“Georgina,” he said, quietly but firmly. “What has happened now?”
“I am very glad you are here, darling,” Georgina said, her sword never wavering. “Rosalind has seen this man spying on our house. He is obviously scheming to kidnap Elizabeth Anne and Sebastian.”
“Indeed?” Alex stepped closer and removed the sword from his wife’s hand, his dark, handsome face like implacable granite.
“No!” the man cried out, his upheld hands shaking. “I am no kidnapper. I was merely paid to watch this house.”
“Paid to track my children’s movements?” the duke demanded.
“It had nothing to do with your family at all, Y-Your Grace!”
“Then why are you spying on my house?”
“I was paid to watch her!” The man pointed a trembling finger at Rosalind.
“Me?” Rosalind whispered. Everyone swung about to stare at her.
Everyone but Alex, whose gaze never wavered from the villain’s face. “That is just as bad. Mrs. Chase is a guest in my home. Who wants her followed? Speak quickly, and I may allow you to live.”
The man turned even more green. “It was the Earl of Athley! He paid me. I have been following her for weeks, even before she came to London.”
The Earl of Athley? Michael’s father? Rosalind
pressed her hand to her mouth.
Georgina laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Oh, Rosie,” she murmured. “The Earl of Athley. Such a terrible potential father-in-law. It is just fortunate that his son is so very attractive. He must take after his mother.”
Attractive. Yes, indeed. Michael was that.
But was he attractive enough? Rosalind thought that now, at last, she knew the answer to that question.
Chapter Twenty
“A young lady’s most important decision is who she will marry—she must choose with her head, not her heart.”
—A Lady’s Rules for Proper Behavior, Chapter Ten
M ichael handed his hat and walking stick to the butler at Bronston House, glancing about the foyer as he did so. The place was as gloomy as ever, dark, hulking furniture pushed back into place, dust motes dancing in the narrow bars of sunlight falling from between the velvet draperies. There were no signs of the previous night’s unexpectedly raucous soiree.
That could almost have been a dream, a product of fairy spells and full moons. An aberration in the atmosphere. Yet he knew it could not be. His time with Rosalind in the garden, nestled on the wide tree branch, had felt so real. The sight of his mother’s ring on her elegant finger, the diamondlike tears in her eyes—all wonderfully real. He never could have dreamed it.
Strange. He had always imagined that he would be nervous when he asked a lady to marry him, would be loathe to give up his freedom for duty. He had been as calm and steady as he had ever been when he took Rosalind’s hand and asked her to be his wife, more steady even. He had not been loathe to give up anything—only excited to be gaining something infinitely precious.
It was right. It was meant to be. He could only pray that Rosalind felt the same way, for he had had no word from her yet today. But her kiss had not lied. She loved him, as he loved her. And he would do anything to make her see that.
“Is my sister downstairs yet?” Michael asked the butler. Hopefully, Violet would be in her little sitting room, and he could slip in there to see her without alerting their father to his presence. He had no desire to deal with the irascible earl, today of all days.
“Not quite yet, my lord, though her maid just took Lady Violet’s chocolate up to her. She should be down very soon. But Lord Athley is in the drawing room and wishes to see you, my lord.”
Damn and blast. “I suppose he knows I am here, then?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. He saw your carriage from the window.” The butler bowed, and strode briskly away with Michael’s hat and stick.
Well, it seemed he was well and truly trapped. He had to see for himself that Violet was unscathed by her ordeal last night, and in order to do that he had to stay at Bronston House.
“Ah, well,” he muttered. “Might as well get it over with.”
He went into the drawing room and closed the doors firmly behind him. In here, too, the signs of the night’s ravages were few. Aside from some drooping roses left in the vases, everything was back to its normal aspect. The draperies were drawn, and, despite the warmth of the spring day, a fire blazed in the hearth, casting an ominous glow on the carved stone crest.
