Miss Goldsleigh's Secret (18 page)

Yes, he trusted her, but he didn’t believe her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next day, Olivia and Henry joined his sisters for a stroll in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. She was still stiff and achy, but she’d agreed to the outing as she couldn’t think of any way to refuse without lying to everyone, and she’d done quite enough of that lately, thank you very much. Natalie appeared in the morning to assist her in the usual manner. This time she had with her a mustard poultice for the bruises and a vow of her silence in the matter.

Dear Henry. Of course he’d arranged for the medicine, and of course that made her feel worse. The duplicity was killing her. She hadn’t felt this guilty when she thought she’d helped kill a man.

He asked her if she trusted him and she did, she supposed, in all the regular ways a woman trusted a good man. She never thought he’d wittingly hurt her, not the way her cousin did. She trusted he’d take good care of her and Warren. So, yes, she trusted him. But what if he found out all the trouble she was in, that being involved with her put everyone in danger? She vowed to shield him from as much of the true nature of her dilemma as possible, despite his persistence, until she figured out a way to solve it.

She really wanted to keep Henry.

It was a nice enough day for a stroll in the park. Henry eschewed the carriage and convinced his sisters the walk would do them good. Besides, it was easier to talk to who he expected to see while walking instead of being trapped in the carriage.

He tucked Olivia’s hand into the crook of his arm. He knew, and his mother and aunt reinforced the idea to him during their military-style debriefing that morning, that his appearance with her on his arm in the company of his family would solidify her new standing in society. His family had the wedding planning under control, and he was confident that the whole affair would go off without a hitch.

His self-assigned role, and one no one but him knew about, was to figure out what the hell was going on with his fiancée. His initial inquiries had come back from the man he’d sent to Staffordshire, and they were more confusing than helpful. Still waiting on some information from Reginald’s old schoolmaster, Henry wanted to confer with his friends and their contacts as well. Hopefully one of them knew something of the solicitor. A walk in the park would kill two birds—show his devotion to her in public and get some valuable opinions from his best friends.

Leave it to Morewether to find a grouping of pretty women in the park. The duke zeroed in on their party five minutes into their walk. Morewether sidled up next to Olivia’s other side and clasped her hand. “Good afternoon, lovely.”

Olivia smiled back at the duke. “Your Grace.”

Henry gritted his teeth.

“I’m going to steal your fiancée, Dalton.” Morewether flashed his patented Duke-on-the-loose smile. If Henry didn’t need the duke’s help, he would seriously consider punching him in the mouth.

“Never fear, Dalton.” Lady Francesca joined him on his other side. “Anna and I are here and will make sure my brother keeps his hands to himself.” Her smile was broad, and her green eyes twinkled in mirth.

“I don’t think you’ll need to kill him.” Miss Anna Sinclair giggled. “Not today anyway.”

Morewether waggled his eyebrows at Henry before saying to Olivia in a stage whisper, “Don’t listen to my sister. I’m going to whisk you away to a life of frivolous pleasures.”

Henry opened his mouth to blurt something scathing before he heard the deep, baritone rumblings of Thomas, Earl of Harrington. “You know he’s doing that to get a rise out of you.”

“It’s working,” Henry admitted, rueful. Morewether sauntered off, five lovely women at his side, attentive and giggling at his charms. Every fiber of his being wanted to march up to that happy damn group and snatch his fiancée off his best friend’s arm. A staying hand on his shoulder was the only thing holding him in check.

“Dalton, you know he’d never touch her,” Harrington reminded him. “Besides, my wife’s up there with her.”

Henry gave Harrington a look of sheer incredulity. “Your wife is the prat’s sister. Obviously she’s in no danger.”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “Neither is Miss Goldsleigh. Let them go. We have important things to discuss.”

Henry exhaled a long sigh. “Of course.” He focused his attention on Harrington and made a concerted effort to ignore the scene in front of them. “I received an interesting report from my man I’d like to compare with what you’ve found.”

Harrington got straight to the point. “Her cousin arrived in London about a month after they did. He’s got several goons working with him, as you know, since I believe you met one of them the other night.”

