Barely a Lady (22 page)

Grace looked up, and Olivia saw she looked stricken. “It’s Chambers.”

Olivia blinked, confused. “Chambers?” She said it as if she’d never met the man. “What about him?”

Lady Kate drew a breath. “He’s dead.”

Olivia suddenly felt stupid and slow. She knew she couldn’t have heard those words correctly. “I don’t…”

“Last night while we were fighting our fire, somebody slit his throat.”

Chapter 16

O
livia sat down so fast she almost missed the chair. She knew Grace had jumped to help her. She thought Bea might have pulled a vinaigrette from her reticule. She didn’t need a vinaigrette. She needed something to vomit into. She kept swallowing, and the bile kept rising.

Dead. No. That wasn’t possible. She’d spoken to Chambers just the day before. He had promised to help Jack regain his memory. He couldn’t be dead.

He couldn’t be dead because of
her
.

“Olivia,” Lady Kate said, and Olivia looked up to see that her friend looked uncharacteristically pale. “I’m so sorry.”

Olivia turned away, unable to focus on anything but that anxious, tidy little man. “I didn’t like him, you know. Not really. He helped Jack throw me out. But then, he was always Jack’s man… well, until he was Gervaise’s anyway.” She found herself laughing, a high, thin sound. “Oh, God, what am I going to tell Jack?”

There seemed to be no answer. Grace sat down beside her and laid a gentle hand on her arm. Olivia looked up at her. “Do you think it was because he came to see me?”

“I don’t think we can discount it,” Lady Kate admitted. “Finney. What did the authorities say?”

“They said it were robbery.” Finney’s voice wobbled suspiciously, and he kept blinking. “He sent me a note yesterday to meet him. I thought it was just to have a pint. I’m not so sure now. They… they found him in an alley.”

“Thank you,” Lady Kate said, finally sitting down. “Why don’t you see if Mrs. Harper has one of her tonics?”

The huge man kept nodding, as if that would help cement the news in his mind. “I believe I will.” And without waiting for a proper dismissal, he picked up his whisky and walked out.

“I don’t believe our Finney is spy material,” Lady Kate mused, although her voice lacked its usual edge.

Olivia couldn’t seem to think. Odd bits of information kept swirling around in her head like a kaleidoscope, jagged colors and sharp edges bumping into each other, forming and re-forming patterns that made no sense. Except one. Chambers was dead.

“Poor Diccan,” Lady Kate said with a wry shake of the head. “The only thing he expects to deal with is a minor fire and some vandalism. By the time he gets here, we might have already upped the ante to invasion and plague.”

Olivia looked at the three indomitable ladies who surrounded her. They were her friends. They had risked their reputations to shelter her, and she had responded by bringing murder and violence to their door. She almost laughed. She’d thought her greatest threat would be from Gervaise.

“Jack’s right,” she said. “The only way to keep you safe is for us to leave.”

Lady Bea turned pleading eyes to Lady Kate. “Anathema.”

“Indeed,” Lady Kate responded, her expression formidable. “The idea is inconceivable. I will, however, consider other options.”

Olivia knew she should be ashamed of herself. She felt nothing but relief at Lady Kate’s reprieve. “Maybe Mr. Hilliard has some information that can help us understand what’s going on,” she suggested. “Especially about”—she swallowed past the knot in her throat—“Chambers.”

“You can’t tell the earl about him,” Grace warned.

With a weary sigh, Olivia levered herself to her feet. “I wouldn’t dare. If bad news can give him brain fever, the news about Chambers would kill him on the spot.”

Jack stood looking out the window as if he could recognize his attackers strolling in the Parc. The sun was up, the hawkers and housewives out. It looked so bloody normal down there, and the stench of smoke still hovered in this fussy, fancy house.

What had he done to incite such a thing? How could he have ever crossed paths with someone named Axman, who thought nothing of starting fires and destroying whatever was in his way?

