Heart of Courage (11 page)

“You own an interest in Valhalla Shipping that is worth far more than you know. You have saved your money and invested. Your stock in the A& H Railway should earn you a tidy sum.”

He nodded. “It appears the railroad is going to be successful. There is great demand for transport in the area. It should be a very good investment. But it is not the money alone. Lindsey is a high-born lady and I am no gentleman. At least not the sort for opera, or the theater, or to prance about a dance floor.”

Leif grinned. “It's an acquired taste, brother. If you give those things a try, you might find you enjoy them.”

Thor just grunted.

“So what will you do?”

He shook his head. “I do not know. She would not wed with me, even were I fool enough to ask.”

Leif came out of his chair and rounded the desk toward his brother. “I can tell you from experience these matters have a way of working out. Rely on your instincts and your better judgment and you'll be all right.”

Thor scoffed. “I cannot rely on my judgment when I am with the lady. My instincts always seem to take over.”

Leif smiled. “Who knows, perhaps that is best.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Just be prepared to marry the little wench should your
instincts
get you into trouble.”

Thor seemed to ponder the words.

Leif wondered if perhaps he was wrong and the girl wasn't meant for his brother. Thor needed a woman to love, someone who would love him in return. He needed someone to share his life as Leif shared his with Krista. But the wrong woman could make a man's life a living hell.

Time would tell.

Leif just hoped Thor could keep his
instincts
under control until his destiny became more certain.

 

Dressed for the evening in an aqua silk gown and matching kid slippers, Lindsey turned to survey her image in the cheval glass in her bedroom. As was the mode, the bodice rode low on her shoulders and dipped to a V over her breasts. The corseted waistline also dipped into a V, emphasizing the smallness of her waist. Bands of gold silk brightened the full skirt and draped across her bosom, and matching gold ribbon tied back the heavy curls nestled on each side of her neck.

Lindsey turned in the mirror, pleased with her appearance. For an instant, she wished Thor were the man whose attention she sought at the ball instead of Lieutenant Michael Harvey. She chided herself for dreaming. Thor might be the passionate sort of man to inflame her desires but he was hardly a gentleman. He could dress in evening clothes for a night, but she couldn't imagine him making inane conversation just to be pleasant, or sitting through some boring recital merely to be polite.

He was different from other men, more masculine, more virile—more totally
male.
He was the sort of man a woman took for a lover but had no interest in marrying.

The notion disturbed her more than it should have. She couldn't marry a man like Thor. Her family would never approve.

And rightfully so, she told herself, knowing how ill-suited they were.

Still, as she appraised her image in the mirror and thought how well the aqua silk complemented her pale skin and light brown hair, she couldn't help a pang of regret that Thor wouldn't be there to see her in the lovely gown.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned at the light knock on her door. Aunt Dee, her chaperone for the evening, swept into the bedroom.

“My, don't you look splendid.”

Lindsey smiled. “And you, as well.” In a sophisticated wine silk gown trimmed in dark green velvet and ornamented with tiny seed pearls, her black hair coiled in circles at each side of her long, graceful neck, Delilah Markham was lovely.

Even so, she seemed inordinately nervous, flicking an occasional glance toward the door, and Lindsey couldn't help wondering if perhaps her aunt had dressed for the man who was escorting them this evening, Colonel William Langtree of Her Majesty's Army, recently retired.

The colonel was an acquaintance of Coralee's husband, Gray Forsythe, Earl of Tremaine. Gray had introduced him to Aunt Dee just before he and Corrie left on their belated honeymoon. Since then, Aunt Dee had encountered the colonel on several occasions and always seemed pleased by his attentions.

“Colonel Langtree should be here soon,” Lindsey said, just to gauge her aunt's reaction.

Delilah smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from the front of her wine silk skirt. “I imagine he will. Being a military man, William is always very prompt.”

“Considering the circumstances, it was good of him to escort us this evening.” Lindsey thought of the headlines in today's
London Times:
Future Baron Arrested in Covent Garden Murders.

The article went on to say that Rudolph Graham, eldest son of the Baron Renhurst, had been taken into custody. The paper relayed the details of the murders, the fact that Rudy had known both victims, and that he had been identified by a witness who had seen him fleeing the scene of the latest crime.

