by Candace Camp
“A few days after you shrugged off Jocelyn’s leaving, I learned that she was not the first girl to flee London because of you. Grace Fortner had, as well. You loved her; you pursued her. You maneuvered her into being alone with you. And when she rejected your advances, you would not let her go. You struggled, and she was hurt. She fled home because of her fear.”
The other man simply looked at him for a long moment. “And you believed this?”
“She had no reason to lie. The story compromises her honor. She had every reason to keep it hidden, so the telling of it makes it hard to disbelieve.”
“You heard this from Miss Fortner herself?”
“No. But the person who told me had it from her. And I trust that person.”
“More than you ever trusted me, obviously.” Rawdon came closer. His voice was flat, his gaze direct and cold. “If you were any other man, I would call you out. But for the friendship I once held for you, I will tell you this: I admired Miss Fortner a bit; I danced with her a few times and called on her once or twice. I believe I might even have sent her a nosegay. I did not pursue her. I did not trap her in a compromising position. I did not offer her any harm. I have never in my life laid an angry hand on a woman. I have never hit a female nor have I forced one. Miss Fortner lied or your friend lied. I frankly don’t care which. But I will swear to you on my own sister’s life that I have never harmed a woman. The only woman I ever loved was Jocelyn, and God help me, the only wrong I did to her was to allow our engagement to go forward even though I knew she did not love me as I loved her.”
Gabriel stared into Rawdon’s eyes, and in them he saw a cold, hard truth. He knew, with an empty sensation deep in his gut, that he had been wrong, terribly wrong. How could he have taken the word of a stranger, no matter how convincing the circumstances, over that of his trusted friend?
“My God … Rawdon. I am sorry.” Even as he said them, he knew how terribly inadequate his words were. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out.
Rawdon shifted and half-turned away, his voice cool and remote. “It is all in the past.”
“Yes, but … I …”
The other man shook his head once, briefly. “Please, present my apologies to Miss Bainbridge. I should go now. Tell her I shall return another time to see the boy.”
Rawdon strode away, but he paused at the door and turned back. “The reason I left the other day was to meet a man in Oxford—a Bow Street Runner I have used in the past. I hired him to look for Jocelyn. If I hear anything from him, I will let you know.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, Rawdon left the room. He must have met Thea in the hallway, for Gabriel heard the murmur of voices, Thea’s lighter one mingling with Rawdon’s crisp tones. Gabriel stood, unmoving, still stunned, his thoughts spinning, until Thea walked into the room a moment later.
“Gabriel?” She paused just inside the door, then hurried forward. “What is it? What happened? You look like—well, I don’t know what.”
“Like a man who’s been kicked in the midsection?”
“What happened?” Thea repeated as she slipped her hands around his arm and looked up at him in concern. “Lord Rawdon looked a bit … overset, as well.”
“We talked. I—he told me that everything I’d believed was wrong, and I knew … I knew when I looked in his eyes that he was telling me the truth.”
“You mean, more than what you learned in the letter?”
Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Not just that Jocelyn did not fear or hate him, not just that he isn’t Matthew’s father. He swore that he had never touched the woman whom I was sure he had hurt and compromised. He swore that he had never hit a woman or forced her, and … I believed him. I think … I think perhaps he loved Jocelyn more than I ever realized.”
“But what about the things he said to you when you confronted him? The callous disregard for where Jocelyn had gone?”
“A pretense.” Gabriel shrugged. “That rings true enough. Pride was always Alec’s besetting sin. He was never one to let anyone learn the extent of his injuries, whether they were to his body or his heart. I should have known it at the time. I should not have confronted him like that. He would never back down, never let his weakness show if he was attacked. He would lash out instead—and Rawdon always went for the jugular.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Gabriel looked down at her, his face etched with regret. “I did a terrible thing, Thea. I think Jocelyn broke Rawdon’s heart when she left. And I … I turned on him, too. At a time when he needed a friend the most. I didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him. I assumed he was wicked, not even giving him a chance to explain.”
