A knock sounded at the door, jerking him from his disturbing musings. "Come in."
Willis crossed the room, holding out a silver salver. "This just arrived, my lord."
Geoffrey accepted the missive. Anticipation curled through him as he saw his name scrawled in Redfern's familiar, coarse scrawl. The instant Willis quit the room, he tore open the seal.
I've got the ring. Expect me tomorrow.
He stared at that single line, his jaw working. Obviously either Redfern or Mrs. Brown was lying. Or foolishly attempting to play an elaborate game with him. Or perhaps not…
Willis had said the other two notes had arrived earlier this afternoon. Realization dawned, and a bark of laughter burst from him. Mrs. Brown must have sent her note before Redfern stole the ring. She no longer had it. But just as quickly as relief came, it vanished like a puff of smoke.
She might no longer have the ring, but that didn't mean she hadn't discovered its secret. She still might know… might know that another could rightfully lay claim to his title.
Pitching Jamison's and Redfern's notes into the fireplace, he grasped the mantel with a white-knuckled grip. He watched the flames lick at the vellum, his mind working at a feverish pace. There was only one answer. He'd have to meet with her. Get to know her. Find out what, if anything, she knew about his secret. Discover if she planned to blackmail him. Did she know the identity of the man who could destroy his life and take everything from him? If only I knew who he was. I could destroy him first.
He had to get that ring.
Walking to his desk, he composed a note inviting Mrs. Brown and Robert Jamison to call upon him the next morning.
He folded the vellum, then pressed his seal into the wax with far more force than necessary.
He debated sending a note to Redfern, but decided against it. Now that the whereabouts of the ring was assured, if Redfern killed Mrs. Brown before Geoffrey met with her, so be it. In fact, so much the better.
By this time tomorrow, he would be a free man. His gaze narrowed and drifted to the fireplace, where nothing but ashes remained of the letters from Mrs. Brown, Robert Jamison, and Redfern.
And all the loose ends would be eliminated. Permanently.
********
Leaning against the thick, polished oak mantel in the library, Robert listened to Eustace Laramie, the magistrate, recite what he knew of the crime, much of which Robert had already heard from Carters.
"A maid discovered the theft when she entered Mrs. Brown's bedchamber. Found the room all torn apart, garments and bedding shredded and strewn all around. Carters conducted a thorough search of the house and reported Mrs. Brown's bedchamber was the only room disturbed. The thief most likely climbed the trellis, then entered through the French windows leading to her balcony. According to Carters, a number of the Bradford family's possessions are missing from the bedchamber. They include a sterling hairbrush and comb, as well as two silver candlesticks and several figurines from the mantel. Mrs. Brown will be able to tell us what, if any, of her belongings are missing once she's finished looking through the mess." He fixed a penetrating look on Robert. "First the abduction you reported to me only this morning, and now this. Odd how you and Mrs. Brown have suffered from such a recent spate of crime."
"Indeed." Robert scrubbed his hands down his face. "Have there been any other reports of thefts in the immediate area?"
"No."
"Do you think the same person is responsible?"
Laramie stroked his chin and nodded thoughtfully. "It's certainly possible, although we're talking about two different sorts of crimes. And what with so many thieves about, it could just as easily be two different dirty dogs." He waved his hand and made a disgusted sound. "Damn bastards. Seems like for every one you send to Newgate, a dozen more take his place."
Robert fixed a meaningful look on the man. "Two different crimes, but the same victims. It certainly gives one pause."
"Indeed, it is something to consider. I'll-"
A soft knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Robert said.
Mrs. Brown entered, closing the door behind her. She crossed the Axminster rug, stopping in front of the fireplace. In spite of clearly trying to appear calm, Robert could tell she was shaken. Her complexion resembled chalk, and he detected a tremor in her walk, as if her knees weren't quite steady. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and there was a haunted look in her eyes. She reminded him of a piece of glass about to shatter.
He could understand her being upset-he was so himself- but she seemed even more tense and afraid than she had when they'd escaped from the warehouse.
"Have you determined if any of your belongings were taken?" Laramie asked.
She hesitated, then jerked her head in a nod. "Yes. There is one item missing. A ring."
"So jewelry was what he was after," Laramie said, nodding. "Typical. But I'm surprised he stole only the one bauble. Are you certain that's all that is gone?"
"Positive. It was the only piece of jewelry in my possession."
"I see. Was it valuable?"
Again she hesitated. "It was my husband's…" Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat. "There was more sentimental value attached to it than anything else, Mr. Laramie."
"Mr. Laramie and I were just discussing the possibility that this robbery is linked to last night's events," Robert said.
Her gaze flew to his. Was that alarm that flashed in her eyes? It disappeared so quickly, he couldn't be certain.
She returned her attention to the magistrate. "I understand there is a very high rate of crime in London, Mr. Laramie. Surely these are just random acts. Unfortunate and coincidental, but random just the same."
"That is possible. However, it is also possible that someone is targeting the duke's household." Laramie 's eyes took on a keen edge. "Or you, Mrs. Brown."
She raised her chin. "I think that extremely unlikely, for as you know, I just recently arrived and am completely unknown in London."
