Debra Mullins (19 page)

“Wait! Where are you going? You can’t just walk off like this!” Vaughn came out from behind the desk. “Damn it, Devereaux, we’re not finished here!”

“I am.” He headed for the door. “I will contact you if I need assistance, Vaughn.”

“Blast it, Devereaux, come back here! I can help you!”

But Rome kept going, closing the office door behind him.

“I wish Mama had agreed to come,” Lavinia said, as she sat with her husband, Anna, and Henrietta in Haverford’s drawing room.

Emberly patted his wife’s hand, the small diamond in his pinky ring glittering in the soft light. “Now, my sweet. You know your mother dislikes socializing.”

“She doesn’t dislike it,” Lavinia protested. “She’s simply too humiliated to be seen anywhere but
en famille
. The instant she discovered the Fellhoppers were going to be here, she changed her mind about attending.”

All of them glanced at the Fellhoppers, who sat with the admiral and Haverford at the card table, playing a spirited game of whist.

“It could have been quite the intimate coze,” Mrs. Rosewood remarked, sipping a glass of sherry, “had it been kept to just family.”

“Then you and I would not be here, Mama,” Anna reminded her.

Henrietta gave her a patronizing smile. “Nonsense, daughter. You know it is just a matter of time before we are family in truth.”

Anna rolled her eyes and glanced apologetically at the Emberlys. “I do not seek to presume, Mama.”

A squeal of feminine laughter came from the card table. Henrietta sent a disdainful look at the players. “Some people do, apparently.”

Anna was saved from covering her mother’s rudeness by the entrance of the butler, Leighton.

“Mr. Roman Devereaux,” the butler an
nounced. Moments later Rome appeared in the door, windblown and exhausted, and Anna’s heart skipped.

“Rome!” Haverford called out. “What ever are you doing here?”

Rome nodded acknowledgment to the other people at the table as he came to stand by the earl. “It is urgent I speak with you, cousin,” he murmured.

“I see.” Haverford rose. “If you will all excuse me…” The two men left the room, and Anna’s chest grew tight. Breathing became a chore as she watched the door swing closed behind that tall, familiar form.

“Don’t be too obvious,” her mother murmured. “We mustn’t let his lordship think you fast.”

Anna just closed her eyes and focused on calming her quivering nerves, leaving her mother to her incorrect assumption.

“I wonder what brings your brother here?” Emberly mused. “He looked as if he’s ridden his horse into a lather.”

“I don’t know.” Lavinia frowned after the two men. “I do remember he had said he intended to stay in London.” She cast a puzzled glance at Anna.

Anna shook her head ever so slightly. She had no idea why Rome was at Haverford Park, but the urgency and unexpectedness of his arrival certainly left her at sixes and sevens.

Lavinia pursed her lips as she considered the
matter, then gasped. “Oh! I do hope nothing has happened to Mama!”

Emberly squeezed her hand. “If that were the case, he would have come to fetch you. No doubt ’tis some sort of man’s business. Do not worry.”

“I agree with your husband,” Henrietta said. “Mr. Devereaux would surely tell you immediately if your mama needed you at her side.”

Lavinia took a deep breath. “Very well. I will simply wait until he has finished speaking to Marc before I quiz him.”

“Sound thinking.” Emberly agreed.

But she glanced at Anna again, and the worry in her eyes sparked Anna’s own. What
was
Rome doing here? And worse yet, how in the world could she keep her distance from him when every beat of her heart demanded otherwise?

Lavinia twisted her fingers together, and Emberly rested his hand over hers. “My dear, do not overset yourself. If you like, I will go and tell your brother to come speak to you the instant he has finished conferring with Haverford.”

“Oh, would you, Henry? That would make me feel so much better.”

“Of course, my dear.” Henry rose and smiled down at her. “I shall be back momentarily.”

As Emberly left them, Anna’s mother said, “You are fortunate in your husband, Mrs. Emberly. He clearly cares for you a great deal.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rosewood. I am indeed blessed, though Henry is gone quite a bit to his
political meetings. I do wish he could spend more time at home.”

“There are other wives who see their husbands but once a year,” Henrietta continued. “A woman must appreciate the moments her busy husband can spend with her. Isn’t that right, daughter?”

