Whirlwind Affair

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  "Obviously he said yes."

  "True, although Papa still claims he was quite disgruntled about her stealing his big romantic moment, to which Mama always replies, 'If I'd waited for you, Henry, we still wouldn't be married. Why, I would have had to marry Marvin Blakely instead.' "

  She laughed, then continued, "That's when Papa would mutter something uncomplimentary under his breath about Marvin Blakely. Then he and Mama would share what I called their special smile… the one that made it so obvious that they still loved each other after all these years."

  He paused, drawing her to a stop. Surprise flickered in his eyes. "My parents often exchanged that same sort of look. They could have been standing in a room filled with dozens of people, but it would suddenly seem as if they were alone. As if no one else existed."

  "Yes, that's precisely the look."

  They stood there, in the middle of the path, looking at each other, and once again, as she had the day before, she swore something passed between them. A subtle, unspoken understanding-silent, yet nonetheless real.

  Forcing herself to look away from him, she shook her head and sighed. "I'm so sorry for your mother. It must be terrible to lose a husband you love so much…"

  She felt him start, and she looked up at him. He was staring at her with an odd expression. "But of course you would understand how that feels…" he murmured. He didn't ask wouldn't you, yet she clearly heard the question in his voice, saw it in his frown.

  Heat suffused her face, and she started walking again, turning away from his penetrating, inquisitive stare, afraid that he would read the truth in her eyes.

  While she could not deny that she had loved David when he'd died, her discovery of his true nature had extinguished her love like a snuffed-out candle. She tried to conjure David's likeness in her mind's eye, to forcibly remind herself of what she never wanted to suffer through again, but the handsome face that filled her mind wasn't David's.

  God, help me. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase Lord Robert's image, but failed utterly. He filled her mind completely. But worse, she suspected that if she let her guard down at all, he would fill her heart.

  ********

  Grateful to be back at the town house, Robert handed his hat and walking stick to Carters. He couldn't have endured one more minute confined with her in that carriage, breathing in her hypnotic flowery scent, racking his brain without success for something to say. Nearly the entire journey from Vauxhall was made in silence. He'd sat across from her, tongue-tied like a green schoolboy.

  Damn it, they'd enjoyed such camaraderie during their walk, but then it had suddenly vanished, replaced with an uneasy tension that emanated from her in waves. Half of him had longed to break that tension, but the other half told him it was better this way. For the more he spoke to her, shared with her, the more enchanted 0he became with her. The more he wanted to know everything about her.

  Carters' voice yanked him from his musings. "A package from Madame Renee's establishment arrived for Mrs. Brown while you were out. I placed it in her bedchamber." Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a sealed letter and handed it to Mrs. Brown. "This arrived as well. There's a lad waiting to bring a reply back to Lord Shelbourne."

  Robert's shoulder's stiffened. What did Shelbourne want now? With a nod of thanks, she broke the seal and read the contents. A tapping echoed in the foyer, and to his annoyance he realized it was the toe of his own boot striking the marble floor. Nearly a minute passed with her silently reading. What the devil had Shelbourne written her? A bloody novel?

  Clearing his throat, he adopted a casual tone in marked contrast to his annoyance and remarked, "Nothing amiss, I hope."

  She glanced up from the vellum. "Lord Shelbourne wishes for me to dine with him at his home this evening."

  Robert's hands fisted. Bloody hell! Clearly the rogue sought to pursue her in the privacy of his home as she'd refused his invitation to go out publicly. Well, Mrs. Brown was no foolish, naive miss. Of course she would divine Shelbourne's intent and refuse him.

  “May I use the carriage tonight?"

  He stared at her. Much as he tried to will it away, he couldn't stop the jealousy pumping through him. Nor the hurt. Damn it, she'd turned down his invitation for an evening at Vauxhall. No matter that the instant the invitation had passed his lips he'd regretted it. The intimacy of the setting would be pure torture for him, and he'd been more than a little relieved when she'd declined. But now…

  "You intend to accept him?" he asked, much more stiffly than he'd intended. "I thought you required this evening to prepare for tomorrow's journey."

  "In truth, I do, but I really cannot refuse the earl's invitation. See for yourself," she said, handing him the missive.

  He scanned the few lines, his jaw tightening at the phrase "opportunity to become better acquainted." "Do you have this box he mentions?"

  "Yes. I suppose I should have brought it to him this morning, but I never thought of it. Indeed, I most likely would have thrown it away when I packed up my belongings this evening. The box is rusted and dented on the top. I'm certainly happy to give it to him, especially since I cannot return his ring."

  "So you wish to accept his invitation simply to return this rusty, dented box."

  "Yes. I consider it an errand of honor. Wouldn't you?"

  Marginally cheered, he admitted, "Yes, I suppose I would. However, I must warn you that Shelbourne has… something of a reputation with the ladies." He nearly choked on the mild description, but he did not feel the need to prejudice her against the man with the unvarnished truth-that Shelbourne was a jaded libertine without a single scruple in regards to women-although he would if he had to. " Elizabeth would have my head if I allowed you to spend time alone with someone who could damage your reputation. Therefore, I insist upon accompanying you."

