by Regina Scott
“Leave this to me, Joanna, please,” he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
She surrendered to his kiss, his embrace. If only they could stay like this. Her doubts always fled in the warmth of his touch.
They came running back when he escorted her into the house.
“A box came for you from Gunter’s, miss,” Harris told her as he helped her out of her pelisse.
Joanna glanced at Allister, who shrugged. “Not from me. What does the card say?”
Joanna took the note from the top of the white box and read the inscription. “My condolences on your loss. There must be some mistake. I have no need for condolences.”
Allison’s hand nudged hers away from the box. “Allow me.” He threw back the lid.
“Plum comfits?” Joanna frowned down at the crystalized fruit-shaped candies. “How unusual.”
“Indeed.”
Something in his tone warned her. “Allister?”
He closed the box. “As you said, a mistake. I’ll return these to Gunter’s for you.” He pecked her on the cheek and strode to the door so quickly Dames barely had time to open it for him.
“Does he not like brisket?” her mother asked, coming down the stairs.
“I have no idea why he didn’t wish to stay for dinner,” Joanna said with a frown. “And apparently I am not supposed to ask.”
–
The coincidences could not keep piling up like this. Joanna’s presence on Bond Street had had a purpose. So did these candies. Where there was smoke, there was generally fire. The person who had sent Joanna the comfits was sending him a message. She was vulnerable.
Unfortunately, the clerk at Gunter’s was no help.
“A great many people order our confections, sir,” the fellow proclaimed, his pointed nose in the air and his skinny frame at odds with the delicacies surrounding him in the glass cases. “Plum comfits are a particular favorite of her majesty.”
He highly doubted the queen had sent the box to Joanna. “I’m more interested in a gentleman who might have ordered them. Have you seen a short, bald fellow recently?”
“Dozens,” the clerk promised him with a much put-upon sigh. “And unless your friend is particularly well known, I regret that I would not be privy to his name. Might I suggest rum centers? They are quite popular with the gentlemen.”
Allister declined and turned away. Another blind alley. Yet more and more, it appeared that his nemesis was the Skull. How easily he tormented Joanna. How effectively he tormented Allister. No one had ever captured him before. What chance did they have now?
Allister had always been a light sleeper, a fact that had saved his life more than once. Yet, despite his sometimes dangerous circumstances, he had never had nightmares. Dreams, certainly, but nothing that made him wake up in a sweat. It was as if his mind knew, even asleep, that he had done the best he could.
That night was horrifying. In dream after dream he tried for something he could not attain. Once it was Davis who had fallen out the smuggler’s boat they used to cross to France. He watched, helpless, as his friend was swept away by an angry sea. Another time he saw a couple he somehow knew was his father and mother, who stood behind bars and pleaded with him to release them. But the worst dream involved Joanna. In it, he saw the Skull holding her at knife-point and laughing. The betrayal in her eyes haunted Allister even after he jerked awake, crying her name.
He barreled into the War Office the next day, ready to battle anyone who disagreed with his ideas about capturing the Skull. He was disappointed to find that Lord Hastings was out, and Davis was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, he poured over the reports of the last few encounters with Daremier, groaning aloud when he saw how easily the fellow evaded them.
Why had he thought he could simply retire from all this? Even if he could have quelled the pounding of his pulse, he could not deny that Daremier had to be stopped.
If no one else would do it, it was up to him. He would not lose Joanna.
Chapter Ten
What danger could there have been in a box of comfits? The question kept poking at Joanna that night as she and her mother finished sewing her trousseau. The tiny stitches on the satin fabric were far more ordered than her thoughts.
Allister had agreed with her that the delivery was a mistake, yet she’d felt the tension in him. Did he think it related to the other incidents after all? The handwriting on the card did somewhat resemble that on the first note. Yet, surely he didn’t think the things were poison. It had to be another prank.
He’d asked her to let him handle things. Perhaps she would have agreed more readily if she hadn’t felt that he was hiding something from her.
A visit from Davis Laughton the next day did nothing to assure her. After greeting him and installing him in the sitting room across from Joanna, with Dames along the wall, her mother had gone to fetch his invitation. Neither Dames nor Harris would likely have found it on her mother’s desk, which was as uniquely arranged as her thought processes.
There were many things she might have discussed with Allister’s friend in her mother’s absence, but Joanna decided not to waste time on pleasantries.
“What did Allister learn about the candy?” she asked him.
Davis raised his brow. “Candy? Was he to select something for you?”
Hurriedly she explained the delivery the day before. He listened intently, only interrupting her twice to ask a pertinent question. When she finished, Allister’s friend shook his head.
“It is as I feared. You have attracted the attentions of a rather unsavory fellow.”
She shivered. “Who?”
“Let us merely call him an enemy to the Crown,” Davis said. “Lord Trevithan and I have had several dealings with him over the years. But never fear. I know Lord Trevithan will do everything in his power to protect you, and so will I.”