Henry nodded in agreement. “One thing I’m worried about is whether or not he’s still in contact with her.”

“You mean since the scene at the ball the other night?” Harrington frowned and shook his head. “It would have had to be yesterday afternoon. Do you suspect he has?”

Henry hesitated. He contemplated Olivia, smiling with the rest of the ladies and several new feminine additions to their group. Morewether held court, flirting en masse. Henry had asked Olivia to trust him, and he needed to trust someone, too.

“I don’t have any proof,” Henry confessed.

“Have you asked her?”

“No. Not in so many words.”

Harrington scratched his chin in contemplation. “What makes you think he’s been around?”

Henry crooked his head, and he and Harrington stepped from the path and headed into a wide-open meadow where no one could overhear their conversation. “There has been some unexplained physical evidence.”

Harrington furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean, evidence?”

“There is mysterious bruising she can’t sufficiently explain.” Henry still couldn’t believe the extent of the developing bruise on her breast.

“She looks fine. I don’t see any evidence of mistreatment.”

Henry stopped and made eye contact with his friend. “There are bruises. I know. She was fine early in the day and then by bedtime she had a horrendous black-and-blue mark in the making.” Harrington raised an eyebrow in question. “I am positive. I saw her before, when she was perfection, and after, when it looked like she’d been kicked by a mule.”

Harrington had the good sense not to ask more about Henry’s physical knowledge of his fiancée. The man was not an idiot, and Henry was certain he’d inferred all he needed to know about the situation. “I hate to ask this question, but I must as your friend. Do you think she’s been honest with you about the relationship with her cousin?”

“What do you mean?”

Harrington took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. He stalled as he peered into his hat as if printed inside was a good way to word what Henry was afraid the man was going to ask. Finally, Harrington said, “How well do you really know her? Do you think she and her cousin have a…different relationship? Do you think they are hustling you somehow?”

If the suggestion had come from anyone else, his fist would have answered the question, but he’d asked Harrington and Morewether here to consult with them. He knew his friend was looking out for him. Nevertheless, this was not a conversation he wanted to have. It was of the utmost importance to him that he protect Olivia’s reputation. “I am confident she’d never been with another man.” With that painful admission out of the way, Henry continued, “I’ve already worked through all those disloyal thoughts, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t think she’s telling me the whole truth. That being said, I firmly believe she desperately needs my help. And since I do intend to marry her…”

Harrington smiled and nodded. Apparently he was satisfied with Henry’s assessment. “And you asked her how her injuries came about?”

“Yes. She said she’d slipped in the garden. My valet tells me she also tore the bodice of her dress. One bruise I’d understand, although this bruise is more than I’d associate with a simple fall against a fountain.”

Harrington nodded. “Where do you suspect these possible meetings took place? In the garden or elsewhere?”

“That’s the only place that makes sense, logistically speaking. I can’t imagine the man getting into the house without notice, and she never left the house and gardens yesterday.”

Harrington informed Henry what he’d discovered about the solicitor, which was pitifully little. The man had been absent from his office for the last several months. The clerk had received a note in the middle of the night saying his employer had to leave town for an emergency, and no other contact had so far been made. Harrington told a frustrated Henry his men were still searching.

“What do you want us to do?” Harrington asked, referring to himself and the profligate flirting with Henry’s bride-to-be. “I’ll have a man or two watch the house from various angles from the streets, but what else?”

“I’ve alerted Siegfried to the dangers. He and the footmen will keep a sharp eye inside the house. My man of business is investigating some disturbing reports from inquiries I made, and another chap is talking to a fellow with Bow Street.” Henry thought about what it was he wanted from his friends. Besides for them to tell him they didn’t think he was crazy or overprotective. “Can you spare a couple of big footmen who can help my grandmother with the garden? I suspect that’s where he got to her. That garden is very secluded, and I doubt anyone would notice from the street if something was amiss.” It killed Henry to think Reginald would have assaulted his Olivia after the blissful event that took place there.

