Miss Quinn's Quandary (14 page)

“You know how to drive?” Larissa gasped.

“Oh, yes,” Dorothea exclaimed. “Every lady must learn to be truly
self-sufficient. Don’t tell me Sir Randall would have any objections to your
learning?”

“No, I’m sure he has none at all. It’s only that I … I had never
thought of taking on such a task.”

“Mark my words, you’ll learn in no time at all.”

Once the curricle was in motion, Dorothea simply handed the
ribbons over to Larissa. At first she felt nervous, but once she adjusted to
the pull of the horses against the wide leather ribbons, driving the team was
not so bad at all. As a matter of fact, not only was it easier than she had
expected, it was very enjoyable.

Larissa wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of independence or the
feeling of speed. Why, she was moving barely at a trot and a slow one at that.

The curricle was small and at one point Larissa had lifted a
wheel rounding a corner. It was then she realized how hazardous it would be to
race along at breakneck speeds as she had heard some young men did for a wager.

By the end of their ride, Larissa’s hands were sore. Next time
she would wear heavier gloves. She wasn’t sure how or why, but something told
her there would indeed be a next time.

The following morning Lord Melton and his guest, Lord Firth, met
up with William and Randall at the stables. The
marquess
gestured for the younger men to join them.

“We met with Lord
Ardsmore
out in the
south pasture. He was on his way to
Carswell
to tell
us he was robbed last night. He’s most upset. Most upset.”

“Understandably so,” Randall agreed.

“He’s still planning to go ahead with his dinner tonight. Too
late to call it off without turning people away at the door. That would be
dashed bad form, you know.”

“Was it the same blighter?” Firth quizzed.

“He said the highwayman wielded two Italian dueling pistols. He
could see the silver handles glinting in the moonlight, along with the stickpin
at his throat.

“Adding to the rumor he is of quality,
Ardsmore
says he speaks in the most elegant of tones.” Melton stared at Firth while
relaying the unpleasant news. “I don’t want to worry the ladies any.”

“It’d start their imaginations spiraling,” William whispered to
Randall. One side of William’s mouth turned upward, giving a half smile. “Women
find stolen kisses from a highwayman exciting, don’t you know.”

“
Ardsmore’s
called in the Runners,”
Melton explained. “Offered a bonus to catch the blackguard who bussed his new
wife.”

“Bus sin’ Billy, they call him,” Firth added.

“
Bussin
’ Billy, a bit common for a
supposed nob, wouldn’t you say?” William interjected. From his brother’s hard
stare, Randall knew the opinion was an unwelcome one.

“The point is,” Melton continued, clearing his throat, “the man’s
not dangerous. He’s not leaving a trail of bodies behind.”

“That’s a relief,” William added. “He’ll only steal my valuables.”

“Dash it, Wills,” Randall chided. “What could be more valuable
than your life?”

“
Ardsmore
went after Billy with the
concealed knife in his cane. Made sorry work of the blighter’s greatcoat.
Slashed a fair portion of fabric under his arm.”

“Why couldn’t his blasted aim have been better?” Firth
criticized.

“Avoiding the mortal blow, Billy stumbled back to the edge of the
stream. This time of year it’s just a trickle of water. He merely muddied his
Hessians.”

Randall knew by the look on Firth’s face he gained some small
measure of satisfaction knowing the highwayman had ruined the finish on an
expensive pair of boots.

“And it gives the Runners one more clue to his identity,” Melton
concluded.

“That is good news,” William agreed.

Melton and Firth went ahead to the house. William snagged
Randall’s arm, holding him back for a few words.

“I might as well let it be known I plan on keeping my distance
from the new Lady
Ardsmore
,” William admitted. “Had
dealings with her myself. She is most comely.” William hiked his eyebrows in a
favorable expression. “It’s all
dashedly
awkward now
that she lives just over at the next piece of property and married to
Ardsmore
no less.” William tossed the stalk he’d been
chewing onto the ground before exiting the barn.

“It’s that bad, is it?” Randall mused.

“It does not bode well for me, I’ll say that much.” William
tossed the hay to the ground.

“Then I take it you won’t be joining us this evening.”

“Not on your life,” he professed. “I don’t mean to belittle the
situation, but really.” William chuckled. “I think Terrance is afraid
Bussin
’ Billy will kiss Dorothea before he’ll ever have a
chance.”

Randall suspected that given the opportunity Dorothea might find
it thrilling to be in the arms of a dangerous highwayman.

He entered the house in time to hear the butler announce to Lord
Melton, “It’s a Mr. Daniel Lawrence of the Bow Street Runners, my lord.”

“What?” Melton looked behind Jenkins to the stranger approaching
in the hall. “I can’t believe I, or any one in my house, could be suspected.”

