by Hatch, Donna
“Did there appear to be anything odd about his illness?”
The furrow returned. “He seemed to be recovering, and then took a rather sudden turn. But that can sometimes happen. I hear that tiny bugs we can’t see can cause mysterious fevers.”
“The sickness in his arm was sudden, then? He seemed to be well at first?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Cole carefully composed his next question. “Did he have many visitors?”
“Perhaps two or three. His family was on the way here to visit him, but never arrived.”
“Would you remember the faces of any of his visitors?”
“I’m sorry, my lord. Not from two Seasons ago.”
Cole nodded. “I understand. How may I contact the former head housekeeper?”
“She passed on, sir, only days after the young gentlemen went home. Took a nasty fall.”
Now that was peculiar news. Had she been eliminated because she knew too much? A nasty fall seemed too convenient. The housekeeper could have been a witness. Or she might have been an accomplice, paid by Vivian’s employer and then silenced.
“You’ve been most helpful.” Cole passed him several coins. “Thank you for your time.”
The butler bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Cole stepped out and frowned up at the rain. Why did it always seem to rain on him? He mulled over his findings while his curricle made its perilous way through the crowded streets toward Pall Mall.
Cole knew little about poisons, but he was fairly certain any number of them could have caused an infection and fever. Or imitated an opium overdose. Cole was tempted to go back to Alicia’s family home and ask if anyone saw anything the night Armand died. Opium overdose was not uncommon, but in light of everything else, Cole had no doubt that Armand had been cleverly murdered.
Robert had been there both when the duel took place and when Armand took ill. A chilling thought.
The uncle, Willard Palmer, might have killed him, hoping to eliminate his brother’s heir so that he would inherit the family estate and lands after causing his brother’s untimely death. He would be a much more likely suspect. But why go after Alicia now? Their money problems were over now that Alicia had married Nicholas.
The rain stopped by the time Cole arrived at Nicholas’s house.
“The baroness is in the garden, sir,” the footman informed him as he took his hat.
Cole strode through the house to the rear, squared his shoulders, and followed the garden path that led to Alicia. Unaware of his approach, she gazed at something near the horizon. She sat silhouetted by the setting sun, her hair burnished by the light, a halo surrounding her slender body. Cole ached at the sight of her.
He still couldn’t believe that he had actually told her he loved her. Stupid. He should have held his tongue.
She hated him. Despite her earlier words of forgiveness, underneath it all, she still harbored a hatred she would not easily release. Her words after he kissed her at the birthday celebration had been proof.
He had shot her brother. It did not matter that he had been a pawn in someone else’s game and that his actions had not actually caused Armand’s death. Her brother was dead, and Cole had pulled the trigger. She would view anything else as a moot point. And he still did not have any evidence to prove that there was another, larger, more ominous plot at work.
And worse, she believed him unprincipled. She may never trust him enough to give her heart to him.
Nicholas’s valet, Jeffries, nodded at Cole as he walked with controlled casualness near the house. Cole nodded in return, relieved to see his directive to keep Alicia under watch at all times was being studiously honored. Since the highwaymen attack, the staff had been most cooperative about guarding her.
As he neared, her head turned toward him, and he felt his smile rise as he beheld her gentle beauty, but her body tensed as she awaited him. That hurt.
He excelled in games of chance with good reason. Keeping his expression pleasant, without any sign of his inner turmoil, he forced lightness into his voice.
“Cousin Alicia. How are you this fine afternoon, love?”
“Good afternoon.” Her tone was civil but aloof. Chilly.
He bent over her hand and released it, the picture of perfect propriety.
When she raised her eyes, he noticed the dark circles beneath them betraying a sleepless night. He had expected that, but the anguish in them stopped his heart.
He folded his hands behind his back before he did something foolish. He dragged in a shaking breath and tried to order his thoughts.
A servant approached. “My lady, this just arrived.”
Alicia paled at the sight of the black-trimmed stationery that signified an announcement of death. She took the envelope and began to sway. Alarmed, Cole steadied her and guided her to a stone bench. Had the killer gone after Alicia’s sister? With shaking hands, she tore the seal. She gasped.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Uncle Willard is dead.”
Cole blinked. “Willard?”
“They found him on the highway. Apparently he was set upon by thieves. His purse and watch were gone and his horse was taken.”
Another Palmer dead. Without a doubt someone was systematically eliminating the entire family. But for what purpose?
Cole hailed Phillips and had him summon Alicia’s maid.
“Poor Robert,” Alicia moaned. “He still grieves for Armand. And now his father is gone. Oh, Cole, he and Hannah will need me. I must go to them.”
But what if Robert were the killer? Alicia could be in danger if she returned.
Cole rubbed his hands over his face. “Of course.”
“But the baron has gone on business and won’t be back for several more days.”
“Have your abigail pack your things. We leave first thing in the morning.”
She nodded, not questioning his use of the word ‘we.’
Cole made sure she was steady and in the care of her competent, sympathetic maid before telling his own valet, Stephens, to pack for him as well.
