JORDAN Nicole (30 page)

Roslyn glanced across the drawing room at the marquess. “How does Lord Claybourne feel about our betrothal?”

“Oh, he is exceedingly amused. Drew always said he wouldn’t marry until he had no other choice. When is the wedding to be?”

“We have not set a date yet. Perhaps sometime in the fall. There really is no hurry.”

The raven-haired charmer shook her head. “If I know Drew, he would rather get it over with. Once he makes up his mind, he doesn’t like to dally. It is his mother who is likely to throw impediments in your way.”

“Oh, do you know the duchess?” Roslyn asked curiously.

Eleanor nodded. “I fear so. She is quite the terror. She makes me quake in my slippers every time I encounter her.” When Roslyn raised a skeptical eyebrow, Eleanor laughed. “Well, perhaps I don’t actually quake, but I have never met anyone colder or haughtier in my life. I suspect she will attempt to persuade Drew to delay the nuptials.”

“Why?”

“Because she won’t fancy being relegated to dowager after she has lorded it over London social circles for so long.”

“She may continue lording as far as I am concerned,” Roslyn replied with a laugh. “I have no desire to take her place. And I admit, I am not eager to meet her.”

Eleanor gave her a shrewd look. “I suspect you will do very well against the duchess. Just stand up to her. She expects subservience, but I believe she secretly respects women who can speak their mind.” She hesitated. “Drew values that quality in women, too. Otherwise, he is nothing like his mother, thank heavens.”

“Whatis he like then?”

“Drew? He is the very best of men. I love him like a brother. Indeed, he and Heath were just like older brothers to me when I was growing up. I wish you could see that side of him, Miss Loring. Drew does not open up to many people—he keeps his feelings reserved with all but his closest friends. But you would love him too if you came to know him like I do.”

“That is high praise indeed,” Roslyn said noncommittally as she sipped her wine. “I have heard others award him accolades. Lady Freemantle says the way he manages his estates is admirable.”

“It is indeed,” Eleanor agreed. “Drew insists on using all the latest scientific methods on his home farms, and has fought the enclosures of common land. His tenants consider themselves extremely fortunate to have them for his lord. And Drew also is admired for his progressive politics and his efforts in Parliament, as well as his generosity toward his many servants and dependents.”

“Does he have many dependents?”

“Heavens yes, a score of them. Aunts, uncles, cousins…most have attached themselves to him like barnacles. They take shameless advantage of his largesse, but he provides for them whether they deserve it or not. Drew considers it his obligation. He takes even better care of his old retainers. The duchess would have turned them all off once they had outserved their usefulness, but Drew wouldn’t allow her to.”

Roslyn frowned. “Is the duchess so very heartless then?”

“Regrettably, yes. But Drew is very different from his mother. Take his old nurse, for instance. Several years ago she became too decrepit to fend for herself, and with no family to care for her, she was likely to wind up in a pauper’s grave. Drew heard of her plight and brought her to live at Arden Castle—gave her quarters in the servant hall where she could be nursed back to health. You should speak to her if you visit the castle, Miss Loring. You will see how his servants worship him. I have always believed you can tell a good deal about a person by observing how they treat their servants.”

“Are you discussing me, minx?” Drew asked, suddenly appearing at Roslyn’s side.

“Of course, what did you expect?” Eleanor dimpled. “I was telling Miss Loring all your secrets.”

He gave a mock shudder. “Saints spare me. Don’t listen to her, sweeting. She knows too many of my foibles.”

“Well, if you will excuse me,” Eleanor said brightly, “I wish to speak to Miss Blanchard. I greatly enjoyed meeting her at my brother’s wedding and would like to further our acquaintance.”

“How long have you known Lady Eleanor?” Roslyn asked Drew once she had left.

“Since she was born. I was shipped off to boarding school at an early age, where I became fast friends with her brother, and Heath as well. I preferred spending all my holidays at their family estates. Arden Castle is a magnificent pile, but it is hardly welcoming to a boy…or child of any age.”

“She seems quite impressed with you,” Roslyn observed.

“As I hope you will be someday,” Drew answered with a quick grin.

