Ravishing in Red (31 page)

“I did not end it,
madame
. They convinced me it would not be found out. They explained how adulterated kegs would not be discovered until they were opened on the field, and by then who would care? One keg is bad, they open another. The evidence would be washed away by the rain.”

“Who were they?” Sebastian asked, as much to avoid the most logical next question as to obtain the identities. “The managers of the mill?”

“If my contacts had been so indiscreet as to tell me, I would not have dealt with them. I have not thrived by doing business with stupid men. I met with intermediaries. Transporters. But—this could not have happened without someone in authority at that mill being aware. This was not a scheme devised by thieves and smugglers.”

“How did they convince you?” Audrianna blurted out. “You said that they convinced you by explaining how it would not be discovered.”

Frans looked at her long and hard. He probably saw what Sebastian saw. She appeared dismayed while she braced herself for the answer.

“They told me that their kegs went through one arsenal,
madame
. They had a man there, among those who check for quality. He had been paid to pass all the gunpowder coming from this mill. When he sometimes could not arrange to handle these kegs and another man did, and some bad powder was found, they had paid an official here in London handsomely to make certain that those reports disappeared.”

She barely reacted. Sebastian could tell that she was not really seeing this little sailing vessel or the two men with her anymore. She maintained her composure, but her sadness filled the air.

“Word reached me that some of that powder had unforeseen consequences,” Frans continued, speaking only to Sebastian now. “I heard enough to know that the government here was suspicious that a London official responsible for ensuring quality in ordnance was being investigated. So, when next my affairs brought me to your shores, I attempted to meet with this man.” He held out his hands. “You know the rest.”

“You were going to bleed him.”

“I was going to inform him of facts with which he might be aware or unaware, for a price. Whether he chose to bury those facts, or use them to exonerate himself in some way, was not my concern. However, once he had bought these facts, they would no longer be mine to sell elsewhere. It would have been much like my arrangement now with you, no?”

Sebastian retrieved one hundred pounds in notes from his pocket. He had brought more. He had expected to pay dearly for this information. In the end he would, but not with pounds.

He pressed the notes into Frans’s hand. “Is this your vessel?”

Frans smiled noncommittally.

“If it is, cast off. If it isn’t, go back the way you came. You should avoid plying your trade on the English coast for a long while.”

Frans bowed to acknowledge the threat. “There is one more thing you may find interesting. I tell you for the lady’s sake.”

“What is that?”

“I left England immediately after our unfortunate meeting near Brighton, and I only returned two weeks ago. I never disappeared from a bookstore. I never went to a meeting at one. I have no idea where this bookstore is, or what meeting you are talking about.”

 

 

 

 

A
udrianna hardly noticed their path back toward the piazza. The sounds of this busy part of town sounded like a far-off din. She felt as though someone had bludgeoned her heart to where it bled in her chest, swollen and hurt.

Summerhays guided her. He said nothing the whole way. He stayed very close, however, with one arm across her back, as if he guessed that her mind might not remember to put one foot in front of the other.

He handed her into the carriage and settled beside her. They rode west in silence.

Her daze slowly lifted. She looked down and saw her hand in his. It touched her that he tried to comfort her. Her throat burned and she swallowed the emotion with difficulty.

“How much do you think he was paid?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The ordnance official in London who fixed the reports. What is the cost of such things these days?”

“I have no idea. It is an odd question, Audrianna.”

“As much as you paid Frans? If you sought to buy such a man, what would you offer?”

“Audrianna—”

“Please tell me.”

He exhaled heavily. “I would probably offer at least half his annual salary, maybe as much again.”

“Then less than you just paid Frans.” She worked it through. “I expect that if that man had a wife and family always wanting things, always asking for dresses and diversions, he might be tempted even for so little a sum. I expect that if his wife thought it humiliating not to have a carriage, and his elder daughter needed a settlement for the good marriage she hoped to make, and his younger daughter coveted fashionable clothes, he might convince himself it was a small thing.”

She tried to imagine her father rationalizing it. She could not. Even harder was picturing him taking the step. However, she had no difficulty at all seeing him plagued by guilt, when it turned out the rain had not washed away that powder in one terrible situation. If he had done this—he would never have forgiven himself.

A man born a thief like Frans might brave it out. A man who knew he had sold his integrity, his good name, and caused the deaths of others never could.

Her thoughts turned chaotic, and horribly sad. She had been so very sure of Papa’s innocence of even the least of the accusations. Now she found herself fearing that the truth might be far worse than she ever thought possible.

Sebastian’s hand squeezed hers. “Frans was never given a name. He did not know who the official in London was. He only assumed it was your father when our attention settled on him. You should not assume the worst.”

Her vision blurred. It moved her that he would pretend the evidence was not damning, in order to lessen her disillusionment.

She found one tether on her composure and held tight. It was bad enough he had felt obliged to marry Kelmsleigh’s daughter. He should not be obliged to defend a criminal on her behalf, even in the confines of this carriage.

“Let us speak of other things,” she said, forcing a smile. “Tell me about your misspent youth, getting into trouble with Hawkeswell and Castleford.”

 

 

 

 

H
e regaled her with stories of three young bloods ignoring decorum and good sense. She appeared to pay attention, and even laughed on occasion, but he doubted she truly heard him.

She kept her composure and poise, however. All the way home, and as they entered the house and walked up the stairs, only her eyes revealed the depths of her sad astonishment. Her bravery both impressed him and broke his heart.

The door to the library flew open while they passed it. His mother sailed out. “You are returned. Thank heavens. You must go to him at once. You must see. You must make him admit it and call the physicians and—”

“Becalm yourself. What has happened?”