  She appeared relieved. "Thank you. While I feel I must go, I've no wish to dine alone with the earl."

  Hmmm. Clearly Shelbourne was the only one who wished to become better acquainted. Excellent. And while it was hardly polite to invite himself to dinner, under the circumstances, he had little choice. Just knowing it would irk Shelbourne cheered him even further.

  "Then I'll send off a reply for him to expect two dinner guests." He consulted his timepiece. "We have almost two hours before we must depart. As we'll be out this evening, I suggest we use this time to prepare for tomorrow's departure."

  "An excellent plan." With a nod, she climbed the stairs, disappearing from his view when she turned down the corridor leading to her bedchamber. Turning on his heel, he walked to Austin 's study, intent upon making use of his brother's stationery. He had to send off his reply to Shelbourne.

  And then he had another, more important letter to write.

  *********

  Allie entered her bedchamber, heading directly toward the mahogany dresser. She picked up the rusted ring box, setting it in the palm of her hand.

  "I will be very relieved to see the last of you," she whispered to the dented piece. "Once you are returned, I will be free." David and the damage he'd wrought would finally be exorcized from her life, although she suspected that a few demons would always remain.

  Still, profound relief washed through her. With her quest completed, she could fully enjoy her visit with Elizabeth. Six lovely weeks in the English countryside, with nothing more pressing to do than to catch up with her childhood friend, and put the last bits of the past behind her. Then she'd return to America and-

  Never see Lord Robert again.

  The unwanted words popped unbidden into her mind. Thoroughly irritated that he'd once again invaded her thoughts, she set the box back down on the dresser, but clearly with more force than she'd intended, for she heard a slight cracking sound.

  Picking up the box, she examined the dresser's polished surfaced, relieved when she noted no damage. Then she held the box up to eye level.

  The bottom appeared to be separating. She attempted to gently snap the bottom back in
to place, but the instant she applied pressure, the entire affair broke into two pieces.

  "Oh, dear." She gazed at the pieces in dismay, a feeling that was quickly replaced by surprise. It appeared the one section was a false bottom. With a piece of folded paper secreted in the small space.

  Chapter 10

  Moving to catch the swatch of fading sunlight pouring through the window, Allie frowned at the yellowed paper tucked into the broken piece. Could this be something that belonged to David? Determined to find out, she carefully pried out the paper, then gently unfolded it. She could make out some writing, but it appeared badly faded. Holding the paper up to the light, she squinted at it, trying to make out the words. It seemed to be written in a foreign language-one she did not recognize. While she was not a linguist, it didn't appear to be French, Spanish, or Latin.

  She peered at the note again. Could the words possibly be Gaelic? David had been familiar with the language, she knew. Many times, during moments of passion, he'd whispered to her in the dark-enchanting, romantic-sounding words she hadn't understood. They were Gaelic, he'd said. Phrases he'd learned during his numerous trips to Dublin, sailing across the Irish Sea from his native Liverpool.

  A sense of dismay that had nothing to do with breaking the box washed through her. If this note had anything to do with David, she might not yet be able to put the past behind her. The temptation to refold the note and stuff it back into the box, or better yet, to destroy it-simply toss it into the fire-nearly overwhelmed her. No one would know.

  The words reverberated through her mind, irresistibly coaxing her. No one would know. What did it matter if the note concerned David? He was dead. She owed him nothing. Destroy it. No one would know.

  Yet something held her back. No one would know-except her. As much as she wished it otherwise, her conscience, not to mention her curiosity, would plague her if she did not at least attempt to discover the contents of the note. And perhaps it did not concern David at all. Perhaps it belonged to Lord Shelbourne-after all, the ring and box belonged to him. And if this note were the earl's property, she could not destroy it. She would have to return it to him.

  But the fact that David knew Gaelic, coupled with everything else she knew about him… no, she could not dismiss the very real and disturbing probability that the note in some way involved her late husband.

  She drew in a shaky breath. Discovering the contents… that meant the need to face the possibility that this note might very well yield information about more people he'd cheated. And if she were successful in deciphering the words, and it indeed listed more of David's victims, she would have to-

  No! The word roared through her mind, and she pressed her fingertips to her temple. God help her, she wouldn't, couldn't, spend any more time righting any more of his wrongs-yet how could she not? But the mere thought of enduring more financial hardships and personal humiliations such as she'd endured for the past three years-especially when the end had seemed so close-nearly suffocated her. Don't think about it now. It might not even be an issue. And if it is… you 11 decide then.

  She couldn't destroy the note. Not until she knew. Nor could she return it to the box. She couldn't risk Lord Shelbourne finding the note-of potentially damaging information falling into his or anyone else's hands. Heaving a weary sigh, she carefully refolded the note, then secreted it in a small pouch in the lining of her reticule, all the while damning the fact that she'd found it. Freedom had been so close. But at least she'd be rid of the box. Settling herself on the edge of her bed, she set about fitting the two pieces back together.