The earl sat in a high-backed, thronelike chair before that fire, a woolen shawl wrapped about his shoulders, his gouty leg propped on a footstool. He looked up sullenly with bloodshot eyes as Michael crossed the room to sit on one of the settees set a bit farther away from the flames’ heat.
“I told your foolish aunt I would rue the day I allowed her and your bloodless sister to have a rout here!” the earl grumbled without preamble. “I knew it was a poor idea. Company brings nothing but trouble, trouble and mess. There is no one left in London worth knowing. It is just parvenus and mushrooms. And now see what has happened!”
Had Violet told their father what had happened in the conservatory? Michael cursed silently. She had been so agitated, but he should have warned her about saying anything to the earl. “If you are referring to Lord Carteret’s reprehensible behavior…”
“Carteret?” the earl shouted. “Was it that insolent puppy who did it? By God, but I will send the Bow Street Runners after him to get it back! That dirty thief.”
“Thief?” Michael frowned in confusion. A cad Carteret undoubtedly was, but a thief? “What was taken?”
“Someone broke into the library safe last night and stole your mother’s pearl ring. There is no telling what else is missing in the house. If it was that Carteret…”
Michael burst into surprised laughter. His father actually thought a thief had been in the safe! This was absurd. The man was becoming bacon-brained in his dotage—not that he had ever exactly been a clear thinker.
The earl scowled, and swiped out with his walking stick. Michael was too far away for the blow to do anything more than stir the hot air about.
“You young idiot!” he growled. “What are you laughing at? A crime has been committed!”
“I hardly think so, Father. Mother left her ring to me, and I am the one who took it. There was no thievery involved.”
The earl turned a most unattractive shade of purple. “You took the ring?”
“Yes. Did you not wonder why nothing else in the safe was missing? Mother’s sapphires are there, not to mention her diamond tiara and a great amount of coin.”
“You had no right to just take that ring! What did you want it for? To sell it for gambling money?”
“Of course not. I wanted it for the purpose Mother intended it for—to give it to the lady I mean to marry.”
The earl’s face cleared a bit, and he leaned forward in his chair. This was a theme he had been harping on for years, Michael’s duty to wed and produce a new little heir. “Indeed? Well, why did you not say so! It is about time you did your duty. Who is it? Miss Sanderson? Lady Eveline Ferry?”
“It is Mrs. Rosalind Chase,” Michael said calmly. “I am sure you will wish us happy.”
That purple color suffused the earl’s cheeks again, and for a moment Michael feared he might have apoplexy right here and now. He rose from his chair to fetch a brandy, but was driven back a step when his father’s thrown stick hit him square in the chest.
“How dare you!” the earl shouted. “You have always been willfully blind to your duty, but this is too much even for you. Marrying a schoolmistress, a red-haired adventuress…”
Michael had heard more than enough. He snapped the stick in two with his bare hands and threw the jagged halves into the fire. “You will not speak of my future wife in such a manner.”
“Your wife! A woman older than you, with no fortune, no family, a brother who gambles away what little money they have? A woman who has business with bankers? I kno
w all of this and more, Michael, because I knew you and your stupid sister were caught in that woman’s snare. That your sister was far too attached to her and that school. So I hired a man to follow her, even before she came here to London to entrap you.”
The earl sat back in his chair, oozing with a smug satisfaction. Michael suddenly wished he had not thrown that stick into the fire so precipitously, so he could beat his father over the head with it now. How dare that monster set a spy to follow Rosie!
“If you thought this news would dissuade me from marrying Mrs. Chase, you were much mistaken,” he said, in a low, tight voice. “I love her, and I am more resolved than ever to make her my wife. And now, I bid you farewell.”
He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, before he gave in to his overwhelming desire to commit murder. He ignored the earl’s shouts, and closed the doors behind him.
Violet stood halfway down the staircase, her hands clutched on the balustrade. Her face was a bit pale from her adventures of the night before, but a brilliant smile curved her lips and her eyes sparkled. She did not even seem to hear the screams and thumps from the drawing room, as she ran down the stairs to throw her arms about Michael.