Feeling her pulse leap, Roslyn eyed him warily. She alreadywas impressed with Drew, and tonight Lady Eleanor had given her an even greater respect for his character and accomplishments. It puzzled her, however, how a nobleman who cared so generously for his aging servants could be so thickheaded when it came to romantic love.

Just then the Freemantle butler appeared at the drawing room door in order to announce that dinner was served.

“Very good,” Winifred responded. “Oh, and Pointon,” she called. “Make certain the champagne is thoroughly chilled.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Glancing at the guests of honor, Winifred beamed. “I ordered a special champagne from London to toast the happy couple. Your grace, if you will please lead the way to the dining room?”

When Drew offered Roslyn his arm, she found herself frowning thoughtfully up at him. She’d told Tess she had no intention of overtly pursuing him. That he would have to make all the effort if he wanted her to love him enough to actually wed him. And yet, Roslyn reflected, if she truly wished to give their betrothal a fighting chance, perhaps she should attempt to be the kind of woman that appealed to him.

She could be clever and witty if she put her mind to it. She could certainly flirt with him and hang on his every word. Of course she ought not be too flagrant about it in front of Winifred’s guests, but she could subtly apply the lessons he’d taught her about captivating a man. She could even touch him….

Summoning a soft smile, Roslyn placed her hand on his coat sleeve but made a point to brush the skin on the back of his wrist with her fingers. She knew he felt the caress, for he gave her a quick glance of surprise.

“Drew,” she murmured in a husky voice. “I hope you will sit beside me during dinner.”

“I doubt our hostess would permit anything else,” he responded mildly.

Roslyn gave a light, rippling laugh. “No, Winifred would be perfectly delighted if I were to sit in your lap. But I could never be so brazen in public.”

She saw heat flare in his green eyes before they narrowed a little in suspicion.

Maintaining a serene smile, Roslyn said little as the company took their places around the dining table, which gleamed with crystal and silver. However, she listened to Drew with bated breath whenever he spoke.

When the footmen had served the soup course, Roslyn picked up her spoon and sipped, but she waited until Drew was looking directly at her before she slowly licked her lower lip. “I find this cream soup quite delicious, don’t you…?”

Her voice faded as Pointon, the butler, came hurrying into the dining room. Roslyn had never seen the august servant looking so distraught.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said hoarsely to his mistress, “for intruding this way, but I thought you should know immediately. I went below to the wine cellar to fetch the champagne, and I surprised the thief there. He fled as soon as he spied me.”

Roslyn felt her stomach clench at the news, while Winifred turned pale. Before either of them could regain their wits enough to speak, though, Drew demanded, “He broke into the house?”

“It would appear so, your grace. The bolt to the outer cellar door was pried open.”

“Did you follow him, Pointon?” Roslyn thought to ask.

“Regrettably I was too late. By the time I recovered from my startlement, he had disappeared.”

“What thief?” Lady Eleanor asked curiously.

Her question was ignored as Pointon practically wrung his hands. “In his haste, he left his sling behind. The fabric was bloodied, Miss Loring. Perhaps his wound opened when you and his grace chased him that day.”

“What wound?” Eleanor queried. “And why were you and Drew chasing him?”

Miss Jane Caruthers replied for them. “Last week the duke shot a highwayman who was holding up Lady Freemantle’s coach.”

“You shot a highwayman?” Eleanor asked in astonishment.

Drew’s mouth tightened, his ire obvious. “Yes, and I managed to wound him. But he escaped that night and again two days ago after he was caught in her ladyship’s bedchamber, rifling through her jewelry case.”

The Marquess of Claybourne frowned. “You told me about the shooting last week, old chap, but you never mentioned your latest little adventure. I missed out on all the fun.”

Drew threw down his napkin and rose to his feet. “I want to see the cellar, Pointon.”

Eleanor gave an exasperated sigh. “Will someone please explain to me why a thief would be lurking in the wine cellar?”

Drew answered tersely. “Most likely he was hiding until after the household was asleep so he could search without being caught.”

Roslyn added more patiently, “We believe he is looking for a particular brooch belonging to Lady Freemantle.”

