Swept Away (29 page)

Deverel frowned. “The differences are so slight…Julia, I do not see how you can realistically say that this is proof that Selby did not write them.”

Teasely returned, carrying four pieces of paper. “Here are the receipts, my lord, which the messenger brought back to us.”

Deverel took the papers from him, and he and Julia bent over them. The top one was signed “Jack Fletcher.”

“Look!” Julia pointed at the signature, her finger trembling a little with excitement. “That is not Selby's writing. It doesn't look at all like these others.”

“No. You're right.” Deverel's frown deepened. He turned to the next receipt, the signature of which was exactly the same. The next two, however, were in a different, feminine, hand and read “Mrs. Jack Fletcher.”

“Mrs.!”
Julia exclaimed. She felt confused and a little sick.

Deverel glanced at her, and she knew that his thoughts had flown immediately to the mistress mentioned in Selby's “suicide” note.

“No,” she said firmly. “No.”

“Thank you,” Deverel told the clerk. “Let me write down this address, and you may have them back.”

He quickly did as he said and handed all the papers back to Teasely. As soon as Teasely left the room, he turned to Julia.

“Selby did not have a mistress!” Julia said hotly.

“Obviously a woman signed for some of the money.”

“Well, it was not Selby's mistress. Selby didn't steal the money.”

“You know, I think it's time we looked into this business of the mistress. Let's call on Fitzmaurice and Varian, find out if they knew about the woman. If there was such a woman, and we can find out her name, we might be able learn the truth.”

They went first to the major's apartments. Fitzmaurice jumped up when the butler showed them in, looking rather surprised.

“Deverel! And Julia—Lady Stonehaven, I should say.”

“No, please, I am still Julia.”

“Sit down. 'Fraid the place isn't too neat.” He took a look around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Not used to receiving ladies, you know.”

“Don't worry. It's perfectly all right.”

The three of them sat down and looked at each other. Finally Fitzmaurice said, “Well. I must say, I didn't expect to see you any time soon. Going to Buckinghamshire, weren't you?”

“We had to tell Mother the news, of course,” Deverel said smoothly. “But we had no intention of making it a long visit. Had to return to London, of course.”

“Of course.” Fitzmaurice did not understand the reasoning, but he was quite used to not understanding things, so he accepted it without question.

“Fitz,” Julia began, leaning forward a little. “We came to ask you about Selby.”

“Selby?” He looked startled. “What about Selby? You mean about those letters I signed? I don't remember doing it, you know. But that don't mean much. Selby often gave me a letter to co-sign, and I always signed them. He knew much more about the trust and Thomas than I did.” He shrugged. “I never read any of the letters he gave me to sign. Don't understand most of those things, anyway, you know.”

Julia nodded. “Yes, but that isn't really what we wanted to ask you. We wanted to know if Selby had a mistress.”

Fitzmaurice looked so shocked that Deverel had to stifle a laugh. “Julia, must you be so blunt?” he murmured.

“I don't know any polite way to say it,” she retorted.

“I suppose you are right.” Deverel looked at the other man. “Well, Fitz? Did you know Selby to keep a mistress? I mean, in later years.”

The major's face flushed. “Dev, old boy…hardly the thing to discuss in front of the man's sister.”

“No doubt,” Julia interjected crisply. “But it is the sister who wants to know. Please, Fitz, forget about propriety and tell us the truth. It is desperately important to me. I don't want any lies to soothe me.”

“I…ah—” Fitzmaurice cast a last beseeching glance at Stonehaven, but received no support there. Finally he said, “Well, yes, I had heard rumors about it.”

“What sort of rumors?”

“Only that he was, um, keeping a light-o'-love in a house in town, and that he used to come to visit her regularly.”

“Did you ever see him with her?”

“No.” He looked vaguely indignant, as if she had accused him of doing something improper. “Never.”

“Did he ever say anything to you about her?” Deverel asked.

“No. I'm not the man you'd tell something like that if you wanted it kept secret. Never have been good at that sort of thing.”

Julia knew that that was certainly true.

Deverel asked, “Do you remember when you heard the rumors? Was it while Selby was still alive?”

Fitzmaurice looked surprised. “Why, I don't know. I never thought about it.” He wrinkled his brow, concentrating. “I'm not sure. I think—you know, I believe it was after he died, because I remember thinking that we shouldn't be speaking ill of the dead.”

“We?” Julia perked up. “Do you remember who you were talking to?”

“Mmm. No. I can't remember the exact time I first heard it. Maybe it was at my club.”

It was pointless trying to get any more details from him. The major had stretched his intellectual limits to the maximum. So they turned to Varian, whose family's town house was only a few blocks away from Fitzmaurice's quarters. They walked along, talking about their conversation with Fitzmaurice, the constraints they had felt earlier largely gone. As they stepped onto a cobblestoned street, Julia's ankle twisted, and she lurched to one side. Deverel grabbed her arm. Suddenly both of them were very aware of the physical touch. Deverel stiffened, his hand falling away. The moment of comfortable companionability was gone. All Julia could think of was his hands on her body, the hard table beneath her, the way it had felt when he came inside her, filling her completely.

