The
baroness's eyes narrowed. She shut her fan with a snap. "Do you know Lord
Voxley?" She beckoned the redheaded gentleman forward. "Lord Voxley,
Lady Rowena Arlingby."
Lady
Belmont made a hasty movement as though she would step between Rowena and
Voxley, but then stopped herself. With an amused look, Lord Voxley took Rowena's
hand and kissed it.
"Charmed,"
he murmured. "You are a vision of loveliness, Lady Rowena."
Rowena
felt an unaccountable urge to snatch her hand from his moist grasp, but
restrained herself. She smiled politely.
"Well,
we are very cozy here," observed Lady Bingham. "I came to talk to
you, Lady Belmont, because I am charged with a message from Malcolm. I saw him
before I came home, and he begged me to bring you his best wishes."
"You
saw Malcolm?" repeated Lady Belmont, obviously struggling to contain her
astonishment.
"Indeed.
He was in Paris at the same time I was. Oh, it was a mere coincidence; it has
been years since Malcolm and I have been...close. But it was delightful to see
him. He is irresistible, as always."
Lady
Belmont swallowed. "I thank you for bringing me his message, Lady Bingham."
A pause
followed this exchange, and Mrs. Brierton seized the opportunity to depart. "I
really must be on my way, Louisa dear," she murmured, gathering up her
shawl and looking askance at Lady Bingham. "Come, Martin."
Martin
tore his eyes from Lady Bingham's chest and, muttering something polite to
Rowena, followed his mother from the box. Lady Bingham smiled brilliantly at
Lady Belmont.
"And
now it is just the four of us," she said. "How cozy. Shall we renew
our acquaintance? And I would so enjoy getting to know Lady Rowena better. I
daresay she would be delighted to hear some tales of her brother."
Rowena
smiled. The tension in the box was palpable, but she felt that this was a not
to be missed opportunity to learn more about Malcolm. She was not sure exactly
what Lady Bingham's relationship was to her brother, but it seemed likely that
she might know something of the events of twelve years before. She opened her
mouth to begin her questioning.
The door
to the box flew open again and the occupants swung around to see who the
newcomer might be. Alaric entered, a look of fury darkening his countenance. Rowena
drew in her breath, beginning to understand why he inspired so much awe and
fear. He looked quite capable of committing murder. He glanced quickly from Lady
Belmont's mortified face, to Rowena's curious one, to Lady Bingham's
self-satisfied smile.
"Good
evening, Lady Belmont," he said mildly. "Lady Rowena, how pleasant to
see you again."
Lady
Belmont appeared ready to sink through the floor of the box. "Brayleigh,"
she whispered.
"Good
evening, Lord Brayleigh," said Rowena brightly. "I have been making
the acquaintance of Lady Bingham."
Alaric
turned his frosty gaze on Marguerite. "What a pity she cannot stay and
chat. I have been charged by Mrs. Werwent to bring Lady Bingham to her box."
"But
Lady Belmont's box is so comfortable," said Marguerite, her voice light. "I
am sure Caroline can wait until the next interval."
Alaric
placed his hand on Marguerite's arm and raised her to her feet with no more
effort than if she were a feather. "I understood the matter to be quite
urgent. You will come now."
The
baroness's blue eyes narrowed. Alaric's grip on her arm was painful, and she
very much feared she would have a bruise in the morning. It was obvious that he
was in a towering fury. Perhaps she had gone too far this time.
"Very
well, if she is so insistent," she said. "I will speak to you some
other time, Lady Belmont. It was a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. And I so
enjoyed meeting you, Lady Rowena. I look forward to our chat."
Alaric
did not release her as he guided her to the door. "Good evening, Lady
Belmont, Lady Rowena," he said calmly. "Come along, Voxley."
Lord
Voxley shrugged and stood, bowing politely to the ladies. He followed Alaric
and Marguerite from the box.
"The
audacity of the man," said Rowena, her anger sparked not only by Brayleigh's
actions, but also his very apparent familiarity with the baroness. "How
dare he come in here and drag Lady Bingham away like that? I was just about to
ask her about Malcolm."
Lady
Belmont sank back in her chair, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. "Hush,
Rowena. I never thought I would be grateful to see Brayleigh, but tonight I
was, although surely the gossip will be only that much worse now. The look on
the man's face! Child, I cannot but think that he has intentions towards you,
and I fear they are not good. Goodness, we must be the focus of every eye in
the theatre. I was never so mortified in all my life."