“Oh, my darling brother!” she cried. “Are you truly going to marry Mrs. Chase?”
“If she will have me.”
“Of course she will have you! She must. You are the finest catch in London, Michael, and this is the best decision you have ever made. To think—she will be my sister. Oh, Michael. Last night was the worst night of my life, but this is the very best day.”
China shattered behind the drawing room door. Michael gave Violet a rueful smile. “As you can tell, Vi, Father is not wildly happy about my choice of bride.”
Violet cast a hard glance at the door. Her look was strangely contemptuous—an expression Michael had never seen on his sister’s sweet face. It was as if she had grown up in only a day. “Who cares about him? He can do nothing to you. Mrs. Chase will one day be the finest countess this house has ever seen, after Mother, of course. And I will dance with the greatest of joy at your wedding!”
Michael laughed. He twirled her to him and gave her a resounding kiss on both cheeks. “Vi, you are the very best of sisters! And I promise that you shall dance at my wedding. Now, I want you to get out of this house, go call on Aunt Minnie for the afternoon. Mrs. Chase and I will come see you later.”
“What a fine idea. Aunt Minnie did have a new bonnet she wanted to show me.”
Michael kissed Violet’s cheek again, and framed her face in his hands as he examined her closely. “Are you truly well today, Vi?”
She clasped his hands in hers and gave him a reassuring smile. “I am fine. Never better, now that I have heard your news. Really, there was no harm done. I was saved by the rules, you know.”
Michael laughed again. “My dearest sister, I think we both were.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Always marry a gentleman whose character and background you are sure of. This is the only assurance for future happiness.”
—A Lady’s Rules for Proper Behavior, Chapter Two
“W hat a truly extraordinary day,” Georgina said, leaning back in her chair with a deep sigh.
She swirled a crystal goblet of restorative brandy between her hands. “I vow, Rosie, you must have dragged all the excitement behind you from the country. Town was deadly dull until you arrived, and now look at all that has happened!”
Rosalind laughed, and sipped at her own brandy. Its warm sharpness was comforting. She had been more shaken by the encounter with Lord Athley’s spy than she cared to admit. “I do believe it was you who created most of the excitement today, Georgie, drawing a sword on the man like that. You seemed like a lady pirate from a hundred years ago.”
Georgina shrugged. “I am rather sensitive about people threatening my family and friends—even people who are so unsubtle in their spying that it is all rather a joke.”
“Indeed. I do hope Lord Athley was not paying him a great deal. Or perhaps he could get his money back?”
Georgina snickered. “Oh, Rosie, you made a joke! You must be feeling better.”
“I am feeling quite well, thank you.” And, strangely enough, she was. The shock of discovering that Michael’s father had set a spy on her—on her, the dullest woman in Town!—had faded. She felt only a still, centered calm, and an odd urge to fall on the floor laughing.
“That is good. Everyone knows that Lord Athley is truly a cranky old eccentric, but this goes beyond that. It is worthy of Bedlam.” Georgina drank the last of her brandy and put the glass down on the table beside her. “I do hope that this incident will not affect your good opinion of Lord Morley, Rosie. He is a good man, and he does seem to care about you so much.”
Rosalind smiled at her serenely. “Of course not. Lord Morley is not liable for his father’s faults. He is entirely his own man.” Indeed, Rosalind had come to a decision concerning Michael and herself before she even discovered the truth about the spy. Seeing how truly pitiful his father was had only increased her resolve. She knew truly that she had made the right decision, and she would not be swayed from it.
“I am surprised that Lord Morley and Lady Violet are the offspring of that lunatic at all,” Georgina mused. “They are both so very charming.”
“Perhaps their mother had a chere ami,” Rosalind suggested. “At least I hope the poor lady did. I am sure she deserved some happiness in her life.”
