Impulse (31 page)

“Good for you.” He offered her his arm, and they
walked down to the carriage. “By the way, I must thank you for whatever miracle you worked with Kate. Jason seems like a man reborn. He's been going around like he has one foot in the grave ever since we came to London.”

Angela chuckled. “Kate, too. Thank heavens, she's changed her mind.”

They arrived at the party quite late, but there was still a crush of people on the stairs leading up to the receiving line. When Cam and Angela entered, there was a flurry of rustling and whispering. Angela looked past the crowd to where her brother and his delicate blond wife stood, greeting their guests. She saw many faces she knew, but all of them avoided her eye or, more boldly, stared straight through her, as if they had never seen her before. She lifted her chin and ignored them all.

She felt Cam's hand firmly under her arm, giving comfort, and he leaned close to her ear to whisper, “Do you wish to leave? We will go.”

“Now?” She gave him a horrified glance. “Never. They would think they had defeated me.”

So they stayed in line, though after a moment Jeremy glanced down the stairs and saw them, and he left the reception line to come down to them. “Angela! Cameron. How delightful to see you. I wasn't sure if you would come. Let me introduce Cameron to Rosemary.”

He led them away from the others in the line and, after a brief meeting with the countess, they were able to slip off to the ballroom. It was wonderful to dance with Cam again.

“We will go to New York sometime soon,” he promised her. “And there you will be feted with all sorts of balls. The New York City matrons will think they've
reached heaven, to have a chance to entertain the sister of an earl.”

“Strange to think that I would be more welcomed by strangers and foreigners than by those who know me.”

“Only a fool would not welcome you.” It was enough to know that Cam cherished her and to feel his arms around her as they swept through the elegant waltz.

They remained for another hour, dancing, then left the dance floor for a rest and a bit of refreshment. As they were walking toward the conservatory, where refreshments had been set up, they were stopped by a rather familiar voice. “Mr. Monroe!”

They turned to see a large, smiling man lumbering purposefully toward them, and they recognized their rescuer from the train from Scotland. Cam smiled. “Major Dorton! What a pleasant surprise!”

The major reached them and heartily shook hands with Cam, then bowed with more enthusiasm than grace over Angela's hand. “Fancy meeting you here,” he crowed, grinning hugely. “I'm not much for this sort of thing myself. Brought my grandmother here, you see.” He glanced around the room vaguely, as if looking for the woman, then said, “I'd like to introduce you to her, but she must have gone back into one of the other rooms for a game of cards. That's why she came. She and her cronies get together and play whist for pennies.”

“I'm sorry we missed her.”

He nodded. “Yes. She's a right corker, she is. You would like her, my lady.”

They stood, making polite chitchat for a few more minutes, then the major suggested brightly, “Say, why don't you come to Dorton House? Grandmother doesn't get out much these days, but she loves company. Come to dinner. That will give her something to harass the
butler about. She loves doing that, but she ain't up to big parties anymore, you see.”

The major's good humor was infectious, and Cam and Angela found themselves agreeing to visit the major and his grandmother for dinner the following evening before they parted company with him and continued to the conservatory for drinks.

They sat down at a small table to drink their punch. After a moment, Angela became aware of a group of matrons sitting behind them. A large potted plant separated them from the women, veiling them so well that the others were not even aware of their presence.

A familiar name suddenly intruded on Angela's consciousness: “…to Falton Manor. Well, what is he to do? I doubt anyone will ever receive him again,” one of the women was saying.

Angela's head snapped up. Sterling Falton was the name of one of the three men who had testified against her at the divorce, who had earlier held her down and helped Dunstan rape her. Falton Manor was his country home. She froze, her head cocked to hear what the women were saying.

“It's his mother I feel sorry for,” another woman chimed in. “She hasn't had the courage to leave her home for days.”

“Why? What did he do?” the third woman asked, puzzled.