All eyes went to Winifred, who was fingering the enamel brooch pinned to her gown while staring down at her dinner plate. Her normally florid complexion was waxen, her lips pinched and bloodless.

Roslyn was concerned for her friend. No doubt it was terribly distressing to Winifred to have a villain break into her home for the second time after being held up in a highway robbery. She would feel extremely vulnerable, being at the mercy of the elusive villain.

Drew spoke to reassure Winifred. “I’ll discover his identity, my lady, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He started to leave the dining room when Winifred finally found her voice.

“I think I know who the culprit is,” she murmured in a barely audible rasp.

Drew halted and glanced down the length of the table at her. “Who is it then?”

Her expression pained, she lifted her gaze to Drew but hesitated to answer. “Perhaps we could discuss this in private, your grace, so as not to spoil everyone else’s dinner?”

“Would you like us to leave?” Jane asked quietly.

“No, please,” Roslyn interjected. “You needn’t leave.” Pushing her chair back, she stood. “Winifred, dearest, let us repair to the green parlor for a moment.”

“Yes, that would be best.”

Clearly disconsolate, Winifred sent an apologetic glance around the dining room, then rose slowly and preceded Roslyn and Drew to the parlor.

When the door closed behind them, Winifred murmured in a hoarse voice, “Thank you, your grace. It is ill-bred to speak of such things in polite company.”

At her apparent distress, Roslyn grew even more concerned. “Speak of what things, Winifred? Please tell us what is wrong.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, Drew rephrased his question. “You said you know the thief’s identity, my lady?”

“Yes,” she replied, her expression one of misery. “I believe I do. He is my late husband’s by-blow. Rupert’s natural son by his mistress.”

Chapter Fourteen

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I have come to realize my strategy is flawed. Seduction and passion may not lead to love after all. Deeper emotions must be involved for the heart to become engaged.

—Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn felt her breath catch at the startling admission. “Sir Rupert’s son, Winifred?”

Wincing, Winifred nodded. “I hoped it wasn’t true, but there seems to be no other explanation. I didn’t wish to speak of it in front of the others, though. It distresses me to have the world know about my late husband’s shameful affair.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Winifred?”

“Yes, perhaps I should.”

When she sank heavily onto a sofa, Roslyn sat beside her and took her hand. “Now tell us why you think the thief is Sir Rupert’s son,” she urged gently.

“I recognized the resemblance when he ran past me the other day. He’s the spitting image of Rupert—both his features and his hair. Rupert’s hair was that ginger color before it started turning gray.”

“But the thief could be related to him in some other fashion.”

“Mayhap, but I don’t believe so,” Winifred replied, her tone taking on a stubborn edge.

Drew broke in. “I’m curious, my lady. Why did you wait to mention your suspicions until tonight?”

Winifred looked down at her hands. “To be honest, I was ashamed. And the news of your betrothal was so exciting, the thief went entirely out of my mind.” She glanced back up at Roslyn. “I didn’t want to spoil your happiness, dear, by making you dwell on my troubles.”

“But this is not only your trouble, Winifred. His grace and I are deeply involved.”

“And I regret that, truly.”

“Why don’t you let us be the judge? Tell us what you know.”

“I will have to explain about my marriage to Rupert so you will understand.” Haltingly then, Winifred began to tell the tale. “When Rupert met me, he was nearly penniless, while my father was one of the richest merchants in England. Our union was strictly a business arrangement. Papa…bought a baronet for me, so his only daughter could become a lady and move up in the world and have the advantages he was never able to have. Rupert was willing enough, however. He contracted with Papa for my hand, exchanging his title for the security of having a rich wife. But he didn’t receive my fortune outright, just an enormous settlement.”

“That is unusual, isn’t it?” Roslyn asked.

“Yes, but that was the only way Papa would agree to the union. He tied up my inheritance in trust to protect me and any eventual children I might have. Yet Rupert was able to live quite comfortably on the income. And our marriage was amiable enough, even though he never came to love me the way I did him.” Winifred’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “I was hardly his ideal bride. I was rather plump and plain, and a bit coarse in my manner, too. Rupert preferred a more genteel sort of lady, as I discovered later.”