The Genuine Article (28 page)

Marian blushed deeper. "You are being unseemly," she whispered, but not in protest. His words and his looks were making her tingle like his kisses had earlier. She was much too aware of what the gown did not cover.

"That damned gown is unseemly," he muttered hoarsely. "Haven't you a shawl or something you might use to cover it up?"

She stiffened. "It is no more unseemly than the ones the other ladies are wearing. I had it made by a very fashionable modiste. I thought you would be pleased to see me rigged out properly."

"I'd be pleased if I were the only man in the room. I can feel them all breathing down my neck, just waiting for me to get out of the way so they can see you. I don't like sharing." He grabbed her dance card and glanced over it, then deliberately threw it into a potted palm.

He held out his hand. "I will take you back to your mother and explain that I do not intend to share you this evening. She may inform your disappointed suitors."

Bemused, Marian allowed Reginald to drag her back in the direction of her family. She wasn't at all certain how to take his reaction to her gown. She had hoped he would find her attractive. Did he consider her shameless instead? And what right did he have to throw away her dance card? She liked dancing. She wanted to kick and protest, but she was all too conscious of the eyes watching them. Lord Witham was still standing with her mother.

"I believe I see a scene approaching," the viscount murmured as they watched the couple emerge from the potted palms. Marian's growing rebellion was not easily hidden. The black look on Reginald's face was the real surprise. His brother never openly expressed any emotion.

"Oh dear, I hope Marian has not been too hasty. Sometimes she is not overly cautious with her words." Lady Grace twisted her gloved hands and glanced toward her younger daughter to make certain she was safely in Darley's care and out of hearing of the approaching storm.

Witham looked amused at his companion's understatement. He was more than certain that Lady Marian had a way with words that rivaled his brother's. He didn't think words were the problem here. He glanced at the young lady's revealing gown and bit back a smile. She had hidden herself very well indeed the morning he had met her. Reginald was undoubtedly in a state of agony Charles could not wish on any man, but the viscount wasn't about to try to explain that to Lady Grace.

"Madam, if you will, explain to Lady Marian's other partners that I do not intend to allow my betrothed out of my sight this evening. Unless they wish to dance with me, they will have to find other partners." Reginald spoke stiffly, keeping his eyes correctly on the woman to whom he was speaking rather than the irate one behind him.

Charles chuckled as the stunned Lady Grace sought an appropriate reply. "Don't suppose it is the necklace that has you distracted, is it, little brother? When did you say you meant to set the date?"

Marian tried to shake off Reginald's imprisoning hand. "Never, if I have aught to say about it. He is being beastly unreasonable."

Reginald pulled her up beside him and glared down at her. "Next time, I will go with you to the modiste. I'll not have my wife..." A frown formed between his eyes as he bent his head closer and stared quizzically and quite immodestly at her bosom.

Marian raised her free hand to push him away, but Charles caught it with a warning shake of his head. He gave a discreet cough. "Reggie, you are going at it a little too far."

Reginald caught Marian's necklace between his fingers and lifted it enough to catch the light from a bracket of candles on the wall. The duke had chosen not to use gaslights, which would blacken his new wall hangings, and the room was entirely illuminated by smoking candles and discreetly placed lamps. It made for a romantic setting, but not good lighting.

Reginald dropped the necklace and frowned at Marian. "I did not bring that back with me. I left it at Arinmede. Why did you choose to wear it tonight?"

Marian stared at him. "Are you all about in your head? You brought this to me just yesterday."

Reginald's jaw muscles tightened as he raised his gaze to his brother. "He's done it again. That miserable cur has done it again. This time, when I get my hands on him..." He turned away and started toward the stairs, his fingers clenched into fists.

Although Lady Grace had no clue to what was going on, Marian and Charles exchanged worried glances. While Charles made hasty excuses to her mother, Marian raced after Reginald.

If her necklace had been stolen again, she meant to slit the thief's throat personally and save Reginald the trouble.

Chapter 23

Charles caught up to Marian in a few quick steps. Catching her arm, he tried to halt her progress toward the door. "You cannot go with him. We are making a scene. Smile and go find your next partner. Reggie and I will take care of this."

Marian donned a blinding smile, patted his coat sleeve lovingly, picked up the skirt of her gown, and continued on up the steps. Heads turned as she passed, and hands covered whispers. The duke himself departed the reception line and stopped to inquire if anything was wrong. Marian offered him the same blinding smile and hurried on.

Charles murmured something about a sudden illness in the family and ran after her. He wasn't a man who often cursed, but a few pithy phrases came to mind.

Marian caught up to Reginald at the door, where he had summoned his brother's carriage. "I'm going with you," Marian announced.

Reginald didn't intend to take the time to argue. The carriage came around, and he ran down the steps to claim it. Marian ran after him, and he remembered his manners in time to practically heave her in. He leaped in after her, and Charles had to grab the door and propel himself inside before he was left behind.

"This is insane, both of you. Lady Marian's reputation will be ruined. You cannot go about chasing criminals in the middle of the night. It is not done. I'll call Bow Street. They'll take care of the villain. The two of you need to return and settle the gossip."

"You may return Lady Marian and settle the gossip. I intend to wring the necklace out of O'Toole's throat. He has played me for a fool one too many times."