Georgina stared at her, wide-eyed. “Rosie? Do you have a fever? You do not sound at all like yourself today.”
“Do I not?” Rosalind tilted her head, considering this. “Funny. For I feel more like myself than I ever have before.”
Georgina shook her head, obviously perplexed. “You should go to bed for the rest of the day. I am sure a rest would do you good.”
“I am not a bit tired.”
“Then have some more brandy.” Georgina leaned across the table to pour more of the amber liquid into both of their glasses.
As Rosalind took a small sip, there was a quick knock at the drawing room door. “Lord Morley is here to see Mrs. Chase, Your Grace,” the butler announced.
“Ah, yes, right on time. I do like a man who has a sense of timing,” said Georgina. “Show him in.”
Rosalind sat straight up in her chair, a nervous excitement that had nothing to do with the liquor dancing up her spine. She reached up to pat at her hair, and pushed stray curls back into their pins.
“I see that is my cue to depart,” Georgina said. She stood and gathered her silk shawl about her as Michael came into the room. “Lord Morley, how lovely to see you again. You must excuse me, as I promised my daughter I would read to her before her nap. But Mrs. Chase would certainly enjoy a nice long chat with you.” With that, she breezed from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Rosalind hoped she was not listening at the keyhole. She smiled a bit at the image of her elegant friend kneeling on the floor, straining to spy on them, as she stood and held her hands out to Michael.
He was certainly every bit as handsome as he always was, with his dark hair tousled by the wind and an emerald twinkling from the folds of his mint green cravat. Yet there was an agitation about him, a nervous energy that fairly crackled in the air around him. He took her hands tightly in his, but did not raise them to his lips. They just stood there in the middle of the room, hands clasped, like figures in a tableau vivant.
Rosalind herself felt oddly unable to move, or talk, or even breathe. She had rehearsed so carefully in her mind what she wanted to say when this moment came. That was gone now; she remembered not a syllable. She saw only him. He alone filled all her mind.
What would the rule be? she asked herself. She had no idea. She could scarcely even remember what a rule was.
“Is that true? Would you enjoy a—chat with me?” he asked thickly.
“I—well, yes, I suppose. I did hope you might call at some point today.”
&nb
sp; “I wanted to come at the break of daylight! Oh, Rosie, there were so many things I wanted to say to you. I could have written an epic! Now I find that I must begin with this—I apologize.”
Rosalind opened her mouth, all set to answer him—and she tripped over her tongue. That was not the question she was about to reply to! “You apologize? Michael, whatever for? Are you…” A chill settled an icy grasp around her heart. “Are you withdrawing your offer to me?”
“What!” His clasp tightened convulsively. “Never, Rosie. You shall not escape from me as easily as that. I saw my father this morning, and he told me something so abominable, so evil, I could not credit it even from him.”
“Did he tell you about the man he paid to follow me?”
“Yes. But how did you know?” Michael’s face darkened. “Did the bast—the earl come here? Did he threaten you?”
Rosalind laughed. “No, indeed! In fact, Georgina drew a sword on the poor hired spy and threatened to, er, ‘spit him like a wild boar.’ Your father was obviously too cheap to pay for a true master spy, because the man acknowledged the whole scheme to us at once.” She laughed again, at the memory of his terrified expression when Georgina brandished her blade.
Michael laughed, too, though it was decidedly bitter. “And you were not angry at all?”
“Of course I was angry. No one likes to be followed about, and for him to involve Georgina and her family was truly infuriating. Yet it helped me to see something even more clearly.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
Rosalind smiled up at him. “That I love you and want to spend my life with you. That you could become the man you are—so openhearted, and kind, and funny—after growing up with such a father is nothing less than a wonder.”
Michael threw back his head and laughed, and this time there was no trace of bitterness. There was only a pure, crystalline joy. “Say it again!” he demanded.
Rosalind giggled. “What part?”
“The part where you said you love me.”
Amanda McCabe Page 20