“My apologies, Lord Melton.” Mr. Lawrence gave a deep bow from
the waist. “I have my orders. We are conducting a search within a fifty-mile
radius of the crime. The occupants found in every household and establishment
are to be questioned about their whereabouts of last night.” His gaze swept the
faces of the occupants, searching for a telltale sign or hint of deception. “I
need not conduct a search of the premises unless I feel there to be sufficient
cause to do so.”

Lord Melton could not contest the Runner’s authority in the
matter and had to concede. “The parlor is at your disposal.”

“You are most gracious,” Mr. Lawrence replied.

“Not at all.” Melton gestured for the butler, who appeared at his
side. “Jenkins, you will assist Mr. Lawrence with anything he might need.”

“Yes, your lordship.”

“If you will excuse me,” Melton gestured with the flourish of his
riding crop, “I shall return momentarily after I change.”

“Lord Melton,” Lawrence summoned the earl before he could ascend
the grand staircase. “Would you be so kind as to be the first? It would make an
excellent example for your guests.”

Melton glanced around. “Of course,” he said with a smile, ready
to give his full cooperation, and headed in the direction of the front parlor.

Lawrence addressed the guests before following after the
marquess
. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t leave just now.
Jenkins, please make sure everyone remains below stairs until I’ve had the
chance to speak to them.”

“Just as you say, sir,” Jenkins replied. Addressing the ensemble
he continued, “If you gentlemen would be so good as to move into the breakfast
room to wait, I shall see to it fresh coffee and tea are served.”

William and Randall being the closest, they stepped into the
room. Lord Firth followed, grumbling under his breath, “I’ll expect something
bloody well stronger than tea.”

It was more than an hour later, and Randall was the last to be
questioned. Not an unexpected outcome. After all, he was the lowest ranking of
the guests. Completing the interview with Mr. Lawrence, he stood in the opened
doorway to the parlor.

“I’m afraid your lack of alibi requires I take further steps. I
will need to search your room.”

Dorothea appeared from around the corner. “May I speak?” She held
her clasped hands in front of her and looked down, studying the whitened
knuckles.

Randall noted the baffled look on Mr. Lawrence’s face and made
the introductions.

“I only hesitate to come forward because of the delicate nature
of the circumstance,” she began. Dorothea looked up, greeting Mr. Lawrence’s
gaze with her wide blue eyes. “I do feel it is the only right thing to do.”

The Bow Street Runner vowed, “I can assure you, I shall be most
discreet with any information you divulge.”

“Very well,” Dorothea sighed, managing to overcome her
reluctance. She followed the Runner into the parlor at a sedate pace. Mr.
Lawrence gestured for Randall to join them and isolated the three of them
behind closed doors.

“I believe Sir Randall told you he was in the library last night,”
Dorothea began.

“Yes, he did,” Mr. Lawrence confirmed.

“He was not alone. I was with him.”

Mr. Lawrence gave Randall a hardened look. “What do you mean you
were ‘with’ him?”

“After the guests had retired for the evening, I came below
stairs to retrieve my book of Byron’s poems. I had thought I left it in the
drawing room. As it happens, Sir Randall had intercepted it and used it to lure
me into the library.” She stopped and moistened her lips between eyeing Mr.
Lawrence’s expression at regular intervals. “Need I go into detail?”

“It would be helpful if you could be a bit more specific,” he
said, urging her on, remaining very professional in his questioning.

“When I entered the room, Sir Randall stood in front of the
closed door. I did not wish to wake anyone and cause a scene. He begged me to
take the book from him, but held it just out of reach. The only way to retrieve
it would be to put my arms around him. I was willing to leave the volume in his
care and return to my room, but he would not take no for an answer.” She paused
again, the color in her face heightened. “I may as well tell you, sir, my
mother and I are the guests of Lord Melton, and Sir Randall is a married man.”

“All right,” Mr. Lawrence stopped her, hearing enough. “When was
this?”

“It must have been about an hour after everyone had retired. Ten
o’clock, ten-thirty perhaps.”

Without a change in his serious demeanor, Lawrence’s gaze locked
onto Randall. “You’re free to go.”

Hearing this slanderous tale Randall threw open the double doors.

Larissa, wearing a look of concern, stood in the hallway with
Melton, Firth, and William behind her. Mr. Lawrence stepped in front of Randall
and announced, “I had a question about Sir Randall’s whereabouts.”

Larissa stepped forward, raising her chin. “He was with me last
night.” She knew it was a lie and couldn’t help from blushing, but hoped it
would be enough to convince Mr. Lawrence.

“I appreciate your attempt to protect him. After all, you are his
wife.” Mr. Lawrence made a nervous glance toward the now emerging Dorothea and
cleared his throat. “Your husband has already been cleared. Lady Dorothea has
already vouched for his innocence.”

