The Stranger She Married (30 page)

"But the baron has gone on business and won't be back for several more days."

"Have your abigail pack your things. We leave first thing in the morning."

She nodded, not questioning his use of the word ‘we.'

Cole made sure she was steady and in the care of her competent, sympathetic maid before telling his own valet, Stephens, to pack for him as well.

He went to White's to meet his brother Grant, who'd agreed to see him. Inside the club, he found Grant sitting in a comfortable armchair in the shadows. He looked as if he sat lost in thought and nursing a drink, but a covert alertness told Cole that Grant listened to every conversation around him and saw everyone who entered. Grant possessed the uncanny abilities of a chameleon. He could blend in with even the roughest thugs in London's streets one moment, and consort with royalty the next. Of course, he seemed to prefer the thugs over the royalty. As the black sheep of the family, Grant delighted in not only snubbing polite company, but grappling in the streets with thieves and murderers.

Cole pulled up a chair and sat. “Grant."

"Cole.” Grant's eyes glittered in the firelight. People often remarked that Grant looked the least like the Amesbury brothers, but Cole thought he bore a vague resemblance to Jared. All four brothers had the same build, but Grant's eyes were steely gray, while the other brothers’ eyes were shades of blue. Grant's hair was darker, as if reflecting his dark soul. He looked the most hardened with a long, ragged scar that ran the length of his face. He'd come home from the war with it, and had never offered an explanation. He'd always possessed a rather cutting sense of humor, but he'd returned home more caustic, and more closed up.

"Mind telling me why you summoned me here?” Grant growled.

"I need your help."

Grant's expression did not change, but he raised one brow slightly and spoke in dry tones. “How quaint. The eldest asking his younger brother for help. Why don't you ask Jared?"

"He's indisposed. And I need your particular skills."

"I see.” Grant sounded bored, but his eyes lit.

Cole paused. “I want you to keep this confidential."

"Of course.” Grant waved impatiently.

Cole took a deep breath and plunged in. He described the events as they had unfolded, beginning with the duel and ending with the death of Willard Palmer. Grant listened without interrupting, his expression never changing.

When Cole finished speaking, Grant nodded absently. “You're right. This is part of a grander scheme. I need to question her, see if there are any other incidents she may believe were unconnected at the time."

Cole paused. “Ah, I don't want her to know yet. Either that she's in danger, or that I've contacted anyone."

Grant looked disgusted. “You're in love with her."

Cole sighed and braced himself for the sarcastic comment he knew Grant's cynical mind was formulating. “I am."

Grant made an inarticulate noise of revulsion, but instead of the insult Cole expected, he asked, “Exactly how involved are you with her?"

Now that was a question. Cole hesitated, but knew that if he withheld any information, his brother would unravel it on his own anyway, which would create further complications. Cole answered truthfully, not leaving out any pertinent information. Surprisingly, there was no judgmental frown in Grant's face, only an absorption of facts.

A rare smile touched one side of his mouth. “You are in a corner."

Cole let out his breath slowly. “That's putting it mildly."

"I'll begin immediately. Meanwhile, question her discreetly, and keep your eyes open for anyone who might wish the family harm. We have no motives and no suspects, yet.” His eyes glittered at the thought of the hunt.

Cole almost shivered at the feral glint in Grant's eye. “I'll send word if I find anything else."

Grant asked more background questions regarding her parents, nodded, and left without preamble. Cole returned home to dash off a few quick notes and made the necessary arrangements. After spending the night pacing and agonizing over decisions he had to make, he made sure the groom hitched his favorite horse, André, to the baron's coach. The servants loaded Alicia's trunks while she waited in the foyer, dressed in traveling clothes.

Soulful eyes greeted him. “I posted a message to my husband but he will not have even received it yet. I don't know what business he had that could not be conducted in London. I thought business is what brought us here.” She clenched together her hands.

"I'm here for you, Alicia,” he said gently.

She glanced at the servants, but they waited at a discreet distance and would not overhear her words. “And may I be assured that you will behave as a gentleman?"