Hearing the lesson behind the words, Anna answered by rote. “Yes, Mama.” Surreptitiously, she glanced toward the door. Lavinia coughed loudly, and Anna jerked her attention back to her companions to meet Lavinia’s warning gaze. At the silent reminder, Anna’s wild speculation about Rome lurched to a halt. She struggled to pick up the conversation. “I shall certainly remember that when I am wed.”

“If more daughters listened to their elders, there would be more content wives,” Henrietta declared.

“A woman should always be content and grateful for what she has,” Lavinia said. “Everyone is happier for it.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Emberly, I believe you have hit upon the root of the problem.” Henrietta nodded and sipped her sherry. “If more of our young ladies learned to appreciate their lot in life and let go of foolish, romantic notions, we would all be the better for it.”

“I agree,” Lavinia said, looking straight at Anna. “The heart leads without reason, and those who follow it often find themselves the victims of disaster.”

Before Anna could formulate a reply, Emberly rejoined them.

“I’m sorry, Lavinia,” he said, taking his seat beside her. “They have closeted themselves in the study. I expect we will have to wait until they return before you can speak to your brother.”

“Thank you for trying, Henry.”

Emberly smiled, and his affection for his wife shone in his normally sober dark eyes. “Anything to make you happy, my sweet.”

H
averford closed the door to the study and locked it, then walked toward his cousin. “Rome, what are you doing here? Has something happened?”

Rome paced the floor of the study, too restless to sit. “Peter is dead.”

“What? Good God!” Haverford grabbed the back of a chair, his eyes wide with shock. “When? How?”

“Early this morning. And by the sword, of course.” Rome gave a harsh laugh. “The bloody Black Rose Society.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I was supposed to protect him.” The slash of guilt still ripped at his insides. “I thought I had a
good plan. No one should have been able to find him.”

“They must have been following him.”

“That’s my guess.” Grief tried to drown him, but he fought back the wave with effort. There would be time to mourn later, when his duty was done.

“I take it there is some danger that brings you here.”

Marc’s smooth, practical tone helped Rome to regain control of his roiling emotions. “Yes. Anna…Miss Rosewood is in danger.”

Marc sat down. “Tell me.”

“She has something they want, something that belonged to her brother. They would kill to get it.”

“Really. Do they know she has it?”

“I don’t know.” Plagued by agitation, Rome picked up Haverford’s letter opener off the desk. The elegant silver instrument resembled a miniature sword, hilt and all. He turned the piece over in his hand, watching the light play on the blade.

“What is this mysterious something?” Marc asked, raising his brows as he plucked the letter opener from Rome’s fingers.

“Oh, sorry. It’s a note to her brother from the society. Apparently, they are mad to get it back lest it lead the authorities to them.”

Marc frowned. “I see.”

“I just learned of this and came straightaway to warn her.”

“Don’t you mean to warn
me
? After all, I am responsible for Miss Rosewood’s safety.”

“To warn
all
of you.” His fear for Anna would betray his true feelings if he did not choose his words carefully. Frustrated, he took the letter opener from Marc and tossed it on the desk. “Cousin, I have ridden a long way to bring you this news. I only just found out myself. Let’s formulate a plan.”

Marc drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “How did you discover this complication?”

“Vaughn.”

“Edgar Vaughn? What does he have to do with this?”

“He’s investigating the society.”

“Really!” Marc adjusted his spectacles. “And he told you this?”

“Yes. I will tell you the whole of it later, but for now, let’s just focus on the fact that the society wants that note back, and Anna has it.”

“And we can’t confirm if they know she has it,” Marc mused.

“The best course of action would be to get it from her,” Rome said, sitting on the edge of the desk. “I don’t think they would be keen to kill her unless she gets in their way.”

“Why do you say that? Aren’t these men murderers?”

“Yes, but the death of a young woman under mysterious circumstances would generate more attention than they would like.”

“Whereas young men being slain by the sword could just be attributed to impetuous youth and
a boy getting into deep territory with unsavory elements.”

Peter’s lifeless face flashed through Rome’s mind, and he clenched his jaw. “Yes. Even if they used a method other than the blade, the death of an otherwise healthy young lady, especially one of Miss Rosewood’s social standing, would cause a considerable uproar.”

“So you believe they may simply try to steal back the note?”

“Yes.”

“What if they don’t find it?”

Coldness settled over Rome, freezing his expression in a hard mask. “Then they might risk harming her. At that point, they would fear for their very existence.”

“So it is up to us to protect her. Unless Mr. Vaughn is going to assist?”

