A Dangerous Love (39 page)

But one thing you should know. He said he wanted so desperately to find you because he loved you. You may make of that what you will. He seemed in earnest, but I am not a good judge of either his or his friend’s honesty, for both have repeatedly played us false. He might have said it only to get what he wanted from me
.

Indeed, his friend, that scurrilous scoundrel
…

Rosalind paid no attention to her sister’s ranting about Daniel. Helena distrusted men in general, so
she was sure to feel most unfavorably toward Daniel now that he’d proven to be a highwayman’s son and erstwhile smuggler.

Instead she reread the paragraph about Griff saying he loved her. She clutched the letter to her chest and stared blindly off into the street. Could it be true? Surely even Griff wouldn’t speak so cruel a lie only to gain an advantage.

Then again…She reread the letter from beginning to end, her heart sinking as she realized that Helena made no mention of the certificate. Even if Griff thought that he meant what he said, it was only words. As long as he proceeded with his dark intentions, she couldn’t ever believe he loved her.

Or was she being unfair? He’d spent all his childhood under a cloud, and now that he wanted to dispel it she wouldn’t let him. Was that small-minded? Was she asking too much of him?

Dear God, she wished she knew. Because the truth was, she’d not had a moment’s peace from the time she’d left him until now. Despite all the wonders of London and the intriguing aspects of the theater, she missed him sorely. The thought of being an actress paled in comparison to the thought of loving Griff.

She wasn’t, after all, like Mrs. Inchbald—willing to do whatever it took to gain success in the theater. Some things were more important than that to her, she was rapidly discovering. And she very much feared that all the success at acting in the world wouldn’t make her happy if she couldn’t have Griff.

Griff paced his office impatiently while Daniel gave his report.

“No one at the Pantheon or the Lyceum has heard of her,” Daniel said, “and there’s been no new actresses at all to hire on. I spoke with all the agents
for the troupes, but no one they’d hired sounded like her either.”

“Perhaps she’s in disguise. There’s no telling what Rosalind will do.”

“I doubt she’d go so far as to work in disguise, Griff,” Daniel said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “If you wish, I’ll try to get a look at each woman, but that will take weeks as they’ve been sent off to join their troupes already.”

Feeling the same helpless terror that had tormented him for the past few days, Griff halted at the window to stare out at the teeming streets that might or might not hide Rosalind. “I tried Drury Lane yesterday, but their two new actresses are both blond and short. You know Sheridan’s tastes. Kemble in Covent Garden said he hadn’t hired anyone new other than the cousin of that playwright Mrs. Inchbald. I don’t think Rosalind would consider the burletta or pantomime houses, but we’ll try the Adelphi and the Olympic this afternoon.”

“And when you find her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if she ran off to avoid marrying you before, what makes you think she’ll marry you now?”

He gripped the windowsill. “I don’t know that she will. Some things have changed since she and I last talked, but it may be too late to make a difference. All I want is to be sure she’s safe. I must know that, at least.”

Days of worrying about her, of contemplating the dire things that might have happened to her, had nearly driven him mad.

“What has changed since you talked?” Daniel asked. “Didn’t she give you the certificate? She won’t be any more likely now to stand idly by while you use it than she was before.”

Griff flinched at Daniel’s cold tone. It was hard to
remember what he’d been like only days ago, before he’d realized the true depths of his selfishness, which had driven Rosalind to flee from him. “I’ve decided not to act on the certificate until the earl dies. After that, we can all claim that the certificate was found among some old forgotten papers. It’s better for the women that I inherit the property, since otherwise it would go to someone else or even to the Crown if no heir is found. But I’ll do my best to preserve his good reputation and make it seem as if the court case were all simply a tragic oversight.”

“Had a change of heart, have you?” Daniel said quietly.

“Yes.” He left it at that, his thoughts full of worry about Rosalind.

Of course, that didn’t put Daniel off in the least. “So you’re not concerned about your delegation to China anymore?”

“No, damn it! You were right—I was wrong. Now can we stop discussing it? I have more important things to consider.” He drummed his fingers on the sill. “Who have we left out? Perhaps we should go over that list of theaters again.”