"Have you experienced any other problems or unusual occurrences since arriving?"
"No."
A determined look gleamed in Laramie 's eyes. "Rest assured we'll do what we can to find him, but I must warn you against getting your hopes up for recovering your possessions. These blokes strike quick as that"-he snapped his fingers- "then disappear like rats scurrying into holes. Your belongings have probably been sold three times over by now, I'm sad to say. But if there's any news, I'll contact you immediately." He nodded to them both, then quit the room, closing the door with a quiet click.
Robert's attention turned to Mrs. Brown. She stood in front of the fire, perfectly still, her face ashen. She stared into the flames, her lips pressed into a grim line. After several seconds, however, she seemed to recall herself.
"If you'll excuse me," she murmured, turning toward the door.
"Actually, I'd like a word with you, Mrs. Brown," he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. "In fact, I'd like more than a word with you."
She turned so swiftly her skirt billowed out. "I beg your pardon?"
He walked toward her in measured steps, not halting until he stood directly in front of her. "I want to know exactly what the devil is going on here."
Color suffused her pale cheeks. "I'm certain I don't know what you mean."
"Indeed? Then allow me to enlighten you. Since your arrival here yesterday, you have been coshed, abducted, trussed up like a goose, and robbed. These same unfortunate circumstances have befallen me. It certainly makes one wonder what circumstances might greet us after you've been here a week."
Her gaze remained steady, and he had to applaud her show of bravery. The effect would have been perfect except for the slight trembling of her lower lip. "I'm sorry-"
"It is not your apology I seek, Mrs. Brown. What I want is an explanation and the truth."
"I don't know-"
"You lied to Laramie. I want to know why. And you are not leaving this room until you tell me."
Chapter 8
A knot tightened in Allie's stomach. She needed only to glance at the grim set of Lord Robert's features to know he meant what he said. He would keep her in this room until she offered him some sort of explanation for the extraordinary events that had befallen him, and her, since her arrival.
In truth, she could not blame him, although providing such an explanation placed her in an awkward position. How to tell him enough to satisfy him, yet not tell him so much as to compromise herself? And what exactly had he meant when he'd accused her of lying to Laramie?
She looked away from his far too penetrating gaze to stare into the flames dancing in the hearth, trying to assimilate the conflicting emotions battering her.
Cold, stark fear shivered down her spine. There was no longer even the shadow of a doubt that someone had meant her serious harm all along. And it was now clear that the reason was the coat-of-arms ring. But why? And who? The person responsible had clearly sailed with her from America. It had to be someone who had known David, who'd been involved in his shady dealings. And clearly this person believed the ring was valuable.
But what now? Now that the person-or persons-had gained possession of what they wanted, would they leave her alone? Please, God, let it be so.
Anger collided with her fear, and she pressed her lips together. Damn you, David! Even three years after his death, he continued to wreak havoc in her life. A sudden wave of weariness crashed through her, draining her, and her eyes slid closed. God, how many days and nights had she spent hovering on the brink of despair? Sitting alone, so tempted to give up. It would be so easy to simply stop this quest… to let him win.
She pulled in a deep breath and gritted her teeth. No. She would not give up. She refused to be a victim again. David would not steal anything else from her.
Steal. Guilt hit her like a slap. Even though she'd tried her best to keep it safe, she'd lost possession of Lord Shelbourne's ring. She dreaded meeting the earl now, having to tell him that she did not have his ring after all.
And not only the ring was gone. Valuables belonging to Lord Robert's family had been taken, and her bedchamber was a shambles. In spite of her best intentions, she'd certainly proven to be a less than stellar houseguest. And it was now time to make some amends.
Drawing a bracing breath, she turned to Lord Robert. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching her with a piercing intensity that curled her toes inside her shoes.
"I'm not quite sure where to begin-"
"You can start by telling me why you lied to Laramie," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "You told him nothing else unusual had happened to you, yet I recall that you fell overboard several hours before arriving in London."
She lifted her brows. "I did not lie to him. He asked if I’d experienced any other problems since arriving. I haven't. That incident occurred before I arrived."
Unmistakable annoyance flashed in his eyes. Reaching out, he grasped her upper arms. The heat of his hands pressed through her bombazine sleeves. "I'm not in a mood to play word games or split hairs, Mrs. Brown. Perhaps, by some miracle, you might have convinced me that the kidnapping and today's robbery were unrelated, but falling overboard as well?" His fingers tightened briefly. "No, I'm afraid you haven't a prayer of persuading me that the three occurrences are unlinked. Tell me, were there any other incidences during your journey?"
She tried her best to keep her features expressionless, but clearly she failed, for a muscle in his jaw ticked. Realizing there was no point in hiding them, she told him about falling down the stairs and becoming ill after eating on the ship.
Concern darkened his eyes. "Surely you cannot believe that all these disturbing occurrences are unrelated?"
"No… not any longer." Then, in an effort to forestall the barrage of questions she sensed about to burst from him, she added, "I'll try to explain, but I'm afraid I do not know very much."
He slowly released her arms, but his gaze never wavered from hers. "The fact that you know anything about these events puts you at an advantage over me. I'm listening."
