Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (29 page)

“Hmmm. And what happened after you eavesdropped then stole my belongings?”

“I returned to the inn in Penzance and pored over that drawing all last night, yet I couldn’t figure out where to search next. But then Fate stepped in, in the form of Lord Wexhall. I’d just finished breakfast this morning when he strolled into the dining room. He was as surprised to see me as I was him.”

Victoria’s father picked up the story from there. “I’d arrived in Penzance last night with the thought in mind of doing a bit of snooping around the area before making myself known.”

“Once a spy…” Nathan said with a smile.

Her father smiled. “Yes, old habits die hard. Anyway, after some discussion, Sutton filled me in on his plan to recover the jewels and clear Nathan’s name. I pulled out the replica of the map I’d hidden in Victoria’s luggage—” He glanced up at her and gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, my dear.” After clearing his throat, he continued, “Sutton showed me the letter and map and grid he’d taken from Nathan’s room. It was immediately apparent that for some reason his map was noticeably different than mine.”

Nathan’s gaze shot to Victoria and heat crept up her face. “I did say that I wasn’t an artist,” she said in her own defense. “And it was
your
goat who ate the original.”

“Goat?” Father asked, raising a brow.

“I’ll explain later,” Victoria said. “Continue.”

“Sutton studied my map,” her father went on, “and Nathan’s grid map. With the proper drawing, it didn’t take him long to figure out that the sketch depicted three streams. And that he knew of such a place that wasn’t already marked off on the grid map. We compared thoughts and theories and realized that since neither of us had betrayed the mission and neither believed Nathan did, that only left one person who could have—Gordon.”

“That realization pushed us to act,” Lord Sutton said. “We rode here to tell Nathan and Lady Victoria what we’d learned, but they weren’t here. We realized they must be searching for the jewels, and since they’d apparently left very early, we surmised they might have figured out the correct place to search. Since we didn’t know where Gordon was, and we needed to find Nathan and Lady Victoria right away to warn them, Lord Wexhall and I split up. I went to Alwyck Manor to confront Gordon, and I told Lord Wexhall how to get to the ruins by the stream. When I discovered Gordon wasn’t at home, I went immediately to fetch the magistrate, then we went to the ruins. We were nearly there when we heard the most god-awful, inhuman-sounding wail.” He looked at Victoria and winked. “Nicely done.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Nathan. “And very nice throw of my
reticule
filled with
rocks
.”

With a sheepish look, he inclined his head in thanks. “I shall personally pen an addition to the ‘useful weapons’ chapter in the Official Spy Handbook. You are unquestionably a genius.” He coughed modestly. “Of course, my aim is unsurpassedly excellent.”

“I agree. And it was no less than he deserved. I did tell him those stones were
mine
.”

Nathan smiled at her. “Indeed you did. And I must com
mend you on your fine performance. You picked up on my ruse perfectly.”

“Where is Lord Alwyck now?” asked Aunt Delia.

“Magistrate took him away,” Nathan said. “He’ll never see the outside of a prison cell again.” He turned to Victoria’s father. “And now, since you know everything, as your physician, I must insist that you rest.”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Father said with grudging acceptance. “I agree I need to rest, especially since I wish to leave tomorrow.”

It seemed all the air was sucked out of the room at his words. “Tomorrow?” Victoria repeated weakly.

“Tomorrow?” Aunt Delia and Lord Rutledge said in unison.

“Tomorrow,” her father repeated firmly. “My doctor has already given me permission to travel.”

Victoria’s gaze flew to Nathan, who regarded her with an unfathomable expression. “Is this true?” she asked. “Is it really safe for him to travel? Surely it would be better if we were to wait.”

“I agree it would better,” Nathan said, “but his injuries are minor enough that traveling won’t impose any danger to him.”

“I must return to London as soon as possible and deliver the jewels to His Majesty,” Father said. His gaze shifted between Victoria and Aunt Delia. “We’ll plan to depart directly after breakfast. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Aunt Delia whispered. Not trusting her voice, Victoria merely nodded.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Nathan said, “I must ask everyone to leave so my patient can rest.”

“I’d like a private word with my daughter, Nathan.”

Nathan’s gaze met Victoria’s, and again she couldn’t
read his thoughts. “Of course,” he said. He was the last to leave the room, and quietly closed the door behind him.

Father turned his head on the pillow and searched her gaze. “Have you enjoyed your time here?”

Warmth instantly flooded Victoria’s cheeks. “Yes.”