He went to White’s to meet his brother Grant, who’d agreed to see him. Inside the club, he found Grant sitting in a comfortable armchair in the shadows. Anyone else would assume he sat lost in thought, nursing a drink, but judging by his covert alertness, absolute stillness of his body, Grant listened to every conversation around him and saw everyone who entered. Grant possessed the uncanny abilities of a chameleon. He blended in with even the roughest thugs in London’s streets one moment, and consorted with royalty the next. Of course, he kept no secret of preferring the thugs over the royalty. As the black sheep of the family, Grant delighted in not only snubbing polite company, but grappling in the streets with thieves and murderers.
Cole pulled up a chair and sat. “Grant.”
“Cole.” Grant’s eyes glittered in the firelight. People often remarked that Grant bore the least resemblance to the Amesbury brothers. All four brothers had the same build, but Grant’s eyes were steely gray, while the other brothers’ eyes were shades of blue. Grant’s hair was darker, almost pure black as if reflecting his dark soul. A long, ragged scar that ran the length of his face added to his hardened appearance. He’d come home from the war with it, and had never offered an explanation. He’d always possessed a rather cutting sense of humor, but he’d returned home more caustic, and more closed up.
“Mind telling me why you summoned me here?” Grant growled.
“I need your help.”
Grant’s expression did not change, but he raised one brow slightly and spoke in dry tones. “How quaint. The eldest asking his younger brother for help. Why don’t you ask Jared?”
“He’s indisposed. And I need your particular skills.”
“I see.” Grant sounded bored, but his eyes lit.
Cole paused. “You must keep this confidential.”
“Of course.” Grant waved impatiently.
After glancing around to ensure they were al
one, Cole took a breath and plunged in. He described the events as they had unfolded, beginning with the duel and ending with the death of Willard Palmer. Grant listened without interrupting, his expression never changing.
When Cole finished speaking, Grant nodded absently. “You’re right. This is part of a grander scheme. I need to question her, see if there are any other incidents she may believe were unconnected at the time.”
Cole paused. “Ah, I don’t want her to know anything yet—either that she’s in danger, or that I’ve contacted anyone.”
Grant let out sound of disgust. “You’re in love with her.”
Cole sighed and braced himself for the sarcastic comment he knew Grant’s cynical mind was formulating. “I am.”
Grant made an inarticulate noise of revulsion, but instead of the insult Cole expected, he asked, “Exactly how involved are you with her?”
Now that was a question. Cole hesitated, but knew that if he withheld any information, his brother would unravel it on his own anyway, which would create further complications. Cole grimaced but answered truthfully, not withholding any pertinent information. Surprisingly, there was no judgmental frown in Grant’s face, only an absorption of facts.
A rare smile touched one side of his mouth. “You are in a corner.”
Cole let out his breath in a huff. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“I’ll begin immediately. Meanwhile, question her discreetly, and keep your eyes open for anyone who might wish the family harm. We have no motives and no suspects, yet.” His eyes glittered at the thought of the hunt.
Cole almost shivered at the feral glint in Grant’s eye. “I’ll send word if I find anything else.”
Grant asked more background questions regarding her parents, nodded, and left without preamble. Cole returned home to dash off a few quick notes and made the necessary arrangements. After spending the night pacing and agonizing over decisions he had to make, he made sure the groom hitched his favorite horse, André, to the baron’s coach. The servants loaded Alicia’s trunks while she waited in the foyer, dressed in traveling clothes.
Soulful eyes greeted him. “I posted a message to my husband but he will not have even received it yet. I don’t know what business he had that could not be conducted in London. I thought business is what brought us here.” She clenched together her hands.
“I’m here for you, Alicia,” he said gently.
She glanced at the servants, but they waited at a discreet distance and would not overhear her words. “And may I be assured that you will behave as a gentleman?”
Her words, though certainly valid, stung. He drew himself up. “I give you my word.”
She nodded wearily.
Keeping his word proved easier since he’d arranged for company as they traveled together over the next few days on the way back to Alicia’s former home. Stephens and Monique rode with them in the same coach, which left Cole little opportunity to break his promise. Stephens worked his Romany charm with Monique. They flirted and laughed most of the way, leaving Alicia to stare out of the window and Cole to watch her with growing hunger.
Late one evening after dinner, they sat in a sitting room of an inn. The quaint inn felt warm and restful, but the tension in the room mounted. Cole gave up trying to read after he realized he had been staring at the same page for an hour, and turned his attention to Alicia.
Her head bent over her embroidery, her expression serene except for the tiny frown of concentration at her brow, yet she remained unusually quiet.
“Alicia, what troubles you?”
She blinked at him in surprise. “Have I been poor company?”
“Not at all. You merely seem distracted.”
She lowered her hands and rested her needlework on her lap. “I’m concerned about Robert. And troubled about Uncle Willard’s death. And I…I wish the baron had come with us.”
Cole leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him. “Do you always speak of him as ‘the baron?’ Have you never called him by his given name? Even in private?”
Alicia flushed. “No, I suppose not. I never think of him that way.”
“Are you so unhappy with him then?”
“No, of course not. I have been content. Why do you continue to ask me that?” Her voice sharpened.
