Secrets of Surrender (15 page)

Some new estates. In Kent. This must be the business he had visited Norbury about that day of the auction.

She suddenly understood Kyle’s intense thoughts when she entered this chamber tonight. He must have met with Norbury recently. Perhaps even today.

He would never let her know if Norbury had been insulting. He would never reveal if he thought about that affair. She was sure that he did, however. Maybe right now, as his mind roamed through the night.

She might learn more about him and start filling that vacancy. They might have many nights like this one, where they talked as friends and not lovers.

No matter what happened, however, no matter how long they were married, Norbury would be an ugly shadow between them, affecting everything, even the good things, without either of them ever mentioning the man’s name.

That thought came close to ruining this pleasant night. Norbury had entered her mind. She practically heard him speaking in Kyle’s head. His malevolent influence grew so oppressive that she sought a way to leave this bed.

Kyle turned on his side as he fell asleep. His arm crossed her body in a casual embrace. His hand cupped her breast in a gesture both comforting and possessive. It stayed there through the night, preventing her from slipping away.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

K
yle had been in Kent for two days when Roselyn received the letter. It had been redirected from Watlington. She knew at once from the penmanship that Timothy had written again, even though it bore the name of Mr. Goddard.

Timothy did not write from Dijon this time, but from an Italian town called Prato.

I am finally across the Alps, and residing here because it is less expensive than Florence. I am also less likely to be recognized. The journey was strenuous and the climate miserable. I feared I would die and was ill most of the way. Now I walk among strangers whose language I do not know, and suffer from a melancholy too deep to bear.

It is my intention to remain here until you join me. Please write at once and say that you will. I will not see the sunshine out my window until you arrive. I need you to write to me and tell me your plans so that I have something to look forward to.

Rose, my purse has suffered from the long stay in Dijon, and from the fees to the physicians who proved useless but expensive. I want you to sell the house and property in Oxfordshire and bring the proceeds with you. This letter gives you permission to do so in my name. Take it to Yardley, our old solicitor. He will recognize my hand and advise you. I hereby authorize him to act as my proxy in such a sale if as a woman your proxy will not be acceptable. If there are further requirements from me, you must write immediately and tell me so that we can effect this business as soon as possible.

I know that it will be months yet, but I will count the days and trust that as ever you are my loving sister, upon whose strength and good heart I have so miserably depended for most of my life. I promise that everything will be better once we are together again.

Timothy

He still sounded lost and alone. The reference to his illness did not help matters. She did not know whether to hope he meant too much drink, as that was Tim’s great weakness, or another malady.

Nor could she go to him now, no matter how ill he became. He would never know that she had briefly intended to, during a few hours of reckless happiness on a hillside one day.

She could not deny the truth of her choice, either. In accepting Kyle’s proposal she had rejected her brother’s need in order to try to salvage a life in England for Irene and herself.

A desperate need, perhaps. If not now, then eventually.

He spoke of his purse getting lighter fast. A little anger stirred at that sentence. She had scrimped along on almost nothing all these months. He might have been more frugal while he spent all that money he had stolen.

A sigh came out of her, one so deep that her whole body sank in on itself. Timothy was just being Timothy. Without her influence he would go on being Timothy in the worst way. She could not save him. Not now, not after Kyle had so pointedly said she would never go to him. However, she could not abandon him the way that Kyle expected, either.

She called for her abigail and changed from her morning dress into a carriage ensemble. She was supposed to meet Alexia today at a modiste’s to commission some new items for her wardrobe. She would go to the City first, however. She needed to find out if it were possible to still help her brother.

Kyle watched his engineer twist a borer down through the hard earth, to double-check the ground before foundations were begun.

Two hundred yards away another man marked which trees to cut and which to save when the new lane was brought through. Kyle pictured the house that should soon rise next to that copse.