"And
why is that, Aunt Louisa?" Rowena's violet eyes sparkled with curiosity. "How
is it that Lady Bingham knows Malcolm, and why should that distress you so?"
Lady
Belmont shuddered. "She is little more than a lightskirt, and not a
suitable topic for conversation, Rowena. You will not make a friend of Lady
Bingham. I trust you understand me?"
"I
don't think I want to be her friend," answered Rowena frankly. "But I
would like to ask her some questions about Malcolm. I do wish Brayleigh hadn't
taken her away."
Lord
Belmont entered the box, and his wife almost threw herself on his chest. "Take
me home, Jonathan," she demanded. "I feel a spasm coming on. It has
all been too horrible."
"I
saw Lady Bingham in here," said Lord Belmont, looking cautiously at
Rowena. "What did she want?"
Lady
Belmont closed her eyes. "Please, Jonathan. I cannot bear to stay here a
moment longer."
"But
Aunt Louisa, we will miss the rest of the performance," objected Rowena. "It
would look excessively odd if we were to leave immediately after Lady Bingham's
visit to our box. If you are concerned about appearances, it is best that we
stay until at least the next interval."
Lady
Belmont gave Rowena an uncertain look, and then nodded. "Very well. But
not a question out of you, Rowena! If you so much as say Lady Bingham's name
even once we shall leave immediately, gossip or no gossip."
"But
Aunt, I need to know how Lady Bingham came to be acquainted with Malcolm,"
protested Rowena.
"Not
another word, Rowena." Lady Belmont seated herself and glared out over the
sea of faces in the theatre, most of them, it seemed to her, turned towards the
Belmont box. "If you have a shred of feeling for me you will respect my
wishes."
Rowena
seated herself, frustrated at her aunt's refusal to answer questions, and with
her own lively curiosity further roused by the night's events. Perhaps Lady
Bingham knew something that would help to clear Malcolm's name. She would tell
Lord Brayleigh tonight that this was a lead they should definitely follow.
Alaric
dragged Marguerite down the corridor, icy rage stamped on his face. He had
arrived at the opera late, not having meant to attend at all, but drawn there
by his knowledge that Rowena was present. He had been annoyed enough with
himself for yielding to this temptation, but when he had seen Marguerite in the
Belmont box, chatting familiarly with Rowena, a cold hand had seemed to grip
his heart. He could only imagine what she might be saying, and he knew
immediately that he had to stop her. It was unfortunate that her removal from
the Belmont box had to be conducted so publicly, but he had never been one to
shrink from an unpleasant task.
"Alaric,
you're hurting me. And everyone is staring," said Marguerite, her voice
plaintive.
Alaric
stopped, but did not let go of Marguerite's arm. "You deserve to be hurt,
and I have never known you to object to attention," he ground out, staring
down at her. "What do you think you were doing back there?"
"Renewing
my acquaintance with the Belmonts, of course," said Marguerite, her eyes
sparkling with mischief. "And meeting your little Lady Rowena. She's very
charming, my dear, but a trifle naive, don't you think? Rather like a fluffy
white kitten."
"You
may keep your opinion of Lady Rowena to yourself," snapped Alaric. He
glared over her shoulder at Lord Voxley, who stood behind Marguerite, a vacant
look on his handsome face. "Your company is always so charming, Voxley,
but I believe we can dispense with it. I have a matter of a private nature to
discuss with Lady Bingham."
Voxley
gave Marguerite an inquiring glance, and at her nod, strolled off.
"Your
latest toy, Marguerite?" asked Alaric.
"He
amuses me." Marguerite wrenched her arm out of Alaric's grip. "But
not nearly so much as you did. We could have a great deal of fun together
again, Alaric."
"I
am not interested in your sort of fun." Alaric gave a forbidding look to a
matron who looked as though she was about to approach them. She turned away
hastily.
"What
a pity. But I gather you are finding your enjoyment elsewhere. All the talk is
of your intention to seduce little Lady Rowena."
"My
intention to do what?" demanded Alaric.
"To
seduce Lady Rowena." Marguerite turned wide blue eyes on him. "Alaric,
do not look so surprised. No one thinks you seriously wish to marry the girl,
and what other reason can there be for your behavior?"
"My
behavior is none of your business."
Marguerite
shrugged. "Your reputation, of course, cannot be damaged any further. But
Lady Rowena could speedily be ruined. They say you wish to add her to your collection.
