Regency 05 - Intrigue (15 page)

It was the answer to a prayer.

After her run-in with Lady Samantha, that young lady had been far too watchful of Malvina’s activities. Erring on the side of caution, Malvina had postponed her search for the document, hoping for another chance soon. Having exhausted the possibility of the paper residing in the study, Malvina decided to put Gideon’s absence to good use. She would search his chamber.

She allowed Maddy to help her into her nightclothes and brush out her long, dark red hair, the soothing strokes having no effect on the nervous energy coursing her veins. She settled in her bed, pretending to read as the maid finished her evening duties.

“You may have the rest of the evening, Maddy,” she told her. “It is not too late. I’m sure you can find some enjoyable way to occupy yourself.”

Bobbing a curtsy, the maid murmured her thanks. Malvina watched her leave with bated breath. The maid had let slip that Lord Holt’s valet had also been given the evening to himself and would be in the butler’s sitting room, gambling for farthings.

Allowing several tense minutes to pass, she finally left her chamber and made her way to her betrothed’s apartment. Entering, she wandered around, trying to deduce the best place to hide something of critical importance. Perhaps close at hand?

She moved to the nightstand. It was quick work to determine the stand contained nothing more than an old, worn Bible.

A Bible?

Nonplussed at such an odd discovery—she hadn’t thought of the earl as a very religious individual—Malvina moved on.

The small writing desk also yielded nothing. She slowly spun, searching with her eyes for anything else that could hide what she sought. Unfortunately, a document could be hidden almost anywhere.

With a long-suffering sigh, she entered his dressing room. The places to look seemed endless. There were three armoires and a dressing table. Drawers and cupboards abounded. How many clothes did a gentleman need?

Squaring her shoulders, she waded in, determined to have this nightmare over.

It was while she was sifting through some papers she found stuffed in a jewel case—the man had more jewels than she’d ever seen in her life!—that she stopped breathing. Pushing her encroaching hair away from her face, she studied the document she held.

It was exactly as
he
had described it. Names, amounts of money, dates. What she found strange was the fact that the dates coincided with the Peninsular Campaign that ended with the defeat of Napoleon nearly five years ago.

More astonishing still was the name of Lord Delwyn Deverell near the middle of the list.

Heart plummeting, her voice whispered across the empty room. “He knew. All along, he knew.”

“Not exactly.”

She spun, the incriminating document clutched to her chest. “Gideon!”

His slow smile was unexpected. “As I was saying, I didn’t exactly know. I but suspected. I have possessed that document for a short time, you see. I’d not had time to more than glance at it.”

He moved into the room and gestured to the chair by the dressing table. When she didn’t move, he offered, “We can adjourn to the bedroom, but I am not sure how much talking will get done.”

She sat.

Grimly amused at her ready capitulation in the face of implied seduction, Gideon moved forward and reached out to take the document from her. She resisted with such a look of panic that he withdrew, curious.

“What threat did he use, Malvina?”

She firmly clamped her lips shut. Amusement at her stubbornness threatened to tip his lips but the gravity of her situation prevented it.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap. She refused to be drawn.

Releasing a sigh, he crouched at her feet. She clutched the paper tighter, creasing it, wadding it into a ball.

“If my superiors discover you know anything about this, you will disappear, Malvina. It will be quite the mystery. One that will never be solved because they do not wish it to be. I do not want to see that happen.” With a finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I do not want that to happen.”

Her gaze was haunted. He hated what she had been through; he hated that he would inevitably put her through yet more. But those men had to be captured. They had led many men to their deaths, needlessly. If one unfortunate widow was caught in the crossfire, it would be overlooked, hushed up.

The idea pained Gideon in a way he did not want to examine. All along, he had told her he would indeed marry her. All along, he had come to terms with the possibility. If it came to that, he would have made a life with her, unable to condone the death of a woman in the name of war.

It had not been in his plans to fall in love with her.

He didn’t trust her. She kept dangerous secrets. Her secrets had led to an innocent death, as well. The Home Office might actually view her demise as justice for her wrongs.

Gideon had yet to determine how much she knew of her late husband’s activities. He had no doubt Deverell had some incriminating document, much like the one Malvina clutched in one small fist. If she thought Deverell would trade, she was in for a rude shock.

He placed one hand over her fist. The other she had clutched in her nightdress. Barely squeezing, he felt the delicate bones of her fingers grinding together.

She continued to stare at him, tears forming in her eyes even as she bit her lower lip. He could see her determination not to cry and her realization of the futility of resisting his greater strength.

