A Clandestine Courtship Part 18

Which was true, she admitted. She had been held up to an impossible standard. No wonder she had felt unworthy.

And the gossip had aggravated that image. As had the gentlemen. First George had abandoned her. Then James. And finally Frederick. Only John had stayed, but he had used every incident to feed the gossip, raising new doubts in her mind and pouring on the guilt. It was all her fault.

No! No more. She was not responsible for any of it. She was innocent of ruining Frederick. His failings were rooted in his childhood. Perhaps he had hidden his true character when he had approached her father to ask for her hand. The previous baron's death had been unexpected-an accident while hunting with friends-so his sudden desire to wed had seemed reasonable. He had needed someone responsible enough to raise his young siblings, and marriage would free him from his guardian.

Now that she thought about it, he had chosen her solely on those grounds. Providing an heir had never been mentioned. Nor had helping him with the estate.

So in his usual fashion, he had solved the immediate problems as quickly as possible, with no thought to the ultimate consequences. Like other young men, he had had no interest in a wife. He had probably not even heard the rumors about her. He had believed that a vicar's daughter of advancing years would make an adequate subst.i.tute mother. All he wanted was to rid himself of responsibility and escape to London to resume the life his father's death had interrupted.

So she had had nothing to do with his defection. Her actions had been no better or worse than anyone else's. She was not perfect, but neither was she a pariah. She need look no further than Caro and Amelia for proof that she had accomplished something worthwhile.

The guilt slipped from her shoulders, first in a trickle, then a rush. She was free. Her head felt light for the first time in years. She wanted to laugh, to dance, to run. She was free.

Amelia was chuckling over one of Harry's stories. She had never looked happier. Would it stay like that? She hoped so.

The girls would have better marriages than she had experienced. Each had found someone who cared for her. Neither felt pressured to wed out of duty or honor or any of the other reasons people committed matrimony.

Which meant that her own duty was nearly done, the duty for which marriage had contracted her. Once the weddings were over, she would be free of the last shackle.

The jointure Justin had reinstated would more than cover that cottage. A place that was hers alone, that would never be taken from her, where no one could intrude without her permission. It had been her ultimate dream. Security. Peace. Belonging. Only one cloud intruded. James.

He was- not a man to give up without a fight. Even the gulf between their respective positions would not deter him if he was determined to win. So she must convince him that he did not want to pursue this particular war.

Chapter Twelve.

James set aside an account book as his friends entered the library. "Are congratulations in order?"

Harry's grin nearly split his face. "They are indeed."

Edwin's smile was dreamier. "You left early."

"Business."

Hairy snorted. "If business was that urgent, why did you go with us?"

"Lady Northrup suggested a new approach. The books contain notes on staff discipline. I'm compiling a list of specific grievances people had against John."

"This obsession is getting out of hand," observed Harry, shaking his head. "You are worse than Edwin and his Romans."

"But not as bad as you and your conquests," protested Edwin, laughing. "What will you talk about now that you have given up wenching?"

"Homer," he said instantly, striking a pose of learned pomposity. "The intricacies of the Odyssey, the drama of the Iliad, the inept.i.tude of the translators that forces me to slave for months-nay, years-composing my own editions."

"That will certainly endear you to society's hen-witted hostesses," said James with a grin.

"Fashion," decided Harry, adopting the demeanor of a fastidious dandy and twisting his voice into a bored drawl. "The intricacies of the cravat, the drama of choosing the best color and cut of a jacket, the inept.i.tude of clothiers that forces me to slave for hours-nay, days-finding the perfect thumbs and fingers to make an acceptable pair of gloves." He peered suspiciously at his hands.

"Brummell beat you to that complaint," pointed out Edwin.

"And bores us into a stupor with his endless repet.i.tions of it," added James.

"Are you suggesting I avoid the trite? But society prefers the trite. It does not tax even the simplest mind."

"Surely, you are not implying that Lady Beatrice is simple-minded," said Edwin, pretending absolute shock.

"Never!" Harry glanced behind him with a theatrical shudder. "Sharp as a tack, that lady. And she'll crucify you for thinking otherwise, even in jest. I swear she can hear us even as we speak."

"So what will you talk about," asked James. "We will remain on my estate much of the year. Amelia has interesting ideas about improving it. And when I am in London, I will bore everyone by rhapsodizing on the joys of the married state. Or with politics. My father's last letter hinted that he might give me that seat in Commons after all."

"Hardly boring. You should consider marriage for yourself, James." Edwin grinned.

"Later."

"Why not court Mary?" Harry's prodding remained light-hearted, but a serious note crept into his teasing. "It would hardly interfere with your investigation since she is helping you with it."

"What did I do to deserve this?" James asked, half to himself. "A man steps into parson's mousetrap and immediately demands that all his friends join him. You sound like Lady Hardesty," he added, naming one of London's ubiquitous matchmakers."

"He has a point," put in Edwin lightly. 'I've seen the way you look at her-and how she looks at you, for that matter."

"Can you honestly swear you're not thinking about it?" demanded Harry, prodding harder.

"No."

"Well, then-"

"It's not that simple." His tone wiped the grins from their faces. "Lady Northrup has suffered greatly at men's hands-or so I suspect. She has no interest in tying herself to another one."

"I thought Amelia was being coy when she mentioned Mary's plans to leave," said Harry. "In fact, I a.s.sumed that she wanted me to push you a little."

"Not at all."

"Perhaps Caro can suggest something that will help," said Edwin.

"No!"

Both men jumped.