“I didn’t tell him everything. I’m trying to keep Anna out of it.” Rome got to his feet and prowled the room.

Marc rose as well. “So only you and I stand between Anna and these blackguards? You’re playing a deep game with our lives, Rome.”

Rome stopped dead and glared. “Would you rather I betray her to the society? What if they don’t know she has the note? By calling in the authorities and surrounding your house with armed guards, we would tell the society where to find their missing communication, as surely as if we had taken out an advertisement in the
Times
.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Rome strode across the room to loom over Marc in subtle intimidation. “Peter is dead, and I was careful with him. If they are watching Peter, then they may be watching me.”

Marc simply looked at him with those calm gray eyes, unthreatened by Rome’s greater height. “In which case, you may have led them to our doorstep.”

“Damn it!” Rome turned away, irritated by his own shortsightedness. “You’re right.”

“But then again,” Marc mused, ever unflappable, “if you had not come, we would not know of this danger. At least now we can prepare.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Rome settled back on the edge of the desk again, determined to keep his emotions in check and think like a soldier. “So let’s make a plan. Will you ask Miss Rosewood for the note, or shall I?”

Marc hesitated before answering, his expression pensive. “You have said that Anna is obsessed with learning more about her brother’s death. If that’s true, do you suppose she will just hand the note over to us?”

Rome gave a bark of laughter. “Hardly. Anna Rosewood is a stubborn woman.”

“So you’ve said.” Marc raised his hand and tapped his chin with one finger. “I suppose we will have to steal it.”

“Agreed. And I should probably be the one to do it.”

Marc raised his brows. “Why you? This is my house.”

“I picked up quite a few talents in the military.” Rome grinned. “Don’t look so shocked, cousin. It was all for the good of England, you know.”

“Indeed.” Marc shook his head. “Very well, tell me your plan.”

“You will distract Miss Rosewood and the rest of the guests with an outing of some sort. I will cry off—exhaustion after my bruising ride. While you are gone, I will go into Miss Rosewood’s room and search for the note.”

“That should work. I shall give the servants the afternoon off so you are not disturbed.”

“Excellent.”

“And once you’ve found the note, you can give it to me, and I will put in my safe.”

Rome thought it over, then nodded. “A good plan. Even if the society believes she may have the note, once they search her room and don’t find it, they may well believe the rumor was a mistake.”

“And with it snug in the safe, we can hold it to turn over to the authorities.”

Rome got to his feet. “Shall we try this tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’ve already offered to take my guests on a picnic tomorrow, so that will work out splendidly.”

“Good. Together we will make certain Miss Rosewood stays safe.”

“I had best return to my guests,” Marc said. “And you should change your clothing and join
us. I’m certain you must have alarmed Lavinia with your rather abrupt arrival.”

“No doubt you’re right.” Rome blew out a hard breath. “I will reassure her, Marc, but then I will retire to my room. I’m not good company tonight.”

“Of course.” Sober-faced, Marc nodded. “I’m sorry about Peter, Rome. He was a good lad.”

“He was.” Rome walked with Marc and waiting while the earl unlocked the door. “And I will find who did this to him, no matter how long it takes.”

“Rome!” Lavinia cried. She jumped to her feet as her brother entered the drawing room and would have run to him except for her husband’s restraining hand on her arm.

“Propriety,” he murmured. “And have a care for your state.”

“Very well.” She shook off Emberly’s grip and hurried at a quick walk to meet her brother.

Henrietta leaned close to Anna’s ear. “I’m glad Mr. Devereaux has arrived,” she whispered. “Perhaps he will distract Miss Fellhopper.”

Anna struggled against her own distraction. Freshly shaven and in clean clothes, Rome drew her gaze despite her best intentions. He lingered on the other side of the room, listening to his sister with one ear while greeting the players at the card table.

Then he turned his attention toward her.

Their eyes met for one sizzling second. Her breath caught, and her heart skipped, and her
flesh warmed. She nearly stood up, except her mother leaned in again.

“See how she can’t take her eyes from him? Perhaps his handsome face will distract her from the earl.”

She sat back in her chair with a soft thud, appalled at how she had nearly betrayed herself.

Rome approached with Lavinia by his side. “Good evening, Mrs. Rosewood, Miss Rosewood.” His gaze lit on Anna for an instant, then moved on. “Emberly, good to see you. When did you arrive?”

“Just last night. I had expected to be delayed, but my schedule cleared unexpectedly.”