“But you didn’t expect to.”

“To be perfectly honest, no. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

“Suspected you might be. Always good to have a change of scenery before making any huge decisions.”

“Huge decisions?”

“Like who to marry. I saw Branripple and Dravensby the night before I departed London. Both wished to be remembered to you.”

Lords Branripple and Dravensby. Good heavens, she hadn’t thought about them in days.

“You seem to have formed a friendship with Nathan,” Father said.

Victoria studied him, but his eyes were as innocent as his tone. “Yes.”

“Glad to know it. He’s one of the finest, bravest men I’ve ever known. Deuced brilliant when it comes to deciphering codes. Impressed me the first time I laid eyes on him.”

I know precisely what you mean
. “He’s been very kind to me,” she said, inwardly cringing at the inadequate words.

“And what of his brother, Lord Sutton? Another very fine man. Has the mien of a gentleman and the hands of a thief. Excellent combination for a spy.”

“Lord Sutton was away during much of my visit, but I enjoyed his company while he was here.”

“Well, good. I know you didn’t want to come here, my dear, but I knew it would be good for you.” He patted her
hand. “A father knows best about these things.”

Before she could ask what “these things” were, he added, “Happy you enjoyed your visit, but I imagine you’re anxious to return to London. Get back to the Little Season and the business of considering marriage offers.”

“I…yes, of course.”

“I’d wager I’ll be seeing my girl betrothed before the month’s over.”

Victoria’s stomach performed a lurching tumble. Unable to voice an agreement, she simply nodded.

“Excellent. Well, you get a good night’s sleep, my dear. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Feeling as if she were in a daze, Victoria leaned down and kissed her father’s cheek. After bidding him goodnight, she quit the room.

She walked swiftly to her bedchamber, her pace increasing until she was running down the corridor. After closing the door behind her, she leaned back against the oak panel. With her chest constricted and her breathing labored, she closed her eyes.

She was leaving tomorrow. To go back to her life in London. Her suitors. Her soirees and shops. To choose a husband. She should be filled with happiness. Anticipation. Relief. Instead, she was filled with a horrible sense of loss. A feeling of sick dread. A desperate ache that had her pressing her hand to the suddenly hollow spot where her heart belonged.

All the confused emotions simmering beneath the surface that she’d ruthlessly ignored and shoved aside for the past week gripped her in a vise she could no longer disregard. This feeling of desolation had nothing to do with where she was, but at the thought of leaving here. Leaving Nathan.

The realization that she didn’t want to leave this place where she so vehemently had not wanted to come stunned her. And right on its heels came the truth her heart could no longer deny.

She’d fallen in love with Nathan.

D
inner that evening seemed a somber, tense affair to Victoria, although she wasn’t certain if it was indeed that way or simply a reflection of her own mood. Certainly there was little conversation. Only Lord Sutton seemed animated, and he soon fell quiet when all his attempts at small talk withered. As soon as the interminable meal ended, Victoria excused herself to see to her packing. No sooner had she arrived in her bedchamber than she heard a knock on the door. Was it Nathan? Heart pounding, she called, “Come in,” but it was only her maid Winifred to assist her.

After everything was packed except her night rail and the
clothes she would wear tomorrow, Winifred left. Walking to the window, Victoria looked down at the moonlit lawn. Her fingers clasped the lacquered shell hanging around her neck. She hadn’t had a chance to speak privately to Nathan, but surely he would come to her tonight. Her last night.

A quiet knock sounded at the door and her heart leapt. Crossing the room at a near run, she pulled open the door. Aunt Delia stood in the corridor.

“May I speak to you, Victoria?”

“Of course,” she said, guilt pricking at her for her disappointment. “Please come in.” After closing the door, Victoria asked, “Are you all right? You look…flushed.”

“I’m fine. Indeed, I’m marvelous. And most assuredly flushing. From happiness.” Reaching out, she clasped Victoria’s hands. “I want you to be the first to know, darling. Lord Rutledge has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted.”

Victoria stared at her aunt in stunned amazement. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’re happy for me. Say you wish me years of joy.”

“I do. Of course I do. I’m just surprised. You haven’t known each other very long.”

“True, but I know everything I need to. I know he’s honorable and kind. Generous and loving. He makes me laugh. He loves me. And I love him. He is everything I did not have in my first husband, and I feel blessed to be given this opportunity for happiness and companionship at this stage of my life.” She squeezed Victoria’s hands. “It may seem like we’ve only known each other a short time, but my dear, it only takes the heart a single beat to know what it wants.”