She bit her lower lip and looked anywhere but at him. They were silent the rest of the way to Varian's.

Varian seemed equally puzzled to see them in London again, but he was too polite to quiz them about it. Nor could he remember signing the letter that had borne his signature.

“Which is odd,” he added, “because generally I did read the letters. I'd ask Selby about it if it was something I wasn't sure of.” He looked at Deverel. “Didn't you?”

“Yes, that was customarily what I did. I think he usually discussed them with you, but the ones that he sent to me, I read before I signed.”

“I would have remembered a letter like that,” Varian added. “Because of the Jack Fletcher thing in it, you know. I never understood why he used that name. It made it so obvious, don't you think?”

“That is because he didn't write the letters,” Julia was quick to respond. “I have been trying to tell everybody. Selby wasn't stupid. He would not have used that silly name if he had actually stolen the money.”

“The other thing we were wondering about,” Deverel continued, ignoring Julia's interjection, “was the matter of Selby's mistress.”

“Dev!” Varian cut a sideways look at Julia.

“Don't go all prudish on me, Varian. I read the suicide note.”

Varian's brows went up. “You let her read that?” he said in an accusing way to Deverel.

“I insisted,” Julia stated. “And I'm very glad I did, because I could tell that the handwriting wasn't precisely the same as Selby's.”

Varian's jaw dropped. “No! You're bamming me.”

“Not a bit.”

“There are slight differences,” Deverel said temperately.

“I say.” Varian looked thunderstruck.

“So I read about the mistress. But I don't believe it. That's why I wanted to know if you had ever heard of this mistress before you read the suicide note? Did you ever see her, or did Selby talk about her?”

“No. Selby never talked about other women. He was head over heels crazy for Phoebe, had been since the first time he saw her. That's why I was astonished when he confessed that he had been keeping a mistress. In that letter, I mean.”

“So the note was the first time you'd heard of this mistress?”

He nodded. “I did hear rumors later, though. I heard she was a stunner—blond, a ballet dancer, I believe. I may even have heard her name, but I can't remember it.”

“Who told you those things?”

“Who?” He shifted in his chair. “Let's see. I…um…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I don't remember exactly where I heard any one particular thing, or who told me. It was just…around.”

Later, when they had finished talking with Varian and were strolling back to their house, Julia said, “Did it seem to you that Varian was telling the truth about who told him the rumor?”

Deverel glanced down at her. “So he looked suspicious to you, too?”

“You mean you thought that he was not quite telling the truth?” Julia felt unaccountably pleased that he agreed with her.

Deverel nodded. “He looked uncomfortable when he answered that question. The rest of the time he seemed quite open.”

“I wonder why?”

“I don't know. Perhaps he heard it someplace that he would be embarrassed to mention in front of a lady.”

“Like in a brothel.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Really, Julia, you say the most outrageous things.”

“I know. Phoebe thinks it's because I never had a coming out.” They continued walking for a few more minutes. “Or perhaps it's because of
who
told him.”

“What? Oh. Varian. Yes, I suppose that might be it.”

They rounded the corner and started up the street on which Deverel's house lay. They had almost reached the house when a carriage came rolling around the corner at a fast clip. They glanced toward it. The driver, in a cape and with a hat pulled low on his head, lashed the horses, and the team broke into a hard run, hurtling down the street straight toward Julia and Deverel.

J
ulia froze. Deverel grabbed her arm and jerked her to the side, and they fell in a tumble at the foot of the steps to the Stonehaven house. The carriage whipped past them so closely that Julia could feel the breeze of its passing on her skin. It rattled off down the street, turned the corner and was gone.

“Are you all right?” Deverel asked anxiously, sitting up and bending over her.

“Yes. I—I think so.” Julia sat up carefully. She felt as if the entire right side of her body was numb from hitting the hard stones. “That driver must have been mad!”

“Or drunk.”

Both of them turned to look in the direction in which the carriage had gone, but it was out of sight. Deverel stood up, picking Julia up with him. She shook out her skirts and adjusted her hat. There was a streak of dirt down one side of her dress, and she began to brush at it. Deverel brushed the dirt from her sleeve, and his hand grazed her bare arm. He pulled his hand away immediately and stepped back.

“Well,” he said stiffly. “Thank God we weren't hurt.”

Julia nodded, distracted by his touch. They went inside. Deverel was frowning.

“You know,” he said slowly. “That almost seemed purposeful, didn't it?”

Julia turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“The way he ran those horses straight at us.”

Alarm rose in Julia's chest. “You think he meant to hit us?”

“I don't know. It seems absurd. But this is the second time that you have almost been killed.”

“The third, actually,” Julia murmured, her throat tightening.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“This probably has nothing to do with it, but earlier, after Phoebe and I had come to London, someone broke into my room. It woke me up, and I fought him and screamed, and Phoebe and everyone came running. We assumed it was a burglar, of course. But it
was
odd that he climbed a tree to enter through my window when there was much easier access downstairs. Not to mention the fact that the safe and the silver and most of the expensive things were on the ground floor.”

Deverel stared at her for a long moment, then turned away, shaking his head. “This is madness. Why would anyone try to harm you?”