He couldn’t wait up in this room anymore, hoping his memory would simply miraculously reappear. He couldn’t survive another night like last night when he’d spent those long, terrible moments trying to get Livvie safely down the stairs.

What if something had happened to her? How could he have lived with that?

And then, in a moment so generous it shattered him, she’d slept in his arms, giving him the first rest he’d had since first waking.

She was protecting him from something. He could see the shadow it cast every time she refused to answer one of his questions.

He could no longer allow her to bear that burden. If he demanded to take it on, she had no right to refuse.

He’d been standing by the window long enough to see a gentleman climb the steps below him to the front door and gain entrance. He wished he could identify him, but the angle was too severe. He was considering going down to find out, when suddenly he caught a whiff of clean air and apples.

Livvie had come.

“Thank you, Liv,” he said, his focus still on the Parc. “I slept better last night than I have since I’ve woken.”

It actually took her a moment to answer. “I didn’t stay to be thanked,” she objected stiffly.

He couldn’t blame her. Finally, because he didn’t know what else to do, he turned to face her. “Liv,” he said, caught by her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Her beautiful brown eyes were dark with distress. She stood so stiffly, as if barely holding herself together. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped up and wrapped his arms around her. “What is it?”

At first she remained rigid. But when he wouldn’t release her, she briefly laid her head against his chest. “Someone died,” she said in a wavery whisper. “One of our soldiers. We’d thought he’d recover.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Especially with everything else that’s been happening.”

She couldn’t seem to do more than nod. “Thank you, Jack.”

He gave in to the temptation to glide his fingers over her hair. He wanted to pull it down. He wanted to muss it. To shake her up so she wasn’t so unnaturally contained.

He couldn’t. He’d asked too much of her already. So when she stepped out of his arms, he let her.

“Has Kate heard from Diccan yet?” he asked.

She seemed fascinated by her own hands. “He should be here later this morning.”

He nodded, wishing he could pull her back to him, if only to pretend that he had her support in what he was about to do. “It’s time to face the truth, Liv,” he said.

She started as if he’d shouted. “Truth?”

He sighed and guided her back to the settee he’d occupied the evening before, taking her hand to hold her there. “This can’t go on. I’m a danger to you, and I won’t allow it any longer.”

She looked as if she was holding her breath. “But you’re going to speak with Diccan.”

“It’s not enough. I need the rest of my memory. Don’t you see that?”

She looked away, as if afraid to betray some truth. “You were remembering something last night. In the fire. You spoke as if you’d been… oh, I don’t know. Imprisoned. As if you’d escaped by starting a fire. And you mentioned someone named Connors. Is it familiar?”

He tested his memory and recovered only a few disconnected bits. A fight. Gray stone that bled rainwater. The feeling that he could hear death and betrayal whisper in the dark.

He was cold again, as if he could never warm. But just as always, memory was swept away by a sharp headache, and the headache did nothing but increase his frustration.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. And we’ve run out of time. You have all been generous and patient, but the truth is that something I’ve done is a threat to you. We must find a way to provoke my memory. You have to tell me everything.”

Livvie tried to yank back her hand. “No, Jack. We’ve discussed this. You have to remember on your own or you could suffer permanent damage.”

He found himself on his feet. “What if I never remember? My God, Liv, I’m missing great expanses of my life, and you won’t tell me what they are. And I know that whatever I’ve forgotten is significant. More than that, it’s dangerous. I need to know before somebody gets hurt. What did I do, Liv? What are you protecting me from?”

She shook her head. “Oh, Jack. I wish I could tell you.”

“Why won’t you? Don’t you want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t
know
what happened.”

Her words stopped him cold. He looked down to see her eyes closed, as if she could hide from her own admission.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he demanded, suddenly sure he didn’t want to find out. “Surely the men in my unit can tell you. My commanding officers.”

She just kept shaking her head, her eyes down. “I… we’re not sure who your commanding officers were. I don’t know where you’ve been, Jack. When Chambers found you, you were… naked.”

He couldn’t quite breathe. “I don’t understand. You said I was in a Guards uniform.”