Randall noted a subtle look of betrayal spread on Larissa’s face.
Her hardened glare slid from Dorothea to him. He couldn’t let her believe what
she was thinking now. He could well imagine it was the worst she could concoct,
and Randall knew she had quite the imagination.

Leading Larissa above stairs and into the privacy of his room,
Randall closed the door. He would explain, then force her to listen to reason.
“I wish to inform you lest you hear this from another, more unsavory source.”

Larissa kept silent.

“Dorothea claims I was in the midst of seducing her.”

“Well that’s it, isn’t it?” Larissa addressed him with her arms
crossed and eyes ablaze. “You’re not really married to me. You can do as you
well please.”

Along with the fury he felt inside, it gave him a strange sense
of satisfaction that Lady Dorothea’s phony alibi bothered Larissa.

“Do you think so little of me? Do you think I would insult you by
seducing another while married to you? I have already promised you. While we
are ‘married,’ I would prove to be the model husband.”

“If that is true and you did not try to seduce her last night,
what do you make of Dorothea’s explanation?”

“I have no idea. How am I to explain her actions? Everything she
said was completely untrue.” Something in Larissa’s wary stare told him of her
doubts. He was not about to let her call him a liar. “You’re the one who told
them about us being together last night.” He flung his hands up. “Maybe I did
lie about last night. Maybe I did hold up Lord
Ardsmore
.
Go ahead. Why don’t you search my wardrobe for the damaged greatcoat and soiled
boots.
” He led her to his dressing room by the arm and
flung the door open. “It should be simple, I only have but a single pair of
Hessians.”

To his amazement, Larissa took him up on his offer and did just
that. With her chin held high, she went in to see for herself.

Was he really so untrustworthy? After she finished rummaging
through his wardrobe, she would feel the thorough fool.

Randall had decided he’d be gracious and accept whatever apology
she offered. No use causing problems when they had near a month remaining in
their “marriage.” He could be accepting, giving, and accommodating more than
most, he surmised.

It was only when Larissa reappeared in the doorway with a coat
draped over one arm and a pair of muddied Hessians in the other that he felt
his legs give way beneath him and he dropped onto his bed.

“Where did you find those?” The shock on Sir Randall’s face was
genuine.

“In your wardrobe, just as you said.”

“They’re not mine.” It was a reflexive response on his part. He
stood and approached the incriminating garments, taking a second look. “They
are mine. I don’t know how they have come to be in this condition.”

Sir Randall took the coat and rummaged through the folds. He was
not disappointed. There it was, just as Lord Melton had described. The telltale
tear on the right side under the arm, a clean, precise cut presumably made by a
knife.

He stepped back and sank onto the bed again. “If Lawrence had the
notion to search my room.”

“This would have looked very bad for you.”

He massaged his throat. “I would have been hanged by the end of
the week.”

The thought of Sir Randall swinging at the end of a rope made
Larissa feel faint. “Who would have done such a thing?” She sank onto the bed
beside him. “If the stolen items had been found in your possession, I have no
doubt the authorities would have done just that.”

“Do you think whoever framed me might have also planted the
stolen jewelry in my room?” Sir Randall did not wait for a reply, but scrambled
to the small table next to his bed, pulling open the drawers. He finished the
search of his side table and leaped to his feet to search through the
clothespress and desk.

“They must think you
more clever
than to
simply hide them under a few shirts or waistcoats.” Larissa watched disbelief
overtake the look of terror on his face.

He paused and straightened. “Do you really think so?”

“On second thought, I cannot imagine they would think you that
intelligent.”

“That’s a fairly insensitive thing to say. But it’s not you who
is being framed is it?” An insulted expression crossed Sir Randall’s face. “It
would be nice to know you’re concerned.”

“I am concerned,” she said, not wanting to confess her feelings
outright. “That is why I am willing to repair the tear in your coat. I suggest
you clean your boots before Mr. Lawrence changes his mind and searches the
house.” She took up the greatcoat and headed for her room.

Sir Randall caught her arm, delaying her. “You do care, don’t you?”
he whispered and smiled.

Larissa gripped the torn greatcoat a little tighter and looked
into his eyes. If he felt for her as she did for him, she need not answer that
question.

“Where have you been all morning?” Dorothea asked Larissa when
she came into the breakfast room.

“I’m afraid I must have lost track of the time. I was in my room,
busy sewing.”

“Why do you look at me so, Larissa?” Dorothea asked, sounding
quite hurt. “I thought we were friends.”

“Friends do not steal husbands from one another,” Larissa
snapped.

“Please, not so loud,” Dorothea hushed, rose from the table and
neared, beckoning Larissa into a
coze
. “You want to
know why I said what I did about Sir
Randall?
”

She did not respond, and kept her features schooled into an
emotionless mask.

“I did it because of our friendship,” Dorothea professed.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.”

