The Duke and the Lady in Red (32 page)

But she had, damn her.

“W
here is she?”

Avendale had barged into Rose's residence and cornered Merrick in the parlor.

“Who?” Merrick asked.

“Rose. Who else would I be looking for?”

“Ack! What are you doing?” Sally asked as she entered the room, and he swung around at her, irritated that she scrambled back as though his anger were directed at her when it was all for Rose.

“Rose ran off this afternoon. I want to know where I'd find her.”

“Ran off? That makes no sense.”

“You haven't seen her?”

She wrung her hands. “Not since poor Harry was laid to rest. Why would she leave?”

He took a deep breath, expelled it, studied both Merrick and Sally. They seemed confounded. Maybe she hadn't left him. Maybe—­but why go out through the back?

“You love her,” Sally said.

He might have, but now . . . dammit all to hell, he still did.

“We had an agreement. She was supposed to—­” He broke off the words because they sounded silly, childish. She was supposed to stay with him. When he'd never declared his feelings, his love, his admiration of her. When he had never truly trusted that she would stay.

“She's free now,” Merrick said. “With Harry gone.”

“Merrick!” Sally scolded. “Don't say such things.”

“But it's true.” He came to stand in front of Avendale. “She loved him. We all loved him. But she never had a chance to be a girl, not really. To be carefree. She always had the responsibility of him, from when she was a child from what I understand. You can't know what a burden that was.”

Only he did know. He'd read Harry's writings. Maybe she'd run off to be with that stupid factory worker in Manchester. She'd known she was leaving, when she'd kissed him publicly on the street outside the seamstress shop. He could see it now, in retrospect, in her voice, her eyes. He thought he'd learned how to read her, that she could never swindle him again. She was an incredible actress and he was more the fool.

“If she comes here—­” What, what was he going to do? Force her to stay with him? “Tell her to knock on the servants' door at my residence, and Edith will deliver her things. She won't have to see me.” And he wouldn't have the opportunity to beg her to stay.

A
vendale sat in a chair by the fireplace in the library and tried to drink himself into oblivion. One moment he was cursing Rose to perdition and the next he was in danger of going in search of her.

She hadn't come here to get her things. How was she going to survive with only the clothes on her back? Why hadn't she just told him that she wanted to leave? Because he had made asinine comments about going after her if she left. She must have felt like a prisoner, mourning not only Harry but the complete loss of her freedom, of choice.

“Your Grace,” Thatcher said.

He lifted his head. He'd gotten out of the habit of locking the damned door when he wanted to be left in peace. “What is it, Thatcher? Can't you see I'm indisposed?” Or would be soon if he had his way.

“Inspector Swindler has come to call.”

Swindler? What the devil did he want? A husband for one of his daughters? “Tell him I'm not at home.”

“I'm not certain that's an option, sir. He says he's here on Scotland Yard business.”

A fissure of unease ratcheted through him. After downing what remained in his glass, he set it aside and stood. “Yes, all right. Send him in.” He counted the seconds—­twelve—­before Swindler strode into the room. “Swindler.”

“Your Grace.”

“How might I be of ser­vice?”

“I fear I'm the bearer of bad tidings. Miss Longmore has been arrested and charged with theft, deliberately misleading merchants into believing she would pay for items bought on credit, and for deceiving more than one person regarding her true nature.”

Avendale stared at him dumfounded. “When . . . how?”

“This afternoon. A gentleman brought her in, collected the reward—­”

“There was a reward offered for her capture?”

He shrugged, sighed. “She has left quite a trail of unhappy folk.”

Was it possible that she hadn't been running away from Avendale but had been trying to outfox this man who might have been after her? Guilt gnawed at him because he hadn't trusted her, because he'd thought the worst. “Make this go away.”

“I can't. She's not denying any of the accusations. As a matter of fact, she willingly confessed to them all.”

Avendale charged across the room, heading for the door. “I must see her.”

“I thought as much.”

R
ose sat at a table in a small room, alone with little except her thoughts. They traveled the road of regret. She'd been so young when she began walking this path, had thought it the only one she could successfully traverse. Perhaps Merrick had been correct, and she should have sought another way, but it had been easier to carry on as she'd begun.

At least Harry hadn't witnessed her downfall. Avendale would no doubt think she'd simply run off. No, he wouldn't think that. He would worry until he saw the account of her arrest in the newspaper. It was bound to be news. Then those she'd swindled would descend like avenging demons wanting a pound of her flesh, leaving her with no way to adequately repay Avendale for all he'd done for Harry.

The door opened and Inspector Swindler strode in. He'd questioned her earlier—­

Avendale followed on the heels of the inspector. Her breath caught, the air backing up painfully in her lungs. She should have known the inspector would alert him. They were connected by some strange sort of history.

Swindler closed the door, then stood in front of it, arms folded over his chest. Avendale pulled out the chair opposite her and sat.

“Are you faring all right?” he asked.

A silly question considering her circumstances, but still she nodded when she desperately wanted to reach out and cradle his face, assure him that she'd had every intention of honoring their bargain.

“Inspector Swindler has explained your situation to me.” He set a piece of paper in front of her. Several names were scrawled over it. “These are the ­people who claim that you . . .”

His voice trailed off as though he found the word unpleasant. She supposed it was one thing to know that in the beginning she'd been dishonest with him. Another entirely to see the evidence of all her transgressions spelled out in such neat script.

“Swindled,” she said briskly, finding the word repugnant on her tongue, not blaming him for feeling the same. “The word for which you're searching is swindled. Or perhaps fleeced.”

“Is this all of them?”

She heard the temper scoring his tone. She wanted him mad, angry, hating her. It would be easier for them both that way. “What difference does it make?”