“Maressa, do you mean to tell me that you haven't heard?”

“No. What?” The third woman assumed a self-righteous air. “You know I don't gossip.”

The loudest of the women let out an unladylike snort at this remark. “It isn't just gossip. Bucky told me that it was in the newspapers, as well.”

“What was in the newspapers?” the third woman snapped. “Would you please tell me what is going on?”

“Well, Sterling Falton is that Westrey girl's trustee. Her fool of a father left him solely in charge. Anyone with any sense would have known Sterling was too goosish to be in charge of even a small fortune like hers. He's run through it.”

“What? No!”

“Yes. I don't know how it came to light. Her mother's been complaining for years that he kept them on too tight a string, but no one really paid any attention to her. You know how Cora Westrey always complains about everything. But I guess someone believed her and started digging into the files. He wasn't even smart enough to hide it well. So now everyone knows how he has embezzled money from her for the past four years. Poor girl, he's gone through half of it. I hear that there may even be criminal charges.”

“No!”

“Yes. She's hired a solicitor, and I hear that he is pressing it with the police.”

“What a scandal!”

Angela turned and looked at Cam, her eyes wide in amazement. “Cam!” she whispered. “Did you— How in the world?”

He smiled. “This one fell into my lap.” He stood up, reaching out to take her hand, and they strolled away from the cluster of women. “I told you that I would manage something, but Falton was almost too easy. As soon as my investigator started asking around, the widow's allegations came up. It did not take much effort to prove what he had done. They said it—he's not intelligent enough to have covered his tracks well.”

They left Jeremy's house and turned toward home. It was not far, so they had decided to walk. There had been such a crush outside the house when they arrived that they sent the carriage home. Now, as they strolled along, Angela plied Cam with questions.

“But—will he be prosecuted? What will happen to that poor girl?”

“She probably has little hope of getting her money back, even if she sues him. By all accounts, Falton is on his last legs financially. He has been borrowing money from everyone he knows for years. But her solicitor will do his best for her. I know him.”

“He's your solicitor, isn't he?”

He shrugged.

“What about the others? Are you pursuing them, too?” Angela still found it hard to believe that he had followed through on his threats to punish the men who had hurt her.

“Of course. Did you doubt it?” He stopped, turning to face her. “I could not let them get away with harming you. No one is going to do that, ever again.” His eyes were as cold and hard as glass.

He took her arm and they started walking again. “One of them has made several poor investments. I think he can be brought to make a few more. The third one, Waltrip, may take a little longer. But I will come up with something. The one who frustrates me the most is Dunstan. His assets are solid. He's a wealthy man. His mother brought a great deal of money into the family. And whatever excesses he has committed, which I am sure are many, he has covered them well. But that is the weak po—”

His words were cut off as a dark shape jumped out from behind a building. Almost too quickly to see, an
arm rose, a broad blade glittering in it, and swung down at Cam.

Angela shrieked. Cam caught the attacker's wrist. The blade came perilously close to Cam's chest, but he held it off with both hands. The attacker swung at him, his blow glancing off Cam's shoulder. But Cam was now steadily pushing the knife hand back, and the man brought his other hand up in an attempt to pull Cam's hands loose. They staggered around in a macabre dance, neither able to move the knife more than an inch or two.

Angela, coming out of her momentary paralysis, circled around behind the man and leaped on his back with all her weight. He staggered under the force of her attack. She hooked her arm under his chin and pulled back, forcing his head up and back. He coughed and sputtered, reaching up to claw at Angela behind him. Cam seized the opportunity to twist the attacker around and slam the man's hand hard into the building beside them. He let out a yelp as the knife clattered to the ground. He flung his arms back, dislodging Angela and sending her tumbling to the ground. But in doing so, he left his front unprotected, and Cam rammed a hard blow into his stomach, sending him staggering back. He stumbled over Angela, who was struggling to her feet, and the two of them went down.