If all went as planned, in two years’ time families would inhabit these fields and carriages would roll on new roads. Cottington’s estate would grow in wealth and a syndicate of partners would see their profits.

As would he. Kyle still walked a fine line. His balance was practiced and good. The risks did not keep him up nights. Still, like any man he preferred to have his feet firmly planted on the solvent side of that divide.

The fellow at the trees called and gestured south. Kyle turned his attention to the road that ran there. A carriage was pulling up behind the wagon that had hauled the tools to be used today.

He recognized the new conveyance. He walked down to the road. He arrived just as Norbury stepped out.

“I trust that you did not come down from town just to see our progress,” Kyle said. “There is not much to inspect yet.”

Norbury peered at the rise in the land from beneath the brim of his tall hat. “I am holding a house party at my manor. I decided to come by before the guests arrive.”

He glanced over to see Kyle’s reaction. Kyle let him look to his heart’s content. He did not need Norbury’s references to the last house party to be reminded of it. The image of Rose’s humiliation came to him often enough without anyone’s help.

That picture provoked the devil in him, and a low, cold urge to beat this viscount bloody. He had carried that impulse away from their last meeting and it tensed through him again now.

“I trust that this party will be more discreet than the last. If word gets out that orgies are held nearby, these estates will never sell.”

“I daresay they might sell all the faster.” Norbury gestured for Kyle to walk with him. “I came to speak with you about some matters of mutual interest besides these estates. I have had word from Kirtonlow Hall. My father had another mild apoplexy. The physician says it will not be long now.”

“He is stronger than most. It could be longer than the physician expects.”

Longer than you hope.
The son was so unlike the father that there had never been much warmth between them. The earl let his heir know in many ways what a disappointment he had been.

It was not only that Norbury lacked Cottington’s intellectual depth. Something essential was missing in the son besides brilliance. The natural sympathy that a human being felt for others seemed absent or malformed. Norbury just lacked the moral core that served most people as a guide in matters big and small.

“We can but hope he lives forever, but no one ever does.” Norbury spoke with dramatic sobriety. “Now the other matter is one which the living can influence. I have been thinking about your marriage.”

Kyle paced along, encouraging his companion farther down the road. He glanced back to judge the distance of the workers. What would they see or hear if his fist broke Norbury’s jaw?

“You can stop looking like a pugilist preparing for a round in the ring,” Norbury said. “Your decision to marry such a woman is your own folly. I am more interested in her brother and how this marriage changes our plans for him. Once I recovered from my shock that you had tied yourself to her so permanently, I saw the silver lining.”

“There is no silver lining aside from my happiness in my choice of wife. Timothy Longworth is gone. Neither she nor I am tied to him.”

“Does he write to her? I think it likely that he does.”

“He has no reason to.”

“She is his sister. You must check her mail for letters from him, either under his own name or that of Goddard. Hell, look for any letters from the continent, especially from Italy.”

“No.”

“It will save much time. If he writes to her we will have—”

“No. I am out of that whole business now. I want no part in it and I will not help you.”

A grasp on his arm. A demand to stop walking. Kyle looked down at Norbury, whose expression had lost all gentility.

“My, how quickly the pure knight is seduced and sullied. You forget fast your fine ideas about justice, Kyle.”

“I am not going to spy on my wife.”

“Then don’t spy. Make her tell you.”

“She will not volunteer her brother’s neck to our noose. Nor will I demand it of her.”

“The hell you say! There is no dishonor in it. Damn, you will be protecting her.” Norbury’s outburst provoked insight. His eyes turned sly. “Indeed, if you do not do it, you may actually
endanger
her.”

Norbury’s mind could be sluggish, but it worked when it had to. Kyle watched new thoughts lining up, turning Norbury’s expression into a mask of smugness.

“She probably was an accomplice from the start,” Norbury said.

“Of course she wasn’t.”