“You were in pain, as well,” Thea pointed out. “And he could have acted differently. He could have explained himself, answered your questions.”
“Yes. He was proud. I was furious. The result is our friendship was destroyed.”
“Perhaps it can be repaired.”
“I think not. Rawdon is colder, more bitter. And he was never a man who gave his friendship easily. Things change, and one can rarely return.”
Thea slipped her arms around Gabriel’s waist and leaned her head against his chest. The pain inside him, he realized with some surprise, felt eased by her touch. He bent and kissed the top of her head. She was warm and soft in his arms, and immeasurably precious. He wondered what he would feel if she suddenly disappeared, leaving only a note behind, and his insides tightened painfully.
He kissed her again, then stepped back, releasing her reluctantly. “There is something I have to do. Will you forgive me if I do not stay?”
“Of course. Where are you going?”
“To the Priory. I have a few questions I need answered.”
Gabriel found Ian in the smoking room at the rear of the house. He was relieved to see that his friend was alone. Ian looked up as Gabriel entered, his expression wary, but he relaxed when he saw Gabriel.
“It’s you. Thank God.”
“Who were you expecting?”
“Emily. She has been after me to leave for the Park since Christmas. It was hard to convince her we needed to remain when our host had disappeared.”
“My apologies,” Gabriel answered drily. He closed the door behind him and walked over to where Ian sat.
His friend watched him approach. Ian set the drink he had been sipping down on the low table beside him. “What is it? You look—” Ian stiffened and rose to his feet. “Did you find Jocelyn?”
“No. I have no idea where she is, any more than I have for the last year. I wanted to ask you about something else. Do you remember what you told me, not long after Jocelyn left, about Miss Fortner and Rawdon?”
“Yes.” Ian frowned. “What about it?”
“Are you absolutely certain that it was true?”
Ian’s brows rose in surprise. “What? Of course it’s true. I would not make something like that up. Gabriel, what are you on about?”
“I talked to Rawdon this afternoon. He denied that anything happened between him and Grace Fortner.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He’s not going to admit that he tried to seduce her and, failing that, tried to force her.”
“I believe him.”
Ian stared at Gabriel. “No. He’s lying; he has to be. You know the kind of fellow he is. He hurt Miss Fortner. He hurt Jocelyn. That was why Jocelyn fled. It must be. Otherwise …” Ian’s voice trailed off.
“Otherwise we have been wrong in blaming Rawdon all this time,” Gabriel finished. “He showed me a letter from Jocelyn, Ian. She asked him for forgiveness.”
“What? What did she say?”
“That she wronged him. That she had been deceived. She thought herself in love. I can only assume she meant that she had given herself to this man she was in love with, that he is Matthew’s father.”
“Good God!” Ian stared at Gabriel, thunderstruck.
“Apparently she has been living on the Continent this whole time. But she
decided to return. She said she was coming to me for help.”
“Then she is here? You said you had not found her.”
“I haven’t. I don’t know where she has gone. But that is what she said to Rawdon in the letter. That is why I have been out searching for her. After he showed me the letter, I was even more certain that Matthew is her child.”
“This is—I don’t know what to say.” Ian passed a hand over his face. “Are you certain the letter was from Jocelyn? Perhaps Rawdon made it up.”
“I read it. It was in her hand. I’ve received hundreds of letters from her; I know her writing well.”
“How can this be? I thought—” Ian’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I thought that he had killed her. He was always a cold, hard bastard when he chose. You know that. I thought he got angry with her and hit her, perhaps not even meaning to kill her, but … you know.”
Gabriel nodded. “I know. Sometimes I thought so, too, when she was nowhere to be found.”
Ian dropped heavily into his chair and picked up his glass again, taking a long drink of it.
“Did Miss Fortner herself tell you the story of what Rawdon did?” Gabriel asked.