Pressing her hands to her jittery stomach, she said, "After David died, I found a coat-of-arms ring among his effects. I was curious about the piece as I'd never seen it before. A jeweler in America told me he believed it was English in origin. When I decided to visit Elizabeth, I brought the ring along, hoping to learn more about it. I gave Mr. Fitzmoreland, the antiquities expert I spoke with here, a drawing of the coat of arms. I received a letter from him this morning informing me that the coat of arms was that of the Shelbourne family."
She paused to draw a much-needed breath and to gauge his reaction thus far. Understanding was dawning in his gaze.
"This was the business you wished to conduct in London."
"Yes."
"And that's the reason you requested an introduction to Shelbourne."
She nodded. "I wished to return the ring to him. I had no use for it, and I thought it might hold some sentimental value for him."
"How did it come to be in your husband's possession?"
"I'm not certain. David was a… collector. No doubt he purchased it in some dusty little treasure shop he discovered during his travels."
"The ring was no doubt quite valuable. You planned to simply give it to Shelbourne? Why not sell it to him?"
She raised her chin a notch. "I didn't feel it was mine to sell." Before he could question her motives further, she plunged on, "For reasons unknown to me, it appears that someone wanted that ring-desperately enough to try to harm me, then to steal it. I didn't believe the incidents were connected because I couldn't imagine what anyone would want from me."
"But now it is clear they wanted the ring. And were quite willing to harm you in order to get it." He frowned with obvious concern. "Since the attacks began on board the ship, this person must have followed you from America. Who knew you had this ring in your possession?"
"The only person I ever told or showed it to was the jeweler."
His frown deepened. "Perhaps the ring was more valuable than this jeweler led you to believe and he wanted it for himself. Did you mention your travel plans to him?"
"No. And I can assure you he was not on board the Seaward Lady."
"He could have hired someone to follow you."
She mulled that over for several seconds, then nodded. "I suppose that is possible. But now that whoever wanted the ring has it, I'm certain they will no longer bother with me."
She looked into his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but very intense. After a long moment, his gaze lowered to her mouth. His eyes seemed to darken, and a look she'd have sworn was desire flared in their depths.
Heat rushed through her like a brush fire. She imagined him stepping closer, leaning forward, brushing his lips over hers. Her mouth tingled, as if he'd actually caressed her, and she bit her bottom lip to stem the unsettling sensation.
Unable to stand the intensity of his regard, she stared down at the carpet and endeavored to regain her equilibrium. "I'm very sorry that you became involved in this, Lord Robert," she said quietly, "and I'm equally sorry that your family's belongings were stolen as a result. I don't know how I will replace them, but-"
His fingertips touched under her chin, cutting off her words. He gently raised her chin until their eyes met. "They are merely things, Mrs. Brown, and of no importance. We must be grateful that neither of us was seriously injured. Things can easily be replaced. People, however, cannot…" A muscle jumped in his jaw, and something else flickered in his eyes. Something dark, haunted, and full of pain. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the expression vanished. It was the same expression she'd seen flash in his eyes at The Blue Iris.
Curiosity she could not shove aside pulled at her. What secrets was this man hiding? What was the transgression in his past that Lady Gaddlestone had alluded to? Was his misconduct of the same sort as David's?
Part of her instantly rejected the possibility that Lord Robert was capable of criminal
deeds, but she forced herself to ignore that involuntary softer leaning. After all, she barely knew the man. And indeed, it didn't matter what his secrets entailed or what he'd done-just the fact that he obviously had secrets and had done something was reason enough to be wary and keep her distance from him.
His hand slid away from her chin, and he stepped back from her. "Tell me, were all your garments destroyed?"
She fought the urge to lay her fingers over the spot where his had just touched her, to hold in the warm imprint he'd left upon her skin. "Not all of them. I still have two gowns-the one I'm wearing and one other."
He nodded in a preoccupied fashion, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. She took advantage of his distraction to edge toward the door. With any luck, she'd quit his company before he thought to question her further. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to retire now."
He turned back to her, surprise flickering over his face, as if he'd momentarily forgotten she was in the room. "Of course. I'm certain your bedchamber has been put back to rights by now. Good night, Mrs. Brown."
She murmured good night, then quickly exited the room. She'd half-expected him to leave the library with her, to prepare to return to his own rooms, but clearly he intended to stay for a while. There was no denying his presence in the town house made her feel safe, yet at the same time it left her achingly unsettled. And increasingly frightened of her own reactions.
Of its own volition, her hand rose to her face, her fingertips lightly brushing over her chin. Dear God, he'd barely touched her, yet she'd felt that gentle caress as if lightning had struck her. And the way he'd looked at her…
Her fingers moved up to her mouth. He'd wanted to kiss her. There was no doubt. She'd seen it in his eyes. A sigh whispered past her lips, blowing warm against her fingertips. What would she have done if he had?
Melted. Into a quivering puddle of want. And then-
She caught herself and, with an exclamation of disgust, yanked her hand down to her side. With unease cramping her insides, she walked briskly down the corridor to the stairs.
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