Whirlwind Affair

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  She raised her chin and looked into Elizabeth's kind but troubled eyes and simply could not lie to her. "Yes."

  "Yet you think he'll hurt you. The way David did." There was no censure in the softly spoken statement.

  "I… I don't know if he would, but I cannot rule out the possibility. They are similar in so many ways."

  "But different in many more."

  Allie shook her head. "It does not matter. I cannot risk myself, my heart, again."

  "The fire happened a long time ago."

  "I know. But it still happened. And he did not tell me about it."

  "He did not lie when you asked him about it."

  "But he would not have told me then had I not asked! Don't you see that is part of the problem? What little he did tell me was with great reluctance. And it is obvious that there is more to the tale than he is willing to tell me."

  "I'm not saying this to defend him, but he never discusses it. No one in the family does. What he told you was most likely more than he's ever told anyone."

  "Perhaps. But it does not change anything between us." She blew out a long breath. "Elizabeth. Try to understand. Pretend your husband drank to excess, gambled the family into debt, then died. Would you not be extremely reluctant to involve yourself in any way with another man-especially one who drank to excess?"

  Elizabeth frowned, then nodded slowly. "Yes. I see your point. But I know Robert is a good, decent man."

  "I believe he is, too. But he is not the man for me. And although he believes otherwise, I am not the right woman for him. It is better for both of us if I leave. I've no desire to hurt either of us any further."

  "Your leaving will hurt him."

  "My staying will only hurt him more. I cannot give him what he wants." Fatigue, both physical and emotional, swamped her, and her shoulders slumped. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd like to rest for a while. I haven't slept well the past few nights, I'm afraid."

  "When do you plan to leave for London?"

  "I would like to leave tomorrow, if that can be arranged," Allie whispered. Tomorrow. It seemed like a lifetime away. It seemed like only seconds away.

  "I will see to it that you have a carriage at your disposal. But I will pray that you change your mind."

  "I won't." Leaning forward, she kissed Elizabeth's cheek. "Thank you for everything. Most especially for the precious gift of your friendship." She then rose and quit the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

  Elizabeth remained seated, staring down at her hands. Hands that looked normal in every way, but that so many times had enabled her to see too much. See things she wasn't meant to see. Leaving her with the moral dilemma of what to do with the information.

  She sat for several more minutes, weighing her decision. Then she rose and quickly made her way to her private sitting room. Crossing to her escritoire, she withdrew a piece of ivory vellum from the drawer and dipped her pen into the inkwell.

  And prayed she was doing the right thing.

  ********

  Drained after her talk with Elizabeth, Allie was about to enter her bedchamber, when Caroline turned down the corridor.

  "Allie, you are just the person I was looking for."

  The concern evident in Caroline's eyes prompted Allie to ask, "Is something amiss?"

  "No. But I was hoping to interest you in a walk outside so we could talk. The weather has cleared, and I'm anxious to go outdoors after so many days inside because of the rain."

  Allie hesitated. Based on Caroline's expression, Allie suspected her invitation might well involve a desire to discuss Robert. As much as she'd prefer to avoid the subject, she did need to tell Caroline of her decision to leave. And the opportunity to escape the confines of the house for a short period was tempting indeed.

  "Come with me," Caroline urged. "It would do you good to get some fresh air."

  Again she hesitated, as Elizabeth's warning not to wander off alone flashed in her mind, but she shrugged off the admonition. She would not be alone.

  "I'd love to walk with you, thank you."

  Chapter 22

  A very proper butler swung open the door for Michael. The servant sniffed with obvious distaste at his bedraggled appearance, but Michael didn't give a good damn. He'd suffered worse looks from uppity servants before.

  "May I help you… sir?"

  "I need to see Lord Robert. Immediately."

  The butler raised his brows. "If you'll give me your card, I'll see if-"

  The haughty words were cut off when Michael picked up the man by his perfectly pressed lapels, then stalked into the foyer with him. Kicking the door shut with his boot, he brought the wide-eyed man nose to nose with him.