Ian glanced at him, startled. “I—what does it matter?”
“It matters, Ian. You told me you knew it to be true. I received the impression that Miss Fortner revealed this to you herself. That it was not merely a rumor.”
“It was not a mere rumor!” Ian jumped to his feet, looking agitated. “No, she did not tell me herself, but I was told by someone who would have had no reason to lie.” He frowned. “It involved a woman’s honor; it was too important to have been mere gossip.”
Gabriel sighed. Whatever Ian said, the doubt was clear on his face. Ian had obviously believed what he had told Gabriel, but it had been no more than rumor and gossip. And Gabriel had believed it; he had jumped to believe that Rawdon had wronged his sister. To have believed otherwise, he realized now, would have been to admit that his beloved little sister had simply wanted to leave them. That she was not the innocent victim, but the one who had wronged those who trusted her.
“I can’t believe that Jocelyn—” Ian began, then stopped.
“I know. It is hard. We regarded Jocelyn too much as the little girl we had known and not a fully grown woman.”
Ian nodded and sat down again, picking up his now empty glass. “I think I’ll have another of these.”
“I believe I will join you.”
Thea went to Damaris’s house the next afternoon to pick up her gown for the party. The snow from Christmas had all melted away, but a bitter chill was in the wind, and Thea was glad that she had left Matthew at home with his nursemaid. Damaris’s house was still a beehive of activity, though it was now aimed more at decorating than at cleaning. As Thea followed Damaris up the stairs to try on the dress the maid had altered, Thea noticed that the servants were all whispering to each other as they worked.
When she asked Damaris about the low buzz of chatter, Damaris glanced at Thea in surprise. “Have you not heard? I thought nothing got past Mrs. Brewster.”
“It rarely does, but I was busy at the church today, and I haven’t really talked to her. Has something happened?”
“Apparently a number of people have seen a strange man lurking about the village the last day or two. The apothecary’s wife said she saw a stranger in her garden two or three days ago, but …” Damaris shrugged.
“Mrs. Foster has an active imagination,” Thea supplied.
“Exactly. But Mr. Gilchrist also looked out the window as he went to bed and saw a stranger walking past. It created a bit of a stir, though my opinion was that the butcher was right in saying it was probably only a peddler passing through. But this morning, not one but two different people reported seeing a man last night. I would discount it as hysteria, frankly, except that my own housekeeper was one of those who saw him.”
“What? You mean here?” Thea felt a leap of alarm. She could not help but think of the man who had taken Matthew from his bed, and she had to fight back an urge to run back to the vicarage to make sure Matthew was safe. After all, it was daylight and several people were watching over the baby, including the sturdy guard supplied by Gabriel. Matthew would be fine.
“Yes. I did not see him, but Mrs. Clemmons did, and she is a most phlegmatic woman, not the sort given to fits and starts. She said he was in the back garden, and he slipped through the hedge and was gone when she came out of the house, shouting and wielding her broom.”
Thea had to chuckle. “I would have slipped away, too.”
As they talked, Thea had pulled off her dress, and Damaris’s maid had dropped the remade gown over Thea’s head. Now, the maid fastened it up the back, and Thea turned to look at herself.
“Oh.” She let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction. The ball gown was even lovelier than she had thought it would be. With the bodice taken in to suit her more modest curves and the hem lowered slightly to compensate for her extra inches of height, the dress suited her perfectly. She turned this way and that, admiring the way the jewel-like tones of the dress caught the light. “Damaris, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“The dress isn’t all that is beautiful,” Damaris assured her with a smile. “It looks much better on you than it ever did on me, and I am so happy to see you looking as you deserve.”
Thea did not linger long at Damaris’s house. She knew that Damaris doubtless had a number of things to do to prepare for the party the next day, and Thea was eager to get home and reassure herself that Matthew was all right. It was all very well to say that ample people were looking after him, but until she could look at him and hold him herself, she could not help but worry about the man who had been seen in the village. After the kidnapping incident, the presence of a stranger here seemed far too coincidental.