“The looters had already been by. We put the uniform on to keep you warm. We hoped that you would explain where you’d been when you woke.”

“I was fighting with the Hussars!” he snapped, shoving her hand away. “It’s what I’ve wanted since I was in leading strings. How could you not know that, for God’s sake? Ask someone in charge. Ask Horse Guards. Ask bloody Wellington!”

But the moment he said it, he knew it was wrong. Wellington would not know about him. Nor would the Hussars. He got to his feet, his entire body trembling. “I don’t understand.”

She must have heard the desperation in his voice, because she was suddenly on her feet, her hands on his arms.

He turned his sore eyes on her. Sharp shards of glass seemed to be lodged in his head. “What if I’ve done something—”

“You haven’t.” She looked just as upset. “When you remember, you’ll know that. Maybe you saw something on the battlefield that is dangerous to someone. Maybe you know something someone doesn’t want you to tell or stumbled over something they want.”

Rubbing his head again, he turned away. “Why haven’t you asked someone?”

“Because of everything we
didn’t
know. We couldn’t just stroll into headquarters and ask if anyone knows what you’ve been doing for the last four—”

Too late, she stopped. Jack swung around, almost losing his balance. “Four what? Days? Weeks? Months? What did I do, just walk out one day and not come back?”

She drew a deep breath, but she faced him. “Yes.”

He laughed. “Oh, Livvie. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She offered an unhappy shrug. “I swear to you, Jack. If I could tell you where you’ve been, I would. But I can’t.”

He kept shaking his head. “That’s—”

“Absurd. I know. Nothing has made sense since the moment we found you. But all we can do is keep you safe until you remember. We’ll be leaving for London soon. That might help.”

“No,” he insisted, “it’s not enough. You’re keeping something else from me. Something you know will hurt me, or you wouldn’t be afraid. Well, damn it, Livvie, I have to know. Don’t you understand?” He fought against that inexorable band of pain. “How can I rest when I know something I did is putting you in jeopardy? You have to tell me.”

“No! It could kill you.”

“I don’t care!” Even if his skull felt as if it would shatter.

“Well, I do care,” she snapped. “I am not going to kill you. Please, Jack. Don’t ask it of me.”

And before he could protest, she turned and left.

For a long time, Olivia just stood there in the hallway, her hand fisted against her mouth, eyes closed, struggling to swallow that hard knot of tears that seemed to be growing. She couldn’t keep on this way. She couldn’t bear another moment of it.

Unconsciously, her hand snuck up to lay against her hidden locket, and she thought of what she had already borne. Of what she still had to live for. Of how very, very much harder it would be now.

Jack had given her a choice. She could have told him and been done with it. Laid it all out before him and taken her chances. But when it had come down to it, she’d simply been unable to put Jack at risk.

The sound of familiar footsteps alerted her. “Yes, Lizzie?” she asked, knowing her voice was trembling and sharp.

“Lady Kate sent me, ma’am. Mr. Hilliard’s come.”

Nodding, she scrubbed at her face with her hands, just in case any tears had escaped, and followed the girl back down the stairs.

She found Mr. Hilliard already in the Yellow Salon with her friends.

When he saw her, he rose from the Louis Quinze chair and offered an elegant bow. “I do hope you are anxious to shake the soil of Belgium from your shoes, Mrs. Grace.”

He was, for once, not in black but wore a blue superfine coat, biscuit pantaloons, and gleaming Hessians. The look of a man come to pay a cousin a casual call.

“You are very efficient, sir,” she said.

He waved a gentle hand. “It’s a particular talent. Now, Kate has had a smashing time filling me in on your latest adventures, which simply supports my belief that we must act quickly. Once Major Braxton arrives, we can put my brilliant plan into action. But you must be ready to leave on the moment. Will you?”

She looked around to see that Kate was delighted, Grace hesitant, and Bea busy picking the currants from a bun. Olivia took her usual seat next to Lady Kate.