“After what was printed in the paper,” Lindsey said, “the evening will be trying at the very least. If I thought Lieutenant Harvey would agree to meet me in private, we wouldn't have to go.”

“But you don't think he will.”

“He values his career. No, I don't think he will.”

“Then we shall have to do the best we can. Besides, it is important we show we are solidly united behind Rudy. We want people to know that we have absolutely no doubt as to his innocence.”

“You are right. Besides, I need material for my column. I haven't gone out enough lately.”

Aunt Dee raised a fine black eyebrow. “Too bad you can't write about your nightly adventures. I am sure your readers would be quite entertained with the story of your trip to a brothel.”

Lindsey flushed. “I'm sure they would. I, however, would never be able to show my face in society again.”

Aunt Dee sighed. “Unless we prove your brother's innocence that may well happen anyway.”

Hearing a commotion in the entry, Lindsey walked over and pulled open the bedroom door. “I believe the colonel is arrived downstairs.”

Delilah's eyes brightened. “Well then, we had better not keep him waiting.” Without further ado, the women left the bedroom and descended the stairs to where the colonel stood in the entry.

“Ladies,” he said with an appreciative smile, a tall, handsome man with blond hair touched with silver and a very distinguished silver-blond mustache. “What a fortunate man I am to be escorting two beautiful women this evening.”

Aunt Dee accepted the colonel's arm. “And you, Colonel, are looking extremely handsome. I shall have to watch myself very closely.”

The colonel chuckled. “Not too closely, I pray.” The look in his eye spoke volumes.

Lindsey inwardly smiled, hoping her aunt would enjoy her outing with the colonel. As for her, if she got the information she needed, the evening would be worth the strain.

Accepting the velvet-lined cloak the butler draped round her shoulders, she started out the door, hoping Lieutenant Michael Harvey would be as helpful as he had been before.

T
hor stood in the deep shadows of the garden outside the mansion belonging to the Earl of Kittridge. Through the mullioned windows, he could see into the ballroom, watch the throng of people dressed in fancy silk and lace. An orchestra in silver wigs and blue satin livery played at the far end of the room, and waiters carried heavy silver trays propped on their shoulders, laden with food and drink.

Lindsey stood next to the punch bowl in conversation with her aunt. He had seen her sweep into the room in a pretty silk ball gown some color between blue and green. He had known her instantly, even from a distance. He recognized the way she moved, the way she turned her head, the angle of her chin. There was an elegance and grace about her movements unmatched by any other woman in the room.

He had known she would be there. Worried about the questions she had been asking and the danger she might unknowingly be facing, he had spoken to Krista, whose concerns were the same. His sister-in-law had told him that Lindsey planned to attend a ball at Kittridge House, being given by the earl in celebration of his daughter's birthday.

Thor had arrived shortly before Lindsey and hidden himself away in the shadowy darkness of the shrubbery in the garden, a spot where he could see inside the house.

His gaze sharpened as he spotted Michael Harvey, the police lieutenant, leading Lindsey out onto the dance floor. He watched as the pair stepped into the rhythm of a waltz, the lieutenant holding Lindsey in his arms. As they passed by the window, she smiled at the policeman sweetly, and for the first time in his life, Thor wished he knew the steps of the waltz, wished he were the man holding Lindsey in his arms.

Fool,
he told himself.
The woman is not for you.

But his chest ached as he watched her, and jealousy coiled like a snake in the pit of his stomach.

They danced again a few minutes later, then the lieutenant walked Lindsey out onto the terrace. Thor moved silently closer, knowing he shouldn't, unable to resist.

“People are talking, Lindsey,” the policeman said, “whispering about your brother. You should go home. I can see how much it bothers you.”

“I don't care what they say. Rudy is innocent. My aunt and I want them to know how certain we are about that. I want them to know it is only a matter of time until Rudy is proved innocent of the crimes.”

The lieutenant leaned against the balustrade. “I wish I could help you. You understand the position I'm in.”

“I understand. Of course, I do, Michael.” She looked up at him from beneath a thick fringe of lashes. “I hope you don't mind my calling you that—at least when we are alone.”

