"Thank you, Michael. I owe you a boon."
"You damn well owe me several. And don't think I won't collect."
"Since I'm already in your debt, I might as well add to my tally. I've another favor to ask you." He paced across the parquet floor. "I'm very concerned about tonight's happenings. I shudder to think what might have happened to Mrs. Brown. I'm afraid I find it difficult to credit that someone in Austin 's household was targeted, yet I'm not entirely convinced that this abduction was random."
Michael crossed his arms over his broad chest and regarded him with an indecipherable expression. "So you think Mrs. Brown was who they wanted, then? Why?"
He shook his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. "I cannot say for certain. But there is something about her manner… I sense fear in her. And that she is hiding something. I felt it when I met her at the docks. Then, this afternoon, when any other lady would have been resting from her journey, she visited an antique shop."
"Seems innocent enough."
"Yes, yet she was decidedly evasive when I asked her about it. She claims she has business affairs to settle on behalf of her deceased husband, which is naturally none of my affair, but she was very secretive. Overly so." He raked his hands through his hair, wincing when he encountered the bump on the back of his head. "Of course, I might be imagining things. I'm so accustomed to Caroline and Elizabeth chattering away like magpies, I wouldn't recognize natural reticence and reserve if it slapped me in the face."
"When did her husband die?"
"Three years ago."
Michael cocked a single brow. "Yet she still wears mourning."
"Clearly she remains devoted to him." For some reason, those words tasted bitter in Robert's mouth.
"Yet that hasn't curbed your interest in her. Indeed, I suspect all this vagueness and secrecy surrounding her has piqued your interest."
He stopped pacing and fixed a glare on his friend. "I'm not interested in her. I am concerned about her. She is my responsibility until I deliver her, safe and sound, to Bradford Hall. You can imagine the hue and cry should I allow harm to befall her."
"Yes. I'm certain that is all there is to it. Now, what is this additional favor you wish to ask?"
"Just to keep your eyes and ears open. You've contacts all over town. If you should hear anything regarding tonight's abduction-"
"I'll inform you at once."
Three shrill whistles pierced the air. "Your transportation has arrived," Michael said. "Shall I carry the lovely Mrs. Brown out?"
Lovely? The thought of Michael's strong arms cradling the lovely Mrs. Brown tightened Robert's shoulders. He shot his friend a chilly look. "Thank you, no. I can handle her."
Amusement gleamed in Michael's eyes. "I'm not certain I agree, but it will be interesting to watch you try."
********
Allie spent the twenty-minute ride back to the Bradford town house looking out the carriage window in an attempt to ignore her companion.
She failed utterly.
She'd never been so completely aware of a person in her entire life. Even more vexing was the fact that he apparently had no trouble ignoring her. On the two occasions when she'd peeked at him from the corner of her eye, he'd seemed engrossed in his own thoughts, his brows pulled down in a frown, his sight set out his own window.
She could hear him breathing. Slow, steady breaths that she knew raised and lowered his chest. She could smell the faint scent of starch that still somehow clung to his clothing. Could feel the warmth emanating from his body. The memory of the sensation of his body pressed to hers filled her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut to block it out.
When they arrived at the town house, she nearly jumped for joy. Until he announced his intention of carrying her inside.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," she replied in her most prim tone. "What on earth would Elizabeth 's staff think?"
"They're all sleeping. But even if they weren't, you're not wearing shoes."
She opened her mouth to argue further, but he forestalled her by placing a single finger over her lips. "It's four a.m. The servants haven't arisen yet, and the members of the ton who live nearby aren't home yet from their round of parties. No one will see you."
With that, he slipped his arms beneath her, removed her from the carriage, then, holding her close against his chest, strode up the walkway.
She held herself rigid in his arms, refusing to admit for even a second that his touch was comforting. Pleasing. Exciting.
No, it was unwanted. Embarrassing. And the instant he released her, she silently swore that she would never allow him to touch her again.