“Why else would I tell such a lie? To give Sir Randall an alibi
of course.”

“What?” This piece of news brought Larissa around.

“The Runners would think his wife would lie for him. They might
even expect it. But for me to claim he was with me should prove shocking to say
the least. Scandalous if it should be heard publicly. So I lied to keep him
above suspicion. I might as well tell you the truth, I saw him strolling about
outside alone.”

Larissa didn’t know what to say. Dorothea’s little white lie had
kept him safe. Most of all, she prevented Mr. Lawrence from taking his search
above stairs to Sir Randall’s closet, where, it was certain, the runner would
have found irrefutable evidence of his guilt. Only, Larissa knew Sir Randall
could not have done it.

“Of course, he could not have done it,” Dorothea continued. “I
should never believe him capable of such action.”

“What you have shown me proves your actions have gone beyond
those of mere friendship.” Larissa smiled. “Please accept my apology, Dorothea.
How could I have ever thought ill of you?”

“I am only too happy to avoid problems between Sir Randall and
the law.” Dorothea seemed to have been genuinely relieved. “I hope I haven’t
caused any difficulties between the two of you.”

“No, you have not.”

“It must be ever so reassuring to have the love of such a
trustworthy man.”

“It is something I cannot begin to explain,” Larissa said,
stating the unequivocal truth.

That evening, Larissa entered the parlor. Dorothea and Lady
Brookhurst
were there waiting to leave for
Ardsmore
Lodge.

“Oh, the men always make light of the ladies taking their time,
but faith, will you look at who is waiting for the gentlemen.” Lady
Brookhurst
gestured about her with her silk fan. She
stilled, fixing a critical eye on Larissa. “How lovely you look, except … except
…”

“Is there something amiss?” Larissa looked down at her gown. Her
hands moved from her skirts to the curls atop her head, wondering if her hair
was out of place.

“She is perfection itself,
Maman
,”
Dorothea praised. Her fingers came to rest on her gold locket.

Glancing at her neckline, Larissa had also suspected the décolletage
too low for good taste. With the look on Lady
Brookhurst’s
face, Larissa must have been right.

“I have it!” Lady
Brookhurst’s
face lit
up.

“Have Regina fetch my garnets,” she said to her daughter. Within
minutes, Regina returned with a beautiful wooden inlaid decorated box. Lady
Brookhurst
drew out a garnet necklace and held it to
Larissa’s gown. “This will go splendidly with your gown. They are not grand by
any stretch of the imagination, but I imagine they should do.”

Lady
Brookhurst
told Regina to lay the
necklace around Larissa’s neck, then fasten the bracelet around her wrist.

“What an improvement, do you not think, dear?”

“
Maman
, you are so right as always,”
Dorothea replied.

“Wearing colored gems is one of the small pleasures of being
married.”

After admiring the dark stones encircling her wrist, Larissa laid
a hand at her throat, touching the necklace, wishing she could see them around
her neck. “Thank you, Lady
Brookhurst
.”

“Just make sure and return them when you’ve finished.” Lady
Brookhurst
gave a regal nod and proceeded to check on the
status of the men.

For some reason unknown to Larissa, she and Sir Randall were to
travel separately, while Lady
Brookhurst
, Dorothea,
and Melton traveled in his coach. Whether Melton wished to be alone with
Dorothea, expecting her mother to fall asleep, as she had a tendency to do in a
moving vehicle, or whether Sir Randall had used the opportunity to arrange time
alone with her, she could not say.

However, Larissa did find conversation between them somewhat
awkward. Larissa found the easy exchange of words that once flowed between them
gone, the need to be close to him and the harmonious feeling she once felt
between them forgotten.

Or so she had thought.

Dinner at the
Ardsmore’s
proceeded
smoothly. No one dared bring up the recent robbery of their hosts. That was,
until the ladies retired to the drawing room and Dorothea spoke.

“I do hope you have recovered from that unfortunate incident.”

Larissa couldn’t believe Dorothea’s lack of decorum. How could
she bring up such an unpleasant subject?

“Was Billy as handsome as they say?” Lady
Brookhurst
wanted to know.

“He was so handsome and strong, from what I could see. He wore
that mask you know,” Lady
Ardsmore
replied. “His lips
tore the very breath from my body when he … kissed me. I should wish
Ardsmore
could have such an effect.”

The ladies laughed, a mixture of outrage at her honest admission
and envy. How could Lady
Ardsmore
have enjoyed being
held up? Larissa wondered.

There was a part of Larissa that could perhaps understand the
thrill of a robbery where no one was harmed, looking at it from the safety of
hindsight. Three months ago, she might have reacted the same way herself. It
was an adventure!

How she had grown from Miss Quinn, the innocent seminary girl, to
Lady Trent, the baronet’s worldly wife.

Larissa realized she was not the same person at all.