Whirlwind Affair

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  Shelbourne cocked a brow. "In the afternoon, yes, but it is especially so at night." He leaned closer to her, his voice dropping to an intimate level. "All those dark, private walkways make for some very… stimulating evenings."

  Robert gritted his teeth and fought the nearly overwhelming urge to plant the blackguard a facer. Yet more disturbing than Shelbourne's behavior-which was at least expected- was Mrs. Brown's. Instead of appearing outraged, a delicate peach blush colored her cheeks, and what appeared to be a suppressed grin twitched her lips… Lips that Shelbourne's gaze seemed plastered to.

  A change in conversation was most definitely in order. "How are things at your Cornwall estate, Shelbourne?" he asked.

  Shelbourne did not even glance at him. "Spendid. Tell me, Alberta -"

  "Have you implemented any upgrades? I understand from Austin there's been recent improvements in both irrigation systems and farming techniques."

  Shelbourne finally turned toward him, a lazily amused smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "My irrigation systems are in excellent condition, Jamison, thank you for asking. As for my techniques… I've heard no complaints."

  "Indeed? Perhaps you are not listening closely enough."

  A long, measuring look passed between them. Then, with a careless shrug that set Robert's teeth on edge, Shelbourne's gaze swiveled back to Mrs. Brown. He launched into a lengthy description of his Cornwall estate, his attention remaining almost exclusively on Mrs. Brown, who seemed not to mind at all. Indeed, if her blushes were any indication, she was quite enjoying Shelbourne's address. Deciding the meal would end more quickly if he did not prolong the conversation, Robert remained mostly silent.

  The instant the interminable meal ended, Robert rose, intending to depart, but Shelbourne smoothly reminded him that he'd promised Mrs. Brown a tour of the gallery.

  "I'd love to see it," Mrs. Brown said.

  Left with no option that did not leave him appearing churlish, and not about to allow Shelbourne to be alone with her, Robert accompanied them, his mood growing more grim each time Shelbourne touched her, which seemed to be constantly. Brushing his fingers against her arm to gain her attention. Resting his palm on the small of her back to lead her to the next painting. Tucking her hand through his elbow. Jealousy ate at him, made worse-and damn it, more hurtful-every time she offered Shelbourne one of her rare smiles.

  Six, damn it. She'd smiled at Shelbourne six times since they'd entered the gallery. And eight times during dinner. Not that Robert was counting. But she hadn't offered him so much as a glance. Her obvious pleasure in Shelbourne's company concerned and genuinely confused him.

  What about her devotion to her husband? Had Shelbourne's attention encouraged her to step out from her mourning? While he would be happy to see her abandon the outward signs of grieving, he found it hard to accept that Shelbourne would be the man to make her want to do so. Me. I want it to be me.

  As much as he hated to, he was forced to admit that Shelbourne possessed the qualities that most women admired: He was wealthy, titled, and handsome, his dark good looks tinged with an edge of danger. But Mrs. Brown did not strike Robert as falling into the category of "most women."

  Still, perhaps all she'd needed was for a man to court her. To sweep her off her feet. To show her, without a doubt, that he found her desirable. Me. I want it to be me.

  His footsteps faltered at the thought, precipitously so, as he'd been about to plow into Shelbourne's back where he and Mrs. Brown had paused before what was, thankfully, the last painting.

  "She's beautiful," Mrs. Brown murmured.

  "Yes," Shelbourne agreed. "But she pales in comparison to you."

  Robert's gaze flicked over the painting. A Gainsborough, he noted. Quite a nice one. And the subject, a young woman standing in a field of wildflowers, was undeniably beautiful. And she did indeed pale in comparison to Mrs. Brown.

  And damn it, he wanted to be the one telling her so. Wanted her gaze directed at him.

  Me. I want her to want me.

  And it was about time he did something about it.

  "Given your interest in art," Shelbourne was saying, "you must see the Elgin Marbles while you're in town. Why don't I call upon you tomorrow-"

  "Impossible," Robert interjected, not even attempting to hide the edge in his voice. "We depart for Bradford Hall at first light. Indeed, it's time we take our leave of you."