She ought to be afraid, chilled at the thought of such danger. Certainly she’d nearly quailed the first time Allister’s friend had suggested it. Yet under her concern she felt a thrill of excitement. How clever Allister must be to have matched wits with the enemy. How brave to protect her from harm. She had no doubt he would be victorious. If only he hadn’t been so adamant that she must stay safely behind him.
“There,” her mother said, bustling back into the room to hand Davis his invitation. “And I think blue would look much better on you.”
Davis glanced down at his simple brown coat. “Ma’am?”
“What my mother means,” Joanna explained with a smile as her mother took a seat near her, “is that you needn’t feel compelled to wear your formal black to the wedding.”
“Ah.” He offered her mother a smile. “Thank you for the suggestion, Lady Lindby. I will bear it in mind if the time comes.”
Her mother beamed, but Joanna had heard the slight. Davis did not believe her wedding would come about. He could not question his friend’s ability to stop the villain, and likely he did not question his own.
No, his doubts lay with her, and she could not tell him that she shared them.
–
Allister was almost afraid to see Joanna that night for their promised trip to the opera, yet he longed to hold her in his arms and prove to himself that she was safe. After changing into his evening black and taking a quick dinner, he walked the short distance to Mayfair to meet her and her mother.
As bright as a bluebird in her sapphire silk evening gown, Lady Lindby fluttered in to join him in the sitting room after the butler had admitted him.
“Oh, Lord Trevithan,” she panted. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.”
Allister was on his feet instantly, heart hammering. “Is it Joanna? What’s happened?”
She stopped abruptly, blinking. “Why, nothing. I merely wished to apologize that she isn’t ready. What was the earl’s name?”
“Adam Darby,” he said absently, reseating himself on the sofa as she
took a chair across from him. “And I will get you that list for the wedding invitations.”
Some part of him was pleased he’d followed her train of thought, but the rest of him was appalled by his behavior. His reaction to her innocent announcement had been as irrational as it was unnecessary.
And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop. When he held out the black velvet cloak to cover Joanna’s bare shoulders above an amethyst silk gown, he thought how easy it would be for Daremier to fit his fingers around that graceful neck. Each time the carriage hit a rut, he tensed, wondering whether the axle had been tampered with and whether the carriage would suddenly pitch into the pavement. As they alighted at the theatre, he scanned the crowd for faces and saw an enemy in each smiling countenance.
The worst came during intermission. So many shifting bodies, so many opportunities for disaster. He tensed at every loud voice, cringed at the bark of a laugh.
Crack!
He flew out of his seat, covering Joanna’s body with his own, ready to take the next bullet if it meant keeping her safe.
Her mother startled. “I must say I prefer dramas.”
“That wasn’t part of the performance, Mother,” Joanna said, eying Allister with a frown. “And I do believe I see the Munroes across from us. Perhaps you should go greet them.”
“The very thing.”
As Allister resumed his seat with chagrin, Lady Lindby hurried from the box with their footman to escort her.
Joanna turned to him. “What is it, Allister? You don’t seem yourself this evening.”
She would have been an asset to the profession with that cool demeanor. Any other woman would surely be questioning his sanity.
“Forgive me,” he replied. “I have a great deal on my mind.”
“So I’ve noticed,” she said. The smile she offered him would have fooled most people, but he was certain it was purely for his benefit.
He took her hand. “I’ll try to think only of my beautiful bride-to-be for the rest of the evening.”
“And miss the performance? What sacrifices you make for me, my lord.”
He could live on that smile.
She pulled her hand from his grip. “And did you learn anything about the candy?” she asked as if they discussed threats to her life every day.
So much for being able to avoid the subject. He managed a smile though he found himself unable to meet her eyes for fear of the disappointment he would see there in his failure. “No. And I begin to think this whole affair is driving me mad.”
Her hand covered his. “Don’t let it drive a wedge between us. Can’t you see it’s what the villain wants?”
He brought his thumb up and rubbed the back of her hand, feeling the strength in those supple fingers. “All I see is that I may have put you in danger.”
She cocked her head, a coil of her raven hair brushing her shoulder. “Danger? With you on duty? How could that be?”
He sighed. “My work has taken me many places, Joanna. Not all of them have been pleasant. There are those who hold on to grudges.”
“Then you have narrowed in on your suspect.”
He hesitated. So many secrets, so many compromises. If her life was threatened, wasn’t she entitled to know? “I’ve crossed paths with a certain fellow a number of times. I suspect this may be his work. He is dangerous, Joanna. Make no mistake.”
“Ah.” Her look softened. “Thank you for telling me, Allister. I want you to know you can speak to me about anything.”
For the first time in his life, he thought he could. And yet, what right did he have to throw a cloud over her? He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. She shivered in pleasure.
“I see no reason to make a change in our lives for this,” she murmured. “The danger does not trouble me over much.”
Allister raised his head to meet her gaze, incredulous. “The danger doesn’t trouble you?”