Daniel drew out the list, but said, “The lass has certainly got you by the ballocks, hasn’t she?”

“That’s not the only thing she’s got me by,” Griff said quietly. Daniel could torment him endlessly about Rosalind, but he wouldn’t rise to the bait. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

“She’ll be all right, you know.” Daniel’s voice held pity. “She’s a hardy thing, your Rosalind. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry?” Griff threaded his fingers through his hair distractedly. “It’s as if she vanished without a trace, as if she—”

He broke off at the sound of a loud commotion
outside his office, followed by the dramatic entrance of the one woman Griff did not want to see just then. His mother.

His clerk rushed in after her, red-faced and worried. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Knighton, I tried to explain you were in a meeting, but—”

“In a meeting, hah!” his mother snapped at the clerk. “Can’t you see he’s merely talking to Daniel?”

Griff waved his agitated clerk off. “It’s all right. Go on back to work.”

As soon as the door closed, his mother strode up to him, her slender shoulders shaking with anger. “Where the devil have you been? You disappear, and nobody will tell me where you went or when you’ll return. Though they did tell me you’d taken Daniel.” She paused in her tirade to shoot Daniel a chastening look.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Knighton,” Daniel said cheerily. “Nice to see you again. You’re looking quite lovely today.”

“Don’t try your flatteries on me, Danny. I know your ways, and I don’t fall for them like all your tarts. I should have known you’d have a hand in this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She turned her glare on Griff. “
Both
of you. I thought you said you’d put all that unsavory business behind you. That you and Daniel weren’t going off on any more secret trips to God knows where—”

“I was in Warwickshire, Mother.”

She blinked. “Warwickshire? Whatever for?”

“To visit our mutual friend, the Earl of Swanlea. I was invited.”

She paled to an unnaturally sickly color. “
He
invited you? But…but why?”

Griff shot Daniel a glance, and the man beat a hasty retreat. Daniel might have a certain affection for the only woman he ever allowed to call him
“Danny,” but he knew better than to stay around when the generally mild-mannered woman was upset.

Once Daniel was gone, Griff leaned back against the windowsill and folded his arms over his chest. He’d hoped to delay this until he’d settled things with Rosalind, but now that his mother was here…

Briefly, he related the story of the letter he’d received and how he’d gone off to Warwickshire with the intention of retrieving the marriage certificate without having to marry one of the spinsters. It was more difficult to explain why he’d wanted it, for now that he’d seen the error of his ways, his motives shamed him. He knew his mother wouldn’t approve, yet he had to tell her all of it, partly because she deserved to know the truth. And partly because he wanted the truth from her.

It took her a moment to digest his tale, but when she did, she sank into a nearby chair. Silver curls bobbed beneath the brim of her bonnet as she shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Did you…did you manage to find the marriage certificate?”

“I did.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled it out and handed it to her.

Her fine-boned fingers stroked the paper wonderingly. “So he really had it all this time. He really…stole it. I was never sure.”

“Yes, he admitted it.”

Her gaze shot to his in alarm. “You talked to him about it?”

He nodded, then dragged in a weighty breath. “Indeed, he told me…” He paused, wondering how one asked one’s mother such a question. “He said…that is, he claimed you were in love with him before you married Father. He even claimed you told him you were still in love with him on your wedding day. That was his reason for stealing
the certificate—partly to punish you for not marrying him and partly to gain what he saw as a fairer division of the Swanlea properties.”

His mother’s silence, coupled with her haunted expression, made something twist in his chest, yet a quest for truth drove him on. Shoving away from the window, he strode to his desk. “Of course, I called him a liar to his face.” He paused, half-fearing to ask the question, half-fearing not to hear the answer. “He
was
lying, wasn’t he?”

When she didn’t answer, he turned to see his mother crying silently, fat tears rolling down her thin cheeks. He struggled for air. “It was a lie. Tell me it was all lies.”