  Shelbourne led them down the corridor toward the foyer, his gaze never leaving Mrs. Brown's face. "I am desolate, Alberta. How long will you stay in Kent?"

  "Six weeks."

  "And then?"

  "Then I sail home," she said softly.

  Something squeezed in Robert's chest at her words.

  "I may be traveling through Kent in the next few weeks. If so, I shall make a point to call at Bradford Hall. It would be a pleasure to see Bradford and the duchess again." Shelbourne leaned down, his lips nearly brushing Mrs. Brown's ear. "And a great pleasure to see you again."

  Luckily they arrived in the foyer just then, for Robert felt like a teakettle about to spew a stream of steam.

  "Thank you for dinner," Mrs. Brown said, tying her bonnet strings in a small bow beneath her chin. "I enjoyed the food and your artwork very much."

  "As I enjoyed your company, Alberta." Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips-for much longer than necessary-and with a heated look in his eye Robert recognized all too well.

  His hands fisted inside his gloves. The manners drummed into him since childhood were the only thing that kept him from dropping the man like a stone. Inclining his head in Shelbourne's direction, he said, "Lovely meal. My thanks." Then, before Shelbourne could so much as look at her again, he angled himself between them and swiftly escorted her to the waiting carriage.

  After assisting Mrs. Brown to step up, he murmured, "Excuse me, I forgot my walking stick." He strode back to the town house, where Willis admitted him. Shelbourne still stood in the foyer.

  "A moment of your time, Shelbourne," he said.

  Shelbourne raised his brows at his sharp tone, but merely said, "Of course. My study?"

  "The foyer is adequate."

  With an almost imperceptible nod from Shelbourne, Willis left them alone. Then Shelbourne regarded him through narrowed eyes. "What on earth could be so important, Jamison, that you would leave that ravishing creature alone?"

  "She is what I wish to talk about. Leave her alone."

  "Surely that is something the lady can decide for herself. And I must tell you, Jamison, she did not give me the impression that that was what she wanted."

  "She doesn't know your reputation as I do."

  Shelbourne appeared amused. "Oh, but by all means, tell her. My wicked reputation is often half the attraction. And I've a particular fondness for experienced widows."

  Robert favored him with his most frigid, unwavering glare. "Cast your jaded eye elsewhere, Shelbourne."

  "She doesn't belong to you, Jamison." Cunning speculation flickered in his eyes. "Or does she?"

  It took every ounce of Robert's willpower not to wipe that smug expression from Shelbourne's face-with his fist. "All you need to know is that she will never belong to you. Have I made myself clear?"

  "I don't believe I care for your tone, Jamison."

  "I don't believe I give a damn, Shelbourne." He took one step closer to the earl. Shelbourne was tall, but Robert had him by an inch, a fact he took full advantage of. "I've said what I came here to say. You'd be wise to not give me cause to ever repeat it."

  Without waiting for Willis, Robert let himself out, striding quickly down the walkway to the waiting carriage.

  From the narrow foyer window, Geoffrey watched the carriage depart. Hmm. Jamison clearly harbored a tendre for Mrs. Brown. Pity. The woman was not long for this world. And if Jamison got in the way, his days were numbered as well.

  Chapter 11

  The moment the carriage halted in front of the Bradford town house, Robert knew something w
as amiss. It appeared as if every chandelier and candle in the entire household were lit, for light blazed from every window. Before he and Mrs. Brown had made it halfway up the cobbled walkway, the double oak doors opened. Carters stood in the swath of light, his normally blank features lined with distress.

  Fear hit him. Now what? Had something happened to Elizabeth? To the babe? He all but propelled Mrs. Brown up the steps and into the foyer. "What's wrong?" he asked Carters, forcing himself not to shake the man by his lapels. "The duchess?"

  "No, Lord Robert." Unmistakable anger flashed in Carters' eyes. "But someone has attempted to rob us again."

  "Was anyone hurt?"

