Deliciously Wicked (15 page)

G
areth had no sooner stepped up to his machine than he was summoned to Mr. Piddington's office. There was no mention of Meg, but no one else had ever used her father's office. Then again, she'd never sent another worker for him, had always stopped by his machine herself and requested his presence. He climbed the stairs, all too aware of the eyes that followed him.

He knocked once before an unfamiliar voice replied, “You may enter.”

Meg had said her father was healing quickly, but this seemed a little fast. Gareth opened the door and stepped into the office. He spotted Munden first, grinning widely. Behind the desk stood another man. A man far too young to be Mr. Piddington.

Gareth frowned. “What is this about?”

“Mr. Mandeville, I am Henry Sanders. Mr. Piddington's factory director. Mr. Munden here called
me in this morning to attend to some unfortunate business.”

Henry Sanders was not a tall man, but he was slim as a rail and his light brown hair was thinning on top, although he did his best with the comb to disguise that fact. Gareth suspected the director was close to his own age, perhaps a few years older.

“Unfortunate business?” Gareth asked.

“It appears that you are in a bit of trouble,” Sanders said.

Gareth released a great breath. “If Mr. Munden has called you out here because he believes I took those chocolate boxes, I could have saved you a trip. He has no proof and I maintain my innocence.”

“Do you have an alibi, sir?” Henry asked.

“No,” Gareth said tightly. At least not one he could use.

Sanders nodded. “That is a pity, Mr. Mandeville, as there does seem to be some incriminating proof that was discovered recently.”

“What proof?”

He held up a box that had been on the chair behind him. One of the missing boxes.

“Where did you find that?” Gareth asked.

“In your locker,” Munden said, then hid a laugh behind a wheezing cough.

“That is enough, Mr. Munden,” the director chided.

Gareth felt rage coiling through his stomach. “You son of a bitch,” he said. He took a few steps toward Munden.

“I wouldn't do something you might regret,” Sanders said. “Nothing will be done today, as far as your position here, Mr. Mandeville, but I'm afraid I must bring
this to the attention of Mr. Piddington. I will be leaving for a meeting with him at the conclusion of this one. Is there anything that you would like me to tell him on your behalf?”

“Yes. You can tell him that this sniveling bastard has toyed with the wrong man, and I will see this righted.”

Sanders nodded, but his expression never changed. “Will that be all?”

“That will be all,” he mimicked. “Now if you don't mind, gentlemen, I'm going to work.”

“Very good. I will report back with you tomorrow and let you know how Mr. Piddington wishes to proceed.”

Gareth said nothing, simply turned his back and slammed the door behind him. The bastard had planted that box and then called in Piddington's workhorse to do the dirty work. Had the anonymous benefactor provided Munden with the missing box?

Munden was the thief in this factory. The secret lay in discovering the identity of the author of that anonymous note. Why had he stood by and done nothing while Meg and her friends did all the work? It was his own damn fault he was in this predicament.

It might not be the same situation his father had been in, but like his father he'd taken the lazy route, and look where it had landed him. Thank goodness Gareth didn't have a wife and children who could be affected by his lack of action. He'd been a fool to sit idly by while someone worked very hard to frame him, and if he didn't work quickly, they were going to succeed.

 

“What did you wish to speak with me about, Papa?” Meg asked as he entered her father's study. His leg had
healed enough that he was now able to maneuver the stairs without the assistance of servants.

He waited until she'd taken a seat in the leather chair. He wasn't smiling, and that concerned her. He'd had a similar somber look the day he'd told her that her mother was not coming home.

Today would bring bad news; she could smell it in the air.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Sit down and then we'll visit. Meggie, you are not going to be pleased, but it seems your Mr. Mandeville is, in fact, guilty.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “But how could that be?” What could possibly have happened since the last time she'd seen Gareth? It made no sense. He'd been with her and there was no way he'd gotten back into the factory later that night. He was innocent. She was certain of that.

“Munden called Henry to the factory this morning to handle the situation. Apparently the foreman discovered one of the missing boxes in Mr. Mandeville's locker at work.”

Munden was still working to frame Gareth. Had he received another note? She frowned. “But Papa, why would Gareth keep something he'd stolen in a place where people could find it? Not only that, but I believe Mr. Munden had searched Gareth's locker on a previous occasion and found nothing.”

Her father nodded. “I agree it doesn't make sense, but people that steal rarely do,” her father said. “I'm sorry, Meggie, I know you wanted him to be innocent.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“He will lose his position.” Her father took a deep breath. “I can't overlook this.”

“Has anyone spoken to Gareth yet?” she asked.

“Henry spoke with him this morning. Apparently Gareth was none too pleased.”

“Well, obviously not. You wouldn't be too pleased either if someone was manipulating evidence to blame you for a crime.” She did nothing to hide the sarcasm from her voice.

His eyebrows raised. “So you are still maintaining his innocence?” her father asked.

“I most certainly am.” She folded her arms across her chest. “This isn't about me being right. It's not an issue of my pride. It's an issue of truth.”

“I do believe this will end in disappointment for you, Meggie,” he said.

“Perhaps.” Her father had never spoken words of greater truth. Although disappointment was an understatement. This had started, more than anything, as a quest to snare a thief and prove to her father that she was responsible enough to manage the factory. Along the way, though, it had become much more. A man's future was at stake. A man she cared for.

She would prove Gareth's innocence, and then he'd be out of her life and she'd have to recall all those reasons she'd sworn off marriage. She wasn't about to stand by and allow Gareth to be wronged this way. But she needed more time.

She went to her father and knelt beside his chair. “Do something for me, Papa.”

“Ah, my girl, when you look at me that way, I have no choice. But within reason, please,” he said.