Oh, not the one of artwork, of course, but the one of beautiful women. Just
think, Lady Rowena and I shall soon be members of the same company."
"You
are disgusting." Alaric stared down at her beautiful face, wondering how
he could ever have been taken in by her. It seemed impossible that once he had
desired her with a soul-consuming passion.
"At
least I have never killed anyone," said Marguerite sharply.
"Nor
have I," said Alaric. "Not that I care if you believe I did."
"You
have a stone for a heart, Alaric."
"At
least I have one. Yours, my dear, shriveled up and blew away years ago. Now,
you will listen to me. You will stay away from Lady Rowena Arlingby. If I hear
that you have spoken one word to her, that you have even looked at her, you
will find yourself compelled to return to France. Do you understand?"
Marguerite
looked up into Alaric's furious face and shivered. "Why does she mean so
much to you? Do you still want revenge on Malcolm that badly?"
"This
has nothing to do with Malcolm. This has only to do with you and me. I trust
you will obey my orders."
"And
what if Lady Rowena comes to me?" asked Marguerite. "Am I to cut her
dead?"
Alaric
sighed. "Why would Rowena come to you, Marguerite? I am sure she knows her
aunt disapproves of you heartily."
"Because
she has learned I am a friend of her brother's," said Marguerite
artlessly. "Surely the child is curious to know about him."
"You
mean you told her you know Malcolm." Alaric's voice was sarcastic. "If
she comes to you, Marguerite, you are to send her away. She is not to be
bothered by your malice."
"I
am not the one attempting to seduce an innocent, Alaric." Marguerite waved
her fan gently. "You are no better than I am."
"Perhaps
not. Nonetheless, you will not meddle in my affairs." Alaric placed a hand
under her chin and tipped her head up. Their eyes met, his determined, hers
full of challenge. "You will do as I say, or you will regret it. Good
evening, Marguerite."
Alaric
turned on his heel and walked away. Marguerite gazed after him angrily.
"We
shall see, Alaric, who wins in the end," she murmured.
Alaric
dismounted from a hackney cab and signaled to the coachman to wait. He walked
casually down the alley leading to the Belmont garden wall, keeping an alert
eye out to make sure no one was watching him. London was a dangerous city, and
there were always thieves about, but he was well able to defend himself and
felt far more worried that he would be sighted by some inquisitive member of
the
ton
, or a servant, who would doubtless spread gossip.
Alaric
reflected bitterly on Marguerite's behavior earlier at the opera. The sight of
her with Rowena had made him furious, and her obvious attempt to meddle in his
affairs only made him angrier. He would have to keep her away by any means
possible. And he would have to find a way to still her malicious tongue. He
could not have it said that he meant to seduce Rowena. Seduction would mean
marriage, or the girl's ruination, and he could not have either. Still, the
thought lingered in his mind. Rowena would make him a suitable wife, and he
should marry and raise an heir. He resolutely quashed the idea. It was a
foolish notion, brought about by his wish to protect Rowena from Marguerite. She
was a diversion, nothing more, and he would soon be weary of her.
When he
climbed the garden wall a few moments later he found Rowena waiting for him. She
stood near the house, a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders, still dressed
in the shimmering violet gown she had worn at the opera. She looked like a
ghost, the moonlight bathing her in its pale glow, illuminating her own
exquisite fairness. Alaric paused, enchanted by the sight.
Rowena
broke the spell by striding towards him, a determined look on her charming
face. "What did you mean by your behavior tonight?" she demanded. "Why
did you drag Lady Bingham from our box like that?"
Alaric
smiled. Her directness was part of her charm, he thought. He could rely on
Rowena to say exactly what was on her mind.
"I
had the impression that your aunt was not enjoying her company," he said
coolly. "It seemed only polite to rescue her."
Rowena
paused, the annoyance in her expression fading a little. "It was not
because of me?"
Alaric
raised an eyebrow. "I certainly do not think your aunt would consider Lady
Bingham a suitable companion for you."
"Then
you were being prudish. I had not thought it of you, my lord."
"Prudish?
I have been accused of many things in my time, but I believe that is not one of
them." Alaric took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Trust me,
Rowena, you do not want to become acquainted with Lady Bingham."
"Oh,
I do not care to be her friend," said Rowena eagerly. "She seems to
be a remarkably foolish woman. But she knew Malcolm, and has seen him recently,
in Paris! I believe we might be able to get some information from her. You seem
to know her, my lord. Was she acquainted with Malcolm at the time of the
murder?"
