He had thought it a cunning plan to instruct Hackworth to hide the precious relic inside one of the large urns that sat either side of the Clifford’s front door. On the off-chance Hackworth was tracked, the statue would be found at the Cliffords. The scandal would bring down the family and Constance would be history.
Then Hackworth had returned to collect the priceless relic.
But there had been nothing to collect.
The urn had been empty.
Pacing around the gallery, Samuel cursed Malcolm for rescuing Constance, Hackworth for his moronic stupidity, and the duke for pushing Roger to be married.
But Samuel’s greatest wrath sat squarely on the shoulders of the now deceased Baron of Cloverdale. Arthur Clifford.
When he’d confronted the man about the statue’s disappearance, the baron had not only admitted he’d found it and refused to hand it over, he’d made it clear he’d be contacting the authorities.
I’m giving you the chance to make things right. Turn yourself in, Monty.
Pacing around the gallery, the words still rang in Samuel’s head.
They had sent him into a blind rage.
In less than a minute, the Cliffords were dead.
He’d allowed Constance to live for only one reason.
To place the blame on her.
But she’d escaped.
As his spies had hunted for her, Roger had spent endless hours searching the Clifford house for the statue, and Hackworth had scoured the grounds. There was only one answer. Constance had taken it with her. Agonizing weeks had passed, then he’d heard a rumor. Constance Clifford had reappeared and won the favor and protection of Malcolm Mead. Samuel believed the rumor immediately. The rough gentleman was harboring her and the Statue of Kharute.
“You will not beat me, you whoring son of a groundskeeper!” Samuel screeched, raising his fist in the air. “I will see you dead. I will see Constance dead. I will have my statue! I will find a way to have Roger to myself. Do you hear me? I will have it all!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sitting in front of the roaring fire, Malcolm and Connie drank their tea and enjoyed the delicious, delicate pastries Mrs. Henderson had provided. The relentless rain continued, and rising to his feet, Malcolm ambled across to the windows to stare across the lawn to the woods.
“I meant to ask you,” Connie said, placing her cup on the table and walking over to join him. “Is this where you grew up with Edith? Is this where you saved her?”
“Yes, it is. The earl had another, much bigger estate, but Edith and her mother preferred it here. They said it felt more like a home. It’s fortunate.”
“Why?”
“The earl had no sons, so the bulk of his estate and his title went to a cousin, but he was able to leave this property to the three of us, though I own a larger piece and he placed me in charge. The expenses are taken care of through our lifetimes. He also provided a house in London for his widow and Edith.”
“You didn’t inherit your home in London?”
“No, but there was plenty of money to buy something, and I discovered I have a flair for renovating. That’s why I chose property as my career. Connie, I want you to be a part of it.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about property.”
“But you know about decorating. I’m too rough around the edges. You will bring refinement to the interiors. Why are you so surprised?”
“A man doesn’t usually involve his wife in his business. Wife! What a wonderful word.”
“As you already know, I’m not like most men,” he retorted with a wink.
A flutter rippled through her stomach.
“No, Malcolm, you most definitely are not.”
“Connie, there’s something I must take care of. Will you be all right by yourself until Mrs. Melville and Mrs. Henderson return with Edith’s clothes?”
She laughed out loud.
“What’s so amusing?”
“I survived the wretched streets of London. I think I’ll manage to drink tea by myself for a little while.”
“So cheeky,” he muttered with a grin, shaking his head.
“Would you mind if I explored the other rooms?”
“Mind? Please do! If you find a locked door, it’s because it leads to the rest of the house. I’ve closed off my wing, though Mrs. Henderson has a key.”
“What were you worried about?”
“Edith and her mother entertain a great deal, and I would prefer the guests not wander in here,” he said, then turned his attention back outside. “I’m worried about this weather. Perhaps we should have the ceremony in here. It’s quite a walk to the chapel.”
“I don’t care where we have it, and—oh, dear. I just had a thought! Malcolm, what about our rings?”
“That won’t be a problem. I have them.”
“You do? But how?”
“Like you, I was an only child, and my parents passed their wedding rings on to me. I have them locked away in the secret room. They’re not elaborate, but they’ll certainly be suitable for tomorrow, though when we marry legally I intend to buy you something truly beautiful.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be honored wearing your mother’s ring. Deeply honored.”
He smiled, leaned in, and quickly kissed her.
“The important thing is I have them. Now I really must go.”
“Do you need something in the village?”
“Never you mind,” he teased. “You’ll find out soon enough!”
* * *
Letting out a heartfelt, happy sigh, Connie watched him stride from the room, then ambled back to the coffee table, finished her tea, and set off to explore. There were rooms upon rooms, hallways led to other hallways, but she began to understand how they were connected. Though just a wing, the layout was reminiscent of her family’s country home. A pang of sadness sliced through her heart. Her uncle owned it now. He’d never been terribly fond of her, but he was generally a cold fish so she’d never given his attitude much thought.
When she entered Malcolm’s suite, she never wanted to leave. Like his bedroom in London, an imposing canopy bed sat in the center opposite a large fireplace, but the space was larger, and the windows offered a panoramic view of the gardens and woods below.