Thor ground his jaw.

The policeman took her gloved hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss into her palm. It was all Thor could do to remain where he stood in the shadows.

“I don't mind,” he said.

Thor's temper heated.
Damned woman.
He wondered if she played a role as she had before or if she was attracted to the handsome policeman.

“After this is over,” the lieutenant said, “perhaps I can call on you.”

“I would like that, Michael, very much.”

Thor's hand fisted. He wanted to drag the man off the terrace and pound him into the dirt. He wanted to toss Lindsey over his shoulder and carry her away from the party.

“As I said, I realize the position you are in, but is there anything you can tell me that might help us in some way?”

“I can tell you the name of the witness, but only because it is going to appear in tomorrow's paper. Some reporter found out. I don't know how. He plans to scoop the other papers with the information.”

“I want to talk to her, find out exactly what she saw.”

“Her name is Mary Pratt. She lives in the attic of a rundown house in Raven's Court.”

“Did she actually see the murder?”

“No. She knew something had happened, but she didn't know what until someone told her. However, apparently, she saw the man as he left the scene of the crime.”

“Why didn't she come to the police sooner?”

“She said she was afraid. She thought no one would believe her. I guess she started thinking that if she didn't help the police catch the man who did it, he would keep on killing women and she might wind up being one of them.”

“My brother arrived at the Golden Pheasant around four that morning. Did the woman say what time she saw the man?”

“Sometime around three-thirty. A watchman found Phoebe Carter's body the following morning.”

Lindsey reached over and touched his hand. “Thank you, Michael.”

Every muscle in Thor's body went tense.

“I wish I could tell you more,” Harvey said.

“Lieutenant?” A thin man walked toward him across the terrace. “I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but the chief would like a word with you. He says it's important.”

The policeman turned to Lindsey. “I've got to go.”

“I'll come inside in a moment. I need a little more air.”

The lieutenant squeezed her hand and left her there on the terrace. As soon as he was gone, Thor came out of the shadows. He was angry. Furious, though he had no right to be.

Moving silently, he appeared right beside her. “I see you found your lieutenant.”

She whirled at the unexpected sound of his voice. “Good grief—Thor! You scared me half to death! What on earth are you doing here?”

“I am watching you behave like a strumpet. You are getting very good at the role.”

Before he could react, Lindsey drew back and slapped him across the cheek. She looked as surprised as he was. Her pretty green eyes filled with tears.

“Just because I told you about what happened when I was sixteen—”

He pressed a finger against her lips, his anger slowly fading. His outburst had nothing to do with her past and everything to do with the present. He took her hand and led her down the steps into the darkness.

“You believe because of what happened I think you are less than pure?”

“You said I was—”

“You are an innocent, Lindsey. That has not changed. What happened when you were a child is unimportant. It does not lessen how much I want you in my bed.”

She glanced toward the window. The muffled sounds of a waltz seeped into the garden. She caught a glimpse of Michael Harvey and finally seemed to understand. “I needed information. I did what I had to in order to get it.”

He caught her hand, rested it against his burning cheek. “I was jealous. I know I have no right. I am sorry I said those things. You are no whore.”

“I didn't mean to hit you. I've never hit anyone before.”

His mouth edged up. “I well deserved it.”

Lindsey felt the pull of a smile. “Perhaps you did.”

“I don't like the way he looks at you. I don't like that he believes you want him.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I don't want him, Thor. The only man I want is you.”

He groaned as she went up on her toes and kissed him. Her mouth felt damp and soft under his and she tasted of champagne. Her flowery scent wrapped around him, filled his senses until she was all he could think of.

Do not do this,
some foggy part of his brain warned.
She
is a maid, no matter her foolish indiscretion.
But when she parted her lips, his tongue slid in to taste her. When she swayed toward him, he eased his hand inside her bodice to cup a lovely pale breast.

Her nipple tightened and Lindsey moaned. “Thor…”

He was hard. So thick and heavy he throbbed with every beat of his heart. He kissed her one last time and reluctantly withdrew his hand.