Her words, though certainly valid, stung. He drew himself up. “I give you my word."

She nodded wearily.

Keeping his word proved easier than he'd feared as they traveled together over the next few days on the way back to Alicia's former home.

Stephens and Monique rode with them in the same coach which left Cole little opportunity to break his promise. Stephens worked his Romany charm with Monique. They flirted and laughed most of the way, leaving Alicia to stare out of the window and Cole to watch her with growing hunger.

Late one evening after dinner, they sat in a sitting room of an inn. The quaint inn felt warm and restful, but the tension in the room mounted. Cole gave up trying to read after he realized he had been staring at the same page for an hour, and turned his attention to Alicia.

Her head bent over her embroidery, her expression serene except for the tiny frown of concentration at her brow, yet she remained unusually quiet.

"Alicia, what troubles you?"

She looked up at him in surprise. “I apologize if I have been poor company."

He waited.

She lowered her hands and rested her needlework on her lap. “I'm concerned about Robert. And troubled about Uncle Willard's death. And I ... I wish Lord Amesbury could have come with us."

Cole leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs in front of him. “Do you always speak of him as Lord Amesbury, or the baron? Have you never called him by his given name? Even in private?"

Alicia flushed. “No, I suppose not. I never think of him that way."

"Are you so unhappy with him then?"

She glanced at him sharply and looked away. “No, of course not. I have been content. Why do you continue to ask me that?” Her voice sharpened.

"I only want to see you happy, Alicia.” Cole braced himself for the tirade he knew would follow—he should not ask such personal questions, he is a reprobate for trying to steal his cousin's wife, he is without honor—and she would be right on all accounts.

Instead, her voice quieted. “He spends little time at home. And now when I need him, he's away.” She stopped as if she had revealed more than she thought prudent.

"He would have been here for you if he had known,” Cole suggested as kindly as he could, wishing he could just be rid of Nicholas.

"I'm not so sure."

"You don't doubt him, do you?"

"I'm not certain of anything."

When the silence deepened, Cole pressed. “What else ails you?"

She drew a breath. “I feel guilty for harboring such unkind feelings for Uncle Willard."

Exasperated, he said, “Alicia, the man practically sold you to the highest bidder."

"He had few options. Some men simply discard unwanted relations, but he took Hannah and me in."

Outside, lightning flashed, followed by the slow rumble of distant thunder. A moment later, the pattering of raindrops fell against the window. She stared unseeing out the darkened window before speaking again.

"And now, Robert has no other family. His mother died years ago. His sister died as a child. He and Hannah were never close. Armand is gone. Now, his father. He is completely alone."

"He has you,” Cole said softly.

She turned to look at him as if she had forgotten he was there and her lips curved in a brave, mirthless smile. “He doesn't. Not anymore.” She arose, her needlework forgotten. “I believe I shall go to bed. Good night."

He forced himself to remain still. Not gather her up into his arms and kiss her. Not scoop her up and carry her to his room. “Good night."

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They pulled up in front of the Palmer manor house. Alicia regarded the structure with mingled dread and affection. Her whole life had been spent here. Joys and sorrows she had experienced here threatened to overwhelm her. As if sensing her rising emotions, Cole reached out and took her hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze. To her surprise, it helped.

As she and Cole alit from the carriage, a butler Alicia had never seen before opened the door and a plump, motherly woman greeted them. The estate still appeared slightly understaffed, but at least it was functional. Every surface gleamed under constant care now.

"Good day, Lady Amesbury. I'm Mrs. Dobbs, the head housekeeper.

Alicia introduced Cole as Lord Amesbury, her husband's cousin. She also introduced Stephens whose teeth flashed against his darkly handsome face, and Monique, whose eyes flitted over the bare interior with a hint of condescension after the much finer baron's home.

"Your rooms are prepared,” Mrs. Dobbs said. She directed footmen as to where to place the trunks.

Hannah flew to her and broke down in Alicia's arms. “Lissie!"

"Good heavens, Hannah. Are you ill?"

