Carla Kelly (33 page)

“
Alpha,” she sighed, and leaned against him. “Let’s go as soon
as we can.”

Hugh stood up.
“Not until I leave,” he said. “Lord Nickle wants me in London
tomorrow for some instructions and information from his solicitors.
I expect all of you to see me off this afternoon.”

Omega shook her
head. “Not I, Hugh. I find that I cannot ... cannot abide farewells
anymore.” Her voice broke and Alpha looked at her with some
concern. “It is somewhat lowering to see one’s friends cast to the
four winds.”

Alpha hugged her
to him. “We’ll go in style tomorrow morning in Matthew’s carriage.
You
may prefer the common stage, but I think I will enjoy
this bit of luxury again.”

She dismissed
them all, dressed hurriedly, and joined them downstairs for
luncheon, served by a somewhat subdued Twinings and by Tildy, whose
eyes were red. Matthew presided at the head of the table. He looked
tired, and he said little, but the conversation traveled along at a
clipping rate from brother to sister, over to Hugh, and back to the
children.

Omega could not
bring herself to look at Matthew. She steeled herself for the
ordeal of eating, and was grateful when the meal ended.
If he
doesn’t come too close to me, or say anything of a personal nature,
I can rub through this day and leave with Alpha first thing in the
morning
, she thought as she stood on the front steps and waved
as the others set off in Matthew’s barouche to take Hugh into
Byford. She blew a kiss to her sergeant and waved both hands until
they were out of sight.

The servants
hurried down the steps and climbed into the gig that the footman
drove. Tildy leaned over the side. “Miss Chartley, Hugh said he
would write to me. Do you think I will find something to
say?”

Omega touched her
arm. “You will find plenty to write about. I’m so glad. Now, hurry,
or you’ll miss his goodbye!”

Omega trudged up
the stairs, wishing that her ankle did not ache so, and wondering
if a visit to a London surgeon was in order, after all. Perhaps
Alpha could spare a day to take her there. Her mind a purposeful
blank, she knotted her books together, tying a neat bow. Before he
left with the others, Matthew had spoken to her quite formally and
invited her to take any or all of the clothing in the dressing
room. She had decided against it at first, and then changed her
mind. If she did not take the dresses, they would only hang unused.
There had been too much waste already; no sense in adding to it.
She would take only the more useful gowns that would suit in the
classroom.

And then when she
had packed them, she changed her mind, flinging the dresses from
her trunk and putting them back in the dressing room. They would
only serve as a reminder, and she was determined to forget this
time. She would teach and commit herself to the classroom. Maybe
someday there would be someone else. She couldn’t imagine such a
thing, but perhaps in a few years it would be possible.

Omega was
repacking her valise when she heard a noise next door in Matthew’s
room, the sound of drawers being opened. She stopped and listened.
The noises ceased and she continued her packing, berating herself
for being such a goose. And then she heard the sound of drawers
again.

She frowned. One
of the servants must have remained behind. But surely they knew
better than to invade his privacy like that. Without a thought in
her head, she left her room and went next door on tiptoe, carefully
and quietly opening the door.

Lord Rotherford
stood before her, one of Matthew’s drawers in his hand, the
contents spilling on the floor. She gasped and stepped back, and
suddenly became aware that she was all alone in the
house.

Rotherford put
down the drawer. “Miss Chartley, I had no idea you were
here.”

She was silent,
unable to think of anything to say, her feet rooted to the
carpet.

“
Cat
got your tongue, my dear?” he said. “Devilish inconvenient for a
teacher, eh?”

“
What
... what are you doing here?” she managed finally.

Rotherford picked
up another drawer and pawed through it. “An excellent question, my
dear. I thought I would take a look at that letter from Horace
Billings. It’s not downstairs in the bookroom. I just want another
look, my dear, nothing more.”