  "I don't have a bloody card," he said in a deadly soft voice. "My name's Michael Evers. He is expecting me, and let me assure you, it will be your head that he'll have if you don't get him for me now. Do you understand?"

  The man jerked his head in a nod. As Michael lowered him to his feet, he asked, "Where is Mrs. Brown? Is she safe?"

  The man swallowed, his eyes filled with a combination of fear and confusion. "Safe? Yes. Mrs. Brown is upstairs with the duchess, in the nursery."

  "You're positive?"

  The servant took several hasty steps backward the instant his feet hit the polished marble floor. "Yes. I directed her there myself."

  A breath of relief escaped him. "Excellent. Now go get-"

  "Michael?"

  He turned toward Robert's questioning voice coming from the corridor. Before he could say a word, the butler blurted out, "Lord Robert, this… person who claims to know you burst in the doorway, and-"

  "It's all right, Fenton," Robert said, waving aside the words. "I've been expecting him." His gaze locked on Michael's. "You have news?"

  "I do. We need to talk. Now. Privately."

  "Follow me," Robert said, and started swiftly down the corridor.

  Michael pinned a glare on the butler, and said in a low voice, "Make certain Mrs. Brown remains in the house. The others as well. Don't allow anyone out. Or anyone else in. Do you understand?"

  The man nodded.

  Satisfied, Michael strode down the hall after Robert.

  Fenton watched the stranger's broad back disappear around the corner. Removing his handkerchief, he mopped his brow, while indignation filled him. Uncouth, unkempt ruffian! Fenton looked down at his clothing and gasped. Good heavens, his jacket was wrinkled, his shirt askew… why, he was completely undone. He did not know who this Michael Evers was, but he was clearly not proper company to be entertained at Bradford Hall. Who on earth did that brute think he was, pushing his way into the foyer, manhandling him, then giving him orders?

  An elegant sniff escaped Fenton. He would not take orders from that man. Certainly not. He took his orders from the duke! Due to this Evers person, Fenton now needed to retire to his room to repair his appearance. He could not oversee the staff in his present disheveled state, nor allow the duke to see him as such.

  He summoned a footman to man the foyer, and managed to ignore the young man's stunned expression at his appearance. Heavens, he must look worse than he'd suspected. After explaining the proper procedure for opening the door, Fenton headed for his rooms. This was most irregular. The moment he'd put himself back to rights, he would certainly locate His Grace and inform him about that abominable Evers person.

  *********

  Robert closed the library door behind Michael, who was clearly in a very agitated state. "What did you learn? Was your mother able to translate the note?"

  Michael plunged his hands through his already untidy hair. "Aye. You're bloody not going to believe it. I barely do myself." He looked at Robert with an expression that appeared bewildered and bitter at the same time. "I’ve raced like the devil himself pursued me to get here, and now I’m not even certain where to begin."

  "Tell me about the note. Did it have something to do with Allie's husband?"

  "Only indirectly." His dark eyes bored int
o Robert's. "When I showed the letter to my mum, she got pale as a sheet and damn near swooned."

  Confusion washed over Robert. "Why?"

  A humorless laugh escaped him. "The bloody thing was written to her."

  "What? By whom?"

  "By the priest who married her to my father." Michael began pacing in front of the hearth, and Robert forced himself not to fire a barrage of questions at him, to let him gather himself.

  "When Mum saw the note, she went all to pieces, crying and asking me to forgive her. I had no bloody idea what she was talking about. When she finally calmed down, she told me this story… this story that was documented in the note." He paused in his pacing and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. "Christ, I still can't believe it."

  Alarmed by his normally unflappable friend's distress, Robert crossed to him and laid a supporting hand on his shoulder. "Michael. Tell me."

  Michael looked at him through tired eyes. "I've no memory of my father," he said, his voice gruff. "He died when I was a baby… or so I'd always thought. Until this visit with my mum. She confessed that the man she'd married wasn't named Evers. It was just a random name she chose."

