In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) (28 page)

Kathleen didn’t look guilty, just tired and a little love-flushed. “How is it that you’re up?” Charles asked.

“I went down to the kitchen to make some sandwiches. I lied and said they were for you when Mrs. Lang found me. She was making the last of her rounds.”

An explanation, but was it the truth?

Charles hated to expose Louisa to the destruction, but she wouldn’t like it if they threw away plants that could be saved somehow. “Tell Mrs. Lang to wait. I’ll wake Louisa and we’ll be down shortly. Get all the indoor servants together, every one. Mrs. Evensong, too.”

Kathleen’s eyes widened. “
Now
, sir? It’s after one o’clock in the morning! Most of them will have to be up to work by five. And Mrs. Evensong’s a guest. I should hate to disturb her.”

“Tell them they can sleep in an extra two hours.”

“Mrs. Westlake won’t like that one bit.”

“I don’t care. It’s time we ended this nonsense once and for all. Strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.”

Kathleen looked doubtful, but she nodded and left the room.

Damn Rosemont and all its inhabitants. He’d like to burn the place down. But that might be next on their tormenter’s agenda.

Charles washed quickly and put on a pair of his fancy pajamas and a dressing gown. He stood over the chaise, forbidding himself to touch Louisa’s bare shoulder.

“Louisa, wake up.”

“Not quite yet,” she mumbled. “It can’t be morning.”

“It isn’t. I have some bad news, but not the worst it could be. Everyone at Rosemont is fine. Someone is
too
fine, actually.”

She rolled onto her back, her lashes bent from the pillow. “What is it?”

“The conservatory has been vandalized. You’re wanted downstairs to see if there’s anything left worth replanting.”

She sat up. “That’s it. We’re leaving today. I just can’t fight this, whatever’s going on. I—I
hate
Rosemont. I’ve never been happy here, except when I was a baby, and what do babies know?”

“I’m not leaving until I get a chance to test my acting skills, and
you
are not leaving at all. You wanted to interview the staff, and I’ve arranged it, right this very hour. Kathleen is rousing them all.”

“I’m to talk to the servants
now
? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Exactly. Whoever did this thing has not been asleep long. That is, if it wasn’t Grace or Hugh. I can’t see either of them getting their hands dirty, however, as much as I’d like to think they are behind your troubles. Get dressed.”

“You are ordering me about again,” Louisa said, a warning note in her voice that Charles paid no mind to. Any husband she’d have would risk being henpecked until he resembled a dart board.

“It’s almost over, Louisa. Tonight you’ll deal with the staff. Tomorrow Mrs. Evensong will give her report on the issues at the bank.”

“I don’t care anymore if I’m paupered!” Louisa cried as she tied her dressing gown.

“Don’t be impractical. I want my payment. God knows, I’ve earned it.” It was difficult to be a sneering, repulsive Charles, but he was doing his very best.

He tripped and bumped his way downstairs after refusing Louisa’s guiding hand. It nearly killed him to stand aside as Louisa swallowed back her tears in the ruined conservatory. But he was playing his part and he couldn’t see now, could he?

Chapter

37

L
ouisa pulled herself together. It would not do to fall apart over
plants
in front of the Rosemont servants, for heaven’s sake. They would think her mad, when people had real problems in this world.

There were so many of them, both shredded plants and sleepy servants. Grace had spared no expense making Rosemont comfortable in its largesse of personnel.

Louisa could replace the plants. She had plenty of money, even if some was being siphoned off her accounts. What she did not have at the moment was patience.

Charles—she must remember to call him Max in front of all these people—was being troublesome. She did not know what had gotten into him after this most recent injury, but she wanted it gotten out.

She hadn’t decided to marry him on some whim. Louisa knew, or thought she knew, everything about him. He was not an easy man. Would never be. Things had happened to him that were too significant to be smoothed over with a few kisses. In that respect they had something in common, although she would never claim to be as fragile as he was.

Men didn’t like to be fragile. Vulnerable. For some reason, they thought they had to march through life giving orders, smashing things and then putting the pieces back together inexpertly. Always be in control. Be strong, and too silent when they were not huffing and puffing.

Louisa had given up on men years ago, but she had made a reluctant exception for Charles and was not about to let him go.

So what if his vision didn’t ever get back to normal? He didn’t need to see her to touch her—so far, he’d done rather magnificently in the dark and the daylight. And he didn’t need to seek employment—she had enough money to support him and his entire family.