  "No, sir. Indeed, nothing was taken. The scoundrel tried to enter Mrs. Brown's bedchamber from the balcony, but was scared off when Clara screamed. She'd just turned down Mrs. Brown's bed and was seeing to the fire when the French windows leading to the balcony opened. And there he stood, dressed head to toe in black, she said. Never heard a woman scream like that in my entire life. Gave all of us quite a turn, of course, not so much of a turn as poor Clara suffered."

  "Then what happened?" Robert asked.

  "I was the first to arrive in the bedchamber, where I found Clara still screaming and brandishing the fire poker. Apparently she'd scared off the brigand. He'd vaulted over the railing to the ground. By the time I'd gotten the story from her, the bloke had vanished."

  "Where is Clara now?"

  "Gone to bed, sir. Cook prepared her a restorative toddy to calm her nerves. Nearly fell to pieces afterward, but Clara quite saved the day."

  "Indeed she did," Robert murmured. "When did this happen?"

  "Not more than half an hour after you departed, sir. As soon as I'd turned Clara over to Cook, I sent for the magistrate. Mr. Laramie interviewed Clara, then departed. He advised me to tell you that he'd inform you of any news, and to make certain all the doors and windows are locked. I've already been through the entire household checking. We are all secured."

  "Thank you, Carters." Robert turned to Mrs. Brown, who had remained silent throughout his exchange with Carters. She stood still as a statue, her face devoid of color, her eyes twin pools of distress. He noted the slight tremor of her bottom lip, and the way her fingers were twisted together.

  She was hiding something, damn it, and he'd had quite enough of it. He hadn't pressed her last evening, but tonight things would be different.

  "I believe we need to have another conversation, Mrs. Brown," he said softly.

  ********

  Allie stood in front of the drawing-room fireplace, staring at the flames, trying to absorb the heat to chase away the chill that had invaded her bones at Carters' disturbing news.

  Dear God, it wasn't over. The ring, the box, they were both gone, yet still someone wanted something from her. Or simply wanted her… gone.

  She clasped her hands tightly in front of her but could not stop their trembling. She could not recall a time in her life when she'd been more frightened. Or felt more alone. And not only frightened for herself. This menace no longer threatened just her. Lord Robert had already been hurt, and the town house ransacked and robbed. If she traveled to Bradford Hall, could her presence there bring danger to Elizabeth and her family?

  She couldn't risk such a thing. The best thing would no doubt be for her to return to America. Immediately. Her heart balked at the idea, but she wouldn't forgive herself if further harm befell someone because of her. Because of her connection to David. For that was the only explanation. This person who wanted something from her had to be someone from David's past. Someone must have followed her from America. A sense of weary bitterness invaded her. So now you will steal something else from me, David. My chance to see Elizabeth.

  Hot tears pressed behind her eyes. Dear God, she felt so alone-with a stabbing ache she'd never before experienced. And she was so tired of being alone.

  "Are you all right?"

  Lord Robert's deep voice sounded directly behind her. Turning, she found herself staring up into eyes not dark with anger, as she'd anticipated, but steady with unmistakable concern.

  Reaching out, he cupped her shoulders. Warmth from his wide palms seeped through her gown. "It is obvious that you are not all right," he said softly. "It is also obvious that there is more going on here than you've told me." His fingers tightened and an edge entered his voice. "Whatever is going on, it's placing not only you, but me and everyone and everything in my brother's household, at risk. I do not want anyone to get hurt."

  "Neither do I," she whispered. "Which is why the best thing is for me to return to America. On the first available ship."

  He seemed to freeze for several seconds. An indecipherable look flashed in his eyes, then his fingers tightened on her shoulders. "No," he said in an emphatic tone. "That would not be best. We can solve this problem. Whoever is behind this will be apprehended. In the meanwhile, Bradford Hall is very secure, and once we arrive, I'll see to it that extra safety precautions are taken."

  His confidence wavered her resolve. God knew she did not want to leave. Of course, if she were to go, she wouldn't be forced to confide the humiliating details of her marriage. She could simply sail home without him ever having to know.

  He lightly shook her shoulders, regaining her attention. "You must abandon this idea of leaving. Not only would Elizabeth never forgive me if I allowed you to do so, but you cannot make such a trip alone. If, after seeing Elizabeth, you are still determined to cut your visit to England short, we will arrange for a traveling companion to accompany you." His compelling blue gaze bore into hers. "But you do not strike me as the sort of woman who would run away."