Moisture warmed Victoria’s eyes and she pulled her aunt into a snug embrace. “Dear Aunt Delia. I’m delighted for you both.” Pulling back, she asked, “Have you decided upon a date?”

“Yes. One month from today. Here, in Rutledge’s parish.”

“But that’s an enormous amount of traveling for you….” Victoria’s words trailed off as understanding dawned. “You’re staying here. You’re not leaving with me and Father tomorrow.”

“No. I wish to remain here. Become better acquainted with this lovely house, this quaint area which shall become my new home.”

Victoria blinked. “But what of your love for Society and London? Your life there?”

Aunt Delia laughed. “Don’t look so stricken, darling. Rutledge has agreed to spend the Season in Town if I wish.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “And as for my love of Society and London, I can only say that my love for Rutledge far exceeds any fondness I have for city life.” She gave Victoria a searching look. “Have you spoken to Dr. Oliver this evening?”

“Not privately, no.” To her mortification, hot tears pushed behind her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to say good-bye to him,” she whispered.

Her aunt’s eyes grew troubled. “Your heart will tell you the right thing to say, Victoria. The right thing to do. Listen to what it tells you.” It appeared she wanted to say something more, but instead she merely brushed a quick kiss against Victoria’s cheek. “I’ll leave you now, my dear. I’ll see you in the morning before you leave.” With no further explanation, her aunt quit the room.

Victoria stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door. A myriad of emotions ambushed her, hitting her with such force she staggered to the nearest chair, an overstuffed chintz settee set in front of the fireplace, and sat down with an unladylike plop.

Aunt Delia’s announcement of her decision to marry
Lord Rutledge had stunned her. Literally left her breathless. Dazed. Happy. But underneath all that, there was something else. Something she feared looking at too closely because it felt suspiciously like…

Envy.

A single tap sounded at the door. Before she could rouse herself to answer, the door opened and Nathan walked in. Their gazes met and Victoria’s throat swelled with emotion. God help her, she loved him so much she ached. How had she allowed this to happen? Was there any chance he felt the same way about her? He’d never said so. Yet even if he did, what did it matter? Their lives were so drastically different.

But what if he had fallen in love with her? What if, like his father had offered her aunt, Nathan intended to offer her marriage? The mere thought brought on a sensation she couldn’t define. Was it elation—or fear? None of this—Nathan, falling in love with him—had been in her plans. How could she consider giving up everything she’d planned her entire life based on a weeklong affair?

An affair based on a spark that was lit three years ago
, her inner voice whispered slyly. But perhaps she had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t said he loved her. Or wanted her in any way beyond what they’d already shared. If she’d been capable of doing so, she would have laughed at her own conceit. Here she was fretting about a proposal that he’d never given any indication he intended to offer. A proposal she wasn’t prepared to hear. Still, if she became all choked up just looking at him, how would she be able to say good-bye to him tomorrow?

After closing and locking the door behind him, he walked slowly toward her, his gaze riveted on hers. He carried a wrapped parcel in one hand and a single red rose in the other. He rounded the settee, then sat next to her, set
ting his package on the floor. He held out the rose to her. “For you.”

She touched the velvety petals. “Thank you.”

“I checked on your father. He’s doing well. Exceedingly well if one judges health by the level of complaints coming from the patient.”

She smiled weakly. “He dislikes inactivity.”

“Indeed? I hadn’t particularly noticed. I also spoke to my father and your aunt. They told you their news.”

“Yes.”

He studied her face. “You’re not pleased?”

“Yes, of course I am. No one deserves joy more than Aunt Delia. It’s just that I’m…”

“What?”

Envious of their happiness. Of my aunt’s daring
. “I’m just surprised,” she finished lamely. “Aren’t you?”

“Actually, no. I had a conversation with my father that made it clear he cared deeply for your aunt. It’s good to see him so happy. Good to see them both so happy.” His gaze searched hers. “When I opened the door, you looked pensive. What were you thinking?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Yes.”

“I was wondering how I was going to say good-bye to you.”

His gaze turned troubled. “I’ve been wondering that very same thing with regards to you.”

She had to press her lips together to keep from asking if he’d come up with a solution. Reaching down, he picked up the package he’d set on the floor and handed it to her.

“After much thought, I decided this was the best farewell I could give you.”

