The Stanforth Secrets (33 page)

The calm voice suddenly broke, and the girl bowed forward, shaken by racking sobs. Chloe went over and held her.

“The look in his eyes!” Belinda gasped and fell to weeping again.

Chloe looked over to Justin with appeal. He nodded slightly.

“Don’t, Belinda,” Chloe said softly after a little while. “Frank’s gone now, and nothing will bring him back. You have to think of Dorinda.”

Belinda fought her tears under control. “Yes.”

“Justin will manage things so you are not blamed for any of this,” she said. “Your greatest crime has always been to love too well.”

Belinda looked up, red-eyed but somehow relieved of a burden. “I will leave here,” she said.

“There is no need,” said Justin, and Chloe loved him for it.

“Yes. I must leave if I’m to make a proper life for Dorinda, perhaps find her a worthy father. I kept thinking, you know, these past days, that if I were taken for treason, she would never live down the shame of it, Delamere or no Delamere.”

Chloe threw open the curtains. The first dusky pink of dawn was lightening the sky. A few late birds were beginning to sing.

Justin stood and said, “You are a Delamere and so is Dorinda. You must never forget that.” He went over and very gently kissed Belinda’s cheek. A faint wail notified the world that Dorinda was awake and wanting attention. The sweet tyranny of child.

Belinda sadly smoothed her robe. “Thank you,” she said.

C
HLOE AND JUSTIN left the room and walked down the corridor. They needed to talk, and yet were still in their nightclothes. For the first time she looked at him, and admired his brown velvet banjan. She strongly suspected he was naked beneath it. Oh my.

“I will invite you into my room,” she said at last, “if you promise to behave.”

He grinned. “Would you care to define that more particularly?”

Chloe was blushing. She grasped her robe more tightly. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. You have my word. I will be a perfect gentleman.”

They stood in her bedroom, separated by a yard or two. “Thank you for being so kind to Belinda,” Chloe said.

He shook his head. “I may regret it later. It was a most affecting performance, but she did terrify poor George for the sake of her lover, and she pushed Frank off the Head, even under provocation. Not to mention poor Budsworth and the sailor.”

“You never asked about Samuel Wright.”

“I doubt she knew anything of that, though she may have some well-buried suspicions. I’d lay odds Frank killed him to protect the secret. I don’t think I would have liked Frank Halliwell. I can’t imagine why an intelligent young woman like Belinda allowed him to manipulate her.”

“Some women love too well,” Chloe said. “I would do as much for you.”

He smiled and took a step closer. “And I would sell my soul to the devil for you,” he responded quietly. “Have you forgiven me my stupid doubts?”

Chloe felt she would melt under the warmth of his gaze. At the same time, however, she was not disposed to succumb too easily with Belinda’s example before her. “Well,” she teased, “if you work very hard at it for the next forty years or more, I may forgive you in the end.”

His eyes were passionate, his smiling mouth beautiful in the candlelight. “It really isn’t fair, you know,” he said softly, “to torment me when you have my word.”

Heart trembling, Chloe smiled and released the tight grasp she had kept on her robe. It fell open at the front to show her demure cotton nightgown. She perched on the edge of her mattress, and leaned against the corner post at the foot of the bed. “One of the advantages of being a woman,” she said softly. “One of the few advantages, I might point out, is that we don’t have to play fair.”

He came over to lean against the post and look down at her. “Would you care to tell me what game we’re playing, my heart’s desire, and what the rules are?”

She looked up, just a little nervously. The truth was, she wasn’t sure. All the excitement seemed to have driven common sense out of her head. “A very inflammatory game?” she queried.

She could sense the passion in him, only barely under control, and her heart began a wild tempo. Was she really seeking to destroy his control? She realized she was. Having tasted the danger of losing him, she wanted to assure herself of her power over him . . .

He slowly reached down a hand, but it was only to grasp hers and pull her to her feet. She saw laughter spring to his eyes as he said, “You would be justly served if I were to let
my
garment fall open. Come.”

With that he hauled her out of her room and down the corridor to Macy’s.

Randal was sitting relaxed in a chair, with pistol in hand. Macy was still bathing his eyes.

“You could have blinded me,” he spat at Chloe.

Then he sneered, and looked at her and Justin in so disgusting a way that she instinctively gathered her robe together again. “Excitement takes some women that way,” he said with a nasty smirk.

Chloe felt Justin stiffen. Randal calmly raised his pistol, and Macy shut up.

“What do we do with him?” asked Randal, as one might talk of dirty laundry.

“An excellent question,” said Justin, leading Chloe to a chair and seating her. “We should haul him before the authorities and let him hang. The trouble is, that would doubtless lead to a close scrutiny of events here, and that doesn’t suit me.”

Macy looked cautiously optimistic.

“You can’t let him return to his activities,” said Randal firmly.

Chloe realized with slight surprise that her cousin had for once taken a moral stance.

“Of course not. But once this list reaches London, I don’t think Mr. Macy will want to be in England anyway.”

The older man looked stunned. “But where can I go?” he bleated.

“To the devil if you wish,” said Justin coldly. “I am going to put you on a boat to Ireland. After that it is up to you—Italy, perhaps, or the Americas.”

A crafty look flickered in Macy’s eyes and Chloe said, “He will try to convince the Prince of his innocence.”

Justin shrugged. “Nothing we could say of events here would affect that. Even if he manages that feat, those in power will make sure he never has access to information of significance again.”

Randal glanced down at his pistol. “Do you know,” he said, “I have a marked disinclination to letting a man go free after he’s betrayed his country and tried to carve up a member of my family.”