He studied her lips, overcome with a sudden longing to kiss her. He resisted the urge, believing, quite truthfully, that he would lose in the end.

Malvina whimpered. He was hurting her and it was hurting him. Throwing caution to the winds, he released her hand and leaned forward, closing the distance between their mouths.

At first contact, she jumped. Then she sighed and leaned in, forgetting everything but the wonderful touch of his lips. Her fingers loosened and she barely noticed the document slipping from her fingers to fall, unheeded, to the floor.

Reaching up, she touched him, fleetingly, a bare stroking of his cheek. He rose, cradling her in his arms. He never broke the contact of their lips.

It was several moments before he became aware that his face was wet with her tears. He released her mouth, realizing the document had dropped from her fingers. He kicked it under the chair and sat down on it, settling her comfortably on his lap.

He brushed the tears away with his thumbs and saw the way her throat worked, as if she tried to speak but was prevented by strong emotion. “You can tell me. I want to protect you but you have to trust me.”

“It was y-you,” she managed to stutter. Taking a deep breath, she successfully forced the sobs back. “He said he would kill
you
.”

Shock rendered him silent. His face went blank, his eyes full of all sorts of thoughts. She read surprise, awe, and utter amazement. And somewhere in the back, buried beneath the other emotions, she ascertained horror.

She felt bereft when his lids drooped, hiding himself from her. It was the thing she hated about him, the lazy, care-for-nothing expression that closed off the rest of the world.

She pushed herself away. In revealing how upset she was at the threat to his life, she had also revealed how attached she had become. And Gideon, dratted man that he was, just sat there, silent.

Standing on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her, Malvina told him, “I will leave you now, my lord. You have successfully gotten what you wanted from me. I applaud you.”

He stood, catching her hand as she swung away. “I did not get
everything
I wanted.”

She pulled free. “I am in no mood for your games, Lord Holt. You have achieved what you wanted with your callousness. The document is yours. I will take my chances with your…
friend
.”

“He is no friend of mine and I need you to give him that document. He expects that I do not know enough of your activities with him to take him in. I need him to continue to believe that.”

Malvina stared at the document Gideon tossed at her feet. Her gaze slid up to meet his. “You want me to give this to him?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Is this not what you have been looking for? The way to prove Deverell is a traitor?”

“To be honest, the one we want includes your husband’s name.”

Her mouth dropped. She was frozen for three full seconds. Then, she moved so quickly, he didn’t see her coming.

She slapped him with the full force of her body behind the blow. His head snapped back, a ringing starting almost immediately in his ears.

“Deceiver,” she snarled. “Liar. Scoundrel!”

If she hadn’t been so righteously—and rightly—angry, Gideon would have smiled. Or kissed her. Perhaps both. She was passionately beautiful, all flaming hair, heaving bosom, and flushed skin.

Slightly alarmed by his own overly dramatic musings, he attempted to diffuse the situation.

“Were my lies any worse than yours?”

She stalked to the door. Just when he thought she would leave, she turned and stalked back. She stood before him, fists on her hips.

Shaking a finger in his face, she informed him hotly, “I was trying to protect my son. I was trying to prevent him from discovering exactly what his father was. Not to mention the fact that when it is proven that he was a traitor, we will lose everything. We will be hounded from Society, ostracized.”

“I can prevent that,” he murmured.

Stepping back—she had nearly been standing on his toes—she gave him a suspicious look. “How? I was under the impression that miracles are not of man but God.”

A funny little smile played across his lips. “Found my book, did you?” He shrugged. “I have eccentric tastes in literature.”

She shook her head impatiently. “I will not be distracted. How can you save us?”

Gideon took her hands and pulled her close. “I proposed marriage for a reason, Malvina. I suspected the truth from the start. Why else would you risk everything?” He placed both hands on her face, drawing her closer still, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I knew of your innocence from the moment I rescued you from the
highwaymen
. Despite everything I have ever said to you, I never thought you were willingly doing what Deverell wanted.”

“Why did you never say anything?” she asked calmly, finding his gentle touch a wonderful substitute for the indifference she’d come to expect from her late husband.

Pausing for a long, drawn-out moment, he finally replied, “I wanted you to tell me. Silly of me to wish for such a thing when you distrusted me as you did.”

Malvina closed the last few inches that separated them, forcing him to close his arms around her. They stood for a moment, each one lost in thought and the wonderful sensation of simply being held.

The mantel clock chimed midnight. Malvina jumped, knocking her head into Gideon’s chin. His teeth clacked together, causing him to curse. Malvina stifled a giggle and moved away from him.

