his cousin would not have a weapon. Already Felix had shown that he would resort even to murder to achieve his aims. She did not want to believe that, as she knew Timothy did not, but unlike her, Timothy had not been knocked senseless in the carriage. He had recognized the driver of the other carriage, which had tried to push theirs off the road.
Felix grew pale, then said, “I had no idea you were out on this stormy night, cousin. I thought you would be busy with Grandfather trying to think up the toasts for everyone’s enjoyment.”
“You did not think I would be with Serenity?”
“I had heard—that is, Melanda told me that …” His face became ghostly as Serenity stepped out of the carriage to stand beside Timothy. Glancing at the wreckage at the base of the hill, he gulped so loudly it sounded like a gunshot in the silent woods.
“She told you that I left to seek my father,” Serenity said, “to reassure him that I was alive and well, although I could not remember much about him.” She glanced at Timothy, whose face in the light of the lantern held up by his coachee, Jenkins, was as tautly sculptured as the rocks in the low wall. “And she told you that Timothy offered to escort me home.”
“You don’t know what you are talking about!”
“But Ned does.” Timothy m
otioned to the lad from the stables as Ned stepped into the small circle of light, his clothes frozen to him. He had been calming the horses. “Mrs. Scott overheard your conversation with Melanda and asked Branson to send Ned to warn us.”
Felix’s curse warned Serenity how deeply he despised his grandfather and his household.
“Ned’s warning came nearly too late,” Timothy continued. “If Jenkins did not have such skill in the box, you might have succeeded in killing us instead of simply hurting Serenity’s head again.”
“And knocked her memories back into her head?” he sneered. “Or has the whole of this been a way for the two of you to carry on your affair right under Grandfather’s nose? He will not appreciate being made a dupe by your scheme.”
“The scheme, as you should recall, was your invention.” Timothy drew Serenity closer and pulled his thick cloak over her as the wind howled along the road. “Serenity recalls no more than she did an hour ago, save that you just tried to kill us.”
“An accident!”
“Was it? Like the sleigh that you took with you when you supposedly went to retrieve your father’s cravat? Or did you, instead, have the harness fixed so that it would panic the horse to the point that it would bolt, sending the sleigh out of control?”
Serenity stared at Timothy in disbelief. She had not guessed that he had such suspicions.
Timothy gave his cousin no time to retort. “I grew uneasy when Serenity seemed to recall too many things when her memory was loosened by your comments. It appeared the two of you had more in common than you, Felix, wished me to guess.”
“You cannot prove that I did anything wrong!” he cried.
“No, I cannot, although a true gentleman would take responsibility for his mistakes.” He folded his arms in front of him, looking like his grandfather when the earl refused to be countermanded. “It is no mistake to tell you that you would show a decided want of sense to return to Cheyney Park in the wake of this. Grandfather may not be as forgiving as I that you tried to murder me here.” Looking at Serenity, he said, “And attempted twice along this road to slay Miss Loughlin. Men have hanged for less.”
A Christmas Bride Page 20