But Charles, damn him, was probably not seeing things her way at the moment. Actually, he was committed to not seeing anything at all. His performance so far was alarming the clot of servants who were standing in the library, awed by the spectacle as if they were watching a Shakespearean tragedy. His hands flailed out before him, and Louisa was suspicious that he’d
chosen
to poke poor old Mrs. Lang.

Her keys had rattled as she leaped back away from him.

Of course
. All the servants were locked into their respective dormitories at night. Louisa had sometimes worried over that—what if there was a fire or an emergency? But Grace had been implacable. No one was to wander Rosemont after hours. There would be no male-female hanky-panky in
her
house.

Louisa believed Grace just liked the power of locking people up.

Louisa gave her little speech and introduced Mrs. Evensong to those who had not made her acquaintance. She apologized for dragging them all out of bed and explained Mrs. Evensong would want a few minutes with each of them.

“Griffith, I trust all the footmen and other male servants were secure in their wing?” Louisa asked. Mrs. Evensong lifted one of her reddish brows, then smiled. Louisa basked briefly in her approval.

“Of course, Miss Louisa. And I saw to all the outside doors myself and checked them again before I came here. No one has breached the locks.”

Well, Kathleen had come in from the garage, but Louisa wouldn’t want Griffith distressed. Kathleen was a clever girl and probably had a bunch of keys herself, which meant that other people might be equally resourceful.

She looked at the white, sleep-rumpled faces. No one looked particularly sly or secretive, and as far as she knew, none of them had a quarrel with her.

Destroying her plants was very personal. Spiteful. Grace could have put someone up to it, but somehow Louisa didn’t believe that.

What had Charles said last night when he forgot to be mean?
If Hugh and Grace had hired an assassin, they were not getting their money’s worth.
She nearly smiled.

Louisa turned to Mrs. Evensong. She was sitting on a tufted couch, her gray hair still up in its elaborate style as if she’d never been to bed. Goodness,
she
was not the guilty one, was she? Louisa almost smiled again.

“So you will vouch for all the men,” Mrs. Evensong said to Griffith.

“Aye, Mrs. Evensong. With my life. I may be getting older, but I know my duty. I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Miss Louisa. I babied those plants the year you were gone.”

The butler looked devastated, more upset than she herself was. “And will you do the same for the women?” Louisa asked, turning to Mrs. Lang.

“Of course. Except for your maid. I found her in the kitchen. She says you sent her down for sandwiches for your husband.”

It was clear from the tone of her voice that Mrs. Lang had decided on the culprit. It was a good thing Robertson wasn’t here to defend his love, but over the garage, probably wondering where his sandwiches were.

“As I did. You all can ascertain that Cap—uh, Mr. Norwich has been grievously injured again. He cannot see a thing after this latest attack. It was the least I could do to give the man a sandwich, something he could hold easily.” Louisa clasped his hand. Even if he’d wanted to withdraw it, he was conscious of the role he was to play and let her touch him.

He frowned. “Who is this?”

“It is I, my darling. And you’re not to worry. I’ll take care of you. I know my duty, too. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.”

There were audible sighs throughout the room at Louisa’s romantic gesture. She hoped Mrs. Evensong was studying the servants’ expressions. Who was touched? Who looked disgusted?

Charles squeezed her hand so hard it hurt and bent down in a lover-like position. “You’re overdoing it,” Charles whispered into her ear, causing the hairs to lift off the back of her neck.

He was so close, and yet so far away.

“
You
should talk. Was it necessary to break that vase in the hall?”

“You wanted a show. I’m giving it. And the vase was damned ugly.”

She stroked his cheek with her free hand and he stiffened. “Are you watching for signs of guilt or triumph? No one will suspect if you stare at them.”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Who?” asked Louisa eagerly.

“Not now.” Charles’s face shuttered. Before she touched him, Louisa thought he was quite enjoying himself.

She asked the servants to leave and wait in the hallway for their turn. There was nervous shuffling. Some of them looked stricken, others belligerent; some were simply too exhausted to care what their beleaguered employers were up to. Louisa would have a chance to examine the entire gamut of emotions as the night progressed.

Charles sat silent and glum by her side as, one by one, a parade of individuals came in as organized by Griffith. Few had access to the gun room, unless they, like Kathleen, had secreted away keys, but the conservatory was open to all. Mrs. Evensong’s questions were few but pointed. To a man and woman, they all swore they had nothing to do with any of the incidents targeting the Norwiches.