"She
certainly was," said Alaric grimly. "But her opinions would be of no
use to us."
"I
don't know how you can say that, my lord. You are obviously a longtime friend
of hers." Rowena's voice sounded a touch perturbed.
"That
is how I know she would be unable to help us, and I would hardly call her a
friend. Lady Bingham is neither observant nor intelligent. If she recalled any
details of the events we are concerned with at all, they would be highly
suspect."
There was
a pause. "How well do you know Lady Bingham, my lord?" asked Rowena
in a small voice. She hated herself for asking the question, but it had simply
popped out against her will. Despite her claim that her only interest in Lady
Bingham was that lady's friendship with Malcolm, deep inside she knew that she
was far more curious about any relationship the woman might have with Lord
Brayleigh.
"She
is an old friend," said Alaric curtly.
"Is
that all?" Rowena's voice was very small.
"What
do you mean by that?" Alaric took her delicate wrists in his hands and
squeezed slightly.
"Only
that you seemed to know each other very well." Rowena's eyes rose to meet
his for a moment and then dropped behind the shield of her long, pale lashes.
Alaric
cursed silently. Rowena was no fool, and she was bound to hear of his past with
Lady Bingham sooner or later. It would be better if she heard it from him,
rather than some gossip, or even worse, Marguerite herself.
"Lady
Bingham was once important to me," he said severely. "That was long
ago and I regret it now."
"Was
she your mistress?"
"Rowena,
you must not talk in that manner." Alaric was genuinely shocked. "That
is not something we should discuss. It is highly improper."
"Nonsense.
I am meeting you alone in a garden in the middle of the night; I can think of
nothing more improper than that. No one watching us would realize that we are
merely friends bent on unraveling a mystery." Rowena spoke airily, hoping
to convince herself. "I need to know about Lady Bingham if I am to
determine whether she would be of help to us or not."
Alaric
grimaced. "I fail to see how she could help. It is entirely unimportant."
"I
believe I should be the judge of that." Rowena folded her arms across her
chest and glared at him.
Alaric
groaned. "Very well. Marguerite was my mistress twelve years ago. I was
very much infatuated with her; I foolishly believed myself to be in love. She
was married already to old Bingham, but we were not at all circumspect, I am
ashamed to admit."
"She
is very beautiful," volunteered Rowena in a wistful voice.
"Very,"
responded Alaric drily. "But you are far lovelier, Rowena."
She
colored and looked away. "Please, continue your story, my lord."
"I
would rather not. It is not a pleasant tale."
Rowena
swallowed. "You must tell me; it is important to me."
Alaric
shrugged, his temper rising slightly. "Your brother also was quite
enamored of Marguerite. He decided he would take her from me. I regret to say
we both behaved like the callow fools we were, and the entire situation came to
have a life of its own."
"Then
your quarrel was not solely about the pearl," said Rowena flatly.
"We
competed over everything, Rowena. Horses, carriages, clothing...women." Alaric
felt his heart sink as her face grew longer.
"But
it began with Lady Bingham."
"If
it had not been her, it would have been something else. Malcolm and I were
destined to want what the other had, I fear."
Rowena
swallowed. "Go on."
Alaric
hesitated, choosing his words with care. "Marguerite decided she would
prefer being the Countess of Brayleigh to Baroness Bingham. She left her
husband and demanded that I help her to obtain a divorce and marry her. I had
for some time been increasingly disillusioned with Marguerite and her behavior;
she encouraged Malcolm and other men shamelessly in an attempt to make me
jealous. I slowly came to realize that she cared not for me, but for my name
and fortune. I told her to go back to her husband."
"And
did she?" asked Rowena.
"She
went to Malcolm instead. It seems that Bingham had thrown her out, cutting her
off without funds. She was ruined socially and needed someone to support her. Two
days later Alfred Ingram was murdered, and when Malcolm fled the country she
went with him. I heard later that she soon left him for a wealthier man. I have
not seen her since."
Rowena
frowned down at the ground. Alaric resisted the almost overwhelming urge to
take her in his arms and try to kiss a smile back onto her face. He would have
to charm her into a better mood before he could satisfy that desire.
"I
am not proud of my behavior, Rowena. It was many years ago, and I hoped I have
learned my lesson."
"What
lesson is that, my lord?" Rowena's voice was nervous and brittle.
