Lady Whistledown Strikes Back (43 page)

Max awoke some time later, stretching in the darkness of his room, the heavy curtains blocking out all but the smallest slice of light. Sighing, he looked at the clock on the mantel—and bolted straight upright. It was ten minutes past eleven. God knew what Sophia was into. He threw back the covers, calling for his valet. He washed and dressed in a matter of moments and dashed down the steps, buttoning his waistcoat as he went.

Max went straight to the park, finding Sophia’s carriage beside the small copse of trees on the south side. He hopped down, tossed the reins to his groom, then made his way into the trimmed brush. He found Sophia riot far away, already digging a hole. She was facing away from the road and was dressed in an older gown and sensible shoes. Her hands were encased in leather riding gloves, and holding a long-handled shovel. A brilliant smile burst from her on seeing him. “There you are!”

He refused to acknowledge the flicker of warmth that touched his heart at her unchecked greeting.

“I overslept.”

“Oh, I had only one shovel, so it wouldn’t have mattered if you were here or not.”

He reached for the shovel, but she didn’t move. She merely looked at his hand and raised her brows.

He had to smile. “I suppose you are telling me you are Mistress of the Shovel.”

“I do think I should be allowed to dig, since I am the one who found the clue as to where the bracelet

was hidden.”

“I see. If you get to dig, what do I get to do?”

She leaned against the shovel and considered this. “You can be lookout.”

“Lookout? What a paltry position that is, to be sure. What am I on the lookout for?”

“For Brooks or Afton.”

“You think they might return to get the bracelet? Now? In broad daylight?”

She scrunched her nose as if considering this. “I suppose you are right.”

Max crossed his arms and leaned against the tree. “I feel as if I should do something. Perhaps I should direct you.”

She paused and pushed her hair from her face, leaving a smear of dirt on one cheek. “Direct me?

I hardly think I need it.”

Max hid a smile and said in his best head groom’s voice, “Hey there, dig lively now!”

“Oh that’s lovely,” she said, sending him a scathing look, though there was laughter hidden behind her grimace. “I do hope I’m digging in the right location. It was the only place with freshly overturned dirt.”

“That must be it then—”

“Hello there!” came a voice from the other side of the brush. John stepped into the small clearing. He was dressed for riding, a fashionable hat set jauntily on his head, his nose a little red from the sun.

“I thought that was the two of you.”

“You can see us from the path?” Max asked.

“You can from a horse. I thought you might be having a picnic or something.”

John looked around.

“I could have sworn I smelled lemon custard.”

“You and food,” Sophia said disgustedly. “We’re not having a picnic. We are digging for Lady Neeley’s bracelet.”

“Actually,” Max said, apologetically, “your sister is digging. I’m directing.” He pointed to the hole.

“Watch what you’re about, Sophia. Your hole is no longer round, but oval, so have a care—”

Thunk.
A shovelful of dirt hit the ground dangerously near his feet.

“Oh ho!” John said, holding up his hands and backing away. “I think I’ll continue my ride. Take care of m’sister, Easterly. Can’t have her tossing dirt on the prince or someone important.” With a wink, John left.

“He is such a bother,” Sophia said. She dug the shovel into the ground once again, and a comfortable silence reined for several minutes as she continued.

Suddenly a loud scrape filled the air. Sophia blinked at Max, eyes wide with excitement.

Max pushed himself from the tree and leaned forward to peer into the hole.

The edge of a small wooden box was visible. “It isn’t buried very deeply, is it?”

“No.” She tossed aside the shovel and bent to scrape dirt away. As soon as the entire box was exposed, she grasped it with both hands and pulled it out.

Whatever was inside, it slid to one side. Sophia frowned as she stood. “That doesn’t sound like a bracelet.”

“Maybe it’s wrapped in something. Open it and see.”

She fumbled a little with the latch.

“My God!”
The cry rang through the air.

Max whirled around and found Brooks standing before him. The man was ludicrously dressed in a riding coat of blue velvet with large brass buttons.

Sophia wrapped her arms around the box and backed away. “We know about the box, Brooks. And we know that Afton assisted you.”