  His statement struck her as both compliment and challenge, strengthening her determination not to allow David to rob her. of anything else. All of Lord Robert's arguments to stay were sound, while the thought of leaving filled her with an ache she could not name.

  "I'll stay," she said. The instant the words passed her lips, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her heart.

  Lord Robert expelled a long breath, and his grip on her shoulders relaxed. "Excellent. Now you must tell me what is going on. I've pledged to do my utmost to protect both you and my family, but I cannot do that until I know everything."

  Everything. He was right, of course. There was more at risk here than simply her own safety. Her silence might be placing him in danger. Indeed, it already had. If further harm were to befall him-

  No. She couldn't allow that to happen.

  He gave her shoulders another tiny shake. "Let me help you. Trust me."

  She swallowed the humorless laugh that rose in her throat. Yet even as her mind scoffed at the notion of trusting him, her heart reminded her that this man had proven himself trustworthy, at least as far as protecting her was concerned. He'd rescued her from her abductors, and had watched over her since she'd arrived.

  Let me help you. She briefly squeezed her eyes closed. To have an ally… someone to talk to. Confide in. Lean on. But what would he think of her once he knew the truth? The thought of seeing the warmth and admiration fade from his gaze saddened her. But she owed him the truth. With his safety at risk, she had no choice.

  "It's rather a long story," she said.

  His gaze never wavered. "I have as long as you need." His hands slid down her arms, and he clasped her hands in a reassuring grip. "Come. Let's sit." He led her to the settee, and once they were settled, she drew a deep breath.

  "Did Elizabeth tell you anything about… my husband?"

  He appeared surprised. "No. Only that he'd died."

  "She didn't mention how he died?"

  "No. I assumed an illness of some sort."

  "David was killed in a duel." She longed to look away from his penetrating gaze, but forced herself to look him straight in the eye. "By his lover's husband."

  It clearly took several seconds for her words to sink in, but then there was no mistaking his stunned reaction. Unable to stand the pity she saw brewing in his eyes, she ros
e and began to pace in front of the fire.

  "I had no idea," she said. "One minute I thought I had a husband who loved me as much as I loved him. The next minute I found out he was dead. Before I could even assimilate that news, I learned he'd been unfaithful to me… almost from the moment we'd wed."

  Now that she'd begun, the words seemed to pour from her, as if she'd lanced a wound, letting out the poison. "I was still reeling from that blow when I realized that adultery was the least of David's sins. While packing away his belongings, I discovered a journal. After reading it, I learned exactly what sort of man I'd married."

  She pressed shaky hands to her stomach in a vain attempt to calm her inner trembling. "He was a thief. A blackmailer. A criminal. The journal listed, in great detail, hundreds of items he'd stolen and then sold. Of sums he'd extorted." A fresh onslaught of pain rushed through her at the memory, tightening her throat. "I was sick. Literally sick. Every comfort I'd enjoyed as his wife-our fine home, the beautiful furnishings, my exquisite wardrobe-were all at the expense of other people."

  She turned to him and spread her hands. "I didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't know. And once I found out, it nearly destroyed me. So many emotions churned through me, I thought I might lose my mind. I spent an entire week locked in my room. First crying over what I'd lost-my husband, my security, my future. Then I cried over what a fool I'd been. I'd trusted David absolutely, with my whole heart. He'd fooled me so completely. Had fooled everyone. Except Elizabeth. She'd tried to warn me. Cautioned me I didn't know him well enough, but I wouldn't listen…"

  Pausing long enough to draw several deep breaths, she continued, "After a week of indulging in tears and self-pity, I couldn't stand myself anymore. That is when anger replaced the self-pity. Anger at myself for being such a naive fool. And with David for all his lies and deceit."

  Turning from him, she started to pace once again, the words flowing even faster. "Once I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I decided I would not, could not, allow David to rob me of my self-respect. He'd stolen everything else, but he wasn't going to have that. And there was only one way I would ever have a chance of feeling good about myself again. I decided to return all the monies he'd stolen.