  *********

  Geoffrey leaned against the marble mantel in his drawing room, watching a footman serve his guests an aperitif. It was nearly impossible to maintain his air of detached outer calm. She'd handed the box to him a quarter hour ago, when she'd first entered the room. He'd given it a quick glance, then laughed. "Not a particularly handsome piece, is it?" After thanking her, he'd casually slipped it into his pocket, where it now all but scorched a hole through the material.

  Finally, unable to stand the suspense one second longer, he said, "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must have a word with Willis." Maintaining a slow, even stride, he left the room, then entered his private study where he locked the door behind him.

  He crossed to his desk, slowly withdrawing the box from his pocket, biting back the overwhelming urge to pounce upon it like a mongrel on a bone. With his heart slamming against his ribs, he pulled the box apart and stared in the bottom.

  The empty bottom.

  Panic seized him and he ran shaking, frantic fingers all over the rusted metal surface. Was there another opening? But after several minutes of desperate searching, he was forced to admit the nightmarish truth. The paper was missing.

  A barrage of obscenities exploded from his lips, and he hurled the useless box across the room. Fisting his hands in his hair, he paced furiously around the room, his breath expelling from his lungs in painful gasps.

  Where the bloody hell was it? She must have it. Must have found it. Or at least must know its whereabouts.

  He had to find out. Had to. Had to. Now. He halted and squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it, his head felt about to explode. Have to pull myself together. Must find out what she knows. Then get rid of her. He hadn't worried about Redfern finding the letter, as the man did not know how to read-a fact that Geoffrey had been careful to ascertain before hiring him. It wouldn't do to have Redfern find the note by chance and be able to extort money from him as David Brown had done. Although Redfern's greed would keep him from showing the letter to anyone to read and risk having to share his blunt. But Mrs. Brown… he suspected she was neither illiterate nor stupid. And she was no doubt as greedy as her husband had been.

  Drawing deep breaths until he steadied, he then walked slowly to the mirror and smoothed his hair back into place. He jerked his lapels back into perfect alignment, then made a minute adjustment to his cravat. Satisfied that his appearance was once again flawless, he quit the room to return to his guests.

  Alberta Brown clearly thought herself clever. A mistake, my dear. A fatal mistake.

  *************

  Allie immediately sensed something odd in the earl's demeanor when he reentered the drawing room. From her seat facing the doorway, she watched him pause on the threshold, his gaze riveted on her. A chill of apprehension slithered down her spine at his glacial expression.

  "Everything all right?" Lord Robert asked, looking at their host with a puzzled frown. Clearly he also sensed all was not well.

  "Of course." The earl waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "A tiny miscalculation in the kitchen apparently, but Willis assures me all is well. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?"

  Allie accepted his proffered elbow, praying her reluctance did not show. Perhaps she was imagining his disquiet.

  But by the second dinner course of delicately poached turbot, Allie knew she was not imagining things. The way he kept staring at her, as if he were attempting to see into her mind… yes, something was definitely amiss. Was he ill? She dismissed the notion as quickly as it occurred to her. No, it seemed as if repressed anger bubbled just below the surface of his flawless manners.

  Could he possibly know about the note? Know it was missing and that she had it? She instantly discarded that theory as well. How could he know about the note when he had not even known that the ring or the box existed until she came to England?

  No answers presented themselves, yet his manner disturbed her in a way she could not put her finger on. Some instinct, however, cautioned her that it might behoove her to find out more about this man. And surely the best way to do that was not to remain silent.

  Raising her chin, she offered the earl a smile. "Your home is lovely… Geoffrey."

  His expression relaxed. Then his lips curved slowly upward, while his gaze drifted leisurely downward to rest on her mouth. "Thank you."

  She indicated the gilt-framed still life adorning the wall behind him. "
You're clearly a lover of art. That is a beautiful piece."

  Robert's jaw froze in midchew, and he stared across the table. Mrs. Brown was looking at-no, smiling at- Shelbourne-no, Geoffrey-with an interested warmth that simultaneously stunned and irritated him. Damn it all, he'd been in another brown study and had clearly missed something. And the way Shelbourne was looking at-no, ogling- her… When the bloody hell had all this warm coziness started?

  Pretending to be fascinated with his turbot and peas, he covertly observed their interchange, but it quickly became apparent he did not require the ruse, as they both had seemingly forgotten his presence.

  "Do you like art, Alberta?"

  "I very much enjoy looking at it, but I'm afraid I possess little knowledge on the subject."

  "Then after dinner, I shall show you the gallery. While it's quite modest in comparison to the one at Shelbourne Manor, there are some… exquisite pieces."

  The inflection in Shelbourne's tone when he said "exquisite pieces," not to mention the way his gaze boldly roamed over her breasts, tensed every muscle in Robert's body. Bloody libertine. How dare he look at her like that? You mean, in the exact way you've looked at her? his inner voice taunted.

  No! He fought the urge to tunnel his hands through his hair in exasperation. He couldn't deny he'd looked at her with desire, but there was a calculation in Shelbourne's eyes… a predatory gleam that edged more than jealousy through Robert. It made him distinctly uneasy.

  "Lord Robert showed me through Vauxhall Gardens this afternoon," Mrs. Brown said to their host. "A lovely place."