by C. J. Archer
CHAPTER 16
Alice was a little surprised when Charles Grayshaw’s manservant said he was at home when she called at his Blackfriars house. She’d expected him to be at work but it seemed he’d returned to dine as she’d hoped.
The servant disappeared into an adjoining room to fetch him, leaving her standing in the modest hall, wondering if she was doing the right thing.
Of course she was. No matter what concerns she had over the reaction she’d get from her ex-lover, this was one of those occasions when pride had to be set aside. It seemed pride would always be the victim where Charles was concerned. He’d ended their relationship unexpectedly and Alice had been surprised and hurt. It wasn’t until many months later that she realized what they’d shared wasn’t love but something more akin to deep friendship.
Still, the reasons he’d given for ending the relationship stung. They were the same reasons why Warhurst didn’t want to see her again. Today of all days she felt she had some justification for her bitterness toward both. But if she wanted Charles’s help she must swallow her bitterness and smile.
“Alice?” Despite the turmoil of old memories, the smooth, modulated voice lifted her spirits instantly and turned her smile into a genuine one. “It is you!”
Charles Grayshaw hadn’t changed at all. He was still the dashingly handsome young man whose cheeks dimpled when he grinned. “Charles. May I still call you that?”
He took both her hands and drew one to his lips. His kiss lingered slightly longer than was polite. “Of course you can. How are you?”
“The same,” she lied. In truth, nothing was the same. Not since she’d last seen him and especially not since last night. “And you? You look well.”
“Is that your way of saying I’ve aged and my looks are fading?” He grinned and she couldn’t help laughing.
“Of course not. You are as handsome as ever. I’m sure you have all the court ladies swooning every time you walk into a room.”
“Only my share,” he said, “and unfortunately the heiresses have been warned away.”
It should have pained her to hear that but it didn’t. It would seem she was cured.
She had Warhurst to thank for that.
Warhurst. Always bloody Warhurst. Damn him.
“Alice, there is an alarming shine to your eye,” he said with mock seriousness. “I haven’t done anything to put that there, have I?”
“Of course not. It’s simply nostalgia at seeing you again.”
“You are a sweet girl for saying so, although I know you’re not the type to look back and regret.” He took her hand again and pressed it to his cheek. His face grew soft as he regarded her through heavy lids. “It’s good to see you again. Come into my study and we’ll talk. I’d invite you into the parlor but there’s no fire lit.” He made a face. “I’m economizing.”
He led her down a corridor past a series of domestic rooms to a large study with no adornments on the wood-paneled walls to soften its masculinity. He pulled two straight-backed chairs to the small fire and bid her to sit.
“So what can I do for you, Alice?” he said. “Anything that is in my power to do, I will.”
She thought he would add “because I owe you that much,” but he didn’t. Whether it even occurred to him, she wasn’t sure. The amiable smile certainly didn’t leave his face.
“That’s good, because what I need to ask you is a little out of the ordinary. But I believe it’s within your powers to bestow.”
He forked an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Go on.”
“You spoke to Lord Warhurst this morning at Whitehall, I believe?”
His other brow joined its mate. “Ye-es. Now I’m even more intrigued. Do you mean to tell me you know Lord Warhurst?” The way he said it left her in no doubt he was asking if she knew Warhurst in an intimate sense.
“We’re acquaintances.” She’d promised Warhurst she wouldn’t link their names in public but this was an instance where that promise needed to be broken. Besides, she could trust Charles.
“Well, he never told me,” he said.
“Should he?”
He shrugged. “I suppose not. But I’m not sure I like it. I mean, he and I are friends, and you and I were…” He coughed. “And now he and you…”
“I said acquaintances, Charles. I’m helping him with something and in turn he’ll help me establish a shop.”
His face cleared. “Ah. I see. So…a shop of your own? Extraordinary. Although if any woman is to succeed at such a venture it would be you. You always had too much spirit to remain working for your father forever.”
She smiled and remembered why she liked him so much. He understood her. “Thank you. Am I to believe you did speak to Lord Warhurst then?”
“I did. And if the business he and I discussed has anything to do with your business with him then I must caution you to be careful.” He laughed. “Forgive me, I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment,” he said. “Asking you to be careful when you have the scent of adventure is like asking a hungry cat to not chase the mouse.”
“I like to think these last two years have taught me some sense on that score. But perhaps you’re right. So, may I ask if he told you everything?”
“You can and he did.” He briefly recounted Warhurst’s tale. “And I’ll tell you what I told Warhurst: my hands are tied. I can’t help I’m afraid.”
“Of course you can. We’re not asking to see the letter or the file, simply that you tell us whether it exists or not. We want to know if Enderby passed on the knowledge to his superiors.” She leaned forward, as did he, so that their heads almost touched. “And do not try to tell me you will lose your job over something so trivial. You, dear Charles, could talk yourself out of any sort of scrape if you set your mind to it.”
“Is that what you truly think of me?”
“Well?” she said, ignoring him. “Will you do it? For me? For…” For what we’d once meant to each other. For the hurt you caused me.
He must have been thinking the same thing because his sparkling eyes dulled and his dimples vanished. “Of course. Indeed, it’s already been done.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “After Warhurst left I looked for the file.” He shrugged. “I have a key to the storage room where the paperwork is kept so it was easy enough when no one was looking.”
“You told Warhurst you could lose your job!”
“Ah. Yes, so I did. And I could if I was discovered, or if the file had been a sensitive one. But I wasn’t discovered and Hawkesbury’s thin file hadn’t been looked at in years. It was quite dusty. I was deciding whether to inform Warhurst or not when you arrived. Now you’ve saved me the trouble of a visit.” Dimples returned to his cheeks. “And given me the pleasure of your company.”
“So there was nothing in it?”
“Nothing to cause any Hawkesbury, living or deceased, to quake in fear.” He waved his hand in the air. “A few vague rumors, never proved, but that’s all. There are hundreds of files like it in our storeroom. Indeed, it’s a measure of a noble gentleman’s status to have a file. It shows he is an important man in the realm and worth watching, rather like having an ancestor’s head removed for treason and stuck on the bridge’s southern gate tower. It’s a point of pride for some.”
She grimaced. “I see your point. So there was no coded missive?”
He shook his head.
“Well, it’s a relief to know it hasn’t reached your superiors.”
“I suppose you’ll go to Warhurst and tell him now?”
“Of course. This is his affair. I’m simply helping where I can.”
He nodded, thoughtful. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and propped his chin up with his fingertips. “I hope he appreciates you, Alice. More than I ever could.”
“It’s not like that,” she said quickly.
“No, I suppose it’s not. Not for someone like Warhurst.”
“You mean stubborn, proud…”
He c
huckled. “I mean someone as poor as, well, as me. And worse, he’s got the scandal to smooth over.”
Poor? Scandal? Her shock must have been evident on her face because he started briefly. “I think I’ve said too much.”
“Not nearly enough. He’s a baron, isn’t he? He has lands up north.”
He chewed his lip and rubbed his short beard. “I suppose I won’t be telling you anything you can’t find out from more biased sources,” he said with a shrug. “Warhurst has a moderate estate and a rather barren one, I believe. He needs money to determine if there’s coal on his land but no one will lend it to him. That’s where the scandal part comes in. About thirty years ago his father wanted to do exactly the same thing. Or so he said. He borrowed heavily off just about everyone in his circle, high and low born. However, he never used the money on improvements to his estate, but rather on his mistress.”
“Mistress!” Oh. Poor Lady Warhurst.
“From all accounts she was a gold-digger who ran him ragged and sent him to an early grave. She followed soon after, which must have been some consolation to the family.”
Good lord, what a terrible time it must have been for those close to him. “And the people he borrowed money from still take their anger out on the current Lord Warhurst? Even after all this time?”
“Exactly. Most are of the opinion that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Bloody Warhurst in his pigheadedness rarely comes to court so none of them see what a fine gentleman he is. He’s paid the debts off, of course, but it hasn’t changed matters. Indeed, that only served to impoverish his estate more.”
“But his brother is wealthy, can’t he lend him money?”
“Have you ever seen the two of them together? It’s a marvel they haven’t killed each other yet.”
“I see,” she said on a sigh. She rubbed her aching head. So much to take in. Charles’s information explained a great deal about Warhurst’s behavior.
Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Oh, how was she to know if any of this was connected to his coldness toward her?
“If I had any money I’d lend it to him myself,” Charles said. “I know he’d find a way to repay me if the mines didn’t produce.”
She smiled weakly. “You’re a good soul with much to offer the realm, Charles. I hope you will one day find happiness.”
“Much to offer the realm but little to offer a wife,” he said with false cheerfulness.
“Are you thinking of marrying?”
He regarded her with such intensity she had the awful sensation that he was going to say something he’d regret. But fortunately the moment passed and his genuine smile returned. “Warhurst and I are pitted in battle over the hand of a wealthy widow. I’m afraid his title beats my position at court easily.”
Alice’s heart skidded to a halt. Her throat closed, her mouth went dry. Somehow she managed to mutter, “Oh.”
“Yes,” he said hollowly. “My thoughts exactly. Not sure I’m ready for marriage but if the right woman presents herself then I must put forward my suit. And this woman is infinitely suitable.”
“You’ve met her?” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “What’s she like?”
He shook his head. “I’ve not seen her but Warhurst told me only this morning that she was pretty and gentle and good-natured.”
She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. They were trembling. “She sounds perfect.”
“Perfectly dull.” He laughed again and took one of her hands. “Warhurst is welcome to her. I prefer a girl with spirit.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.
The action helped shepherd her scattered thoughts. She withdrew her hand quickly and he sat back suddenly. She’d wounded him.
So be it. He’d wounded her two years ago.
“Are you sorry for what…for what happened between us?” he asked, staring unblinking at her.
“Sorry? No, not at all. You were an experience I shall never regret.”
His smile was sad. “I’m relieved. Only…I’ve never quite forgiven myself.”