“We have to stop, sweetheart. Someone might see us.” And if they didn't stop soon he would be inside her right there in the garden.

Thor drew her arms from around his neck and eased her a little away. Lindsey stared up at him, a dazed look on her face, as if only now she realized where they were. “Oh, my God.”

“Passion is as powerful as any drug,” he said, helping her straighten her bodice.

Even in the darkness, he could see the rose that swept into her cheeks. She turned and looked back toward the house. “I have to go in.”

“Aye.”

“If you came here because you were worried, you needn't be. My aunt and I are escorted by Colonel William Langtree. He was in the army. He is a very capable man.”

Capable he might be, but still Thor worried.

“I shall be fine,” she said, reading his face.

He sighed. “All right, I will see you at work on the morrow.”

“Perhaps we can visit the woman who bore witness against my brother.”

He nodded, gave her a gentle shove toward the house. “Go.”

Heavy skirts whirling as she turned, Lindsey raced along the path to the terrace and back inside the house. Thor watched her until she disappeared.

He had hurt her tonight, though he had not meant to. Always he had believed that Lindsey was a different sort of woman, the kind who thought she was as tough as a man. But twice he had seen her cry. He had seen that she was as soft and sweet as any other woman. It was just that she hid it from the rest of the world.

Tonight he had been wildly jealous of Michael Harvey.

And so fiercely aroused his entire body still hummed with need.

What he felt for her was different from anything he had felt for a woman before. More and more he was beginning to believe that Lindsey was meant to be his.

Knowing how impossible that would be, Thor prayed to the gods he was wrong.

 

Sunday morning, Lindsey received a note from Thor. Something had come up, the message said. He would have to postpone their excursion. That
something,
she was sure, was his worry over the passionate kiss they had shared in the garden.

It wasn't until Monday that she saw him.

As she sat at her desk penning her article for the next edition of the gazette, Lindsey carefully kept her mind on the ball she had attended on Saturday night. She described the gala with its lavish bouquets of flowers, magnificent eight-piece orchestra, and glittering decorations. She wrote about the array of wealthy aristocrats and London notables who had attended, and added a bit of gossip.

Lady Marston was
enceinte
—again.

The Duchess of Weyburn had been ill but was now recovering.

A certain Lord F. seemed to have set matters aright with his wife, who no longer threatened divorce.

She smiled at this last. Fulcroft had given her
the cut
last night, but his wife had been quite friendly, grateful, it seemed, that her husband's infidelities had been brought to light and thus had come to an end. It was clear Lady Fulcroft was in love with her husband and that she would rather leave him than share him with another woman.

Lindsey wondered if she would feel that way about the man she married. Unless it was a love match—which she sorely doubted—she probably wouldn't care.

Lady Fulcroft had been friendly, but others at the party had been less gracious. In every corner of the room, there were whispers and speculation about Rudy. Was the heir to Renhurst's fortune and title truly a murderer? Or, as his sister and aunt believed, was the evidence purely circumstantial and pointing in the wrong direction?

Several people had openly asked about her brother's arrest. Each time, Lindsey had firmly defended him.

“My dear brother is completely innocent,” she had told Mrs. Marchbanks, a well-known society matron. “It is an utter injustice that he is forced to suffer behind bars as he is.”

“How's your brother holding up?” Lord Perry had asked, a longtime friend of her father's.

“He is doing well enough, my lord. It is all an unfortunate misunderstanding, but I'm certain it will be straightened out very soon.”

Lord Perry nodded and seemed sympathetic. Still, it had been a trying night, to say the least.

And then there was her encounter with Thor.

Lindsey blushed to think of it. What was there about him that seemed to drive the very wits from her brain? It had to be more than his physical beauty. Surely she wasn't that shallow.

In truth, there was a gentleness about Thor, a kindness and concern she had rarely seen in a man. Twice she had cried in front of him. Lindsey did not allow herself to cry.

With her parents traveling most of the year and much of her life spent in boarding schools, she had learned to take care of herself. She had learned to be strong, to watch out for herself and her younger brother, and rarely let down her guard.

But there was something about Thor that made her feel as if she could trust him, something that made her want to lean on him, allow him to help her solve whatever troubles she might have.