Brooks’s face went as pale as it had been red. “Blast it all! It’s my cousin, Percy, isn’t it? He put you up to this.” The man’s shoulders slumped. “Damn, I knew—I told Afton to be sure—and he said he had, but—oh damn it all!” He wiped a hand over his face. “I suppose you are going straight to my aunt?”

“We have to,” Sophia said. “We must clear Easterly’s name.”

Brooks blinked. “Easterly?” He looked at Max, his confusion plain. “What do you have to do with my aunt’s parrot?”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Parrot?” Sophia said.

“Well, yes.” Brooks frowned. “What did you think—” His brow suddenly cleared. “The bracelet! You thought Aunt Theodora’s silly bracelet was in there!”

Sophia looked at Max, confused beyond comprehension. He stepped forward.

“If the bracelet is not

what you were hiding, then what is in the box?”

Sophia suddenly paled and slowly held the box before her at arm’s length. “Do not tell me Lady Neeley’s parrot—“Lord, no!” Brooks said. “That
would be
a gruesome find, wouldn’t it?”

Max reached over and took the box from Sophia’s unresisting hands, then laid it on the ground.

“Brooks, you had better explain yourself.”

“I rather think I should. Aunt Theodora’s bird had a horrible trick of sleeping in the cushions on the settee. M’aunt was forever warning me to plump the pillows. One day, I forgot and I sat on the blasted thing. That bird raised such a fuss! He swooped at me and tried to pluck my hair.” Brooks shuddered.

“I ran for my life. Out of the room and out the front door. The problem is, the bird went with me.”

Max frowned. “With you?”

“Yes. Followed me nigh on a mile, screeching and pecking at my head. It’s a wonder I didn’t lose

an eye.”

“So the parrot escaped.”

“Gone forever. I looked and looked, but there was no finding it.” Brooks sighed. “Meanwhile, m’aunt found out her precious pet was gone and put up a huge fuss. No one knew the blasted animal had followed me out the door and I deuced well wasn’t going to tell anyone, especially not m’cousin Percy.”

“Who would have informed Lady Neeley,” Sophia said. “He would have, but I outfoxed him.” Brooks straightened, obviously proud of himself. “I couldn’t find the real bird, though I looked for days on end. So I got another one from Afton.

He has a slew of them, and this one looked just like m’aunt’s old one. Then I took the bird to m’aunt’s house and left it inside an open window. She thinks it flew back on its own.”

“A perfect plan,” Max said.

“Well. No,” Brooks said uneasily. “There was one rub. See, the new bird is a bit of a crackpot, too. Didn’t like anything that belonged to the old bird, not the stand, the toys, even hated the silver bell

m’aunt had bought for the stupid thing.”

Sophia’s toe came out to rest on the box. “So that’s what’s in here?”

“All the bird’s toys, his bedding, everything. Didn’t dare dispose of it near m’aunt’s house. Feel free to look if you wish.”

Sophia undid the latch and opened the box. “Heavens,” she said looking at the jumble of items.

“Sad what she spends on that thing,” Brooks said with a regretful shake of his head. “What was worse was that I had to purchase the same exact things for the new bird, which was a pain, let me tell you.”

Sophia closed the box, her arms suddenly tired. “I suppose we should rebury this.”

Brooks looked relieved. “Would you mind? Percy is a dastardly man and will do what he can to cut me out of the will.”

“Of course,” Sophia said, realizing that Brooks was her last suspect. She had failed Max once again. The realization closed her throat. She picked up the box and went to place it in the hole.

But as she did so, Max’s warm hand closed over her arm. “Let me,” he said.

And he took the box and replaced it, then began steadily shoveling the dirt back into the hole.

<> Brooks meanwhile droned on and on about his troubles and the quirks of the new parrot and how it had fallen in love with Lady Neeley’s companion, and how it now refused to eat tea crackers, though the old bird had loved the stale things. Sophia barely listened. Sighing, she turned so that she could see the pathway and all the people riding by. She thought she caught a glimpse of her cousin, Charlotte, looking pink-cheeked and refined. Sophia brightened.

Perhaps she should invite Charlotte over for dinner one night. Perhaps if she stayed very busy and kept people about her, she wouldn’t think of Max quite so often and thus could break the spell he seemed able to cast over her without even the slightest effort.

