Angel Rogue (53 page)

He wondered if her total withdrawal was an aspect of her Mohawk heritage. Not that the reason was important; what mattered was that she was shutting him out. He would never have guessed how much that would hurt.

When he finished, he pulled a blanket over her, then covered her knotted fist with his hand. "Is there anything I can do?"

She gave her head an infinitesimal shake.

"Kanawiosta, when I was drowning in grief, you told me that a burden shared is lighter," he said softly. "Is there nothing you will accept from me?"

"Not now." Her muffled voice was almost inaudible. "I'm sorry."

"Do you want me to leave?"

She nodded.

Heavy of heart, Robin stood. In spite of her petite size, she had never looked fragile, but now the slight form under the blanket looked diminished and vulnerable. He did not try to define his feelings; he only knew that he would have willingly given everything he possessed to alleviate her misery.

Needing to express some of his tenderness, he touched her raven hair in a caress too light for her to feel. Then he forced himself to leave.

Having heard from her servants that there was trouble, the duchess waited outside in a chair, her hands patiently folded in her lap. When he emerged, she asked quietly, "What happened?"

He sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "Apparently Maxie's father committed suicide."

"Oh, dear Lord." Margot's face whitened. Having lost her own beloved father under tragic circumstances, she would understand Maxie's distress all too well.

"I wish to God that I could do something." Robin's mouth twisted. "But all she wants is to be left alone."

"Give her time to absorb the shock," Margot advised. "Grief is a solitary affair. Sometimes one must go inward and come to terms with it before comfort from others can be accepted."

"I'm sure you're right, Duchess." He tried to smile. "But it's very hard to see her like this."

"Love hurts, Robin." Attempting to lighten the atmosphere, she continued, "So does hunger, and I find myself hungry very often now. Come and have tea with me." Taking his arm, she marched him off to the morning room.

Tea wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

They had finished a silent tea when the butler entered with a calling card. Margot's brows rose. "Lord Collingwood is here."

Suddenly alert, Robin said, "Shall we receive him together? I have a vested interest in anything he might have to say."

"Of course."

The butler left, then ushered the visitor in a few moments later. Lord Collingwood was a tall man with a thin, tired face. After bowing to Margot, he said, "Please forgive the intrusion, Duchess, but I have reason to believe that my niece, Miss Maxima Collins, is visiting you. I would like to see her."

"She's here," Margot admitted, "but unwell and not receiving visitors. Would you like to leave a message for her?"

Collingwood hesitated. While he considered, his gaze fell on Robin, who had withdrawn to an unobtrusive position at one side of the room. The viscount's eyes narrowed. "My niece was traveling with a man of your description."

Robin inclined his head. "I am Lord Robert Andreville."

That rocked the visitor. "Wolverton's brother?"

"The same."

Collingwood shook his head in disbelief. "And here I'd been worrying that the girl had been taken in by some rogue."

"Noble birth is hardly proof against villainy," Robin said dryly. "However, my intentions regarding Miss Collins have been honorable. We met by chance. Knowing the dangers she risked, I offered my escort to ensure that she reached London safely." As he spoke, he studied Collingwood. If one looked closely, there was a faint resemblance to his sister, though he was a staider, more conventional creature than Lady Ross. Nonetheless, he seemed very much the English gentleman; not the sort to have an inconvenient brother murdered. No wonder Maxie had had trouble believing that her uncle could be so ruthless.

With a trace of humor, Collingwood said, "You certainly protected my niece from the Bow Street Runner I sent after her."

"Good Lord, Simmons is a Runner?" After a stunned moment, Robin had to laugh at himself. "I should have guessed. Maxie and I thought he was some kind of villain."

"Runners and the criminals they pursue often resemble each other," Collingwood agreed. "But Ned Simmons is one of Bow Street's best. I commissioned him to investigate my brother's death and do what he could to keep the matter from becoming public knowledge. Quite apart from the potential for scandal, I didn't want there to be any question about burying Max in holy ground. By chance, Simmons was in the north when my niece ran away, so I asked him to bring her back."

After Margot waved him to a chair, Collingwood said uneasily, "Prom what Simmons said, my niece was very upset after visiting the Abingdon Inn."

Robin nodded. "She learned that her father killed himself. The manager didn't talk—I assume that you or Simmons paid him to hold his tongue—but one of the servants told us. Maxie is taking the news very badly."

Collingwood exhaled wearily. "I was afraid of that—she was devoted to Max. I envied my brother his daughter. My own girls…" He broke off a moment, then continued, "I wanted to spare Maxima such a dreadful shock. That's why I tried to prevent her from reaching London."