Opening the door, he strode with her into the foyer, closing the door with a bump of his hip. Then he climbed the stairs, strode down the corridor, finally placing her gently on her feet outside her bedchamber door.
"Shall I ring for a maid to help you undress?" he asked.
Heavens, the man wasn't even out of breath, while she, who had been carried the entire way, could barely catch hers. "N-no. I can manage."
"In that case, I shall leave you. I'll stop round in the morning after I've visited the magistrate to report this evening's events." He looked down at her with a serious expression, and she instantly wished for him to smile or make a jest. His grin had made her heart flutter, but this unexpected, intense look nearly stuttered it to a halt.
Her mouth went dry. She tried to look away from his compelling stare, but could not.
"I'm glad you're all right," he said in husky whisper.
She licked her dry lips. "Yes. You, too."
His gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath caught. For one insane, breathless second she thought he meant to kiss her. She stood still as a statue, terrified he would. Terrified he wouldn't.
But then a lopsided grin eased across his face, breaking the spell. "Quite an adventure we shared. Most ladies I know prefer the opera or the shops. I must say, you proved to be most skilled with my knife." He waggled his fingers in front of her. "Not a single one missing."
Something warm spread through her. Warm and entirely unwelcome. She tried to stop it, but it came just the same. "I owe you my deepest gratitude."
He swept downward in a deep bow. "A pleasure, my lady." He stood and gazed down at her, an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. "This has undeniably been an evening I won't soon forget." His amusement faded, replaced by another intense look that froze her in place. "But you mustn't venture out again without an escort. There are dangerous men lurking all about."
Dear God, didn't she know it. And the most dangerous one of all stood right before her.
"Good night, Mrs. Brown."
"Good night." She entered her bedchamber, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Then, leaning back against the wooden surface, her eyes slid closed and she drew in a much-needed breath. In fact, the first easy breath she'd drawn in hours. He was gone. She should have been elated. Relieved. Surely she shouldn't be feeling… bereft.
Bereft? Nonsense. She was simply tired. She needed sleep. To say that today had been trying was an understatement of gargantuan proportions.
Opening her eyes, she walked toward her bed, anxious to remove her dirty gown and crawl between the sheets. Halfway across the room, she froze.
The wardrobe door stood ajar. She hadn't left it so. Had she?
Slowly her gaze panned the room. Her bed was neatly turned down, but the pillows appeared mussed. And there, on the dresser… hadn't she set her bottle of scent in the right hand corner? Yes, surely she had. But there it was, in the left corner.
Crossing to the wardrobe, then the dresser, she searched through her things. Nothing was missing. Had one of the servants moved the bottle and left the wardrobe ajar? Most likely… when they'd turned down the bed. She pressed her fingers to her temples where the remnants of a headache still lingered. Or perhaps she herself had been careless. Given her distracted state of mind… yes, that was certainly possible.
Still, she couldn't shake t
he unnerving sensation that someone had searched through her belongings.
Chapter 6
Noon the next day found Allie finishing a late, informal breakfast of eggs, ham, and thinly sliced pheasant. The hearty meal, as well as the much-needed sleep and a hot bath upon rising, left her feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Her wrists and feet were still tender, but so much improved that she pushed the mild discomfort away. Just as a footman was filling her china cup with a second serving of coffee, Carters entered the room bearing a silver salver.
"A message for you, Mrs. Brown," he said in his sonorous voice, holding out the gleaming tray. "The messenger indicated no reply was expected."
Allie accepted the missive. Was it from Elizabeth? Turning over the ivory vellum, she broke the wax seal and read the contents.
Mrs. Brown,
I have traced the coat of arms you gave me. It is the family crest belonging to the earl of Shelbourne. The title dates back to the sixteenth century, when the first earl was given the title and familial holdings in gratitude for his service to the Crown. The current earl, Geoffrey Hadmore, is undoubtedly known to your good friend the duchess of Bradford and her husband.