“It is exceedingly late,” she murmured. “I should be off.”

Gideon gave her a look that she vaguely recognized. It had been years since she’d seen such an expression.

His words confirmed it. “You don’t have to leave.”

Tempted far more than she cared to admit, she nevertheless declined his offer. She was infinitely thankful that he kept his distance. Had he touched her again, she would not have been able to resist. With that thought firmly in the forefront of her mind, she fled to her own chamber.

Wolf’s insides churned every time he thought about it. It was all he could do to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

He had witnessed his mother leaving Lord Holt’s chamber practically in the middle of the night like a common trollop. While he was not hypocritical enough to believe his father deserved her loyalty even after death, he still felt she should have some self-respect.

It had not helped that this very morning, before anyone had risen from their beds, he had chanced to see his mother meeting another man in a clandestine manner. He had seen them at the old folly, not far from where Wolf had been walking to clear his head. He recognized the man from church. Why would his mother be meeting him?

Wolf marched to the stables at an ungodly hour, the sun just rising from its own bed. He needed to escape for a time. There were too many petticoats present for his comfort and he was becoming too attached to Lady Samantha de Witt. She was not for him. No lady was.

He did not wait for a groom to ready a mount. He saddled one himself. He didn’t even realize which one he’d selected until he mounted. It was Black, one of Holt’s personal hunters. It was the very beast that had traveled with them to Yorkshire, tied behind the carriage that conveyed Holt, Wolf, and Malvina.

The earl’s horses all had such stupid names.

Wolf didn’t care. He galloped from the stable yard with little regard for human or animal life. He headed straight for the relative loneliness of the moors. He did not notice the beauty of the heather; he did not notice the threat of the bogs.

It didn’t take long for Wolf to gallop off the majority of the rage, disgust, and disappointment he felt. He slowed to a walk, paying little attention to his surroundings.

Life wasn’t fair, he reflected. Being born into a wealthy family with a title, even a meager one, was supposed to be, on some level, a privilege. Sir Beowulf Brackney had trouble looking at his life with anything more than grim disbelief.

Black stumbled. Wolf steadied him without thought, not realizing he was wandering through a rocky area he’d never ridden with Samantha.

The late Sir Richard Brackney had been, at best, an indifferent parent. He had taken pride in little that his son had done. The few things he’d noticed in a positive way were not things for which a child should be praised.

Wolf had played terrible, cruel tricks on the housemaids and other children. His father had laughed and complimented his ingenuity.

It was his mother who prevented Wolf from falling completely under the influence of his sire. It was her gentle disapproval, her loving concern, and never failing pride in his true accomplishments that had held him together.

All appearances to the contrary, Wolf loved his mother. To see her selling herself to Lord Holt for protection made him feel physically ill. She deserved so much better.

Black stumbled again. The poor beast was trying to pick his way around a rocky outcropping and having little success. Wolf glanced around, concerned. He had not realized just how far he’d ridden or exactly where he was.

He carefully turned Black, who gratefully followed the direction. He seemed more comfortable, knowing his way home.

It was this self-assurance on the horse’s part that was Wolf’s downfall. Just when the manor came into view and Wolf released a sigh of relief, Black tripped.

The young baronet was thrown, striking his shoulder painfully on a boulder. He fought for consciousness, forcing the pain into the back recesses of his mind. It was a useful trick his father had taught him during the few times he’d decided to teach him anything.

With the pain under control, Wolf was able to take stock of his situation. He emitted a low groan when he saw Black. The poor creature lay on his side, whinnying pitifully. One glance told Wolf that the gelding’s leg was broken.

Feeling an unmanly urge to cry, Wolf slowly rose, favoring his right side from neck to waist. He moved to Black’s side and crouched down, brushing his hand over the animal’s heaving shoulder.

Stupid beast, anyway. Black should have known this area. What horse doesn’t know where not to step?

Cursing, he stood. There was nothing he could do for the animal. He was only sixteen. He was not in the habit of carrying a pistol. Unfortunately, that was the only help left for Black.

His trek back to the house was fraught with the urge to run in the opposite direction and never return. He messed up again and he did not look forward to whatever punishment the earl felt was appropriate for killing his horse.

Malvina saw him coming. She had spent hours searching for him, intent on telling him they were to leave for London early the following morning.

After returning from her morning meeting with Lord Delwyn, at which she’d handed over the document as ordered, the earl had confided his need to speak with his superiors at the Home Office. A little relieved to be able to leave, Malvina had readily agreed.