Placing her rose on the mahogany end table, she laid
the package on her lap and carefully unwrapped the layers of tissue paper. When she looked down at the book nestled in the wrappings, her breath caught. Reverently, she brushed her fingertip over the title.

“Histoires ou contes du temps passé, avec des moralités: Contes de ma mère l’Oye,”
she whispered.
“Tales of Mother Goose.”
She turned to the first page and saw the publication year: 1697. “It’s a first edition,” she said, awed. “Wherever did you find one?”

“I didn’t have to look very far, as it was in my traveling trunk. That is my copy.”

Victoria’s head snapped up from admiring the book and she stared at him. “The copy you said you wouldn’t consider selling for any sum? The copy that was the last gift you received from your mother before she died?”

“Yes.”

Her heart began a slow, hard beat. “Why would you give me something so valuable to you?”

“I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

The tiny flame of impossible, ridiculous hope inside her that had been struggling to stay lit was suddenly extinguished. He indeed intended to say good-bye.

She should be glad. Relieved. It was for the best. And surely as soon as she didn’t feel so enervated, so numb, she would feel all those things.

I wanted you to have something to remember me by
. Dear God, as if she would ever, could ever, forget him. “I…don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like it?”

She looked into his eyes, so serious, so beautiful, and a sob rose in her throat. She attempted to cover it up with a laugh, but the effort failed miserably, and to her mortification, hot tears pushed at her eyes. “I love it.”
And I love
you. And I desperately wish I didn’t because nothing ever has hurt this badly
.

Should she tell him? Tell him he owned her heart, and that it was breaking at the thought of leaving him?
No!
her inner voice screamed, and she realized she’d be a fool to tell a man who was clearly determined to say good-bye that she loved him.

Blinking back her tears, she straightened her spine and offered him a smile. “Thank you, Nathan. I’ll treasure it always.”

“I’m glad. Since I cannot give you the fairy-tale ending you’ve always planned, I at least wanted to give you the fairy tale.”

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked, her voice shaking and barely above a whisper.

Framing her face between his hands, he studied her through serious eyes. Finally he said, “I don’t know. That is up to…Fate. All I do know is that we have this one last night together. And I want to make it unforgettable.” He leaned forward and softly touched his lips to hers. When he started to lean back, a sense of desperation unlike anything she’d ever known flooded her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him back toward her.

“Again,” she whispered against his mouth. “Again.”

And as he had the first time she made that demand of him three years ago, he obliged her.

And when she awoke the next morning, she was alone.

“Are you all right, Victoria?”

Her father’s voice penetrated the fog of despair enveloping her. She pulled her gaze from the window of the coach that with every turn of its wheels sent her farther away from Nathan.

“I’m…” looking into her father’s concern-filled eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to lie and say she was fine. “Tired.” God knew that was the truth.

Father frowned and his jaw moved back and forth, as it always did when he puzzled over something. Offering him the best smile she could muster under the circumstances, she returned her gaze to the window. How long ago had they left Creston Manor? An hour? It felt like a lifetime. And as much as she loved Father, she dearly wished she were alone. To mourn the end of her affair in private. To shed the tears that hovered so close to the surface. To hold the book Nathan had given her against her heart.

Dear God, how was it possible to feel so much pain when she felt so utterly dead inside? Her eyelids slid closed and instantly a dozen images danced in her mind’s eye—of Nathan smiling. Laughing. Making love to her. Saying good-bye at the carriage this morning as if they were nothing more than polite acquaintances—

“Damn it all, you’re crying. That does it.”

Victoria’s eyes flew open at her father’s fierce words, and to her mortification she realized that tears had indeed silently leaked down her cheeks. Before she could reach for her handkerchief, Father pressed his into her hand. Then, with a fierce scowl, he reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of vellum.

“I was instructed not to give this to you until after we’d reached London, but since I never actually gave my word that I would wait, I’m not going to.” He held out the vellum, which was sealed with a blob of red wax.

“Instructed by whom?”

“Nathan. He gave it to me last night and asked that I hold it until we were resettled in London. To give you some time to think. To reflect. About what you want. But a
blind man could see that you’re heartbroken and miserable, and I can’t bear to watch it a moment longer. If there’s even the slightest chance that whatever he’s written might make you feel better, I’ll risk his displeasure.”

Victoria reached out an unsteady hand and took the vellum. After breaking the seal, she slowly unfolded the thick ivory paper and, with her heart pounding, read the neatly scrawled words: