A Night of Secrets (14 page)

Sally frowned, leaning her elbows on the fence. “Who are you talking to?”

Meg pushed open the gate, annoyed to see it worked quite well now that Grayson had mended it. “Gray... I mean, Mr. Bellamont.”

Sally’s frowned deepened as her gaze moved from Meg, to scan the field below. “But, he’s not here.”

“Sally,” she whispered. “Don’t be daft.” Meg turned. “Of course…”

The field lay empty. Grayson was gone.

Chapter 7

“This is a terrible idea, Mary Ellen. Just wretched,” Meg whispered.

Each bounce of the carriage took her closer to Bellamont and possibly closer to her demise. Mad, that’s what she was. But Mary Ellen merely hummed, smoothing the wrinkles from her mauve dress and brushing bits of grass from the hem as if they were going to a bloody ball. “Don’t be silly, if we don’t attend, they’ll think poorly of us.”

“As if they don’t already?” Meg tightened her hold on the reins and darted a quick glance behind them to make sure the rest of the family was unaware of their conversation. “You know they’re going to whisper about us. How can you stand it?”

The rising moonlight sliced through the trees, making Mary Ellen’s hair glow like silver, so bright it was almost difficult to look directly at her. “We can’t hide merely because those old biddies are gossiping about our lack of money. Besides, when will you get another chance to see his home?” Mary Ellen smiled, her front tooth slightly crooked, a blemish she despaired of daily. “I heard he’s having iced lemon.”

Meg rolled her eyes. As if sweets made the visit all right. “You sound like Hanna and Sally.”

As desperate as she was to keep well away from Grayson Bellamont, she couldn’t deny Hanna’s excitement was contagious. The dear child was rarely able to attend societal functions because of her reaction to the sun. And yes, there was a part of her eager to see the man after what they had experienced in the field. And yes, a part of her that was rather annoyed with the fact that she hadn’t heard from him in the days since. Although what she expected, she wasn’t sure.

Perhaps a note saying, “
So sorry I almost took your virginity in the field. Do forgive me and attend my gathering. We’re having iced lemon.
”

“What are you girls talking about? I can’t hear a thing,” Papa called out from the back of the carriage.

Meg resisted the urge to sigh. “Nothing Papa, merely excited is all.”

“Ah yes, suppose everyone is.” He grinned at them, his eyes sparkling, completely clueless as to the truth, and she’d try to make sure he remained that way. He’d had too much heartache in his life, he didn’t need know the entire town thought of him as a drunken fool. Did he have any idea that Lady Young was planning on tossing them from the house?

“Mr. Bellamont said there’d be fireworks. Real, true fireworks,” Hanna cried out.

“Lemonade, sweets, iced creams, everything,” Sally added, clasping her hands together.

Hanna jumped up and down on the cracked leather seat, the carriage bouncing. “I’ve never had iced cream.”

Meg fought her grin. She didn’t want to be amused, she wanted to go back home. Blast Mr. Bellamont. Blast the man for trying to pull every neighbor into his tangled web of deceit with his money and charm. A single, wealthy man didn’t hold country fairs for the neighbors. He ignored them, and instead, turned to the more gentlemanly occupations of hunting, drinking and whoring. Then again, why visit the local whores when Meg was willing to lift her skirts with just a glance from the man. Heat shot to her cheeks at the mere thought of seeing him again. What must he think of her?

“Oh my,” Mary Ellen said softly.

Meg blinked, forcing herself from her stupor, and followed her sister’s gaze.

Stretched from the house and down the drive were rows and rows of carriages, gleaming under torches that lined the lane. Meg pulled their buggy to a stop next to a sleek, black phaeton that surely would have turned its nose up at the site of their functional yet humble buggy, if it were alive.

“We don’t even have this many people in town. Where in the world did they all come from?”

“Perhaps his friends and family?” Mary Ellen said.

“Ha, I doubt Mr. Bellamont would invite his friends and family to mingle with poor country folk.”