Hannah's letters had not reflected her poor health, and seeing her sister thusly was a shock. The pallor of her skin approached gray, and her golden hair had lost all of its former luster. Her eyes looked dull and lifeless and her body felt gaunt.

"Oh, it's been simply terrible without you,” Hannah sniffed. “And Robert..."

"Where is he? Is he home?” When Hannah could not speak, Alicia glanced at the housekeeper.

"Mr. Palmer is still abed, my lady."

Alarm began in Alicia's stomach. “Is he unwell, then?"

"He's been deep in his cups,” said Hannah. “Worse than ever. He keeps mumbling something about his family being taken from him as punishment for all his past misdeeds."

"Oh, poor Robert. I will see to him at once."

Hannah nodded. “I knew you'd make it all right now that you're here."

Alicia never failed to be both touched and overwhelmed by Hannah's trust in her to resolve every problem. “Why don't you go lie down, Hannah? I'll see to Robert."

Alicia knocked at the door of Robert's room. There was no answer, of course. She opened the door to find a shapeless heap on the bed, reeking of spirits. She threw open the draperies and let the sun shine in.

"Wake up, Robert. It's tea time."

An incoherent mumble replied.

"Robert, I have made a very long journey, and I expect a civil greeting. Get up, or I will be forced to take drastic measures."

The mumble turned into a grumble.

"I shall go and change out of my traveling clothes, and then I will return. If you are not awake by then, you will regret it."

"Hmmmphmm."

Alicia went to her old room, and with Monique's aid, changed into an afternoon gown and re-styled her hair. Overcome by nostalgia, Alicia picked up and set down every object within the room while Monique unpacked her things. Though the last year and a half since she lost first Armand and then her parents had been a difficult, lonely time, there were so many other memories here. On the wall by the window were tiny marks that
Maman
had made, measuring Alicia's height as she grew. The window seat, worn and faded, reminded her of rainy days spent reading, or learning embroidery, or simply dreaming. Several books, carefully dusted, remained sitting on the bookshelf.

She picked one up and opened it to find a tiny sprig of violets pressed into the pages; a token of young love her first ever suitor had given her. The top drawer of the desk held the secret compartment where she had hidden many childish treasures over the years.

Her first impulse was to call Cole and share it with him, but that would not be appropriate; respectable ladies never invited gentlemen into their boudoirs. The gentleman she should be inviting to her room was her husband, and for completely different reasons.

What a stubborn fool she had been. Cole had offered to elope with her, and looking back, she realized that she should have accepted. Though the social ramifications would certainly have been unpleasant, as the eldest son of an earl, he might have been able to deflect much of the criticism. Now that she knew him, she knew he surely would have tried to shield her from the difficulties. Her hatred of him had been entirely misplaced. If she'd married him, she would be with him. As his wife. In every way.

Instead, she was married to a man whose face she'd never seen, who, in many ways, remained a stranger. A man she had never tried to accept, but who was good to her. There were things she admired about him, others she loved about him. He was intelligent, kind and patient, and possessed the heart of a poet. She'd never met such a gentle soul. He valued her as a person and never indicated he thought of women as annoyances, or even commodities. And, more importantly, she truly believed he was not only fond of her, but would be faithful to her because he was a man capable of forbearance.

Unlike Cole. Despite his assurances to the contrary, she did not delude herself into believing that Cole's life of debauchery would magically transform into one of fidelity after he wed. Her heart could never survive such betrayal by a man she loved.

For a number of reasons, it would be best to nurture her feelings for her husband and avoid developing any sort of feelings for Cole.

Too late.

Frowning, she went back into Robert's room. As expected, the lump in his bed had not moved. Alicia firmly grabbed the blankets and threw them back revealing Robert sprawled in bed, naked from the waist up. She glared at him. His snoring never broke rhythm. She took the pitcher from the washbasin and carefully poured it over his head and torso.

He came up swearing and sputtering. When he recognized his assailant, he glowered at her, his wet hair dripping into his eyes. “Confound it, woman, are you trying to drown me or give me my death of cold?” Rubbing a hand over his stubbled face, he staggered out of bed.