She lifted an anguished gaze to him. “I was so young, Griff, and lonely for attention. My father was too busy managing the theater in Stratford to pay me much heed, but Percival…he shared my love for plays and protected me when boys insulted me and made advances. He was living at Swan Park as the previous earl’s ward. That was long before I met your father, who was off at school. Percival and I…became close. He wasn’t like other men I knew. He was a gentleman, and he always flattered me. When you’re seventeen, you like to be flattered.”

Griff gripped his hands together behind his back. “But did you
love
him, Mother?”

A look of deep sorrow settled over her still pretty features. “Yes, I did love him. Very much. But I knew he had no future. He was something of a wastrel, whereas your father—”

“Was the heir presumptive to the fourth Earl of Swanlea,” Griff snapped, wondering how he could have so misunderstood everything from his childhood, how he could have let it blindly shape so much of his life.

His mother set her shoulders stubbornly the way
she always did when she was cornered. “Yes. Your father had a future, a very bright one. When he came to stay at Swan Park and both he and Percival would visit me, I found I liked him. I didn’t love him as I did Percival, but I liked him. I knew if I married Percival, we’d be…poor and always looking for income. And I’d grown up poor. I despised it. I wanted something better.”

Though he certainly understood that, he couldn’t help comparing his mother’s response to Rosalind’s. Rosalind would never have married to avoid being poor—not his Athena. “Well, if it was poverty you were avoiding, Fate certainly paid a cruel trick on you, didn’t it?” he said, somewhat unkindly.

She regarded him with a melting sadness. “No. Fate meted out a suitable punishment. That’s how I consider it. I married your father for his prospects rather than following my heart, and I paid for it later.” A wan smile touched her lips. “I did grow to feel a deep affection for Leonard, you know. He was quite the rakish character. When you were born, I was so happy I thought I’d die of it. My husband was to be a wealthy earl, and I’d borne him his heir to the title. I was beside myself with joy.”

The smile faded abruptly, and she glanced away. “But such happiness isn’t meant for mere mortals, especially when gained at the expense of someone else. I treated Percival very badly. I didn’t even have the decency to…lie to him on my wedding day, to tell him I didn’t care for him. He looked so lost, so forlorn, and I foolishly thought it would help him to know I still cared.” A shudder wracked her delicate frame. “It only hurt him further when he realized I simply didn’t love him enough.”

“And he nursed that hurt for months,” Griff finished coldly. “So when you and Father flaunted
your ‘happiness’ in front of him by inviting him to see me as a baby, he lashed out. That’s when he stole the certificate and had me proclaimed a bastard.”

Her gaze swung to his, full of remorse. “I wish to God I could have kept you from that suffering, my son. I deserved to suffer, but you certainly didn’t. I’d hoped that your father and I could shield you, could prevent it from mattering too much.” She shook her head. “Once he died of smallpox so young, however…”

Griff’s throat felt swollen and raw. “That’s why whenever I railed at Swanlea, you told me not to. Why you never railed against him yourself. Why you never blamed him or sought revenge.”

“How could I blame him? I drove him to it.” She paused, then asked shakily, “Is that what you’re doing now with the certificate, seeking your revenge against him?”

Two weeks ago, such a question would have infuriated him, probably because despite all his denials, it had been somewhat true. “No. Not anymore. That might once have been part of my intention, but now…” He scrubbed his hands wearily over his face. “I suppose I should thank you for not marrying him. If you had, I would never have been born. And neither would Rosalind.”

“Rosalind?”

An urgent need to tell her about the one he loved possessed him. “Swanlea’s daughter, the middle one. I’d hoped to marry her. But she…” He swallowed down the bitter lump in his throat and sat down wearily behind his desk. “She took exception to my plans for the certificate and ran off before I could tell her I’d decided not to use it. I haven’t yet found her. I think…I hope she’s somewhere in London.” He stared blindly past his mother. “I pray
she’s at one of the theaters and not on the road being—” He broke off, unable to voice his terror.

“Do you love her?”

He nodded.

“Does she love you?”

“She said she did.”

His mother rose and came to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Then do what you must to find her and win her back, my son. Because no one knows more than I how important it is to follow your heart.”