“I only want to see you happy.” Cole braced himself for the tirade he knew would follow—he should not ask such personal questions, he was a reprobate for trying to steal his cousin’s wife, was without honor—and she would be right on all accounts.
Instead, her voice quieted. “He spends little time at home. And now when I need him, he’s away.” She stopped as if she had revealed more than she thought prudent.
“He would have been here for you if he had known,” Cole suggested as kindly as he could, wishing he could just be rid of Nicholas.
“I’m not so sure.”
“You don’t doubt him, do you?”
“I’m not certain of anything.”
When the silence deepened, Cole pressed. “What else ails you?”
She drew a breath. “I feel guilty for harboring such unkind feelings for Uncle Willard.”
Exasperated, he said, “The man practically sold you to the highest bidder.”
“He had few options. Some men simply discard unwanted relations, but he took Hannah and me in.”
Outside, lightning flashed, followed by the slow rumble of distant thunder. A moment later, raindrops pattered against the window. She stared unseeing out into the darkness before speaking again.
“And now, Robert has no other family. His mother died years ago. His sister died as a child. He and Hannah were never close. Armand is gone. Now, his father. He is completely alone.”
“He has you,” Cole said softly.
She turned to look at him as if she had forgotten he was there and her lips curved in a brave, mirthless smile. “He doesn’t. Not anymore.” She arose, her needlework forgotten. “I believe I shall go to bed. Good night.”
He forced himself to remain still. Not gather her up into his arms and kiss her. Not scoop her up and carry her to his room. “Good night.”
CHAPTER 25
They pulled up in front of the Palmer manor house. Alicia regarded the structure with mingled dread and affection. Her whole life had been spent here. Joys and sorrows she had experienced here threatened to overwhelm her. As if sensing her rising emotions, Cole reached out and took her hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze. To her surprise, it helped.
As she and Cole alit from the carriage, and the servants climbed out behind them, a footman Alicia had never seen before opened the door and a plump, motherly woman greeted them. The estate still appeared slightly understaffed, but at least it was functional. Every surface gleamed under constant care now.
“Good day, Baroness. I’m Dobbs, the new head housekeeper.”
Alicia introduced Cole as Lord Amesbury, her husband’s cousin. She also introduced Stephens whose teeth flashed against his darkly handsome face, and Monique, whose eyes flitted over the bare interior with a hint of condescension after the much finer baron’s home.
“Your rooms are prepared,” Dobbs said. She directed footmen as to where to place the trunks.
Hannah flew to her and broke down in Alicia’s arms. “Lissie!”
“Good heavens, Hannah. Are you ill?”
Hannah’s letters had not reflected her poor health, and seeing her sister thusly was a shock. The pallor of her skin approached gray, and her golden hair lost its former luster. Her eyes, once so lively, dulled to a faded listlessness, and her body had thinned painfully.
“Oh, it’s been simply terrible without you,” Hannah sniffed. “And Robert….”
“Where is he? Is he home?” When Hannah could not speak, Alicia glanced at the housekeeper.
“Mr. Palmer is still abed, my lady.”
Alarm began in Alicia’s stomach. “Is he unwell, then?”
“He’s been deep in his cups,” said Ha
nnah. “Worse than ever. He keeps mumbling something about his family being taken from him as punishment for all his past misdeeds.”
“Oh, poor Robert. I will see to him at once.”
Hannah nodded. “I knew you’d make it all right now that you’re here.”
Alicia never failed to be both touched and overwhelmed by Hannah’s trust in her to resolve every problem. “Why don’t you go lie down, Hannah? I’ll see to Robert.”
Alicia knocked at the door of Robert’s room. There was no answer, of course. She opened the door to find a shapeless heap on the bed, reeking of spirits. She threw open the draperies and let the sun shine in.
“Wake up, Robert. It’s tea time.” An incoherent mumble replied.
“Robert, I have made a very long journey, and I expect a civil greeting. Get up, or I will be forced to take drastic measures.”
The mumble turned into a grumble.
“I shall go and change out of my traveling clothes, and return. If you are not awake by then, you will regret it.”
“Hmmmphmm.”
Alicia went to her old room, and with Monique’s aid, washed, changed into an afternoon gown, and re-styled her hair. Overcome by nostalgia, Alicia picked up and set down every object within the room while Monique unpacked her things. Though the last year and a half since she lost her parents and Armand had been a difficult, lonely time, there were so many other memories here. On the wall by the window were tiny marks that Maman had made, measuring Alicia’s height as she grew. The window seat, worn and faded, reminded her of rainy days spent reading, or learning embroidery, or simply dreaming. Several books, carefully dusted, remained sitting on the bookshelf.
She picked one up and opened it to find a tiny sprig of violets pressed into the pages; a token of young love her first ever suitor had given her. The top drawer of the desk held the secret compartment where she had hidden many childish treasures over the years.
Her first impulse was to call Cole and share it with him, but that would not be appropriate; respectable ladies never invited gentlemen into their boudoirs. The gentleman she should be inviting to her room was her husband, and for completely different reasons.
