Code of Honor (24 page)

Hammerton nodded.

Alex came to a halt where a tall, decorative trellis heavy with tuber roses screened them from any prying ears and eyes. "I now have reason to be sure that someone means him harm."

He knitted his brows together. "Truly? That is a serious charge indeed, Miss Chilton. May I ask why?"

"Because last week someone tried to kill me as well."

The words seemed to shock him. He took a half step backwards, as if recoiling from a physical blow. "Perhaps — I mean no offense — perhaps you are magnifying an incident in light of your understandable concern for your... "

"A gunshot leaves little to the imagination," interrupted Alex, a little more sharply than she wished.

"No, it does not." He rubbed his chin, as if in deep thought. Alex was relieved of some of her anxiety by the fact that he seemed to be taking her seriously at last.

"Have you discussed your concerns with anyone else? I have noticed that Lord Branford seems to be a friend...." He let the sentence die on a note of question.

Alex carefully schooled her features to remain impassive, "Lord Branford is merely an acquaintance who has a passing interest in botany. He is not one I would discuss personal matters with, while you, sir, have kindly expressed an interest in Justin. If I have overstepped... "

"Not at all." In the shadowed recesses of the overhanging foliage Alex missed the slight smile of satisfaction that passed fleetingly over Hammerton's face. In an instant it was gone, replaced by an expression more befitting the gravity of the situation. "You were quite right to speak to me, Miss Chilton. Your brother is an amiable young man and I am happy to be of service to you and your family in trying to put an end to this nasty business." He paused and regarded her with a strange intensity. "Tell me, have you any idea why anyone would want to harm either of you?"

"No!" All of her frustration and confusion combined to make the word sound suspiciously like a wail, though it was barely louder than a whisper.

Hammerton mistook its origins and patted her arm soothingly. She restrained the urge to flick his fingers away. He meant it kindly, she knew, yet his touch was oddly repellent. For some reason she did not make mention of her father's letter. It really was of no import anyway.

"I am not without contacts with which to pursue an investigation of this matter," he continued in a silky tone. "I shall begin making discreet inquiries immediately and will keep you informed as to what I discover."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared her trepidation concerning the man was as misplaced as her earlier trust.

"Thank you, sir. I am very much in your debt."

Hammerton touched her arm once more. "You have come to the right person, I assure you, Miss Chilton." The same chilling smile crept back to his lips. "And now perhaps it would be wise for us to return to the ballroom before any idle tongues are set to wagging."

A true gentleman, Alex had to admit as she let herself be led back into the glittering lights and festive mood.

Cecelia Ashton marched up the front steps of the magnificent townhouse and brought the heavy knocker down with a bang.

Once. Twice. Three times. Her foot tapped impatiently on the ornate landing as she waited for Branford's footman to open the massive oak door.

When he did finally crack it enough to observe the unexpected visitor, his face barely masked his surprise at seeing a lone female — and a diminutive one at that — seeking admittance at such an hour.

"Kindly open the door. I am in no mood to tarry here on the doorstep all evening, " snapped Lady Ashton.

For a moment, the man looked utterly nonplussed at being spoken to in such a manner. Then, recovering his equilibrium, he replied to the demand in a stentorian voice. "I am sorry, Madam, but Lord Branford is not at home."

"Fustian!" With the point of her neatly furled parasol, she pushed the door wide open.

The footman moved his rather large form to block the entrance.

"Madam!" he intoned again, though his inflection indicated his doubt as to whether she was deserving of such polite address. "I repeat, Lord Branford is not receiving visitors."

The parasol came down hard on his shins. With an undignified yelp, he recoiled sideways, allowing Lady Ashton to sweep by.

"Is he in the library?" Her head was already poking into the darkened room. "No. I take it, then, he is in his bedchamber?"

The man made a strangled sound.

"You needn't fear any repercussions," she airily as she ascended the stairs. "I shall inform Lord Branford you had no choice in the matter."

At the top of the landing she hesitated. On the right, a door was ajar and the faint light of a single candle was barely discernible. She entered very quietly.

Branford lay under a light coverlet, his eyes closed. His white linen shirt, open at the throat, heightened the pallor of his skin, evident even under the rough stubble of his unshaven chin and tangle of uncombed locks. Without opening his eyes, he gave a faint smile. "Poor Hawkins was no match for you, I see, Cecelia."

She dropped her parasol and came to the edge of the bed. "Oh, Sebastian." Her hand smoothed a tangle of hair from his brow and she brushed a quick kiss on his heated cheek.

He shifted slightly, wincing involuntarily at the pain that shot through his side.

"Are you badly hurt?" Lady Ashton asked as she moved the coverlet down to expose his chest. Through the fine weave of his garment she could see the heavy bandage wrapped under his breast.

"No vital organs damaged. Just a nick to the ribs. The doctor says I am lucky." He gave a harsh laugh. "I wish I could feel the same."