Cam leaped to Angela's aid, and the attacker scrambled to his feet and took off at a run down the side street. Cam hauled Angela to her feet and pulled her against his chest.

“Are you all right?” His voice was breathless, but more from fear than from exertion.

Angela nodded, gasping for breath. The wind had been knocked out of her when their attacker had fallen
over her. Cam held her lightly until she had recovered her breath and stopped trembling.

Lightly he told her, “Well, you are a handy one to have around in a street brawl, my lady.”

“Don't you forget it,” she responded in the same way. Then she flung herself against him and clung to him tightly.

They walked quickly back to their house. Cam kept his arm around her shoulders, and his eyes kept up a constant search of the streets around them. It was not until they were inside their home again, in the intimacy of Angela's bedroom, that they began to talk of the incident.

“It was connected to the other attempts, wasn't it?” Angela asked, taking down her hair with trembling fingers. She had dismissed Kate as soon as Kate had helped her out of her heavy ball gown, so that she could talk to Cam in private.

“I suppose it could have been a coincidence,” Cam mused, strolling over and picking up the silver-backed brush to brush out her hair. It was a task he often took as his own, for he loved the feel of her silken hair beneath his hands.

Angela shot him a speaking look in the mirror, and he smiled back at her.

“All right. Perhaps it is stretching coincidence too far. It is the third time someone has tried to take my life. But we are no closer to knowing who or why.”

“Do you think that it was arranged by someone who knew we would be at that party tonight?”

Cam shrugged. “It would not have been a difficult thing to figure out. Most of fashionable London would have known of the party. You said that Lady Bridbury's crushes are famous.”

“That is true. And it would be reasonable enough to assume that it would be one of the few parties that you and I would attend, since my brother and sister-in-law were the hosts.”

“But it could have been done without even knowing where we would be. Anyone could have hired that ruffian to follow us until he found a good opportunity to strike. He may have been following us for days now, and tonight, with us walking from the party, was simply a perfect chance.”

Angela was silent for a moment, then said, “Major Dorton was in the vicinity at two of the attempts.”

Cam's brows vaulted upward and he let out a short laugh. “Are you suggesting that
Anthony
tried to have me killed? Why, he saved my life as surely as you that time on the train. Besides, we never met the man before then. What possible reason could he have to want to murder me?”

“None.” Angela shook her head. “It was a foolish thought. I was merely grasping at straws.” She sighed. “I didn't want to have to look at the obvious—we were leaving Jeremy's house tonight.”

Cam looked at her sharply, then laid down the brush and went down on one knee beside her. Looking her in the eye, he asked quietly, “Do you really believe that it was he?”

Tears welled in Angela's eyes. “Oh, Cam, I cannot! Jeremy is the gentlest of men, and he loves me. Truly, he does. Just tonight he was telling me how radiant I looked. He said he knew that I must be happy in my marriage, and he was so pleased for me. I cannot believe that he could say those things to me and all the while be plotting to kill my husband!”

“It seems unlikely,” he agreed, standing up and
reaching down to take her hands and pull her up, too. “If he knows that you are happy with me, he has little reason to get rid of me.”

“But it seems even more unlikely that it could be Mama or Grandmama,” Angela pointed out.

“Much as I would like to blame a Stanhope,” Cam said, smiling to take the sting from the words, “I find it hard to believe that any of the three did it. It must be some other enemy, someone who followed me from the United States. But Jason and I have racked our brains for someone who hates me enough and is deranged enough to follow me across the ocean and try to kill me.”

“Perhaps he thought that no one would ever suspect him here.”

“But who? It is eerie to think that I am hated so much and do not even suspect that hatred.”

Angela shivered. “I know. It must be a very twisted mind.” She threw herself against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Oh, Cam, I am so frightened! I could not bear to lose you all over again!”

“You shall not,” he assured her, squeezing her to him. “I promise you, I will never leave you again—for any reason.”