Suddenly she was
furious. “Can’t you leave Matthew alone? Can’t you just go away and
cease your meddling? Haven’t you done enough? Good God, Rotherford,
you are a menace to society!” She wanted to beat him, to flay the
flesh from his bones, or at the very least to murder him. She could
only stand there in the doorway and rail at him.

He took all of
this in, and then began to smile at her wrath. “You are lovely when
you are angry,” he said. “You would be such a challenge. Not like
that little drab on Quallen Lane. You could be such a pleasant
farewell for me from Byford. God knows Matthew hasn’t any means to
do anything with you.”

Fear greater than
anything she had ever known rose in her eyes. She backed away.
“I’ll scream, my lord, if you come one step closer.”

He crossed the
room in a bound. “Scream away, Miss Chartley. I believe we have the
house to ourselves.” Before she could move again, or even raise her
hands to defend herself, Lord Rotherford took the front of her
dress and ripped it down to her waist. She screamed as he pulled
her sleeves down, pinning her bare arms to her sides.

She screamed
again when he touched her. “Oh, scream away, my lovely. That will
make it so much more—”

She had no idea
what he intended to say next. He uttered a strange groan and a
puzzled look pierced his inexpressive eyes. They opened wider, and
the look in them was a horror she would never forget. He knocked
her off balance as he sank to his knees and then fell forward at
her feet, a knife deep in his back.

Struck dumb with
fear, Omega struggled to right herself. She pulled her arms from
her sleeves and raised the front of her ruined dress. She crouched
in the corner, covering herself as best she could, when she looked
up and gasped.

Timothy Platter
was sitting in the window, the cigar still clutched between his
teeth, his coat covered with pollen again. Without a word beyond a
sneeze and a grunt of satisfaction at his handiwork, he tossed a
blanket to her. She pulled it around her body and sat there on the
floor, her teeth chattering.

“
I’ve
been watching him, Miss Chartley,” he said finally as he stubbed
out his cigar. “Something told me this case wasn’t quite over yet,
miss. Happens I was right. Maeve always tells me, ‘Timmy boy, trust
your instincts.’ ”

In a surprisingly
gentle fashion he raised Omega to her feet and sat her down. “Now,
tell me, what was he doing here? He couldn’t have known you had
remained behind.”

When she remained
speechless, he reached inside his voluminous coat and detached a
bottle, which he uncorked and passed to her. She took it without a
murmur and downed a good swallow. The liquor made her eyes water,
but it put heart back in her.

“
Timothy, he came for the letter, you know, the letter from Sir
Horace Billings. I think he still intended to do Matthew
harm.”

Platter nodded
and produced the letter from his pocket. Omega’s eyes widened. “But
didn’t you give that to Matthew?”

“
I
took it back again.” He broke the seal on the document and spread
out the page so she could see.

The page was
blank. Her eyes even wider, Omega took a deep breath and reached
for the paper, turning it over and over in her hands, as if she
expected to see magic writing suddenly appear. She looked up at
Platter. “Oh, Timothy, I do not understand. Not at all.”

“
I
do.”

Matthew stood in
the doorway. He took in Rotherford dead at his feet, and Omega,
white-faced and wrapped in a blanket, and then closed the door
behind him and locked it. “It wouldn’t do the children any good to
see this,” he said, and then touched Omega’s cheek. “He didn’t hurt
you, did he, my dear?”

She shook her
head. “Timothy ...” She couldn’t collect her thoughts.

Matthew bowed to
the Runner. “I remain in your debt, sir,” he said. He plucked the
paper from Omega’s nerveless fingers and handed it back to the Bow
Street Runner.

“
There
never was a letter, was there, Platter?” he said.

“
No,”
Timothy said simply, “although that part about Sir Horace and his
nightmares was true. His younger brother told me how deeply
troubled he was. I merely supplied the text.”

Matthew sank down
on the bed next to Omega and stared at the Runner. “You broke the
law for me?”