  A frown pulled down Robert's brows. "Then who the hell did she marry?"

  Michael's dark eyes met his. "That's the part you're not going to believe."

  ********

  Allie breathed in the rose-scented air, and tipped her face up to the sun in order to capture more of the bright, warming rays.

  "You're going to freckle," Caroline warned with a smile.

  "I don't care. It just feels so wonderful to be outdoors."

  "I agree. Four solid days in the house was about to drive me mad."

  They strolled along for several minutes, the silence broken only by the chirping birds. Allie savored every second, committing to memory the beautiful gardens, the pastoral setting, and Caroline-a woman she genuinely liked and would miss. As she would miss so many things about this lovely place.

  They paused at a fork in the pathway, and Caroline pointed to the right, toward the woods. "This path leads to the ruins of a centuries-old stone fortress. It was a favorite childhood place for all of us. Would you like to see it? The walk through the forest is lovely."

  Allie glanced over her shoulder and noted that they were well within sight of the house. "Is it far?"

  "No. Just a few minutes ahead."

  "All right."

  The instant they entered the forest, the temperature dropped, cooled by the shade from the soaring elms and oaks. Allie continued along the path in silence, waiting for Caroline to broach the subject she sensed uppermost in the woman's mind.

  Several more minutes passed before Caroline finally said softly, "Allie, a blind person could see that you and Robert care for each other deeply. And that you're both miserable. I do not want to pry-" A tiny laugh broke off her words. "Actually I want nothing more than to pry, but I promised Miles I would not. So I shall simply ask you… Is there anything I can do to help? I thought… perhaps if I arranged a picnic for the two of you for tomorrow, you could talk to each other privately and solve whatever has come between you?"

  A wave of desolation washed over Allie. By this time tomorrow, Bradford Hall and all its occupants would be no more than a memory. It was time to inform Caroline of her decision to leave. And to disabuse her of any notions that she and Robert could resolve their differences. "I'm afraid I won't be-"

  Her words chopped off as she and Caroline rounded a sharp turn in the path. Both women halted as if they'd walked into a wall.

  Less than ten feet in front of them, a man lay prostrate on the ground, another man crouching over him. A brown gelding stood to the side of the path, nervously pawing the dirt. Someone gasped-Allie wasn't certain if it was herself or Caroline-perhaps both of them. The crouching man jumped to his feet and swiveled to face them.

  Allie's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could say a word, Caroline exclaimed, "Lord Shelbourne! What on earth has happened?"

  His dark eyes shifted between them for several seconds, then he said in a breathless voice, "I… I don't know. I was on my way to Bradford Hall to extend my congratulations to the duke and duchess on the birth of their daughter, when just a moment ago I happened upon this man lying in the path. I heard a crashing in the underbrush, and I saw a man dashing that way through the trees." He pointed in the direction leading away from the house. "No doubt the scoundrel attempted to rob this poor man. I had just dismounted and was checking his injuries when you arrived."

  "Is he alive?" Caroline asked, her eyes huge.

  "Yes. But he needs help. He's bleeding, and it looks as if he sustained quite a bump on the head." Again his gaze darted between them. "Lady Eddington, would you be so kind as to go for assistance? And Mrs. Brown, would you assist me in administering aid while she returns to the house for bandages and help?"

  Caroline hesitated. "I don't want to leave Allie alone-"

  "She won't be alone," Lord Shelbourne broke in, looking affronted. "She'll be with me. Now be off, we must hurry."

  "Of course," Caroline said, crimson rushing into her cheeks. "I'll return as quickly as possible." She turned and raced around the corner toward the house.

  Allie dashed to the fallen man, lowering herself to her knees beside him. His face was turned away from her, and she gently turned his head toward her. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

  Warm stickiness oozed over her fingers, and his head turned limply toward her. She froze and stared at the man's face in stunned disbelief.

