Wed Him Before You Bed Him (25 page)

C
harlotte could not believe she had done it again. She had let David seduce her into forgetting her reservations.

They lay entwined on the old settee, with him holding her and her enjoying it far too much. Was he right? Was she a coward, afraid to take the next step? Afraid to promise all of herself to him—heart, body, and soul?

If she was, she was not alone. He was holding something back from her; she was almost certain of it. And how could they become man and wife if he would not share every part of his life with her?

She lifted her head from his chest to rest it on her hands and stare up into the features that had become painfully dear to her. “So tell me about this alibi,” she said, determined to get
that
much out of him at least.

He let out a long sigh. “I can't tell you all of it. As I said, it's not my secret to tell.” Glancing away, he said, “The night of Sarah's death, I had gone to help a friend. He was in trouble, the sort of trouble he wouldn't want anyone to know about. The sort of trouble he wouldn't want me to tell you about, either.”

“Is that why Pinter didn't mention it? Because you didn't tell him?”

“Yes. I don't want to say anything unless I absolutely have to.”

“Is it a friend I know?” She hoped it wasn't Anthony or
Foxmoor. Secret trouble generally meant women, and she couldn't bear to think of either of those men cheating on their wives.

“It's not one of your circle, if that's what worries you. But you do know the man.” His voice sounded strained. “I left at ten to go see him, and I returned at midnight to find Sarah dead.”

Her heart lurched with pity. “You were the one to find her?”

Pain flashed over his face. “Yes. The housekeeper and I found her together.” His voice lowered to an aching rasp. “Her wrists were cut, and it stained the water pink. Now that I think about it, there probably wasn't enough blood, but at the time it seemed…like a great deal. Especially after I read the note.”

She softly kissed his chest. “I am so sorry you had to endure such a thing.”

“The note made no sense, but it has tortured me for months—‘I can no longer bear this intolerable life,' it said. And I…I was sure it was because I had made her more miserable than I'd realized.”

She could see how he had suffered over that. It made her angry at whoever really
had
written the note. “But it was not genuine. Right?”

A shudder passed through him. “That's what they say. Yet I can still hardly believe someone would murder Sarah.”

“Do they have any suspects?”

His harsh laugh jarred her. “Aside from me? I don't know.
I
have a number of suspects. There's the little weasel of a moneylender who tried to extort money from me for her jewels a few nights ago, and made vague threats about
going to the papers concerning my wife's activities. There's her brother, Richard, who certainly would have known how to forge her handwriting.”

“Surely he would not have killed her!”

“No, probably not. They were quite close.” He sighed. “But he would certainly try to frame
me
for her murder, out of spite.” His voice hardened. “And then there's the footman she was apparently sharing a bed with, according to Terence, who was good enough to pass on the servant gossip from my own household.”

“Merciful heavens. Sarah? And a footman? Surely she would not be so shameless.”

“I certainly never dreamed that she would.” He cast her a bitter glance. “But then, I had no idea she'd used my family's jewels as surety for a gambling loan. Apparently I drove my wife to all manner of deceptions in her thirst for entertainment away from me.”

Charlotte pressed a finger to his lips, her heart breaking. “Don't blame yourself, my darling. Sarah was a devious little creature even when she was a student here. She was the sort of woman who would do anything to get what she wanted—flirt, lie, tease.”

She caressed his cheek, desperate to banish his haunted look. “I did my best to guide her into better habits, but she was stubborn. Her father spoiled her shamelessly when she was a girl, and she always expected to get her own way in everything.”

“I wish I'd known that before I married her.”

“If you'll recall, she sneaked around behind her parents' backs to see you. So she was in true form even then.”

“And I was blind.”

“Honestly, plenty of young girls have poor habits, but
marriage generally straightens them out. The responsibilities, the guidance of a kind husband…I really thought she might come out all right in the end with you.”

“Apparently my ‘guidance' was faulty.”

“She made her own choices, David. You cannot blame yourself for that.” She stroked her hand over his shoulder. “Though I still find it incredible that she would be so wicked as to have an affair with a footman. Why stoop to eat mutton when you have a juicy steak at hand?”

Just as she hoped, that made him smile. “Thank you for that. But I rather imagine it wasn't the…er…eating part that interested her. She wanted something from him, and that was probably his price.”

“That does sound more like Sarah.”

“I won't know for sure until I question him. Which I intend to do as soon as I've satisfied myself that he isn't the one who went to the authorities to try to blame me for this.”

A vague memory swam into her head that gained new significance in light of his revelations. “I don't know if I should mention this, but…”

“What? Please tell me anything you might know.”

“It may not be significant, but the other night at dinner, Giles told me…that is, he said something odd. That Sarah had a dark side.”

When David frowned, she added, “It might mean nothing—he could have been talking about the gambling, although he said he meant more than just that. I pressed him on it, but he changed the subject.” The ashen look on David's face made her regret mentioning it. “I'm sorry, it was probably nothing.”

“Doesn't sound like nothing. It seems I need to talk to my brother as well.”

“Surely you do not think Giles is involved.”

David sighed. “I don't know what to think. But I intend to find out the truth behind her death. Sarah deserved that much from me at least.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

His gaze swung to her, full of alarm. “No,” he said firmly. “The best thing you can do is not let on to Pinter that we have a personal connection. They may find out anyway, but it's better if they don't know.” He cupped her cheek. “I'd never forgive myself if you got dragged into this swarm of suspicion.”

The concern in his eyes warmed her, despite her reservations about their relationship. “Believe me,” she said softly, “I have no desire to have any more dealings with Mr. Pinter.”

David smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “Speaking of him, I should probably go, before either of us is discovered missing.”

She nodded.

“But before I do, promise me one thing.”

“What is that?”

“That you will seriously consider marrying me when this is over.”

She swallowed. But really, it was an easy promise to make. She was already seriously considering it. “All right.”

He let out a heartfelt sigh. “Thank God. I need some hope to keep me going right now.”

So did she. Because from the sound of it, it might be a long while before they got to see each other again.

 

When David awakened late the next morning, Giles was ensconced in the armchair across from his bed wearing a
grim expression. Rubbing his bleary eyes, David pushed into a sitting position. “What are you doing here? Thinking about moving back into the house?”

“No. I rode over here from my quarters. Because of this.” Giles tossed a newspaper into his lap. “Sorry, old boy.”

David glanced down at the headline, which screamed, “Viscountess Murdered.”

Feeling a familiar punch to the gut, David read the article. He was spawning ugly news stories yet again. “At least they only hint that I could be a suspect. I suppose that's something.”

“Right now they're afraid to do more because there's no official statement. This was probably leaked by some clerk in the magistrate's office. But mark my words, it won't be long before the whole sordid story comes out.” Giles cast him a hard look. “So if there's anything you're keeping from me that might help me nip this in the bud, I advise you to reveal it now.”

Giles's tone angered him, especially in light of his discussion with Charlotte last night. “I could say the same to you,
brother.
”

Giles blinked. “What's that supposed to mean?”

The nasty suspicion that had tormented his sleep last night spilled out. “Were you sleeping with my wife before she died?”

“What?” Giles shot up from the chair. “Where the devil did you get such an idea?”

His outrage seemed genuine, yet David pressed on. He
had
to know. “Because
someone
was able to get into her room late at night without being noticed. Someone she trusted, someone she knew well enough to allow him to see her in her robe.”

“It bloody well wasn't me! I was drinking in a tavern halfway across town.” Giles crossed his arms over his chest, the very picture of belligerence. “If you don't believe me, I'm sure I can provide a witness or two.”

David slumped, running his fingers through his hair. “I'm sorry, Giles. I just don't know what to think anymore. I found out yesterday that Sarah was having an affair with her footman.” When Giles winced and dropped into the chair again, a cold chill skated along David's spine. “You knew.”

“I wasn't sure, but…I suspected as much.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“Tell my brother that his wife might be a slut who would stoop to sleeping with a servant? How could I say such a thing? Especially when I had no proof. I saw them kiss once in the hall. That was all.”

With a groan, David left the bed and went to the fire in a vain attempt to warm the ice freezing his blood. “I never guessed she was so unhappy in the marriage—”

Giles snorted. “The marriage had nothing to do with it. Sarah wanted the man under her thumb, and that was the way to manage it. As I said, I'm not even sure it ever progressed beyond a tender word and a kiss or two.” His voice hardened. “Sarah liked to flirt. Especially if she thought it might gain her something.”

Charlotte had said much the same. Turning from the fire, David gave his brother a hard stare. “I take it that she flirted with you?”

A sigh escaped Giles. “Once or twice. She started…insinuating that if I would convince you to loosen the purse strings, she might be willing to…” His gaze shot to David. “I told her she ought to consider herself lucky that you
allowed her as much free rein as you did. And that pretty much put an end to any designs she had on me, thank God.”

Wearily David shook his head. “You must think me a complete ass, to have been so oblivious to my wife's infidelities.”

“No,” Giles said softly. “She was very careful to hide the maliciousness of her character from you. And to be honest, neither of you ever made any pretense of caring what the other did.”

“That's what got her killed,” David said as he put on his dressing robe.

“She got herself killed.” Giles mused a moment. “Now that you know about George, I suppose you've considered the possibility that he killed her.”

“I have. In fact, I plan to have him followed to see if he might be the one who's making wild accusations to the authorities and trying to get me hanged.”

Giles frowned. “It may be too late for that.”

“What? Why?”

“George wasn't at his post when I arrived this morning. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but—”

“Damn it all to hell!” David hurried into the hall and called for his butler. As soon as the man mounted the stairs, David said, “Call George here at once.”

The butler paled. “Forgive me, my lord, but no one has seen him since last night.”

David fought for calm. “Is it possible he was sent on an errand without your knowledge?”

“No, sir. And…er…when we went to look for him this morning, we found his room empty of any personal belongings.”

David scowled. “You're saying that he ran off in the night.”

“It appears that way, my lord.”

“Well,
that
certainly looks suspicious,” Giles said dryly. “We'd better tell Pinter.”

“Confound the man.” After calling for his valet, David went back to his room and began to dress. “Let's just hope Pinter doesn't decide to accuse me of killing my footman as well.”

“He and his men will question the servants—I'm sure someone saw the man leave. But George is a clear suspect in Sarah's murder, with no alibi. This should shift suspicion to where it belongs.”

After David finished dressing they headed down the stairs, but the noise from the street stopped them in the foyer. The press—of course. Once the truth about Sarah's death had hit one paper, they'd all come to pick over her bones. And get his opinion of the matter.

David turned to the butler. “Send a footman out the back door without livery to fetch that runner who's been watching the house, will you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

But before the butler could even leave, a knock came at the door.

“It's probably some bold newspaperman,” Giles said. “Best to ignore him.”

The butler went to look out one of the windows. “It looks like Mr. Pinter himself.”

“Excellent,” David said. “Let him in.”

When the runner entered, he blinked to find them standing there in the foyer.