“
Happens I did,” said Platter gruffly. “Happens sometimes you
have to bend the law to preserve it. Don’t stare at me like that!”
He put the paper back in the envelope. “Was it a bad idea?” When no
one said anything, Platter looked Matthew in the eye. “And I did it
for Millie Platter.”

“
You
knew,” Matthew said simply.

“
I
knew. She wasn’t a good girl, but she was my sister, Lord
Byford.”

A curious range
of emotions passed across Matthew’s face, a mixture of sorrow and
shame, coupled with respect. The expression yielded to a quiet calm
that Omega had been wishing to see for eight years.

“
Timothy, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. For
everything.”

Platter nodded,
and coughed, wiping around his nose, with a swipe at his eyes. “Too
much of that treacle, Lord Byford, and I’ll not be fit for duty.
Give me a hand with this rascal. Let’s wrap a sheet around him. No
sense in giving the little ones the blue devils. Miss Chartley,
Omega, my dear, I suggest you find another dress. You’ll catch your
death in that one.”

By the time the
house was cleared of the constable, the doctor, and the undertaker,
and the Bow Street Runner had at last taken his leave, dinner was
long over. Omega left Matthew and Alpha in the dining room
discussing the events of the day over brandy and what remained of
Antoine’s mousse.

She had to
complete her packing. She and Alpha would be away at first light
for the drive to Amphney St. Peter. She would see her nephews and
Lydia would laugh and cry over all her misadventures, and then it
would be Durham for her.

After she had
finished, Omega took one last look in the dressing room, running
her hands along the frocks, wishing there had been time to try on
the really elaborate ones. She closed the door then and put them
from her mind.

The window was
open and she went to it, leaning out for a last smell of roses.
Winter would sweep over this lovely land, and then spring. Her life
would go on with the same regularity as the seasons. The thought
brought Omega no pain now. She was almost content with the way
things were. Matthew would have the children to comfort him,
especially since he would likely have none of his own, and she
would be busy enough. She would not think of him beyond four or
five times in an hour, and with any luck, by the time another eight
years had come and gone, she would only recall him to mind once or
twice a day.

She closed the
window and shut the draperies. She turned back the coverlet, aching
for a good night’s rest. Someone knocked. Her heart rose for a
moment, and then resumed its normal rhythm. It was not Matthew’s
knock.

“
Alpha?”

“
May I
come in?”

She opened the
door and drew him in. He surveyed the trunk and books, all tidy and
bound together. He rubbed his hands. “You can almost smell winter
in the air already.” He flopped on her bed and put his hands behind
his head. “Well, dear heart, you remind me of
something.”

“
What?”

“
I
have become a reader of nursery rhymes. You may credit your
nephews. Remember the one about St. Ives, and the kits and cats and
sacks and wives?”

“
And
‘how many were going to St. Ives?’” she finished for him, a smile
on her face
,
too. “I
confess I feel that way.” She sat down beside him. “A soldier, a
runaway, a Spanish orphan, a Bow Street Runner, a true villain, an
almost-husband ...” The light left her eyes. “But I was the only
one going to St. Ives after all, wasn’t I, Alpha?” she asked, her
voice small.

He took her hand.
“I’m afraid so, my dear.” His voice was soft. “We’re teachers. What
did you learn from all this?”

She lay back next
to him and he put his arm around her. “Alpha, I learned to toss
away itineraries and just let things happen. I feel as though I
haven’t looked at a clock in years. Is that enough?”

She sat up.
Suddenly it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. “Alpha, it won’t
do.”

He watched her
from the bed, his eyes bright. “Alpha,” she said slowly, “what
would you say if I went to Matthew Bering’s room
tonight?”

He considered the
question. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions, dear
heart.”

“
That’s no answer,” she said crossly.

“
It’s
the only answer you’ll get from me. I just don’t want to see you
hurt any further, Omega. You mean too much to me. So
there.”