“Meg,” her father’s sharp voice brought with the heat of shame. “Mr. Bellamont is doing a wonderful thing for this community.”

Bleedin wonderful. Her own father was caught in Grayson’s trap. She set the brake and hopped to the grass. “Of course Papa, I’m sorry.”

He slipped his hand into hers. “I know you didn’t mean anything, my sweet.” He shuffled out of the carriage. Once on the ground, he laid his soft palm against her cheek. “You would never think anything so sinful.”

The heat in her face intensified. She gave her father a weak smile. Was it sinful to wonder what Grayson looked like without his shirt on? To wonder if he’d ever kiss her again? To dream every night of his touch whether she wished to or not?

“Is everything well, my dear?” Papa’s bushy brows drew together. “Even in the moonlight, I can see you’re flushed.”

“Yes, yes, of course Papa.”

His smile deepened. “That’s a good girl.”

Mary Ellen helped Sally and Hanna from the buggy and they started down the drive. The two young girls skipped beside Papa, a whirlwind of laughter and excitement under the warmth of the torchlight. Dressed in their light blue smocks, they resembled twittering bluebirds.

“Will you tell him?” Mary Ellen whispered.

“Tell who what?”

“Tell father the Constable thinks you and Beth murdered Lord Brockwell.”

Meg gasped and stopped. “How did you know?”

Mary Ellen sighed. “Half the town knows and by the end of the night, the rest probably will as well.”

Meg groaned, her hands twisting her light pink skirts, a color too young for her age but the only respectable gown she owned. “Blast it.” Another excuse for Lady Young to toss them out on their ears, as if she needed another reason.

“Stop that,” Mary Ellen reprimanded, swatting her hands away. “You’ll wrinkle your dress.”

“It’s too dark for anyone to see anyway.” Meg sighed, following her sister down the drive. In the distance the sound of laughter and conversation could be heard. A large, merry gathering. Would they be welcomed, or ignored? “We have more important things to worry about than the state of my skirt.”

“Sally was asking questions.”

Meg stumbled, her fear escalating. “About what?”

Mary Ellen shrugged. “She wanted to know why we can’t talk about London, and why you had to pick Hanna up there and not Ireland. It’s not right lying to her, she’ll put it all together eventually.”

She didn’t like lying to Sally either. She didn’t like lying to anyone, but what choice did she have? “She’s too young. Perhaps in a year or two we’ll tell her the truth about where Hanna came from. But for now, she’s too young, she’d slip.”

“Ha, Papa knows.”

Lanterns were settled on each shallow step that led to the massive front door. “Papa would never tell.”

“Yes, but what if he drinks again and isn’t aware of what he says?”

Meg clasped onto her sister’s hand, more for her own comfort than for Mary Ellen’s. “It’s not something we have to worry over. He won’t.”

A soft breeze swept through the large elms that lined the drive, the leaves rattling on the branches like a warning to retreat. “And Hanna?”

“What about her?”

“The way she sleeps all day, the way she reacts to the sunlight.” Mary Ellen shuttered. “Meg, you and I both know something is off about the child.”

“Mary Ellen! Don’t you dare—”

“I’ve heard word that Mr. Bellamont’s staff has been asking about us,” she blurted out.

Mary Ellen wasn’t the only one. Meg, too, had been warned by a neighbor. Even after hearing it for the second time, an icy chill still caressed her skin. Yet another reason she needed to uncover the man’s secrets. If not for her own safety, then for Hanna’s. “Perhaps he was merely curious.”

“Girls, coming?” their father asked. Both slapped a smile upon their faces and hurried after him.

“Coming, Papa,” Meg called out.

The moon broke through a patch of clouds, highlighting the trail in a silver glow. “I highly doubt he was merely curious, Meg. I went into the store and Mrs. Timms says, ‘well speak of the devil.’ Apparently, Mr. Bellamont’s housekeeper was in there not five minutes before me. She was asking questions about Hanna’s mother, how she died, where. Seems rather suspicious to me, Meg.”