She wanted to linger, but she’d been investigating for a while. Not wanting to keep Mrs. Melville and Mrs. Henderson waiting, she hurried back to her room to find they had returned with undergarments, nightwear, dresses, stockings, hair jewelry, and shoes. As Connie was dressed, undressed, and dressed again, her hair fussed with, various combs and clips tried, the afternoon flew by. With the selections finally made, Mrs. Melville and Mrs. Henderson left to return the unwanted items.
Though it had been a joyous time, with smiles, rolled eyes, and laughter, Connie couldn’t help but wish her mother had been with her, and her father downstairs, proud as punch. Moving to her small bag, she retrieved the precious bracelet and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know you’re watching over me, Mamma,” she murmured softly, wiping the stray tears she couldn’t swallow back. “I miss you and Papa terribly, but I’m safe now, and I’m not alone anymore. Malcolm is the most wonderfully clever man. I believe in him, Mamma, I believe he can bring those monsters to justice and this horrible business to an end. Goodness, I can hear you whisper in my mind not to think about them for the moment. You’re right. This is the most special time of my life, and I won’t let them ruin the great happiness I’m feeling. I’m going to be with the man I love for the rest of my days, and they stretch far into the future. I’m sure of it.”
* * *
Standing on the other side of the door, Malcolm had heard every mumbled word. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d run into his housekeepers in the hall loaded down with the clothes they were taking back to Edith’s room.
Eager to see Connie, he’d hurried to her room and found the door partially open. He was about to knock when he’d heard her talking. As he’d lis
tened, his heart had almost burst, and he felt an even greater determination to expose the depraved men who had ripped her life apart and bring them to justice—or see their sorry souls dispatched to burn in the pits of hell.
Waiting a minute to gather his wits, he gently knocked, and poked his head around the door.
“How did it go?”
“No, no! You mustn’t see the dress,” Connie shouted, rushing to the door and pushing him into the hallway. “Out, out! Don’t you know anything? It’s bad luck.”
“We’re not even married yet and you’re bossing me around,” he declared with a chuckle as he stumbled backwards.
“I most certainly am! And after dinner you’re not allowed to see me.”
“I don’t like the sound of that!”
“It’s the way it has to be! We can only talk through the door,” she exclaimed, reaching around and slamming it shut behind her, “but nothing else. You can’t look at me!”
“But I can look at you now?”
“Well, obviously, or I wouldn’t let you, but you’re not going into that bedroom to see the dress, or the shoes, or anything!” she continued, pushing him down the hall toward the stairs. “We’ll go back to the drawing room until dinner. It shouldn’t be very long.”
“You’re almost scary,” he said, laughing out loud. “What happened to that demure young lady?”
“She comes and goes. Did you forget how we met?”
“That would be impossible! You almost got the better of me when I wrestled you away from Percy Cavendish.”
“I’ll get the better of you now if you try to come into my room!”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Certainly not! Seriously, Malcolm, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride the night before their wedding, and I’m not taking any chances.”
“I’m not superstitious, but you needn’t worry. I won’t tempt fate.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise, although,” he murmured, with a wicked grin, “you might want to lock the door in case I start sleepwalking.”
“You’re terrible.”
“No, I’m the man your dear father warned you about.”
“You are! You definitely are, but,” she whispered into his ear, “I love you even more because of it. If Papa had been given the chance to know you, he’d like you very much.”
“At the very least, I’d make sure he knew how I intend to take exceptionally good care of you,” Malcolm said emphatically as they started down the stairs.
“He knows,” she murmured, lowering her voice. “He and Mamma, they’re with us. I can feel them.”
They’d reached the drawing room, and walking in, he closed the door and brought her into his arms.
“Of course they are, and I’m sure they had a hand in making all of this come to pass,” he said softly, and leaning down, he pressed his mouth on hers in a warm, sweet kiss. “There, that will hold us until tomorrow, but only just.”
“Yes,” she breathed, “only just.”
The fire still burned, and the drinks cabinet against the wall had been opened.
“Would you like a glass of something? I’m going to enjoy some bourbon.”
“Ugh, bourbon. I don’t know how you men drink that,” she replied, looking past him. “Malcolm! There’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.”
“Well, well. I wonder which of the ladies thought of that,” he said with a broad smile.
“I’d say Mrs. Melville. She seems more of a woman of the world than Mrs. Henderson.”
“I suspect you’re right. I’ll open it, and what we don’t drink we can take into dinner with us.”
“We certainly can’t finish off the whole bottle before then.”
“I’d be willing to give it a try!”
“Malcolm!”
As he popped the cork with a loud laugh, there was a knock and Mrs. Melville entered.
“Oh, good, you found the champagne,” she said happily. “I thought you might enjoy it on the eve of your special day.”
“It was very thoughtful,” Connie said. “Thank you. A glass of champagne is absolutely perfect.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but a letter arrived for you, sir. I apologize. I couldn’t find a silver tray to bring it to you as Corbin does.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive the breach of etiquette,” he replied as she carried it across to him.
“Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.”
“Excellent, thank you.”
Taking the envelope, he recognized Edith’s writing.
“Do you know who it’s from?” Connie asked anxiously as Mrs. Melville left the room. “Oh, dear, I hope it’s not bad news.”
“It’s from Edith,” he replied, tearing it open. “I don’t think it will be bad news, but I do think it will be interesting. She was having high tea with Edward yesterday afternoon, and obviously whatever she learned, she wanted me to know about right away.”
My dear Malcolm,
It is with great haste I write this.
I have learned an American visitor you may have heard about is an avid collector of unique items. There appears to be a connection.
My friend is extremely trustworthy and eager to help. He wishes to meet with you the moment you return.
Safe travels back,
Your Sister in Heart,
Edith
“Malcolm, she’s talking about the American who came to dinner at my house with Samuel Mountbatten,” Connie exclaimed. “How did she find out about him? Gosh—more important—what did she find out? I wonder who her friend is?”
“It doesn’t matter how, but she did,” Malcolm said thoughtfully, “and we’ll learn the details soon enough. I assume the friend she speaks of is Edward, and I’m delighted he has a desire to jump into the fray. I was going to broach the subject with him myself when we returned, but cautiously. I certainly didn’t expect to hear anything like this from Edith.”
“Do we need to worry? Did she give away too much? Can this Edward person be trusted?”
“Edith can be as flighty as any female, but she has excellent instincts. She wouldn’t have entered into a conversation with him about any of this if she hadn’t been completely confident.”
“Excuse me!” Connie said indignantly. “Exactly what do you mean, as flighty as any female?”
Stuffing the letter into his pocket, he abruptly grabbed her wrists, held them at the small of her back, and jerked her into his body.
“Are you saying you’re not given to moments of flightiness?” he demanded, his voice suddenly low and his eyes boring into hers. “The truth, wife to be.”
“I, uh, I, perhaps,” she whispered, wishing her knees weren’t buckling.
“Anything else you’d like to challenge me about?”
She paused, then broke into a smile.
“Yes, but I’ll save it for our wedding night.”
“Hmm, that does sound intriguing,” he said with a grin, but as he released her, a frown creased his brow.
“Malcolm, what’s the matter?”
“I’m wondering if I should ask Edith and Edward to join us here. It’s certainly more private, and undoubtedly safer.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Connie said earnestly.
“That will give me the opportunity to talk with Edward before going back, and if he’s willing to help we can solidify our plans here. He could even lay the groundwork before our return. Yes. This is definitely our way forward. I’ll send a telegram asking them to come as soon as they can.”
“I feel really good about this,” Connie remarked, though her voice was subdued. “Sometimes things just do.”
“I know what you mean. Like us,” Malcolm murmured, looking at her intently.
“Yes, like us.”
* * *
Back in London, Samuel Mountbatten closed his fist around a deeply disturbing note. He’d been waiting impatiently for Roger, and hearing the doorbell he hurried into t
he foyer.
“Finally,” he barked as Partridge opened the door and relieved Roger of his hat and coat. “What took you so long?”
“I was lucky to get away at all. Father had those damnable Chapmans over again. He’s now decided Lucy Chapman is the girl for me. So, tell me, what’s so urgent?”
“Blasted women,” Samuel grunted. “Come into the salon. Partridge! Bring coffee!”
“Right away, my lord.”
Marching down the hall and entering the elegant sitting room, Samuel handed the letter to Roger.
“This is what’s so urgent,” he said anxiously. “Read it for yourself. We have to do something, and we have to do it now.”
Taking the piece of paper and unfolding it, Roger’s face turned white as he read the short message.
Monty,
I have run out of patience.
If the Statue of Kharute is not in my possession by the end of this month, you know what will happen.
DM
“Oh, no,” Roger whimpered. “What can we do? We don’t even know where the statue is or who has it.”
“Mead has it hidden away. We both believe that.”
“Not for sure!”
“You’d better pray he does. He’s the only lead we have. My gut says he’s taken it to his country home. That damnable bag he carried into the carriage was a decoy.”
“Filled with those awful rats,” Roger mewled, staring at his bandaged hand. “I hate that man. I hate him.”
“Roger, you must find an excuse to get away for a couple of days. You and I are going to the country first thing in the morning.”
“That’s impossible. My father has me committed to dinners for the rest of the week. He’ll never let me leave.”
“Damn and blast. I’m not bloody well going by myself.”
“Why don’t we send Hackworth? He could watch the place, and if he sees anything of interest he can send word. I visited Connie at Flemming Hall several times. I know the layout, and I know where Mead’s quarters are. I can give Hackworth all the information he needs.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Samuel remarked thoughtfully. “Nothing’s happening here. No comings or goings at Mead’s house. Yes. I like it. Hackworth is due here any minute. I’ll dispatch him immediately. If anything comes up we can join him the minute you’re able to get away. You have a property near Flemming Hall, don’t you?”
Rough Gentleman Page 21