Lady Ashton moved a chair so she might sit by his side. "My dear friend, " she said softly, taking up his limp hand and holding it to her cheek. "You were there for me in my time of need. My sister and her child would not be alive if not for you—"

He cut her off. "I only did what Henry would have done."

"But Henry wasn't there! You defended her from that blackguard. Now, when you are in need, let me help you."

"I am beyond help." he said bleakly.

Lady Ashton squared her shoulders. "Nonsense," she said forcefully. "Though how a man of your intelligence managed to get himself in such a coil is beyond me. Kindly explain this ridiculous bet."

Branford eyes shot wide open. "How the devil..."

"Justin Chilton is no match for me either. He is, by the way, feeling quite wretched over this."

"I hope you weren't too hard on him. He did what any loyal brother must have done under the circumstances."

"I didn't have to be — he is doing a good enough job on his own. Henry wouldn't admit it, but I think even he was moved by the boy's courage in coming to our house to find out how you were."

In spite of himself, Branford smiled briefly. "He's a good lad."

"Yes, I think he is, but don't try to evade my question. I'm not leaving here until I get a satisfactory answer."

"That I can well believe," murmured Branford. He gave a deep sigh, only to have it cut short by another spasm of pain wracking his chest.

Lady Ashton's hand tightened on his.

"Very well, " he said in tone of resignation. "I was deep in my cups some weeks back — knowing Henry, I'm sure he voiced his concern over what he termed my destructive behavior. I had stopped at my club at a very late hour after — another sort of indulgence I needn't go into. A group of gentlemen were having a discussion. Alex's name came up as someone no better than she should be. I don't even recall exactly how it happened but I let myself be drawn into a bet, of which you have heard the unsavory particulars. As soon as I met Alex, I realized she was... she was an innocent, not the experienced, worldly lady I had been tricked into pursuing."

"Sebastian! How could you be such a ninnyhammer!" Lady Ashton's tone of exasperation reverberated throughout the room.

"I admit it was not the most gentlemanly thing, no matter what the reputation of the lady involved. I think you know I usually would not let..."

"That's not what I meant. Why the devil didn't you tell Alex this?"

"I... I... ." A look of acute embarrassment flooded his normally stoic face. He let his eyes fall closed again. "I don't quite know." He looked lost. "I suppose I was hurt that she didn't believe enough in me to know I would never hurt her."

"Believe you would never hurt her," repeated Lady Ashton incredulously. "My god, how unfair of you! She believed enough in you to become your friend. Then a vicious rumor comes to her attention. What is she to think, indeed? Instead of falling into a fit of vapors, she does what any intelligent young lady should do — she asks you the truth! And you, you had too much foolish pride to trust she would understand. Why, it is you who did not believe in her enough!"

She made a sound of exasperation. "Ohhh, I could shoot you myself," she muttered, causing Branford's lips to quirk for a moment into a harried smile before falling back into an expression of hopelessness.

"Well, at least you did not actually..."

His chin sunk to his chest

"Sebastian, you didn't!"

A tinge of color washed the pallor from his face.

"Oh dear."

"Cecelia," he stammered. "It is not what you might imagine. It...well, it is rather impossible to explain what led to — damnation! Fetch my coat over there."

Lady Ashton raised her eyebrows in question but went to retrieve the garment.

"Look in the pocket."

She took out a folded sheet of paper.

"Read it."

She opened it and quickly scanned its contents. "It's a special license."

"I meant to ask her that morning."

Lady Ashton was silent for a moment. "Because honor demanded it?"

"No," he said in barely a whisper. "Because I love her, and the prospect of life without her seems intolerable."

Lady Ashton's expression softened. "I am happy to see your intelligence has not deserted you entirely, Sebastian. The two of you will suit. I like her very much — she has enough sense and spirit to manage you quite well!" She smiled as she finished her words and squeezed his hand. "I wish you happy. And I truly believe you will be."

Branford finally opened his eyes. Their rich sapphire color were clouded with despair. "But I have made an impossible mull of it. No doubt she must hate me, and with ample reason. I fear I have lost her."

"No doubt she is very angry with you. And very hurt." She patted his arm. "That has nothing to do with love. I have seen her watch you in a crowded room, Sebastian. Things are not as hopeless as you think"

He looked at her with disbelief.

"Men!" she muttered under her breath. "I see I shall have to have a little chat with Miss Chilton tomorrow so we may begin to set things right," she continued in a firmer tone.

No!" cried Branford, rising up on one elbow, despite the pain in his side. "I mean, I cannot allow you to make explanations for my behavior — it would be more than cowardly. She must hear the truth from my own lips."

"Of course," agreed Lady Ashton. "I have no intention of explaining the particulars — she would neither want nor welcome it from me. I merely mean to have a little tête à tête with her concerning how brainless men are at times." She smiled sweetly. "It is fortunate you have other charms to make up for it."