Marian scarcely noticed the luxury of the viscount's velvet-lined carriage. She caught Reginald's hand between her own and wound her fingers between his, needing the reassurance of his touch. "I don't understand. How could he have switched them? I have kept the necklace on me since you brought it back."

Reginald shot her a quick gaze, his mind instantly imagining that string of jewels resting between her breasts as she slept and beneath her gowns as she went through the day. He almost choked on the mental image he summoned. If it hadn't been for his rage at O'Toole and the presence of his brother...

He jerked his thoughts back to the moment. "O'Toole was still in the hall when you went down last night?" He turned to Charles.

The viscount considered the question. "Yes. He was leaning against the newel post holding a handkerchief to his nose while Jasper kept him under guard. Then you yelled for him to come up."

"I suppose he brushed past you as you left." Reginald sounded resigned.

"As a matter of fact, I believe he did. I thought he was weak and staggering. He isn't a large man, you know. Your assault no doubt caused him some pain."

"Balderdash." Reginald would have sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, but Marian's fingers were soundly entwined with his. He squeezed her hand instead. "He picked your pocket. He must have found the copy and brought it with him. Damn, but what did he hope to accomplish?"

"He either hoped that once you returned the original to me you would not notice it again, or he meant to give himself a little extra time to escape England." Marian frowned. "I'm not so certain that he is working with my cousin, Reginald. I truly believe Lord Effingham must have made him bring back the necklace."

"Then Lord Effingham can make him produce it again. I mean to bind and gag the monster of ingratitude and deliver him to your cousin's doorstep." After I strangle him, Reginald added to himself. It wouldn't do to allow the lady to know the extent of his rage. It was entirely a matter of personal pride now. No man—particularly a skinny, red-haired valet—would get the better of him.

The journey through damp city streets was a short one. They rode it in relative silence, each with their own separate thoughts.

Reginald was out the door and ordering Marian to stay where she was before the carriage wheels scarcely stopped rolling. Marian was on his heels before Charles could halt her. With a resigned look, the viscount leisurely strode after them, reviewing the fastest sources for obtaining a special license. Ladies other than wives simply did not follow gentlemen into their homes. He would have to remember to impress that upon his own daughters as they grew up.

Jasper emerged from his employer's downstairs study when the front door slammed open. The secretary watched in shock as his employer—rigged out in evening breeches and frock coat—dashed up the stairs as if his heels were on fire. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as a goddess in frail silk and gold netting ran after him. But when the dignified viscount trailed in, shrugged, and followed them up the stairs, Jasper turned around and went back to the study where a decanter of brandy awaited.

By the time Marian located Reginald's bedchamber, her betrothed had his valet by the throat and dangling a foot off the floor. O'Toole appeared in danger of turning a virulent purple, which didn't go at all well with his auburn hair.

"Reginald, you will never discover anything if you kill him," Marian said prosaically. "I don't suppose you have any rope or anything we can use to tie him up?"

The valet made a strangling noise and gazed at her wildly.

Charles strolled into the room in time to hear Marian's question. He chuckled at the valet's panicky look. "I believe in the colonies they call it 'stringing' him up, my lady. One binds a rope around the thief's neck and flings it over the branch of a tree. The result is quite as satisfactory as a gibbet, I believe."

Marian gave him a curious look but Reginald offered more prosaic orders.

"Take the sheets off the bed. I'll mummify him."

O'Toole gasped for breath as he was lowered into a chair and his arms jerked behind the chair back. "I trust I receive a bonus for playing these kinds of games, my lords," he protested.

"Oh, certainly, O'Toole." Reginald pulled the sheet Marian handed him around the valet's chest and knotted it firmly in back. "Give me the other, Marian. I'll bind his feet too." To O'Toole, he responded, "Transportation to Australia sounds a sufficient bonus to me, unless you prefer a brief sojourn with the Navy. I'm sure you'd enjoy the sea air."

"I'm not much of a sailor, sir. I'll forego the pleasure, if you don't mind. If you could explain the goal of this game, sir, I might play it a little better."

"The goal?" Reginald appeared to consider this as he jerked the second sheet around the chair and his valet's legs and bound them securely. "The goal, my good man, is to teach you not to play with things that don't belong to you. The faster you return the lady's necklace, the sooner you may expect to be released, although I don't promise you will enjoy your freedom anytime in the near future."

"That being the case, sir, I would rather decline the game. I don't have need of any bonus at the moment."

Reginald smiled grimly as he checked his handiwork. "You're a cool customer, I'll give you that, O'Toole."

He turned to Charles. "I say we send Jasper for the marquess. Tell him we have his servant here and mean to hand him over to the authorities if the necklace doesn't appear within the next twenty-four hours. Does that seem reasonable to you?"

Marian frowned. "What if Mr. O'Toole doesn't work for my cousin?"

Reginald shrugged. "Then he had better come up with the necklace's whereabouts on his own, hadn't he?" He brushed off his hands and started for the door.

"Wait a minute!" O'Toole called after him.

Reginald turned and lifted a quizzical brow.

O'Toole glanced to Marian. "The lady's wearing the necklace. What is it I'm supposed to produce?"

Reginald smiled coldly. "The genuine one. Good-night, O'Toole."

He walked out, leaving the valet cursing and struggling against the sheets. Marian and Charles hurried to follow him.