“Damnation, I should have seen it before. It explains Rothwell’s restitution. He was not sparing a man who had already skipped out of our grasp, but the accomplice left behind. She may even have most of the money right here in England. All that humble frugality no doubt was a feint to throw off suspicion. Hell, Longworth wasn’t even very clever. It may have been her idea from the start—”

“You are speaking nonsense.”

“Even that business with me. I thought I was seducing her, but she may have wanted to stay near me so she could discover if the victims were on to her. That would be ironic, no? If all the time she had—”

“Pursue that thought and I will kill you.”

“Are you so drunk on her beauty that you would risk everything? I doubt it. In a few months you will cease being so besotted by your great prize. Then you will see what is beneath the gilding. Her brother is a thief and her own character is proven to be weak and immoral.”

Kyle grabbed Norbury’s coats near his neck. He pulled the man close and lifted him to his toes. “I warned you.”

Norbury’s eyes bulged and his head angled back. “Dare one blow and I’ll not stay my own hand. I think a judge would listen closely and think hard before assuming that I am wrong. I believe a good case can be made for my point of view. With a little effort, even some evidence might be found.”

The threat was unmistakable. Justice perverted was even worse than justice denied, and a lord had more ways to do the former than the latter.

Kyle barely contained his fury. He released his hold. Norbury set himself to rights, smoothing his garments and checking his cravat. He drew himself straight and gazed over with the placid delight of a man who had suddenly discovered an ace in his hand while playing whist.

“Find out where the bastard is, Kyle.” Norbury began strolling back to his carriage. “With all the honor that you think you have, sacrificing a small amount will be a little thing.”

As soon as Kyle returned from Kent, Rose knew that he had seen Norbury again. He carried the shadow into the house with him. It affected his expression, making it harder than usual.

He treated her no differently when he sat to dinner with her that night. He even listened generously to her descriptions of her days while they were apart. Norbury might have sat in the room with them, however, so clearly did she sense his presence in Kyle’s thoughts.

When he sent the footman away, she braced herself. It might be best to clear the air of whatever darkened his mood. That did not mean that she welcomed the storm breaking, however.

“Rose, when you were in Oxfordshire, did your brother write to you? I mean besides the letter that you had received the first time I called on you.”

She had not expected
this
question or topic. If not for the way his intensity coiled, she would have blurted the truth. Instead she held her tongue while her mind tried to weigh why he asked, and whether her answer actually mattered in some way.

“I think that he did, at least one more time,” he added.

“Yes. Once.” It was the truth, just not the total truth. She
had
only received one more letter while she was
in
Oxfordshire.

“I was correct, then. When you spoke of leaving forever, you meant to go to him.”

She nodded.

Being correct did nothing for his mood. “I do not want you to have any communication with him in the future, Rose. If he writes again, you are to burn his letters without reading them. Do not save them. Do not even note the city from which he writes.”

Shock blocked her thoughts for a long count. Then anger replaced it. “You said before we married that I could never go to him, even to visit. You did not say I could not write to him or receive his letters.”

“I did say it. However, if you misunderstood, I am saying it again now.”

“I told you that I would not think of him as dead, but now you demand that I treat him as if he is.”

“Yes.” His gaze carried the command more than his voice.

She rose from her chair and left the dining room. She sought some privacy in the library. To her astonishment he followed.

“You would do better to leave me alone to accommodate what you require regarding him,” she said.

“I need to know that you do accommodate it. I want your word that you do.”

“My word? What about your word? If my word can be changed as quickly as yours, I will gladly give it. You allowed me to believe that you had retreated from this demand that day.”

She thought guilt might soften him. Instead his anger flared.

“I require this for a reason. I would like you to believe that but if you do not, it changes nothing. You know what he is. You told me yourself the danger that he presents to you. You must have no contact with him.”

“He is
my brother.
”

“He is a cowardly thief. A criminal.”

The force of Kyle’s response took her back. She stared, astonished by the power pouring out of him, seeing it and feeling it totally unleashed.