He was always so good with her. “Allow me one
day. One day to set this right. Before you dismiss him. If I cannot do so, then you may continue with your plans.”

“Very well. One day, Margaret, that is all you get. Do you understand?”

He only ever called her by her given name when he was trying to be firm. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes. Thank you, Papa. Oh, how I love you.” And with that, she came to her feet and ran out of the room. There was much to be done and very little time to do it. What she needed now was some counsel. She summoned a carriage, then raced to her room to gather her cloak and reticule. Perhaps Charlotte would know what to do.

 

Meg spent the entire drive trying to come up with something to save Gareth's future. She could easily go to her father and tell her all they'd discovered about Munden, although she'd have to convince Gareth to give her the ledger sheets. But—without the note they'd found—that only proved Munden was stealing money; it did nothing for the accusations of Gareth's theft.

Now, somehow, they had one of the boxes as proof. Despite Munden's guilt, she still needed to prove Gareth's innocence. She knocked on the drawing room door at the Reed town home, and immediately it opened.

“Meg!” Frannie, Charlotte's younger sister, embraced Meg enthusiastically.

“Frannie, let her go before you knock her over,” Charlotte said from across the room.

Frannie did as she was instructed, then glared at her sister. “Stop calling me that!” she said, then smiled
at Meg. “I apologize. It's been so long since you've stopped by.”

“Yes, it has. I think you've grown even taller,” Meg said. It was remarkable how the two sisters favored each other in stature, but the resemblance ended there. Charlotte had glossy-straight hair the color of a raven's wing, with contrasting bright blue eyes, whereas Frannie had blond wavy hair with exotic brown eyes. Different, but both strikingly beautiful.

“You must be almost to Charlotte's height by now,” Meg said.

“Nearly,” Frannie agreed.

“I'm assuming this isn't precisely a social call,” Charlotte said, looking up from her mending.

“I need advice,” Meg said.

Her friend set her mending aside. “Frannie, go play with your dolls,” Charlotte said.

“I do not find you humorous.” Frannie glared at her sister.

Charlotte took a deep breath. “I apologize, dear sister. Frances, would you please allow myself and my friend some privacy to discuss something?”

Despite their seemingly hostile relationship, Meg knew that both sisters would do anything for each other. Meg felt a pinch of jealousy to have never known what it would be like to have siblings.

Frannie gave her a forced smile. “Certainly, dear sister.”

After the tall blond had left the room, Meg turned to Charlotte. “You shouldn't goad her so.”

“I know it. I simply can't help myself.”

“She certainly has grown. I don't suppose I've seen her for a while,” Meg said.

“I think she's grown nearly a head taller in the last year. But I don't think you came to discuss my pesky younger sister.”

“No, I didn't.” Meg paced the length of the faded Persian rug. “I'm at a loss for what to do.”

“I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is,” Charlotte pointed out.

Meg stopped, then gave her a quick smile. “You're right. I'm so nervous though.” She recounted the discussion she'd had only an hour before with her father. “So you see, I'm the only alibi he has, but to do this would ruin me.”

“Are you that concerned with that?” Charlotte asked.

“To be honest, I don't know.”

“Some time ago, you decided you would never marry. Do you still feel the same?” Charlotte asked.

She still felt the same. Still had the same desire for her own family. And still believed that was not to be. Unfortunately Gareth had made those desires hard to ignore these past few weeks. More than ever she wanted to allow herself the joys of being a wife and mother. But the joys would not last and the pain that would follow could possibly destroy her. She couldn't afford the risk. “Yes, I still feel the same. I have no desire to marry,” she lied.

Charlotte nodded, but there was no agreement on her face. “Being a ruined woman would certainly give you some freedom. Allow you to work at the factory without anyone thinking twice about it.”

“I suppose you're right. So you think I should give him the alibi, then?”

“That's not what I said. I was merely pointing out something you might not have considered.” Charlotte
set her gaze on Meg. “There is also the possibility that Gareth will do the honorable thing and marry you.”

Meg's heart gave a small catch. She hadn't even considered that. “No, that will never happen.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“He was adamant about this point the first time I tried to give him this alibi. He made it quite clear that marrying me was the last thing he wanted to do,” Meg said.

“But that was before you knew him, correct? He might have changed his mind since then.”

So much had changed since then, but Meg knew none of that would mean anything. “But I don't believe it would matter to him.”

“Is he so heartless to leave you deserted and ruined?”

Gareth wasn't heartless, but he had warned her that he had no desire to marry her. Making this decision without him would seal her fate, and she wouldn't blame him for turning away from her.

“I don't think you should be quite so insistent on that. You never can tell what a man will do. What of all the embraces you've shared? They must mean something to him.” Charlotte frowned in concern. “
You
must mean something to him.”

Meg wouldn't even allow herself to hope for such a thing. Her friend meant well, but Meg knew that Gareth did not love her and never would. He'd told her before. “He finds me desirable,” she admitted. Had even gone so far as to accuse her of bewitching him. “But it is desire, nothing more.”

“You obviously know him better than I do,” Charlotte agreed.

Meg fell back into a yellow armchair. “Oh, Charlotte, what do I do? I can't allow him to lose his job. And if it were only Munden we could expose his theft and be done. But they involved my father. Supposedly they found evidence in Gareth's belongings.” She rolled her head to face Charlotte, who sat in a matching yellow chair. “What would you do?”

“I'm not certain. I suppose it would depend on how important this man was to me. And whether or not sacrificing my own future would right this wrong.”

Meg winced. She wasn't certain she knew the answer to either of those questions. “That's not helpful.”

“I'm sorry.”

“What would Willow say? Willow would know the right thing to do,” Meg said.

“Indeed. She would probably first chastise you for putting yourself in a position to be a man's alibi.”