She squirmed in her seat. She’d wanted to say so many things to Charles since he’d left her. She’d wanted a chance to hurt him in return, to tell him that she thought his actions cowardly. She’d wanted him to come back to her on his knees so she could then walk away from him. But now that she had the opportunity, she found she no longer cared enough to do any of those things.
All she cared about was that Warhurst was getting married. To a pretty, kind, rich lady. A lady who probably came from a noble lineage, who knew her place in the world and always said the right thing at the right time. A woman who could lift him higher, not drag him down further.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness.
“Are you all right, Alice? You’ve become even paler, and that’s no mean feat.”
“A slight ache in my head. I should go.”
He walked her down to the hall. At the front door, he bowed over her hand, kissed her cheek, and wished her well. “I’m glad we had this meeting,” he said.
“So am I. Good-bye, Charles.” She turned and walked unsteadily down the street. Once she was out of sight of the house, she stopped and pressed her back against a brick wall and closed her eyes against the weak autumn sun.
He’s getting married.
Leo’s knuckles may have been split and bruised but he could still mess up Grayshaw’s pretty face. Even from his position across the road, half obscured by a conduit, Leo could make out the look in his friend’s eyes as he kissed the back of Alice’s hand. Desire. The dog turd wanted her, despite their separation of…how long had she said? Two years? Not nearly long enough to forget her.
Clearly Grayshaw hadn’t forgotten. But had he tried to remind her of their past during their little reunion?
More to the point, did Alice want to be reminded?
The door closed and Alice paused as she leaned against a wall. A few heartbeats passed then she made her way down the street, passing Leo without seeing him. Nor did she see the muddy puddle until she stepped in it. She quickly hopped out, shook her soaked hem, and swore.
“It’s hardly the fault of the puddle that you trod in it,” he said.
She gasped, but then she saw it was him. “And yet here you are to torture me once more.”
“It’s your fault,” he said, trying for levity when all he wanted was to sit her down and make her tell him what had occurred in Grayshaw’s house. “You practically threw down the challenge to me to meet you here as I sparred with Hawkesbury.”
“I did no such thing. I was simply trying to stop him from killing you.”
“Ha!”
“He may not have succeeded but at least he gave that proud nose of yours a few dents. Pity.” She walked off and he was left wondering if she was referring to his damaged nose or the fact that Hawkesbury failed to kill him. “Don’t worry,” she said when he caught up to her, “it hasn’t marred your handsome face overmuch. Indeed, I wouldn’t be surprised if you attract more attention from the ladies. I’m sure they’ll want to kiss your wounds better.”
There was venom in her tone if not her words, and it stung, but the sting was lessened by one observation that made him want to smile, despite everything. “You think I’m handsome?”
She toyed with the stray wisps of pale hair fluttering at her cheek but not before he saw her blush. “When it comes to you, Warhurst, I try not to think at all. It makes my head ache and often leaves me with a feeling of emptiness afterwards.”
He stopped; she didn’t. Indeed, her strides lengthened. “What does that mean?” he called after her. When she didn’t answer, he ran up and caught her by the arm, pulling her a little too roughly to a halt. “Enough of this nonsense. Tell me what happened in there.”
She winced and too late he remembered it was her wounded arm. “Hell, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said, but he suspected it was a lie.
“Allow
me to inspect for myself.”
He went to take her arm but she put it behind her back.
“Don’t distress yourself, you did not hurt me. Marlowe did.”
He looked toward the sky and wished there was some advice amid the clouds about dealing with this woman. “I just want to see for myself that I did not add to your injury.” It took every ounce of patience to speak calmly, but it was worth it to see her body relax and a small smile soften her mouth.
“No.”
Damnation! “Mistress Croft, I—”
“Why would I let you inspect my person when we are not even on a first-name basis?” She tilted her chin, turned, and walked off.
“I’m going to—” He bit his tongue before he attracted too much attention from the passersby and once more found himself walking quickly to catch up to her. “I’m going to strangle you,” he said quietly when he reached her. “And I’ll thoroughly enjoy every minute of it.”
“If you do, you’ll not find out what I learned from Charles.”
Charles. It seemed she was on a first-name basis with him. “Finally! I thought we’d never get to this point.”
“Do you want to know or not?”
“Yes!”
She shot him a sideways glance then neatly stepped around a small puddle. She was no longer distracted, it would seem. Leo had the effect of sharpening her wits rather than muddling them like Grayshaw did. That comparison only made him want to hit something again, preferably Grayshaw’s face, and that was uncharitable considering he liked the man.
So, apparently, did Alice.
“Charles told me he went in search of the old Earl of Hawkesbury’s file after he spoke to you at court this morning.”
“So much for losing his job,” he mumbled. “And?”
“And there was nothing very interesting in it. There were certainly no coded letters that might implicate him in a plot.”
“So either Marlowe lied or Enderby never passed it on to Walsingham’s people.”
“You think Marlowe lied?”
“No, I don’t, because he knows I’ll return to his rooms and ram my rapier down his throat if he did.”