I hope this information proves useful to you, and I again thank you for your patronage and for the kind recommendation of the duchess. Please let me know if I may be of any further assistance to you.
Sincerely yours,
Charles Fitzmoreland
Allie reread the letter, her heart speeding up with anticipation. This news brought her one crucial step closer to ending her quest. With any luck, she would soon return the last of David's pilfered goods to its rightful owner, thus ending this long, arduous, humiliating chapter of her life. Thank God.
The earl of Shelbourne. All she needed to do now was locate this man and-
"Good morning, Mrs. Brown."
She jerked her head up. Lord Robert stood in the doorway. Dressed in a dark brown cutaway jacket and buff-colored breeches, he looked every inch the English gentleman. And much too handsome by half.
"Good morning," she echoed, slipping her missive into the pocket of her black bombazine gown.
He approached her slowly, stopping when he stood directly across the table from her. Cupping his chin in his hand, he made a great show of looking her over, inclining his head left, then right, like an art critic studying a sculpture.
"Hmmm. Just as I suspected. You're looking V.M.I." At her questioning look, he shot her a jaunty grin. "Very Much Improved. How do you feel?"
"As you say, VM.I. Head, hands, feet-they barely hurt at all. And you?"
"Vastly better than when I saw you last. Amazing what wonders a few hours' sleep, a substantial breakfast, and a chat with the magistrate will wrought."
"What did he say?"
"He found the case most puzzling." Moving to the sideboard, he helped himself to a plate of ham and eggs, then sat opposite her at the long mahogany table. "While he assured me he'd do his utmost to locate the man responsible, he also warned me that it is unlikely the perpetrator will ever be found. Unless, of course, he was to strike again." He fixed her with a serious dark blue stare. "Which he won't do at this town house since there will be no one to abduct as there will be no one wandering about in the gardens. Correct?"
She inclined her head in acquiescence.
"Excellent. Now, regarding your plans for today… I’ve arranged for a carriage to be at your disposal. I am also at your disposal, available to squire you around town, or escort you to the shops, assist you with any errands… whatever you'd like."
Her fingers brushed the edge of Mr. Fitzmoreland's letter. "Actually, there is something you might be able to help me with. Do you know the earl of Shelbourne?"
His brows lifted in obvious surprise. After what seemed to be a prolonged silence, he said, "I am acquainted with him, yes."
Questions clearly lurked in his eyes, but he said nothing further, just watched her in a way that left her wondering if he and the earl were on bad terms. When it became obvious he wasn't going to elaborate, she pushed on, "Do you know where he lives?"
His egg-laden fork froze halfway to his mouth. A wary expression, filled with something else she couldn't define, came over his face. "His family seat is in Cornwall."
"I see. Is that far from here?"
"Very. At least a week's traveling time."
Robert watched her expression turn crestfallen, and a dozen questions buzzed through his mind. Why on earth would she inquire about Geoffrey Hadmore? How had she even heard of him? Clearing his throat, he added, "He also keeps a residence here in town."
Unmistakable hope leapt into her eyes. "Do you think it possible he is in London?"
"I think it most likely. He detests the country. Why do you ask about him?"
She leaned forward and a tantalizing whiff of her flowery scent drifted across to him. While she did not smile, there was no denying this was the most animated he'd seen her features, a fact that both confused and, irrationally, annoyed him. Her eyes were all but sparkling. Bloody hell, why was she so… whatever she was, at the prospect that Shelbourne was in town?
"I wish to meet him. As soon as possible. Could you arrange the introduction?"
He leaned back, studying her. An introduction? To one of the worst rogues in London? Good God, Elizabeth would have his head. Not to mention the tight feeling that cramped his stomach at the thought of the very eligible earl meeting the lovely widow. True, he didn't know Shelbourne very well, but the man's reputation with women was well known. He charmed them, bedded them, then discarded them frequently, with a cold dispassion that Robert neither liked nor understood. There was no doubt in his mind that the beautiful Mrs. Brown would capture Shelbourne's interest. As she’s captured yours.