"Not
to trust other people and to care for what is mine," answered Alaric. "You
can be very sure I do not repeat my mistakes, Rowena."
"And
Lady Bingham was a mistake?"
"A
very bad one." Alaric's voice was rough. He was uncomfortable discussing
this with Rowena. He did not want her to know of his previous liaisons.
"And
what of Lily Magdalene? She is not a mistake?"
Alaric
jumped as though he had been shot. "How do you know about Lily?"
Rowena
smiled, a bit smugly. "You activities are very well known, my lord. It
took little effort for me to discover the name of your mistress."
"You
have gone altogether too far, Rowena. You and I should not be discussing Lady
Bingham, much less Lily. That is something a gently brought up female does not
know about." Alaric felt as though he was being slowly smothered.
"We
only pretend not to know, my lord. I have made it my business to know as much
as possible about you. It's not that difficult, as you are hardly discreet. All
of London discusses your
affaires
." Rowena felt a touch of
satisfaction at having ruffled his calm.
"Lily
is none of your business, Rowena. A woman like her is a mere convenience.
"Is
she so? And what am I, my lord? Am I also a convenience? Or am I just another
way of competing with Malcolm?" Rowena set her chin at an aggressive
angle.
"Whatever
are you talking about, Rowena? I was under the impression that I was here to
help you attempt to clear your brother's name." Alaric hoped desperately
that Rowena would be distracted by his mention of the mystery she was so intent
on solving.
Rowena
shook her head. She felt a gnawing sense of uncertainty inside her, and sought
desperately to assuage it. "I cannot believe that such a thing truly
interests you, my lord. And our earlier discussion would indicate that you
might perhaps have other motives for pursuing Malcolm Arlingby's sister."
"I
have no intention of seducing you in order to hurt your family," said
Alaric abruptly. "You have far too melodramatic an imagination."
"Have
I?" Rowena tightened her grip on her shawl. "Then what did you intend
by kissing me last night, Lord Brayleigh?"
A gleam
of laughter lit Alaric's eyes. "I meant to give myself—and you--pleasure. Don't
tell me you didn't enjoy it, Rowena. I wouldn't believe you."
Rowena
flushed. The memory of Alaric's kisses had kept her up half the night. "That
is beside the point," she said.
"No,
that is very much the point." Alaric placed his hands on her shoulders,
easing the shawl aside and stroking her petal-soft skin lightly with his
fingertips. He experienced a flash of triumph when he felt a tremor shoot
through her body. He sensed that she felt the same attraction that he did.
Rowena
moved away from his grasp. "My lord, we should consider the further course
of our investigation. I will agree not to speak to Lady Bingham if you can
present me with other areas of inquiry we may pursue. But I reserve the right
to question her at a later date, should I feel it necessary."
Alaric
let her go, his hands falling back to his sides. He watched the gentle line of
her spine as she turned away from him, enchanted by the proud way she held
herself.
"My
lord?"
Alaric
pulled himself back to the garden. "I do have other leads to pursue,"
he said softly. "I spoke to my lawyer today and he has found me the
direction of a laborer on Ingram's estate who was present on the day of the
shooting. I will go there one afternoon this week to speak with him and see if
some new information can be gleaned from his memories. "
Rowena
beamed up at him. "How wonderful. I am sure that he will be an excellent
source. What day shall we go there?"
Alaric
blanched. "We?"
"Of
course I will go with you," said Rowena. "I wouldn't miss this for
the world. It will be far more exciting than a ride in the park or shopping
with Aunt Louisa."
"Rowena,
I am willing to investigate this matter for you, but I do not wish you to
become directly involved." Alaric rubbed his chin absently, his face
concerned. He was happy to pretend to search out information in order to have
access to Rowena, but he did not wish her to accompany him. He was as likely to
find evidence that implicated himself as Malcolm.
"But
of course I will become involved," objected Rowena. "Malcolm is my
brother, after all. And I am sure you could do with my help. A second mind bent
on a task always makes things move along more quickly."
"You
aunt will not allow you to ride out so far with me unchaperoned. It is an
impossibility."
"Aunt
Louisa will be gone for the afternoon two days hence. If you come for me at
two-o-clock, no one will be about to stop us." Rowena smiled sunnily. "As
you will surely have a groom perched behind, to walk the horses while we talk
to this farmer, a chaperone won't be a problem."
"You
cannot wish to be seen driving with me," objected Alaric.