For some reason, the more she saw Max, the stronger that spell seemed to be, and it was beginning to frighten her just the tiniest bit.

Max put the final shovelful of dirt on the mound. “There. Good as new.”

“Thank you,” Brooks said. “And ah … do you mind not noising this around?”

“Of course.” Max took Sophia’s elbow and, with a final nod to Brooks, escorted her back to her carriage. Max handed the shovel to the footman and assisted Sophia into her seat, then stood beside the open window, his gaze questioning.

She couldn’t begin to explain how miserable she felt. “I should go home and wash up.” She splayed her hand over her skirts. “I fear I’ve ruined—” She meant to say “my gown.” But the words stuck in her throat.

Max gave an impatient sigh. “Sophia, don’t look so defeated. It doesn’t matter about Lady Neeley’s bracelet—”

“It matters to me. It was my one chance to prove that I am not what I once was, that I—” She

stopped, suddenly realizing what she’d almost said.

“What is it, Sophia?” he asked quietly, his voice intent.

But her pride would not allow her to say the painful words. Words that left her bare, exposed, vulnerable in some way; an object of pity. Years of being alone had taught her one thing—if she wished to avoid pity, then she could not admit to weakness.

Gulping air, she steeled herself to meet his gaze evenly. “It’s not about anything, Max. You seem to

forget that you are not the only one bearing the Easterly name. It is my name that I am protecting.”

Max’s face hardened. “You still want the annulment.”

The hurt inside of her pressed forward, moving her lips, forcing a brittle laugh.

“Of course I still want it! It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And as soon as you give it to me, I’m going to begin again, living life and finding love.”

White lines appeared on either side of his mouth. “I thought we were beginning anew. Starting to know one another again—”

“I want the annulment,” she repeated.

To her utter disappointment, he stepped away from her carriage. “Then that is what you shall have.”

He nodded curtly to her, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Sophia watched him go, her heart already shedding the tears her eyes could not. With eyes painfully

dry, she motioned to the coachman to take her home.

It is difficult to credit, but Lady Easterly was seen in Hyde Park yesterday morning with a

shovel. Stranger still, she was using the rather rustic tool to dig a hole behind a rather large

bit of shrubbery on the south side of the park.

And if that weren’t enough for comment, Lord Easterly was there as well, but he was merely laughing and directing the poor woman in her labors.

This Author hasn’t a clue what they were looking for, or indeed, if they found it.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY

PAPERS,
12 JUNE 1816

By the next morning, Sophia found herself in even more dismal spirits. She stayed home and paced the length of her sitting room, hands clasped behind her back. She should have been thinking of the bracelet, for she was once again back at point nonplus. But instead, she was thinking of Max.

What was it about him that made her forget herself? She was torn, torn between throwing caution to the wind and the need to protect herself from more hurt. What she needed was a promise. No, not a promise—hadn’t Max once promised never to leave her, only to walk away a few months later? She needed something stronger than a promise.

She hugged herself, aware of the tears that threatened.

She wanted to love him the way she once had—freely, openly, without an underlying feeling of doubt

and dread. But how could she? Whatever her feelings for Max, they were dangerous to her peace of mind. Being with him stripped her bare, made her vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be since … well, since the first time she’d loved him.

Never again. Perhaps if she only saw him when there were people about. Of course, the Tewkesberrys’ house had been filled with people and that hadn’t seemed to change things. She sighed. She needed to stop thinking about Max so much. Perhaps she
should
invite her cousin Charlotte to visit this weekend.

Yes, that was exactly what she would do.

Sophia had just turned toward her escritoire to pen a note when a soft knock preceded Jacobs. “My

lady, Mr. Riddleton to see you.”

Thomas!
Good Lord, but she’d almost forgotten he was due back. She supposed it was telling that it had taken so little time to remove him from her mind. Still, it would be nice to see a friend. “Show him in.”

Moments later, Jacobs escorted Thomas into the room and then closed the door.

Thomas came forward. He was tall and handsome, with thick brown hair and a sincere expression. He took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers, a genuine smile in his eyes. “Sophia. You look lovely.”