Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (19 page)

She tore her eyes from his chest and met his stare. “How did you know I was with Ian?”

He chuckled. “Where else would you be?” He tossed the towel back on the chair. “He came here last night looking for you and I told him which rooms were yours.”

“Were you able to visit with him?”

“Yes, but don’t make too much out of it. We’re not friends, nor are we ever going to be.”

“But Lord Thatcher, I think that whatever it is between you and Ian can be worked out—”

“It cannot,” he cut her off sharply. “Please, Mrs. Fielding,” he continued in a gentler tone, “if you want to remain my friend, don’t push me.”

Hesitantly, she asked, “Will you at least tell me why you dislike my husband so much?”

“I’ll tell you, but now is not the right time.”

She scowled.

He laughed. “You’ll be patient, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, grudgingly.

“Do you know, Mrs. Fielding, you’re a typical woman.”

She creased her head in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That means…” He paused, taking a step closer as his gloved knuckles brushed her cheek. “You care too much about other people’s lives.”

Tilting her head, she propped her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong?” She tried hard not to smile.

“Yes, and what a lovely nose it is. But all I’m saying is that you care too much, and because you do, you feel the need to fix things.”

She smiled. “Well, I do care, but the main reason is because I know what it’s like to be on the wrong side of Ian Fielding. It’s not an enjoyable situation.”

His dark bushy brows lifted. “What’s this? You’ve already experienced one of Fielding’s volatile mood swings?”

Laughing lightly, she stepped away. “Let’s just say he wasn’t a very nice man when I first married him. Yes, I’ve witnessed his erratic moods. He’s like a summer storm; a confounding, ever-changing mystery that I want to unravel.”

Concern stretched across his face, and it comforted her to know he cared. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Only emotionally.”
She paused, and decided to be open with him. “You see, three years ago, I practically forced Ian to marry me.”

The anger left his face and was replaced with humor. “Why would you have to force any man to marry you?”

“Back then you’d not have said that. Womanhood came late for me and I wasn’t very attractive in my youth. In fact, I looked like a twelve year old boy.”

“You’re jesting.”

“No. Back then, the boys only looked at me as their playmate, yet I was almost eighteen. I couldn’t find one man who’d even consider marrying me. So, when Ian entered my life and rescued me from kidnappers, I’m ashamed to say I decided to make him marry me. He was my only hope, and I clung to him. In the process, I threw my spoiled tactics in his face.” She hesitated then added softly, “He married me, but only because I bade my father to pay off his debtors.”

She ran her hand along back of the wooden chair frame and looked away. “Three days after our wedding, Ian came here Bath to pursue his investigation business. I suppose his popularity and his homely wife gave him a reason to stay.” She lifted her gaze and met his. “I haven’t seen him in three years. Ian and I have only been together as husband and wife just a little over one week now.”

Lord Thatcher closed the space between them and cupped her face in his gloved hands, gazing deep into her eyes. His brows furrowed. “After being gone, what made him decide he wanted you back?”

She laughed and withdrew from his heated touch. “I actually came to seek him out for an annulment, but before I did that, I wanted to give him a taste of what he gave up.” She shrugged. “Once he’d gotten a taste, so did I and I realized he stirred in me passions I’d never known existed. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.” She took a deep breath. “The following day he made a bargain with me. He wanted us to spend some time together, so I promised to stay with him for a whole month. If afterwards I still felt as though we didn’t suit, he’d agree to an annulment.”

He touched her cheek again, his stroke bringing tingles to her skin. “And it has been a little over one week of your bargain, right?”

Yes.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask how things are
going?
”

A blush warmed her cheeks. “It was unsteady at first, but we’ve come to an understanding. We have decided to start at the beginning and get to know each other and give our marriage another chance.”

He nodded. “I see.” His gloved fingers trailed to her chin.

She dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt, and her eyes stayed on his moist skin. His masculine scent drifted through her senses, and the heat from his body poured from his leather covered hand to her skin. The strange feelings of attraction made her slightly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t move. She didn’t know if it was because of the way he stared at her with so much tenderness, or if it was because she could still see his exposed muscular chest. But whatever it was, her insides quaked with a feeling she didn’t want to analyze at this moment.

She had to conquer her involuntary reactions to his gentle affection and his closeness. Her mind clouded with confusion and she stepped away. “Well, now that I’ve bored you completely with my story,” she said in a quiet voice that seemed to come from a long way off, “I think I should take my maid and go down to the kitchen to see what we can prepare for supper tonight since you don’t have a cook.”

He laughed deeply. “Not to worry, I shall make something.”

“No. I shall. Besides, I need to learn to help out around here.”

He bowed slightly. “Then if you feel the need to learn to cook, be my guest.”

“Thank you, Lord Thatcher. I’ll let you know when the meal is ready.” She smiled widely.

“Please, call me Adam.”

“And I give you permission to call me Charlotte.”

They shared a smile before she turned and scurried out of the room, trying hard to ignore the strange sensations she’d just experienced. Whatever it was that caused her to feel this way, it had better leave because she couldn’t have these feelings for Adam Thatcher!

Charlotte clenched her hands in the folds of her skirts as she paced her bedchambers, feeling like a volcano ready to explode. An entire week passed since she had arrived at the castle and her nerves were frazzled. She hated sneaking around just to spend time with her husband, but Ian’s suspicion for his servants grew, and he was determined not to let anyone see him.

Although Adam kept her entertained by taking her on long walks around the castle and letting her go horseback riding, Ian’s predicament drove her insane. If he didn’t have a lead soon, she seriously thought about returning home.