"It was your attempt to conceal the truth that sent her off to investigate," Robin said acerbically. "Maxie overheard a discussion between you and your wife that implied there was some kind of foul play involved in her father's death."

"So that's what happened. At first I thought she had decided on impulse to visit my sister, Lady Ross. It wasn't until my sister appeared in Durham that I realized something was amiss. With every report Simmons sent, I became more alarmed. I'm grateful the girl didn't meet disaster." He grimaced. "Now that I don't have to worry about her life, I can begin to worry about her reputation."

"No one need know how she reached London, so her reputation is intact," the duchess pointed out. "The real problem is her reaction to the news of her father's death."

"I have some happier news for her." Collingwood studied Robin. "I gather you have constituted yourself her protector."

"You gather rightly."

"Then I suppose I can tell you Maxima is something of an heiress. It's a mere independence of five hundred pounds a year, but enough to keep her comfortably here or in America."

Robin's brows rose. In spite of Collingwood's disclaimer, it was a very considerable legacy. "From whom is she inheriting? She said her father left nothing."

"Our Aunt Maxima, Lady Clendennon, was Max's godmother. She was always fond of him. Though she complained about what a wastrel he was, she said it with a smile. She loved getting his letters." Collingwood sighed. "If Max's prudence had equaled his charm, he could have been prime minister.

"Aunt Maxima knew it would be absurd to leave Max any money, so she decided to make Max's daughter one of her heirs instead. After she died last winter, her solicitor wrote my brother in Boston, which is why he returned to England when he did. Since the lawyer was being uncooperative about executing the will, Max decided to go to London to talk to him personally."

"Why didn't your brother tell Maxie about this? I've gotten the impression that she handled their financial affairs."

"Max forbade me to tell her until the matter was resolved because he didn't want her to be disappointed if it didn't work out," Collingwood explained. "As it turned out, my aunt specified that Maxima could not inherit before her twentyfifth birthday at the earliest. After that, the money was to be held in trust as long as Max was alive. Apparently my aunt was determined not to allow my brother to waste his daughter's inheritance.

"After Max died, that was no longer an issue, but the present Lord Clendennon was urging the solicitor to find a way to disqualify Maxima. I'm afraid that my cousin is a greedy devil, and the legacy will revert to him if she doesn't inherit. When Clendennon recently learned that Maxima's mother was a Red Indian, he suggested that she might be illegitimate, the product of a casual liaison, or perhaps not even Max's daughter."

Robin whistled softly. "I don't blame you for not wanting to tell Maxie that. She would have been enraged."

"And justly so. When Clendennon raised the issue, I had my solicitor write to a colleague in Boston. Last week I received a copy of my brother's marriage lines. Max and his wife were married by an Anglican priest, so Maxima is entirely legitimate." Collingwood gave a faint, satisfied smile. "Even if there hadn't been a Christian ceremony, I was prepared to argue that her parents were legally married under the laws of her mother's people. For that matter, illegitimacy would not necessarily have invalidated the bequest, but Clendennon might have used it as an excuse to cause legal trouble that would take time and money to resolve. This is much simpler."

"You've gone to considerable effort on your niece's behalf."

"Of course—she's family. Besides, I'm fond of the girl. I wish my own daughters had some of her spirit." For the first time Collingwood smiled. "But only some of it. Maxima would have been a rare handful to raise. An eccentric like Max was a better father for her." He rose to his feet. "I'll be staying at the Clarendon for several days. I'd like to see Maxima before I return to Durham. Will you tell her I called?"

"Of course," Robin said. "Do you want to explain about her inheritance yourself?"

The viscount shrugged. "Use your judgment. If she will see you and not me, tell her if you think it might cheer her up. I've made a muddle of the whole business, I'm afraid."

"Maxie is fortunate to have such a conscientious uncle," Robin said. "Given the constraints you had, there may have been no solution that wasn't muddled."

"Thank you." Collingwood's expression lightened a little as he took his leave. "Lord Robert, your grace."

When they were alone, Robin said, "I'm sure you noticed what I did in Collingwood's story."

Margot nodded thoughtfully. Drawing conclusions from sketchy data was the essence of the spy's art, and they were both very, very good at it. "But is there any way to prove it?" '

"Not definitely, but with more information I can make a convincing case. Absolute proof isn't necessary." Profoundly glad that there was something he could do for Maxie, Robin headed for the door. "I'll start now. Heaven knows when I'll be back."