"Stay out of it. And keep the ladies out of it. No prodding; no questions, even innocent ones. She's skittish enough to bolt if she feels threatened, and I truly need her help to find John's killer."

Edwin exchanged glances with Harry, then shrugged. "If that is what you want."

"Absolutely."

"How is the investigation proceeding?" asked Harry.

"The more I learn, the more confusing it gets. But I am convinced that Frederick was somehow connected. Within hours of arriving at Ridgeway, John received a note that lured him to his death. So the motive must be rooted in his previous trip home- which he cut short, fleeing the moment Frederick died. He did not even stay for the funeral."

"I know little of Frederick, but I can ask Amelia about him," said Harry with a shrug. "Or would that bother Mary?"

"She knows I am investigating his death. She has questions about him, too, but she cannot find answers-just as I have trouble learning the truth about John."

"Then I will talk to Caro."

"And I will speak with Amelia. Frederick was a degenerate, which explains why Mary is so unhappy about my betrothal."

"She still is?" He had hoped he'd a.s.suaged some of her fears.

"Justin and Amelia had already accepted my suit, so Mary had no choice, but she distrusts my reputation."

"I take it she has no qualms about you, though?" said James, glancing at Edwin.

"None that I noticed."

James ignored the ensuing discussion of wedding plans. Had he convinced them to leave Mary alone? If she felt pressured, she would run. Or she would dig in her heels so hard that he would never convince her to give him a chance. She was not a woman who changed her mind easily.

d.a.m.n Harry's eyes. And Edwin's. It was bad enough that he had rushed his fences with Mary, but he had not realized that his friends could also deduce his intentions. His control must be slipping.

Frustration, of course-beyond the slow progress in finding the killer. And it could only get worse. He had promised not to touch her, eliminating those small contacts that built intimacy-the hand on her back, helping her in and out of carriages, sitting close enough to brush her leg, dancing...

Dancing? He swore. He should never have kissed her. Now they were both in trouble.

Sir Richard was hosting an evening of informal dancing. Should he go or stay home? Perhaps watching him dance with others would soften Mary's heart.

But that would not work. Mary was a baroness. Avoiding one of the highest-ranking ladies in the room would cast new aspersions on her head. Yet skipping the gathering would insult Sir Richard and add to the suspicions everyone had of him.

d.a.m.n! No matter what he did, someone would suffer.

Kissing her had been a mistake. He had not understood how deeply her fears ran. And revealing his intentions had driven the wedge in farther, creating a host of new complications.

Perhaps he should just explain the problem and let her decide. A simple country dance involved minimal contact, but would satisfy the social niceties. If even a country dance was too much for her, then he would stay home. At least that would not reflect on Mary.

The watcher clenched his fists as Ridgeway exchanged pleasantries with Miss Hardaway. James was sneakier than his brother had been, cloaking his evil in kindness and using generosity to deflect attention from his black heart. When he showed his true face, the pain would be even harsher for being unexpected.

But what could one expect of a French agent? They were trained in trickery, expert at manipulation, and regularly used false charm to wheedle information from unsuspecting innocents.

James surpa.s.sed his brother's evil, adding treason to the cruelty, brutality, and debauchery that the twins had practiced for so long.

Hatred gleamed in his dark eyes. The most credulous were already falling under the earl's spell. Some even swore that James had been absent that day.

He knew better. But even if the tales were true, it made no difference. James would have been there, given the opportunity. And who was to determine which twin had lied? No, both were evil. Both deserved death. The wicked must pay for their sins.

a.s.suming a casual demeanor, he headed for the l.u.s.ty Maiden.

"Yes, indeed," Miss Hardaway agreed as James seated her in the confectioner's shop. "Robby is a good boy, despite working for your brother, begging your pardon."

"I am sure he is," he said soothingly. "But you can hardly fault me for checking on John's employees. His judgment was unsound, and I must have a loyal, hardworking staff."

"You need have no fears about Robby. I employ his brother, and I have known the family since childhood. Excellent servants. Mr. and Mrs. Hayes both work at the inn. Each of the children, down to the youngest girl, who just hired on as a kitchen maid at Northfield, is a good worker, honest, and respectful of his betters."

"So when Robby claims that a summons drew John to his death, I should believe him?"

"Absolutely."

"Even though no note was ever found?"

"That boy never told a falsehood in his life. I remember when he was eight. Bobby Barnes and four others swore the ghost of Jeremiah Perkins rose from the churchyard and chased them clear to the inn. But Robby denied it. He had seen nothing and refused to claim otherwise just to cover his friends' fear."

"So John received a note. Do you have any idea who it was from?"

Miss Hardaway waited until cakes and tea were served and they were again alone. "None."

"When was it delivered?"

"Robby doesn't know. Ridgeway found it at half past noon, but no one had been in the library-or no one admitted to it."

"I understand you suspect that the note concerned something illegal."

"Ridgeway would have demanded that anyone legitimate attend him."

He nodded. "Perhaps, but he might have gone out to inspect a problem."

She snorted. "Don't you know your brother better than that? If a problem had arisen, he would have sent Walden. He didn't bother with estate matters."

"True." Leaving the house implied a need for secrecy beyond what even a terrified staff provided. "So the subject was illegitimate, but the gentleman was someone he trusted."

"Perhaps. Robby claims John was unhappy about the summons-furious would describe it better. So it wasn't a meeting he had expected."

"I wonder which of his crimes finally caught up with him," James said lightly, hoping his implied condemnation would encourage her to talk about John's misdeeds.

"It could be anything," she replied primly.

"Such as?"

"Some believe he debauched Sir Tristan's daughter last year."

"That would have been during his previous visit?"