“Mine as well.”

“You were right, Henry,” Lavinia chimed in as she took her seat again. “It was just a business matter.”

“She had feared some fatal accident had befallen your mother,” Emberly told Rome.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Rome said with a smile at Lavinia. “I was coming out here anyway, and a business acquaintance asked that I pass an important message to Marc.”

“I thought house parties bored you,” Lavinia teased.

Rome cast a smile at the group, lingering for half a second longer on Anna. “This one promises to be quite stimulating.”

Conscious of Lavinia’s watchful gaze, Anna kept her own expression polite. “Lord Haverford has suggested a picnic tomorrow, Mr. Devereaux.
Are you certain you will find so mundane a pastime entertaining?”

“Of course he will!” Henrietta exclaimed, with a chiding look at her daughter.

“On the contrary, I find I am quite fatigued from my journey this evening.”

“How disappointing.” Mrs. Rosewood gave a charming smile. “But you will join us for dinner, I hope? Miss Fellhopper has promised us a concert afterward. She has a lovely singing voice.”

He glanced over at Charlotte. “I look forward to hearing her.”

Anna followed his gaze, where pretty Charlotte laughed and teased her brother over a hand of cards. Her heart twisted with pathetic jealousy, and she had to turn away. She must control her emotions. Rome was an eligible gentleman, and Charlotte was an unmarried lady. He had every right to admire her, to even pursue her if he chose.

Just because Anna had been foolish enough to lose her heart to a man she could not have did not mean Rome should not find happiness elsewhere.

She withdrew into herself as the conversation continued around her. Curse the man! He wasn’t supposed to be here, confusing her with all these forbidden emotions. He was supposed to be safely in London while she did her best to lure Haverford into a marriage proposal here in the country. His very presence tempted her to forget about honor and follow her heart.

But this she could not do. Her family depended on her to make the excellent match they had arranged for her, and she had no wish to create such a scandal that it would ruin Rome’s chances at a future.

And he knew that, drat him. He knew their association was wrong, and yet here he was, standing before her. She knew that nothing so inconsequential as a house party would have drawn him away from London and the investigation of the Black Rose Society. That meant that something had happened to bring him here— something to do with the society.

She needed to talk to him alone and find out what he was doing here, then she would do everything in her power to make certain he left again with all possible haste.

Because as long as Rome Devereaux was close enough to see, hear, and touch, there was no way on this earth she could ever muster the strength to agree to marry another man.

At long last, the house fell silent.

Rome had expected to slip into a deep slumber upon returning to his room, given the exhausting events of the past couple of days. But his mind would not rest, and so he had lain in bed, tossing and turning amongst the tangled sheets, images of Peter’s lifeless body haunting him.

Finally, he had given up on sleep and turned to whiskey for comfort.

He stood before the window, moonlight bathing his nude body beneath the open dressing gown, his third glass of whiskey in his hand. Outside, the manicured lawns of Haverford Park glimmered in the soft, silver light of the moon, as if painted by the faerie folk.

If a man believed in that sort of thing.

He tossed back a swallow of whiskey. A man like him only believed in the pistol in his hand and the woman at his side. What he could see, taste, and touch. Feelings were foreign to him, uncomfortable. He had gotten into the habit of suppressing his emotions if they interfered with his work.

Love refused to be suppressed.

His throat clogged, and he sucked in a deep breath to keep the unmanly tears at bay. Another swallow of whiskey helped. Damn it, he would not bawl like a babe over what he’d lost.

Anna. Peter.

Peter was dead. Gone. Never to return. The immediate danger around the note had seen to it that Rome could not even attend the funeral. No, he must stand by and watch over the woman he loved.

Watch her with another man.

He choked back the last of the whiskey, then grabbed the bottle off the night table. All his life, he had tried to act with honor. Was this his reward? To lose the boy he was supposed to protect? To fail his fallen friend? To stand by, helpless, as the woman he loved wed another man?

When would it be his turn to step out of the shadows and live in the sunshine?

A sound outside his door made him tense. Quietly, he set down the bottle and glass, then tied the sash of his robe with two efficient tugs. The scrape of the latch sent him to his night table, where his pistol rested in the drawer. As the door slowly creaked open, he ducked to one side of the window and blended into the shadows.

A figure in white slipped into his room, closed the door silently, then began to creep toward the bed. Rome stepped out of hiding, pistol extended. “That’s far enough.”