She shrugged. “I won’t deny that it is a bit discomposing, but I believe I can manage. I may not understand exactly what you did for the War Office, but I can see it had a strong hand in shaping your life. I can also see that you miss it.”
“You see a great deal,” he told her, trying to keep his tone light. After years of hiding his thoughts, it amazed him she could read him so easily. Perhaps it was time for him to retire after all.
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “Admit it, Allister. You long for the excitement of the chase.”
How venal that sounded, how childish. Was he no better than young Whattling, chasing the next win at the gaming tables?
“My work has been central to my life for a long time,” he told her. “I will miss it, but I’m also tired of it. The days are long, Joanna, and the nights are empty. I think I will be content to sit at home and watch our children play at my feet.”
“Will you?” she asked, dark eyes gleaming in challenge. “That seems a very narrow existence, my lord, for all you must have experienced.”
He could not argue with her on that score. Yet, with her beside him, he thought perhaps he could make it work.
“There is something to be said for narrow existences,” he told her. “They are predictable, safe. That is very appealing at the moment.”
“Yes,” she replied, returning her gaze to the stage as her mother rejoined them for the second act. “I can see how it might be appealing, for the moment.”
Chapter Eleven
Joanna paced her room again that night, calling herself six times a fool. How could she have been so blind? She’d feared she wasn’t interesting enough for him. She’d feared he didn’t love her. She thought him a bit obsessed in trying to discover who was intent on parting them. Now she knew the situation was far worse. It wasn’t so much he lacked in love but that he loved elsewhere. She had a rival, and she had no idea how to counter it.
She had heard of other women who had to work to capture their husbands’ attention. Racehorses, gambling, pugilistic displays, the lure of the forbidden, any and all of those things had been known to turn a man’s head. And Jenny had thought he had a mistress! He had a lover all right, one with which she could hardly compare.
She had innocently thought that she would never take second place in her husband’s heart. She wouldn’t do so now without a fight.
But how to fight? He claimed to want to settle down, but she was certain his desire for peace and tranquility would not outlast the day. She’d seen the spark in his eye when he was on the chase. She was just as certain that she was not interesting enough or beautiful enough to keep a man like Allister away from his other passion for long. What other weapons did she have?
The note, the candy, their watcher had given her a few days’ grace before Allister discovered how truly uninteresting she was. The matter was claiming his attention, and he was not unhappy about that. Yet she had complete confidence that he would eventually solve the mystery. Ten years of dangerous work would surely have given him the instincts and knowledge for self-preservation, at the least. It would also have honed his skills for solving problems like this one. He was on the hunt, and he would catch the culprit. Then she would be left with nothing but her staid little life to recommend her.
If only she could keep this level of excitement in their relationship. She had seen enough marriages to know that the ardor of courtship cooled quickly into a sedentary fondness in many cases. She had hoped that she and Allister might someday share a deeper bond. That hope was doomed unless she could find something that would entice him to stay with her.
She was still mulling over the matter the next day when Allister called. Elegant in his navy coat and fawn trousers, he brought her a nosegay of hothouse violets, brushing a kiss against her neck as he bent to give them to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, both for the flowers and the touch.
“Oh, how lovely,” her mother enthused. “My Joanna is fortunate in her choice of husbands.”
Joanna was certain her smile was as strained as Allister’s as he bowed over her
mother’s hand. She set the flowers into the lap of her lavender silk walking dress and tried to focus her attention on them.
“I’m the fortunate one, Lady Lindby,” he assured her mother.
The flowers blurred out of focus. Surely there was some part of him that believed that statement. If only she could bring that part into the forefront, permanently.
“Yes, we do have a number of wedding gifts,” her mother said in a characteristic non sequitur. “Since you’re here, perhaps we should open a few.”
“Madam, I am at your service,” Allister replied with another bow.
Joanna could not help but smile at his kindness as her mother hurried from the room in a rustle of purple silk to direct the staff to fetch the packages.
“You are very good to humor her,” she told him as he stood waiting beside the sofa. She reached up and impulsively squeezed his hand. His warm gaze sent a ripple through her.
“She’s a dear woman,” he replied. “How will she fare when you come to live with me?”
Joanna swallowed the fear that that day would never come. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She has many friends, and I’ll still visit frequently.” Another thought struck. “Won’t I?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked with a frown.
She let go of his hand. “I don’t know. I merely wondered whether we’d be staying in London. We’ve never discussed where we’d live. Will your work take us far afield?”
He sat then, beside her on the sofa, and took both her hands in his. “Joanna, I’ve retired. These incidents are the only reason I’m still working. I have a small estate in Somerset, near Wenwood Park. I’d assumed we’d go there for the summer and winter holidays and spend the rest of the time in London. But I’ll live wherever you’ll be happy. We can make our home on the moon for all I care.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she replied with a smile. Why was it that one look from those deep blue eyes sent the worries flying from her mind, and another brought them crowding back? Before she could say more, her mother bustled in, followed by their maid, footman, and butler, each carrying an armload of packages.