One of the maids folded the red ball gown and put it in a box for Thea to carry home, and she set out for her house, thoughts of the stranger occupying her mind. She wondered whether she should send the footman over to the Priory to tell Gabriel of the news from the village. Gabriel usually came to call at some point during the day, but she could not help but feel a sense of urgency.
“Lolly?” She walked into the house, and her sense of alarm heightened when she found the kitchen empty. “Lolly?”
Thea hurried into the hallway and stopped, letting out a sigh of relief as she saw Lolly coming down the stairs, holding Matthew. Peter sat at the foot of the steps, waiting for them. He popped up as soon as he saw Thea, offering her a bow.
“Miss.”
“Hello, Peter. Lolly. There’s my boy.” Thea smiled, setting the box down on the hall table and stretching out her hands to the baby. With a grin, Matthew dove into her arms, and Thea laughed. She glanced at Lolly. “How has he been?”
“A bit fussy. I think he’s starting to teethe, miss.”
“Really?”
“Aye. Look at his gums.” Lolly pulled down his lip, pointing to the lower gum, where a bit of white showed through.
“A tooth!” Thea grinned and lifted the baby’s chubby hand to kiss. “Well, aren’t you the little man?”
Lolly offered to take up the dress box to Thea’s room while Thea played with Matthew. Thea went into the sitting room, where she spent the next half hour sitting on the rug and entertaining Matthew with games of peekaboo, singing, and patty-cake. Later, after Lolly had returned and whisked Matthew off for a snack, Thea went upstairs to put away her dress. Lolly had taken the gown out of the box and spread it out on the bed. Thea smiled at the sight of it. She could not help but wonder what Gabriel would say when he saw her in it. Carefully, she folded it up and put it away in the dresser. Turning, she started toward her secretary, stopping when she almost stepped on a square of white on the floor. She bent down and picked up the piece of paper.
It was folded, with a red wax seal holding it closed. On the other side, in uneven block letters was written LORD MORECOMBE.
Thea stared at the writ
ing, her heart slamming in her chest. Turning, she ran out into the hall. “Peter! Peter!”
The footman came running through the door to the kitchen while Thea was still on the stairs. “Miss! What is it?”
“Have you seen this? Did you see anyone leave this in my room?”
“No, miss.” Behind him, Lolly came out of the kitchen door. Her eyes big, she shook her head, as well.
“I’ll sit with Lolly and the baby,” Thea said, coming the rest of the way down the stairs and going over to lock the front door. “Peter, you run over to the Priory and tell Lord Morecombe that someone came into the house and left a note for him. Tell him I need him.”
Eighteen
Thea locked the kitchen door, as well, after Peter left and sat down across from Lolly and the baby, the sealed note on the table before her. It seemed an eternity before she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves on the road outside, but she knew it had been little more than thirty minutes. She ran to the door to look out, and seeing Gabriel tying his horse to the fence, she flung open the door and rushed out to meet him.
Gabriel vaulted lightly over the low iron fence and scooped Thea up in a hug, which she later realized would have been scandalous had there been anyone on the road to see it, but at that moment, she did not care for anything except that Gabriel was there.
“What is it? What happened?” He turned and walked with her to the kitchen, his arm still around her shoulders. “Peter said someone had come into the house?”
“Yes. I don’t know how or when, but they must have. I went to call on Damaris this afternoon, and when I returned, I found a letter on the floor of my bedroom. It was addressed to you. I am positive it was not there when I left.”
“Did you see anyone come in, Lolly?” Gabriel asked.
“No, sir.” The nursemaid shook her head. “I don’t know how anyone could come in without one of us seeing. I was up and down the stairs a lot with Master Matthew. And Peter was down here in the hall, sir, like he always is, where he can see anyone what comes in the kitchen or the front.”