“Certainly.” Harrington nodded and clapped him on the shoulder in a show of support. “Ah, here comes our favorite lothario now.” Morewether’s long strides ate up the carpet of grass as he made his way across the meadow. The group of ladies milling about had grown, and several opportunistic gentlemen had joined the collective now that the Duke of Morewether had left the ladies.

“I adore your fiancée, Dalton,” Morewether told Henry with an unrepentant grin. “Not only is she lovely, but she’s got a brain, too. Such a delicious combination.”

“Good God, man, why do you have to do that to him?” Harrington asked his brother-in-law. “As if he’s not agitated enough without your asinine attempt at teasing him.”

“Who’s teasing?” Morewether grinned. “I’m not teasing. If Henry here wasn’t so in love with her, I’d take a run at her myself.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed at the thought of Morewether focusing his considerable charms on Olivia with any goal other than infuriating him. His sweet, innocent, country girl wouldn’t stand a chance. “I’m not in love with her.” When both his friends turned their nearly identical expressions of disbelief on him, he explained, “I’m definitely in lust with her. I have a great deal of respect for her gumption and bravery. Beyond a doubt, she is lovely.”

“But you’re not in love with her.” Morewether’s tone dripped with irony.

“No.” Henry wasn’t certain of his exact feelings, but he had no intention of figuring them out with these two and refused to discuss it until he was certain himself. “But I do have every intention of marrying her, and I don’t want any harm to come to her. Well, any more harm.” Morewether nodded at him sagely, but one raised eyebrow irked the hell out of Henry. “I also don’t want you wooing her, Morewether.”

“I would never dream of wooing the true love of my good friend.” Morewether’s eyebrow continued to mock him.

Henry pointed his index finger at the duke. “I swear, as God is my witness, I will knock that bloody eyebrow off your head, Morewether.” His gardener had a sturdy square-headed shovel that should do the trick and then would serve nicely to dig the grave.

Morewether chuckled. “Relax, Dalton. I’m testing your resolve. I wouldn’t dream of it. Your bride is as safe with me as my sister. Besides, my astounding charms are completely lost on her. She only has eyes for you.”

That admission went a long way towards soothing Henry. It made him feel like a complete idiot, baring his teeth and acting like a caveman. “It’s a good goddamn thing because I’m not losing another fiancée to you people.”

The three of them spent several more minutes debating how to protect Olivia and how to best get rid of her cousin.

Henry glanced past Morewether to Olivia. He found her in the throng. His eyes locked with hers, and she gave him a smile he felt in his loins from clear across the expanse. He was definitely in lust with his fiancée. Love? Maybe someday, but for now, he wanted her safe because that was his job. He’d promised, and Henry never broke a promise.

He stood in plain sight, just before the shadow of the tree line to the right of the path. Perhaps he was twenty yards away, but he had to know Olivia saw him. He didn’t approach her group. No, he was much too cunning for that. He didn’t make himself obvious to the others, either. He was there simply to remind her he was near, always near, and he could take her anytime he wanted.

Olivia schooled her features and struggled to keep her smile friendly and unaware. It would serve no one if there was a confrontation in the park. Reginald would not be frightened away for good, and no one needed a scene in public following so soon after the one in the ball that started everything. She knew the stroll through the park was meant to show the validity of her match with Henry and dispel any possible nasty rumors. A loud argument this day would make matters much worse.

She smiled at the Duke of Morewether’s teases and flirtations, but she wasn’t really paying attention to him. Once her gaze shifted from her cousin’s taunting presence, she sought out Henry.

How does the sunlight always find his blond head in just that way?

Henry stood with the Earl of Harrington in the meadow away from the path. They were a portrait of light and dark: Harrington’s black hair and Henry’s blond curls. Their heads bowed in concentrated conversation, neither noticed her tormentor and likely subject of their conversation. She was certain that fact gave Reginald a perverted sense of satisfaction and inflated feelings of power. These kinds of games had always brought her cousin such sick pleasure. All of her life, she could never understand him or his evil games. Not when he tortured the orphan boy from her village, or the rumors that filtered down about the serving girl at his school. The tales were awful, but she’d known him in action, and therefore she believed every horrible word.