Caroline (18 page)

"Sacha, kindly explain what you mean. All this cursing and complaining is quite out of character for you!"

This produced a small quirk at the corner of Alec's hard mouth. "You're right. I mustn't let that chit get the better of me."

"How did she get back into this?" Nicholai exclaimed. "But, you're right there. I've never known you to bother yourself over
any
female!"

"That's what has me so damned mad!"

"Surely you aren't letting this guardian role go to your head?"

"On the contrary," Alec replied with a sardonic twist to his lips. "I suppose I might as well tell you all, beginning with my journey to Connecticut. I confess that I feel a need to discuss this with someone."

"You have my wholehearted attention."

"Well, you'll recall that I won that property from a man named Josef Bergman. It was in a card game."

"Vaguely."

"He was an officer and a fine man, and I really had no intention of holding him to it, but I decided to leave matters as they were until the war's end. He was an honorable man, and I felt he would want to stand by his debt, particularly in view of the others in the company.

"At any rate, he told me that he had some papers to give me, but I put him off, telling him it could wait. Shortly after that he was wounded, and I saw him before he died. He told me, 'You must take care of it all—all, Beauvisage. Do you promise?' And, of course, I did. He said that there was a key to his strongbox in his waistcoat pocket, and that I would find papers explaining everything. He died then, even as he spoke, and I was called back to the battlefield before I had any chance to see to his effects. I returned to his body before they removed it, but there was no key. Stranger yet, when I investigated his belongings I found no strongbox at all. Needless to say, I thought it all quite peculiar, but I assumed that the key had somehow been misplaced or stolen. I imagined that there were valuables in the box, and some devil had just made off with it.

"Well, Cornwallis surrendered the next day, and Bergman's farm was pushed to the back of my thoughts. Fortunately, on the night of the poker game he had drawn me a rough map showing the location of the place, and I found I still had it. You know that I had no opportunity to go up there until this autumn, and all the way I really worried little about those papers of his, for I assumed that they must have detailed his property. I had no interest in those facts, for I had the feeling that he had family, and I fully intended to just cancel the debt and leave the entire property with them."

"It all sounds like a lot of bother!"

Alec shrugged, leaning over to pick up an ash that had fallen from Nicholai's cheroot onto the Persian rug.

"At any rate, I found a singularly strange state of affairs awaiting me in Connecticut. Bergman's farm was quite handsome, and it had the look of habitation—and since two years had passed since his death, my conviction that he had a family living there was reinforced. No one answered my knocks, however, so I entered through a window. There were dishes and food left out, convincing me that I was right. There were three good-sized bedchambers on an upper level, and I found one wardrobe full of Bergman's clothes, and in another room there were female possessions all around. All through the house there were things overturned—even a broken vase in the girl's room."

"Mighty queer, if you ask me!" Nicholai broke in.

"A sound deduction, brother," replied Alec, raising one eyebrow. "I set out to the nearest neighbor's house which was less than a quarter-mile away. I felt sure that someone so nearby would be able to help me fit the pieces of that cursed puzzle together. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I knocked at the door and immediately heard it being bolted from within! A man's face appeared at the window, and he began yelling at me to be gone. I called back, telling him who I was, and I am certain he took my meaning. Yet it did no good; if anything, he grew more angry. In fact, I could have sworn the fellow was afraid. I met the same response at the two other neighboring farms, both of which were at least two miles away!"

"God's name, Sacha! What was going on?"

"I never did find out. Perhaps they all feared I was a redcoat or a Hessian. I didn't even stay the night, for I felt damned uneasy. I left a letter of explanation on the table at Bergman's house, asking to be contacted. I suppose I'll have to return if I don't hear any word, but I'll admit that this whole affair has become cursed inconvenient. Also, I've been beset with worry over that strongbox of Bergman's. Somehow I feel that there was more to its disappearance than I thought at the time." Alec rose to splash more brandy into his glass.

"But I am doubly perplexed! When did you discover Caro? Can she have arrived here before you to explain the mystery?"

Alec looked at his brother in total incomprehension. Suddenly he realized the mistake and threw back his head in laughter.

"Sacha," Nicholai burst out, "I am missing the joke here! Kindly stop laughing and enlighten me!"

"I suppose I must, though by all rights I should consult Caro first. Ah well, too bad. I expect you'd better have another drink before you hear the rest of this incredible tale!"

He took an obedient gulp, then leaned forward in his chair expectantly. "Do stop looking so confounded amused and get on with it!"

"As you wish. I don't doubt that you'll find this whole story a trifle unbelievable and confusing, for that is my own feeling, and I was there through it all! You see, Caro is no relation to Josef Bergman. I found her in the remote woods of Connecticut on my way to Wallingham's farm and brought her with me because she had nowhere else to go."

Nicholai's forehead was puckered in an expression of total bafflement. He leaned back in his chair, scratching his auburn head.

"I must confess that I am lost."

His brother began to laugh again, seeming to enjoy the situation.

"I am telling you that Caro is a stray waif—actually a runaway, I fear. I took that back route across the woods to the Hudson River. Ivan and I were riding several miles past the Post Road when I saw a piece of green silk fabric in the leaves. I stopped to investigate and saw Caro lying unconscious beside a stone wall."

"God's life! Are you roasting me?" Nicholai's best friend was an English refugee from whom he had learned many British expressions. He used them constantly, enjoying the attention they attracted.

"I would not consider it," Alec smiled. "The oddest thing was that she was totally garbed in male clothing; even her hair was stuffed beneath a tricorn hat. At first glance, I thought that she was a boy, but it did not take long for me to see the truth."