With every oath of innocence, Louisa grew more frustrated. What had she expected? How lovely it would have been if someone had fallen on the Turkey carpet prostrate with remorse and confessed. She had been naïve to think her plan would work, and now she was just plain numb.

Mrs. Evensong had left them alone some time ago, moving smartly for a woman her age in the middle of the night. Louisa didn’t stir from the sofa. It was a comfort to have Charles against her. He had fallen asleep four fruitless interviews ago.

In his blissful ignorance, he had sagged against her and his head was resting on her shoulder. Louisa knew soldiers were trained to fall asleep anywhere when they could snatch a few moments, so she didn’t flatter herself that he meant anything by it. It was not a secret message to her that he really cared. He was still as determined to leave, just as she was determined to forbid it.

Well, one couldn’t
forbid
Charles to do anything. But how to persuade him that they had a future together?

The man couldn’t be bribed, and she wouldn’t want him if he could be. She was not above using sex to seduce him, but that seemed underhanded, and a little desperate. It was not as if she knew what she was doing anyway.

Louisa was forced to conclude that she had to tell him the truth—that she’d fallen in love with him and simply couldn’t do without him. She’d told him before, but he needed to hear it again. They could face their demons together.

He wasn’t the only one with bad dreams.

The clock chimed three. “Charles,” she said, her voice soft. She wasn’t worried anyone would hear his true name—the staff had all slouched off to bed some time ago with reassurances they could begin their day late. Louisa would deal with Aunt Grace.

Before heading to bed herself, Mrs. Evensong and Louisa had compared notes in hushed tones while Charles breathed heavily in his sudden slumber. She and Louisa agreed on a person who stood out from the others.

Motive.
Opportunity.
Words that before these incidents had belonged solely to the crime pages or penny dreadfuls. Louisa was cautiously optimistic. But if none of the servants were guilty, that left one of the family or Miss Spruce.

Insupportable.

“Charles, wake up.” She couldn’t leave him on the sofa all night.

She wanted him in her bed. She had begun her night sleeping on the chaise but was unwilling to return there.

His eyelids fluttered, and then he sprang away from her as if he’d touched a hot stove.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Stratton. My falling asleep was unforgivable.”

Miss Stratton? Oh, Charles. As if that will keep me away.

“You’ve had a rather difficult day. What did you think?”

He stood, looking deliciously rumpled. “About what?”

“The interviews, silly. Mrs. Evensong and I are nearly certain that the culprit is—”

“Kathleen, of course.”

Louisa leaped up. “Kathleen! Don’t be absurd! Of course it isn’t Kathleen!”

“We can’t argue here,” Charles said, the annoying voice of reason. “Anyone could hear us.”

“And I certainly plan to argue! Where could you have gotten such a ridiculous idea?”

Charles put a finger to his stubbled chin. “Hm. Let’s see. A hit on the head. Burrs. Mushrooms. Fleas. I admit using a firearm is a novelty for her, but maybe she had Robertson do it for her. She leads him around by the nose as you used to do me. She was the only one about when Mrs. Lang locked everything up. It’s obvious.”

He sprinted up the staircase, this time not lurching into walls. Louisa had difficulty keeping up with him.

“It is not obvious!” she hissed. “Honestly, that blow to your head has affected you in more ways than one.”

“Why? Because I can see clearly? In a manner of speaking, that is.”

“If you had
three
eyes you couldn’t be more wrong! Kathleen and Robertson apologized!” Out of breath and angry, Louisa slammed and locked their bedroom door.

“Words are cheap,” Charles said, pushing a dresser against it.

“Well, you’d know all about that! Offering marriage and then reneging. T-telling me you l-love me!” Louisa flung off her robe and kicked one slipper into the corner.

“You’re better off without me,” Charles growled.

“Says who?”

“I do, you ninny! I don’t know how I ever thought we could get along long enough to make it through the wedding vows.”

“We get along fine!” Louisa shouted. “Better than fine! What has come over you?”

He stalked across the room and grabbed her by the elbows. “Good judgment at last, my dear. I can’t marry you. I can’t protect you, but then that won’t be necessary. You and Mrs. Evensong will solve this little mystery; you’ll run Rosemont and find some poor sap who will knuckle under your thumb and listen to your constant babbling.”

Louisa looked up into his lovely, weary face. “Stop it, Charles. Just stop it. Nothing you can say will make me love you any less. Please tell me what this is about.”