  "Good heavens, I know this man," she said. "His name is Mr. Redfern. He sailed with me on board the Seaward Lady from America." Questions bounced frantically through her mind. What on earth was Mr. Redfern doing here? And how serious were his injuries? Reaching out, she pressed her fingertips to his neck.

  Geoffrey looked down at her, bending over Redfern's prone form, and fought to regain his composure. Damn her cursed timing! Because of her arrival, his plans were now in a shambles. He could only thank God she and Lady Eddington had not arrived upon the scene even one minute earlier, as they would have seen him thrusting his knife into Redfern's back.

  He glanced downward. The hilt of his knife, just visible over the top of his boot, was stained with blood. He hastily rubbed his hand over it, only to notice the dark red streaks marring his fawn jacket sleeve and white cuffs. His heart slapped painfully against his ribs. Had Lady Eddington noticed? No, clearly she had not. And even if she had, she'd obviously assumed he'd ruined his attire attempting to help the bleeding man.

  His gaze shifted to Redfern, and he recalled the man's reaction to coming upon him in the woods. Redfern's face had been the personification of stunned amazement. Geoffrey had generously given him an opportunity to produce the note, but alas, poor Redfern had not yet retrieved it. It was the last mistake he would ever make.

  But now he needed to work quickly, before Lady Eddington returned with half a dozen people in tow. He needed to find out where the note was, then escape from here. And unfortunately for Alberta, she would have to accompany him.

  " Alberta. There was a note in the ring box. Did you see it?"

  Crouching over Mr. Redfern's body, frantically trying to find a pulse, Allie did not bother to even turn at Lord Shelbourne's question. Where was the pulse? There had to be a pulse. "Note? Um, yes. Yes, I saw it."

  "Where is it?"

  "It's-" Her hands suddenly stilled, and she frowned. Clearly Lord Shelbourne had known about the note. Yet he had not made any mention of it when she'd returned the empty ring box to him at his town house-but she recalled his odd behavior at dinner that evening.

  "Tell me where the note is, Alberta. Now."

  The urgency and menace in his command slowly sank into her brain. Something was not right. As if in a daze, she gently settled her palm over Mr. Redfern's chest, then slowly withdrew it, a sense of horror washing over her.

  "He's dead," she whispered. She rose on shaky knees, then turned around to face Lord Shelbou
rne. "He's…" Her voice trailed off as her gaze riveted on his bloodstained sleeve, then rose to his face. The look of pure desperation blazing from his eyes shivered a chill of fear down her spine.

  "Dead. Yes, I know." He erased the short distance between them in three quick strides. Reaching out, he grasped her upper arms in a viselike grip. He lowered his face to within inches of hers, and she involuntarily recoiled. "Where is the note, Alberta?"

  She stared into his ebony eyes that suddenly reminded her of a serpent's. Everything inside her stilled, then shifted as realization clicked into place. Redfern… the accidents on the ship… the abduction and robberies in London… the note… Lord Shelbourne… they were all connected. And while she did not know all the details, instinct told her she was now facing the danger that Elizabeth had warned her against. And based on Mr. Redfern's condition and the desperate look in Lord Shelbourne's eyes, the danger was deadly.

  She tried to break free of his grip, but his fingers tightened painfully on her arms. She considered screaming, but realized they were too far away from the house for anyone to hear her. Perhaps Caroline would hear her cries, but that would only bring her running back-without help-and place her in danger as well. Besides, screaming might only anger him, give him cause to knock her out or stuff a rag in her mouth. Tie her up. Best to keep him as calm as possible.

  And stall for time. Until Caroline returned with help. Swallowing to wet her dry throat, she said, "I know where the note is."

  "Where?"

  She debated the wisdom of claiming she'd burned it, but decided a story would take longer to tell him. And she needed time. "I gave it to someone."

  His hands tightened, and she gasped against the pain shooting up into her shoulders. "Who, damn it?"

  "A… gentleman in London. A language translator. The letter was written in a foreign language I could not read."

  Clear surprise washed over his taut features. "Foreign language? What nonsense is this?"

  "It's true. I think the language might have been Gaelic."