The early afternoon’s gentle breeze came through the open window and beckoned her closer. She stood with her head uplifted, letting the sun warm her skin and the slight breeze tease the soft wisps of hair around her face. As she took a deep breath of fresh air, a movement below caught her attention. Adam stood talking to a trio of farmhands. She couldn’t help but notice the way they stared openly at Adam’s scar, and it upset her to see people treat him like a beast when she knew he was a sweet, caring man.

The servants had been working in the yard for a few days, and in the short amount of time, the grounds came to life. An assortment of flowers were planted, weeds pulled, and lawns manicured. It didn’t resemble the pitiful land she’d seen a little over a week ago.

But although it did her heart good to gaze upon its beauty, her insides twisted in turmoil. She couldn’t sit still and watch her life wither away just because somebody had framed her husband. Even if it went against the promise she had made to Ian about getting involved, she needed to do something. Without letting Adam know about the plans forming in her head, she donned her bonnet and shawl and hurried out to the stable to fetch a buggy.

As she waited for the groom to prepare the vehicle, O’Toole ran to her side and begged her not to leave without an escort. She quickly assured him everything would be all right, but his constant pushing made her suspicious. Of course, lately she’d been suspicious of everybody. She guaranteed O’Toole her trip to town would be properly supervised when she met up with Allison and George.

The ride into town was enjoyable. It gave her time to think about how she could help her husband get himself out of this calamity. Searching through his office was first on her agenda. Perhaps she’d quiz his secretary and a few other people Ian might have been to see.

Entering Ian’s office, she walked with an air of self-assurance. His secretary sat behind his small desk, but rose when he saw her.

“Good day, Mrs. Fielding,” he greeted with a pleasant smile.

She returned the smile. “How are you, Mr. Stout?”

“I’m fine.
And yourself?”

“Splendid.”

“What do you need, Mrs. Fielding?”

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you too much, I’d like to look through my husband’s office.”

His brows pulled together.
“Whatever for?”

“I’m not certain.” She untied the bow at her throat and lifted off her bonnet. “I’d like to try and help him prove his innocence, you understand, and I just want to see if there’s anything in his office that might be helpful.

“You don’t think he’s guilty?”

Her gaze clashed with his.
“Of course not.
Do you?”

He shrugged. “According to the commissioner, the evidence against him is dismal.”

“It certainly is not!” Her tone hardened, and she retorted tartly, “In fact, there is no real evidence against my husband, Mr. Stout. All Commissioner Franklin has on my husband is that he’s helped these poor people who’ve been robbed. Ian Fielding is the only thing that ties all them together.”

Ewan hung his head and shifted his feet.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get started,” she said with a dismissive air.

After searching for two hours, exhaustion whirled through Charlotte’s body like a wild storm. It would have been worth her time if she’d found anything helpful, but her efforts turned up empty. During all this time, only one thing really disturbed her. The first time she’d snooped through her husband’s office, she’d found files and notes about Lord Thatcher and the castle, but this afternoon, there wasn’t one trace of any of it. Would this be something the commissioner would take?

She sighed deeply and gazed one last time around her. There was nowhere else to look, so she moved to leave, but before reaching the door, it swung open and in stomped Commissioner Franklin. From his sudden surprise, she jumped, but then annoyance settled in her chest.

“Greetings again, Mrs. Fielding.
Didn’t think I would see you here.”

“And why not?” her voice rose in irritation. “This is, after all, still my husband’s office.”

“Yes, but what are
you
doing here?”

She laughed haughtily. “I should be asking you the same thing. What are you doing? Looking for incriminating evidence perhaps?”

A dark scowl appeared on his stern face, and she knew her words hit a bad chord.

He took a step further into the room. “Actually, I was passing by and happened to drop in on Mr. Stout for a visit. He told me you were here.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end from the way he looked on her, like a wolf eyeing his prey. The sickening feeling crept over her entire body, the longer he stared. She needed to leave—immediately.

“Yes, I’m here, but now I’m leaving. So, if you’ll please excuse me.” She tried to push past him, but he closed the door and blocked her path. She glared at the man. It wasn’t his authority that frightened her, but his sudden and unexpected appearance that gave her cause to worry. He wasn’t exactly a mean looking man, but his actions proved he enjoyed bullying people into doing his will.

Jeffrey Franklin was a bulky man, medium height. Light brown hair topped his nearly baldhead, and his dark brown eyes combed over her attire, sending a frightful chill down her spine.

Commissioner Franklin folded his arms across his sagging middle. “I need to speak with you in greater detail before you leave.”

“Well,” she snapped, “please get on with it, commissioner. I don’t have all day. I’m a very busy woman.”

His bushy eyebrows arched.

She wished she could slap that insipid superior look off his face, but she didn’t want to get into any trouble with the law, and she was quite certain he’d do anything to get her behind bars. Sighing heavily, she plopped her hands on her hips, trying not to bend to his authority. “What is it you wish to speak to me about?”

“Please, call me Jeffrey.”

“I would rather not.”

He stepped closer, and his hand brushed her cheek softly so she withdrew. “But Charlotte, my dear, we should be calling each other by our first names, especially since we’ll be working so closely together to find your husband.”

She pushed past him. “Whatever are you talking about? I would never work with a man like you. It would be different if we were on the same side, but as it is, you seem to think my husband is the criminal and I happen to believe him innocent. Now let me pass, you brute, or I shall scream!”