She ventured outside again, not sure what drew her attention to the north. On the edge of the park, she could see the figure of her son, cradling his right shoulder. He stumbled as she watched, and almost fell.

She drew in a sharp breath. Her heart constricted and jumped into her throat. When Wolf fell to his knees, she screamed.

Malvina didn’t even realize she was running until she tripped, tearing her skirts and scraping her leg. She pushed herself back to her feet and kept on.

She couldn’t form a coherent thought as she ran. All she could see was her child hurt, broken.

“Wolf!”

He looked up. His blue eyes shimmered with tears and Malvina felt her own fill up. She had not seen her son cry since he was but a boy. He hadn’t even shed a tear the night his father died.

She fell to her knees beside him, reaching for him. “Wolf, what happened?”

“I was thrown.”

“Are you hurt? What happened to your arm?”

“My shoulder is bruised,” he told her, rolling the appendage with a grimace of pain. “I hit a rock.”

Relieved that his injuries seemed minor, she allowed her tension to ease a bit. Her relief was short-lived, however, when she realized his horse was missing. A shiver of unease consumed her. “Where is the horse?”

A single tear escaped. “He is back there,” Wolf said, tipping his head in the direction from which he’d come.

“Oh, Wolf, what have you done?”

People arrived. Servants, stable hands, and family rushed to them, everyone asking questions at once and demanding answers.

Lady Samantha flopped down beside her friend and tried to take his hand. He resisted her touch, an action that alarmed Malvina more than it should have. The young lady, however, merely shrugged and continued to sit beside him, offering her undemanding support.

Malvina felt Gideon’s presence behind her. He stooped down and looked the boy over, grunting when he was satisfied that Wolf would survive.

“Why would you ride over terrain you do not know?” he asked, his voice laced with a concern that Wolf had only ever received from his mother.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, confused by the solicitude of this man. “I was angry.”

“Where is your mount?” Gideon looked up at the stable master. “Has the beast returned home?”

“Nay, milord,” ventured the man hesitantly. “The young master took Black.”

Gideon’s face froze. He speared the hapless Wolf with hard eyes. “Where is Black?”

Samantha leaned away from him, her soft brown eyes unusually hard. “Why do they have such stupid names?” Wolf blurted unwisely, his guilt and embarrassment speaking.

“Where is Black?”

Malvina saw her son’s miserable expression mingle with a look that heralded a loss of temper. She spoke up, seeking to avoid bloodshed.

“Back that way, Gideon.”

Wolf was man enough to meet Gideon’s eyes as the older man straightened. The earl said nothing and held out his hand. A pistol, primed and ready to fire, was slapped into his palm.

For a heart-stopping second, Malvina thought he meant to use the weapon on her son. She opened her mouth to object, positioned herself to shield her child, but ended by saying nothing as Gideon stalked off.

Minutes later—it felt like hours—a gunshot was heard. Malvina wrapped her arms around Wolf and he buried his face in her neck, reminding her painfully of the child he once was. They all waited on tenterhooks, apprehension a palpable entity.

The stable hands moved in the direction of the shot, knowing it would be their task to take care of Black’s remains. They each tugged their forelock as the earl came past, the stable master receiving the spent weapon.

Malvina watched Gideon move, her heart wrenching at the pain she saw in his eyes. He glanced at her once, accusingly, but never slowed. They watched him go, unsurprised when he veered off to the stables.

Samantha stood, her movements a little less graceful than usual. Tears stood out in her eyes, her scarred visage flushed. “That was very bad of you, Wolf. Giddy has few attachments. Black was the one above all others.”

She stepped carefully around him, holding her skirts away as if he was diseased. “I will bid you adieu now, Lady Malvina, Sir Beowulf. Have an uneventful journey.”

His forehead creased in confusion, Wolf shrugged out of his mother’s embrace. “What in hell is Sam talking about?”

Malvina winced. “Language, darling.” She reached out to smooth a lock of dark red hair from his brow. He flinched away as if she were about to strike him.

Her hand dropped, a forlorn expression touching her delicate features. “I am so sorry for everything, Wolf,” she whispered. “I should have helped you when—”

“There was nothing you could do, Mother,” he interrupted, not willing to have the discussion she wanted. He stood, unwillingly allowing his mother to help. “I did what I had to, eventually. The matter is not to be mentioned again.”

A little stunned by the adult she could see in the eyes of her baby, all Malvina could do was nod. She put her arm through his and together, they moved to the house, the two of them against the world.

As usual.