Meg nodded, taking her lower lip between her teeth. Suspicious, indeed. Her stomach churned, her anxiety growing with each step up the stairs she took. She could have ignored the questions, ignored the way he appeared and disappeared like a spirit. But she could not ignore his eyes. Those brilliant green eyes that so reminded her of Hanna’s.

“Tis why I have a plan.”

Mary Ellen paused, forcing Meg to stop with her. “Oh Meg, please tell me this plan doesn’t involve me.”

Meg shrugged. “I might, perhaps, need a little help.”

Mary Ellen sighed long and loud and continued on her way. Meg rushed after her.

“Please tell me you won’t end up in prison.”

“Don’t be daft.” They stilled at the front stoop and Meg looked into her sister’s brown eyes. “Don’t worry, Mary Ellen. I merely want to get to know our neighbor a little better.”

“Good day, Mr. Bellamont,” her father’s voice saved Meg from defending herself.

Meg and Mary Ellen spun around. Grayson stood there, looming over them like some Angel come to weigh their worth. All four girls dipped into curtsies. Would she ever tire of seeing him? Would her body ever stop reacting the way it did when he was near?

From beneath her lashes, Meg admired the way his dark brown jacket fit over his broad shoulders. He stood with ease, elegance, as if he owned the world, owned them. There was something strangely attractive in his assuredness.

He gave them all a slight bow. “I’m delighted to see you’ve decided to join in the festivities.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, wouldn’t miss it,” Papa said. “Now, where did you say the food would be?”

The corner of Grayson’s mouth quirked, but his gaze was on her, as if sharing his smile with only Meg. She looked away, too uncomfortable with the intimacy. She didn’t want to be close to Grayson for the man wasn’t to be trusted. She didn’t want to think about that kiss in the field and the intimate way he touched her. She sure as hell didn’t want to think about the sinful dreams she had every night.

“There is a wonderful buffet in the garden,” he said. “Come, most of the town has arrived, and there is no reason not to begin the festivities.”

Mary Ellen darted Meg a hesitant glance before taking their father’s arm and helping him up the steps into the house. The foyer was cool and wide, the floor marble, as Hanna had described, and on either side of the walls were beautiful landscaped portraits of rolling hills. The place reeked of a wealth and stature that made Meg feel like a child out of her elements.

“Do you always open your own door?” she asked softly, at the same time wondering why she was baiting him.

He smiled, that dimple flashing and making her heart skip a beat. It was hard to believe this was the man who had slipped his hands up her skirts, who had nipped at her lip and licked away the blood, a man who haunted her dreams. She shifted under his gaze, that spot in her lower belly suddenly aching fierce.

“I told you, I am no lord.

She didn’t respond, her throat was too dry. Instead, she slowly strolled after her family, forcing her steps to remain unhurried, wondering when the long hall would end and she could escape his presence.

“Do you appreciate architecture, Miss James?” he asked, following beside her.

“I appreciate the beauty of something made by God.”

“God?” He paused and so she stopped next to him as if he controlled her movements. And perhaps he did. After all, she hadn’t felt in control of herself since he’d arrived.

“The marble of your floor, the stone in your walls.”

He smirked. “A heavenly woman, are you?”

“Of course,” she snapped, annoyed with the sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you expect anything less of a Vicar’s daughter?”

“I learned long ago to expect nothing and plan for everything.” He stepped closer, his arm pressed to hers and her mind warned her to move away before he pulled her completely into his web.

Yet, her body… her body told her to move closer. She felt the soft fibers of his linen jacket and the muscular hardness of his body seep through the thin material of her dress. Her body warmed in places she never knew existed. She wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch her. She wanted—

“By the way, the Constable is here and he’s expressed a keen
interest
in you.”

A steel band seemed to cinch around her chest, pressing the breath from her lungs. Gone was the charming man who’d met her at the door. He’d been acting, merely pulling her into his web of charm so he could squash her beneath his Wellingtons. She felt cold, off balance, used. “Is that a threat?”