She inhaled deeply. “Your brother’s leg moved while I was there. Most distinctly. We were having a . . . conversation and he was exercised while making a point and his right leg moved to one side. It was very clear to me. There could be no mistake. He denies it, however, although Dr. Fenwood said the physicians came last week and indeed they found he had some sensation. You must go up there at once and talk to him.”

Audrianna touched his arm. “I am going to retire to my chamber and rest. Go to him.”

She continued up the stairs. Sebastian watched her go while his mother waited impatiently.

“Morgan’s leg moved some weeks ago,” he said. “Fenwood has been forcing some exercise. I am glad to hear there are more signs that he may recover someday.”

“Why did no one tell me there had been this change? I think that I had a right to know.”

“Only if he chose to let you know did you have a right to know. Apparently he did not so choose.”

“Well, I know now. Come, we will go to him together and convince him to make more effort. We will make him try harder. He needs us now more than ever.”

He looked at the stairs and pictured Audrianna mounting them. Back straight and head high, gracious and poised, she had put on an impressive performance.

“I will visit Morgan this evening. Right now I have something else that I must do.”

He left his mother gaping at his dismissal of her demands. He went up to his chambers and entered the dressing room. He stood at the door to Audrianna’s room and listened. No sounds came at first. Then he heard feminine voices exchange a soft rumble, and a door closing. She must have sent Nellie away.

Silence then. Perhaps she was spent from the day’s drama, and had fallen asleep.

He turned away, to find his own silence so he could think about what they had learned, and decide what to do with it. Or whether to do anything at all. In particular he wanted to consider the implications of the last thing Frans said.

If the Domino had not advertised that meeting at the Muses, and Audrianna had not, who instead had?

A sound suddenly penetrated the wall. A musical crash, like china breaking, accompanied by an anguished feminine curse. Then muffled, strangled sobs.

He opened the door. Pieces of porcelain littered the floor. The drapes had been pulled against the daylight. Audrianna lay on the bed in her white undressing gown, her face buried in a protective pile of pillows.

She wept violently. Her emotion wrenched his heart. Anger sounded in her sobs, along with a disappointment too devastating to bear.

He went over to her. If she wanted her privacy, she would let him know, but he could not leave her like this unless she sent him away.

She startled when she realized that he stood beside the bed. She only wept harder, as if he reminded her of another grief. He slid his arms under her. He lifted her, turned and sat on the bed, and held her on his lap while she huddled in his embrace and cried out her heart.

 

 

 

 

H
is embrace freed her. She stopped fighting the horrible heartsickness and let it flow. She turned half-mad at one point, became so lost in the sorrow that nothing else existed. He held her more firmly and pressed a kiss to her temple that made her sane again. Such a small gesture, really. A small touch of care. Yet it created a peaceful breeze that stirred her alive and pushed out the dark clouds of this storm.

She calmed under that breeze and the comfort it brought. Spasms wracked her as the worst emotion ebbed. He handed her his handkerchief and tucked her snugly against him.

“I have made a scene, haven’t I?” she asked when finally she could talk at all. “I even broke something. I do not even know what I threw.”

“You were angry.”

“I do not know why, or with whom.”

“Perhaps you were angry with him. And with me.”

“Not you. Please do not think so.” Not him at all, although he had not been far from her emotions in the madness. She had hated the way that sore had been there in this marriage, and how the mention or thought of her father poked at the wound until it hurt.

“Him, mostly,” she admitted. “And myself, for being so sure and for assuming the worst of you.”

She had also released the last of a different kind of anger, she realized—that born of the self-righteous certainty that her father had been wronged. She had buried her grief within it and now, today, that grief had finally been freed and had its day. The grief had become more tragic, though—and terribly confused in its memories.

The certainty was gone, but she could not completely give up her belief in Papa. She could not accept he had been responsible for those young soldiers being killed and maimed. She could not bear the thoughts of his fear if such a sin hounded him. A horrible truth beckoned and nibbled at her mind, but her heart would not, could not, acknowledge it.

Sebastian made no move to release her. He just held her in a comforting embrace while she sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.

“You are supposed to be with your brother,” she muttered.

“No, I am supposed to be here. For as long as you want.”

She tipped her face and kissed his cheek. She laid her head against him and let his strength hold together emotions that still wanted to shatter.

Within their peaceful silence a new emotion filled her, one whole and confident and sweet, not brittle and furious. Freed too by the death of her certainty, it touched her heart with memories of the intimacy of their nights. It forced her to acknowledge the importance of this embrace.

She looked up at him. The old bedazzlement descended, only now it filled her heart with an ache of glowing warmth, and moved her in ways that she suspected she would never be able to deny after this day.

She kissed him again, because she had to. Her spirit was too bruised to pretend she did not need him to hold her like this. Eventually she would be able to face all these truths on her own, but she wanted to hide in the protection of his care a good while longer.

He looked down at her, so deeply that she wondered where his thoughts were.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me back?” she asked.

“I was waiting to see if waiting would lure you into kissing me a few more times.”

She thought that a sweet little joke, just light enough for their mood and closeness. Then she realized it was not a joke at all.

Another truth. There had almost been too many today. She sensed that there was more to this one than she understood. She heard an invitation to express the warm, beautiful ache in her heart, though.

She slipped off his lap, then climbed back on, facing him, with her knees bracing his hips. She circled his neck with her arms and kissed him yet again. Longer this time. Her gratitude for his comfort, her sorrow about her father, her vulnerability within this newly acknowledged love—the kiss moved her profoundly because all of her heart’s emotions poured out while she pressed her lips to his.