“I need to ensure that everyone is paid what they are owed so this doesn't happen again.”

He might as well have hit her with a battering ram. Just when she thought it was impossible to love him any more than she already did, he did something like this that made her love him all the more. She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes and threatening to make their presence known. But she could not resist the temptation to lay her hand over his in order to soften the blow of her words. “This is not your debt to pay.”

“Now is not the time to quibble.”

But it was. She would hold firm on this. She would not allow him to save her when she was not worthy of being saved. Sitting back, she merely studied him. She knew every line, every curve, every sharp edge of his face. She would miss seeing them in the future.

“Rose—­”

“No.” She wouldn't succumb to his pleas.

The dark eyes that had so often warmed with passion when he gazed on her now turned brittle and hard. The jaw she had so often kissed jutted out with his anger. His nostrils flared. “We had a bargain, you and I,” he ground out. “You would do all that I wanted for as long as I wanted. I want you to give me every name until I have them all.”

“You can't fix this.”

“I can. Once they are paid, they will drop the charges.”

She laughed. “I'm a criminal, Avendale. Accept it. Let it go. But I do have a favor to ask.”

“No. You won't give me what I want. Why the bloody hell should I do something else for you?”

Because he cared for her. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. She didn't know if what he felt was as deep as love, but it was something. In spite of his anger, his harsh refusal, somehow she knew he would do this for her. “Take my trunk to Merrick. There's a secret compartment. He knows how to access it. He'll find the five thousand there. He and the others are to use it to begin their lives anew.”

“And what of your life?”

“I always knew that eventually it would end here. The guilt over what I'd done weighed so heavily—­as heavily as the boulders that poor Harry had to carry. I'm relieved, really, that it's over. I do regret that I was not able to hold to my end of the bargain I made with you. I came to care for you.”

“Then tell me what I need to know.”

“And then what? We carry on as though nothing happened? Do you not think this will make the newspapers? Tinsdale will see to it, otherwise those who hired him to find me will not pay him. So your mother will know the sort of woman who has been cavorting with her son. And your friends? Do you think they will be pleased to know that a woman who had no compunction whatsoever about taking things and not paying for them sat among them, laughed with them, and took their money? They will be appalled, as well they should be.”

“I don't give a bloody damn! I love you.”

She felt as though the noose were already about her neck and the trap door sprung. He closed his mouth tightly, squeezed his eyes shut.

“You can't,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes, resignation swimming within the dark depths. “I do. I have for some time now.”

She scoffed, released a quick burst of laughter. He loved her. She wanted to curl against him, hold him near, but she had to protect him. She couldn't allow him to ruin his life for her. “What a fool you are. I swear, Avendale, you have been my most successful swindle yet. Dear God, you probably had plans to marry me, have applied for the license.”

“Don't, Rose.”

“Don't what? Be honest with you? From the beginning you were my mark. I lied to you that first night at the Twin Dragons and I have lied to you ever since about everything except Harry. Do you really think that I was going to stay with you, do whatever you wanted, for however long you wanted? I said those words because I knew you would respond to them, just as you respond to my touch. I never planned to stay for overly long.”

“You're lying.”

“Am I? Ask the seamstress. I walked in, I walked out. I wasn't going to order a gown to wear for you. I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, before I could hail a cab, I ran into Tinsdale.”

“How were you going to pay for this cab? You didn't have the five thousand with you.”

“As I pay for all things. With promises.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Be that as it may, they are the most honest words I've ever said to you.”

Eyes narrowed, jaw taut, he studied her. “Have it your way then.” He stood. “I'll have the trunk delivered to Merrick.”

“Thank you.”

“This isn't over between us.”

But it was. He had to see that. He headed for the door.

“Avendale, one more favor.”

He stopped, turned, and her heart nearly broke at the look of stoicism on his face.

“Please don't attend my trial,” she said quietly.

He gave a brusque nod before walking out of the room. With his leaving, she felt herself wither, felt the tears she'd been holding at bay pushing to be set free. But if she began to weep now for all that she'd lost, she feared she'd never stop.

He'd never know how much he'd given her, never know that she loved him more than life itself. Never know what it had cost her to lie through her teeth and send him away.

T
here wasn't going to be a bloody trial. If it took every last farthing he possessed, every favor owed, his soul sold to the devil.

Avendale walked out of that tiny room and into the hallway at Scotland Yard. She'd looked so brave, so stoic, so alone. As though she'd given up on him, given up on them. He should leave her to rot in prison. But he couldn't because she'd come to mean everything to him. He knew her, understood her. Knew she had spouted lies in an attempt to protect him. It was what she did.

She knew how scandalous it would be for him to have a swindling female at his side.

“What now?” Swindler asked.

Avendale turned to face him. “I intend to find them all. I could use your help.”

Swindler gave a brusque nod. “I'll do what I can.”

“I know where to begin.”

Avendale suspected that Swindler did as well, but as he had other pressing matters to see to as a result of his position with Scotland Yard, Avendale carried on without him. The three who gathered within Rose's parlor were shocked, but not the least bit surprised when he announced that she'd been arrested. They were, however, understandably distressed.

“She was taking too many chances,” Merrick stated as he paced before the empty hearth. “I tried to warn her, but she's a stubborn one, won't listen.”

“There's nothing to be gained in placing blame,” Sally said, swinging her gaze to Avendale. She'd offered tea, which he'd declined. She now sat in a chair, her feet not touching the floor. She should have looked like a child. Instead she appeared to be a lioness, determined to find a way to protect her cub. “At least now we know she wasn't running from you but from Tinsdale, the little weasel.”