His teeth clenched at his inner voice's unwanted opinion, and he refocused his attention to the matter at hand. What possible reason could she have for wanting to meet such a libertine? He suddenly stilled. Was there a chance she was already aware of Shelbourne's reputation? Could she possibly be contemplating a liaison with the man?
His hands fisted at the mere thought. Instead of answering her question, he posed one of his own. "I wasn't aware you knew anyone in England save Elizabeth. How did you come to hear about Shelbourne?"
"He… he knew my husband."
Some of the tension drained from his shoulders, and he mentally chastised himself for his unwarranted suspicions. She simply wished to become acquainted with a friend of her husband's. Perfectly understandable. And as long as he accompanied her, Shelbourne would behave. "In that case, I shall send round a note to his town house requesting an audience. If he is in town, I'll escort you."
A curtain seemed to fall over her expression. "Thank you. I appreciate you sending the note, however, I do not require an escort."
Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy, but couldn't possibly be, rippled through him, a feeling made all the more pronounced by the crimson blush staining her cheeks. Perhaps his suspicions weren't unfounded after all. Forcing a smile, he said, "I'm afraid I must insist. English protocol and all that, you know."
A frown creased her brow, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth, clearly torn between not wanting his company and not wishing to flout propriety. And if he weren't so distracted by the sight of her nibbling on her full lip, he'd no doubt be colossally annoyed at her not wanting him around.
Finally, she nodded stiffly. "Very well. You may accompany me."
In spite of his annoyance, he couldn't help but be a tiny bit amused at her disgruntled tone. "Why, thank you."
She rose. "I shall leave you to attend to your correspondence to the earl."
"Again I thank you. However, I hardly ever write letters in the breakfast room. Nothing worse than eggs on the vellum. As soon as I finish my meal, I'll compose a note."
Her blush deepened. "Forgive me. I'm merely anxious to…"
Her words drifted off, and he found himself very much wanting her to finish the sentence. Yes,
Mrs. Brown… what exactly are you anxious to do?
But instead of satisfying his ever-growing curiosity, she inclined her head. "As I have my own correspondence to see to, I shall bid you good day, sir."
She swiftly departed the room before he had a chance to reply. Clearly she considered him dismissed-at least until such time as he received a response from Shelbourne. And if not for the events of last evening, he might have left her to her own devices. Indeed, he had planned to visit his solicitor today.
But last night had changed his plans. He could visit his solicitor another day. Until he delivered her safely to Bradford Hall, he intended to keep a very close eye on her.
Her lovely face rose in his mind's eye and he stifled a groan. He'd claimed when he'd arrived that a few hours' sleep had wrought wonders, but his sleep had been anything but refreshing.
Indeed, the moment he'd climbed into his bed his thoughts had been filled with her. The feel of her soft body pressed against him. Her scent curling around him. Her eyes, wide with a combination of fear and strength, that filled him with both concern and admiration. And something else. Something warm that spread through him like honey. And something heated that fired his blood and left him restless and frustrated and aching. He'd lain in his bed unable to erase her from his mind. And when he'd finally drifted off, she'd invaded his dreams. She'd shed her black clothing and beckoned him. He'd reached for her, filled with hunger, but before he could touch her, she'd vanished, like a wisp of smoke. He'd awakened feeling empty and bereft. And aroused as hell.
No, keeping an eye on her wouldn't pose a problem.
Unfortunately, he suspected that keeping his hands off her would.
********
Geoffrey Hadmore paced the length of his private study. Afternoon sunlight cut a bright path across the Persian carpet, faint dust motes danced in the swatch. Pausing at the fireplace, he glared at the mantel clock. Half past one. Exactly three minutes later than when he had last glared at the damn instrument.
Whirlwind Affair Page 8