"I don't doubt that!" he laughed.

"When she woke up, she had no idea of her identity. I could only surmise that her horse had run off and the fall had occasioned a blow to her head, causing the memory loss. The green bundle I'd found contained some personal effects, including a dress, but no money. Everything pointed to the conclusion that she was running away. I have no idea how she could have believed she would survive alone in those woods, but obviously the risk was outweighed by her fear of being found on the main road."

"She still does not know who she is?"

"Hasn't a clue. I can tell you this much, though—she's well-bred and educated. She speaks French, is well-read, and has flawless manners. Of course—she's damned impetuous...."

"Blister it, now I know why you were glowering at me so ferociously downstairs tonight! The girl is yours, isn't she?"

"Absolutely not! She'll not be yours either, so put those thoughts out of your mind. Caro will meet a man who will treat her properly."

"She's quite an unusual female, isn't she? I certainly cannot imagine the young ingénues we know clad in breeches in the middle of the Connecticut woods alone. You know, Sacha, in spite of what you've said, I'd lay odds that she'd have made it somehow. The girl's got a quality...."

"Yes, I know. She's unique among all the women I have ever known. She has courage, too. You wouldn't believe...."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. It's a long story."

"Say, brother, am I to understand that you two were traveling alone together through the wilderness?"

Alec's face was inscrutable.

"Yes."

"Well?" Nicholai drew the word out suggestively.

"Be silent, you oaf. I never want to hear you discuss Caro in that tone of voice again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Why—of course," he stammered, confused by his brother's reaction.

Alec's jaw was set in a hard line as he stood up and shrugged off his coat.

"It is very late. I would suggest that you spend the night here. We can have breakfast tomorrow and you can fill me in on your activities."

"That sounds fine to me," he replied cautiously. "Thank you. And—may I ask just one more question?"

"Of course."

"Do you really intend to tell everyone that Caro is your ward? Aren't you worried that someone might have known Josef Bergman and will expose you both?"

"That is a chance we will have to take, I suppose. I highly doubt that anyone will notice her last name enough to inquire into her parentage. You aren't to tell anyone the truth about this, Nicky. The tale of Caro and me spending those nights alone together in the woods would spell instant social ruin for her."

"Haven't you considered marriage yourself? The girl has been hopelessly compromised, you know. Even if nothing
did
happen."

Alec shot his brother a withering look. "I suggest that you mind your own damned business. There will be no marriage of honor between us—we would not suit, and it would be a mistake for us both. Let us dismiss this subject now, Nicholai. You have heard far too much already."

He untied his cravat with one hand, tipping his brandy glass up with the other to drain it. Then, picking up his coat, he turned back to his brother.

"I bid you goodnight. I would recommend the bedchamber east of Natalya's."

"Goodnight," Nicholai murmured as he watched him walk out of the room. His green eyes were perplexed as he sank back into his chair.

"Somehow," he mused aloud, "the pieces do not quite fit together. And Sacha is not himself—definitely not himself...."

* * *

Caro was unable to sleep, even though her large bed was deliciously comfortable. There was a very low fire burning in the fireplace and she finally got out of bed and lit a candle. Carrying along a hand-stitched quilt, she settled herself in a chair near the window. There was a crystallizing pattern of frost edging the windowpanes and the night was clear and bright with starlight and moonbeams.

Caro folded her legs up against her breasts, clasped her hands around them, and rested her chin on her knees. There were more thoughts spinning through her mind than she could manage to sort out. Nor was she certain that she wanted to understand what was happening inside her heart.

Perhaps, she thought, if I knew who I was, or what my past has been, it would help me to direct my emotions. I feel so odd and unattached—as though I am not truly a person...

Her frequent confrontations with Alec had a way of leaving her ever confused, no matter what their outcome. She had turned to him tonight in an effort to force him into a commitment of his friendship, for he had been the only secure and dependable part of her life so far. In spite of everything, Caro had always felt that he understood her. Now she was unsure of everything. Alec was acting more impersonal toward her every day, and his blunt confession that evening had left her uneasy in quite a different way. Although she could doubtless count his family members as friends, it was not the same.

Feeling acutely melancholy, Caro drew a deep breath and turned her cheek against her knees. Her thoughts were pulled back to the Wallinghams' barn and she found herself straining to keep in focus an image of those reptilian yellow eyes, hoping that she could remember why they seemed so uncomfortably familiar to her. Even if the memories were bad... at least it would be better than having none at all!

Across the room, a movement caught her eye as a door she had never noticed opened. Her head came up with a swiftness born of panic.

Alec stood in the doorway, holding a pewter candlestick. Shadows played on his lean brown face, and she was shocked to see that he was naked to the waist. In the leaping flicker of the candlelight, his chest seemed broader and darker than ever, and Caro noticed the hard, muscled ridges creasing his stomach. White teeth flashed in a grin as he walked nearer.

"My dear, you look as if you've seen a ghost."

She laughed nervously, pulling the quilt over her breasts which were poorly concealed beneath her thin muslin bedgown.

"You startled me! I confess that I had not even realized the existence of the door! Where does it lead?"

Alec smiled again. In the eerie half-light of the room he reminded Caro of the devil himself.

"To my bedchamber,
cherie.
Didn't Natalya tell you whose room you occupy?"

"Why, she said it belonged to the wife of the man who built Belle Maison..." Her voice trailed off weakly as sudden realization dawned.

"I thought you would feel safer knowing I am nearby; you may rest easy in the knowledge that my own bed is but a few short yards away..." His mocking tone echoed in the quiet room.