Chloe put a hand up to the wound on her neck. It still smarted. Justin laid a hand on her shoulder, promising love, and security, and tenderness.

“I like it even less than you,” he said to Randal, “but I don’t want his death here to raise too many questions.” He looked at Macy, his eyes hard. “You might want to consider that aspect of the situation, however, if you are tempted to return to England. An excuse for a duel can always be found.”

Humphrey Macy looked at the two young men and paled. “I never did any harm” he whined. “Useless, silly information. That’s all I gave them.”

He was still protesting when the three young people left the room and Justin locked the door.

Randal carefully uncocked his pistol. “You have the documents?”

Justin nodded. His arm had come around Chloe as if that were the only natural place for it to be.

“Should they go to London?” Chloe asked.

Justin frowned. “There is still some danger, you know. The French will have their eye on this place. I think Randal and I should ride to Lancaster and put the papers in the hands of the military.”

Randal accepted this with enthusiasm. Justin looked down at Chloe. “If we are to make rational plans, we really must change. I don’t know how it is, but the sight of you in the most diaphanous evening gown does not play havoc with my brain like you in two sturdy layers of nightwear.”

Chloe knew she was pink again. She could say the same for his effect upon her, except that his daytime clothes were always solid and concealing, and it was constantly obvious to her that the silk lining of his long garment rested only on his skin.

“You have never seen me,” she said lightly, “in my most diaphanous evening gown.”

He smiled brilliantly. “Something I await with breathless anticipation.”

Randal cleared his throat and, having got their attention, glanced down at his elegant robe of black brocade. “I am not so used to being ignored,” he said.

Chloe smiled. “You look very nice, Randal,” she said and he snorted. Justin burst out laughing.

“At any moment,” he said, “Margaret will be up to light the fires. What she will think, I don’t know.”

“It will merely confirm her belief that we are run mad,” said Chloe. “I just need to know how you two came so conveniently on the scene.”

To her surprise, Justin did not immediately answer. “I will tell you, I think,” he said cautiously, “when we are safely ensconced behind the breakfast table.”

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and disappeared into his room with amazing speed. Chloe looked at Randal with a raised brow. He kissed her too and slipped away, before she even had time to protest. Shaking her head, but feeling ridiculously happy, Chloe went off to dress.

 

 

Even though she’d had to wash blood and splashes of embrocation off her skin, she was downstairs too early. Matthew was only beginning to lay the places for breakfast. He looked at her in surprise and she realized the staff would not yet know of the night’s events.

Matthew. She had forgotten all about him.

Taking the direct approach, Chloe said, “Did Mr. Macy pay you to keep an eye on Delamere, Matthew?”

He dropped a spoon and bent to retrieve it. When he emerged, he was still red-faced. “I don’t know what you mean, Milady.”

“He got you this place, didn’t he? Why?”

“He knew I wanted a change, Milady.”

“And why was that?”

Chloe decided she must be growing skilled as an interrogator for Matthew crumbled. “He knew I’d been dismissed from a place in London for stealing, Milady. I only ever did it once. He threatened to tell the Banhams, to set it up so I’d be caught again so as I’d hang for it. Said he wouldn’t if I came here and kept an eye out. I was to send word if anything unusual occurred, and if a false apple were to turn up, I was to get hold of it if I could. It all sounded stupid to me, but I was in a state to begin with. Then it looked as if nothing would happen, and I came to like this place. I began to think he’d not done me such a bad turn.”

The thin-faced young man fiddled with the cutlery in his hand. “Then people started poking around apples and I was worried. But again, nothing came of it. When Mr. Macy turned up again, I was in a fret because I didn’t want to lose this place, especially not after meeting Sally. I suppose I’ll have to go now you’ve found out what I’ve been up to.”

Chloe wondered if she should wait and consult with Justin, but poor Matthew was such small fry. “No,” she said, “not if you’ve done no wrong. You’ve proved to be a good worker, and we can’t break Sally Kestwick’s heart, now can we?”

He looked up, blindingly grateful.

“Thank you, Milady. You’ll never regret it.”

Chloe turned to wait for the meal in the Sea Room and then had a thought. “You were to report to whom? Surely not all the way to London?”

“No, ma’am. To that Herr van Maes.”

Justin was right. The place was watched, and by the genial Dutchman. She waited anxiously to tell Justin what she had learned . . . and to be with him again.

She passed the time looking out at the birds flocking over the exposed mud, calling and squabbling over worms and crabs. Her thoughts, however, were turned inwards, on the matters interesting to lovers. The warmth of his smile, the scent of his skin, the feel of his hair . . .

The hall clock chimed the hour. People always said women took a long time to dress, and here she was while the gentlemen dallied. She realized they’d have to shave. Randal’s fairness had not shown a lot of beard, but Justin’s chin had been decidedly dark. It was a warm intimacy to think of him, waking beside her, with the slight roughness of a beard on his chin. . . .

She thought of razors, and her hand went to the soreness of her neck. The skin was reddened where the blade had rubbed, but the cut was very shallow and healing well. Still, she had chosen to wear a high-necked gown. She did not want to remind Justin of how close she had been to death. A quarter inch, perhaps, to the jugular. That sort of notion could cloud a man’s judgment.

He appeared in the room, shaved, groomed, and wonderful.

“Breakfast is ready,” he said.

She walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. They walked across the hall together but took seats opposite each other. Randal sauntered jauntily in, piled a plate high with food, and sat beside her.