“Because I am trying to find out who really embezzled the money?” Julia suggested.

He turned back to her, and Julia could see that he was shaken. “Selby embezzled it. Nothing we have found has proven anything else.”

“Maybe someone isn't as sure of Selby's guilt as you,” Julia suggested. “Someone who has good cause to know that Selby did
not
do it.”

She could see that her remark had hit home. They did not discuss the matter any longer, but all through dinner, Deverel was distracted. When they were finished with the meal, he stood up abruptly.

“I'm going to the club,” he announced almost grimly.

“All right.” Julia did not look forward to an evening by herself, but she was not about to ask him to stay with her. It had been obvious for two days now that the last thing Deverel wanted was her company.

“I want to ask around, see if anyone else knows anything about this woman.” He turned and fixed her with a stern gaze. “I don't want you going anywhere.”

Julia stared at him. “Whatever are you talking about? Where would I go?”

“I don't know. But I want you to stay inside the house tonight. I—I'm not sure what to think, but too many strange things have been happening.”

Julia nodded, warmed by his words. He might not want to make love to her, or even be around her, but at least he was worried about her.

Deverel hesitated. He had never felt so confused in his life. He ached to pull Julia into his arms and squeeze her to him. The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave the house. He wanted to stay here and make sure that nothing happened to her. But he also knew where it would lead if he were to spend the evening in the same room with her. Before long, he would be pawing her, despite all his good intentions, despite his promises, just as he had yesterday morning. And he could not allow that to happen a second time.

The past two days had been hellish. He had avoided Julia assiduously all the day before, not just from embarrassment at his low behavior, but also because all his thoughts centered around making love to her again. Their lovemaking had not assuaged his lust. Indeed, it had seemed only to increase it. He had had to be around her today, for he could not go on ignoring what they had come to London for, but every moment with her had been pure torture. All through their time together, he had been aware of a low, thrumming pulse in his body, a supreme sensitivity all over his skin, so that the slightest touch made his nerves leap with sizzling anticipation.

He was determined that he would not allow his body to overcome his reason again. The only way he could do that, it seemed, was to avoid Julia. He wondered how he was going to manage that feat for the rest of their lives.

“You will be quite safe here,” he told her, reassuring himself more than her. There was no real reason for him to stay here instead of going out. It was simple weakness on his part.

“I know.”

Deverel heard the colorless tone of her voice, and he felt sure that Julia would be glad to be rid of him. It could not be comfortable, he reminded himself, to be sitting there waiting, wondering if he was going to lose control of himself again. With a stiff bow, he took his leave.

 

Julia sat up in bed. She had retired some time ago, but she had not been able to go to sleep. Instead, she had lain in bed, listening for the sound of Deverel's return. She had spent the evening reading, but, unable to concentrate, her thoughts had strayed first to the accident—
was it possible that someone could actually be trying to hurt her?
—then to Deverel.

She must be, she supposed, a thoroughly wanton woman. All day, throughout the investigations they had conducted, she had been distracted by Deverel's physical presence. Every sense had been attuned to him. She had not looked at him without feeling a rush of desire; the sound of his voice sent tingles through her. Even now, she felt jangly, unable to sleep or think of anything but his kisses and caresses, a low-level heat running through her body. There was a tender ache between her legs, and she could not keep from remembering the supremely satisfying way in which Deverel had filled it.

Did every woman feel this way about her husband…even when he didn't want her? But, no, it wasn't that he did not want her. Inexperienced as she was, Julia was certain that Deverel had been desirous of her the morning before. The problem was that he disliked her and disliked his hunger for her. He apparently felt as if he had betrayed himself by giving in to that lust.

She heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and waited, tensing. Deverel must be home from his club. Would he come to her and tell her what he had found out? He walked past her door, and it seemed to her that the steps hesitated for just a moment as he went by. Then there was the sound of his door opening and closing behind him. Julia flopped back in her bed. He wasn't coming, even to tell her what he had learned.

She lay there for a moment, listening to the faint sounds Deverel made in his room next door. She pictured him walking about, taking off his cuff links and shirt studs, beginning to undress. Julia bit her lip and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow. It was foolish to think this way. It was only stirring her up more!

But she could not stop. She kept imagining Deverel's shirt falling open, exposing a wide swath of chest. She thought of sliding that shirt off his body, revealing his bare arms, swelling with muscle, his flat stomach…. Julia groaned and threw aside her covers. She hopped out of bed and began to pace. She found herself inexorably drawn to her door, and after a moment's hesitation, she opened it and peered out. Light still shone beneath Deverel's door. He was up. If she went to him…

No. She couldn't do that. It would be too immodest, too bold. But then, she reminded herself, there had been a time when Deverel had not minded her bold behavior. If she enticed him enough, might he not give in to his lust again? She smiled secretively, unconsciously running a hand down her front. If he could be brought to her bed time and again, didn't it follow that his dislike for her would gradually wear away? Surely, she thought, she could bring him to feel, if not love, at least
something
for her.

Quickly she moved down the hall to his door. There she hesitated, not sure she had the nerve. It occurred to her that she had no reason for seeking him out, but then she recalled his purpose in going out this evening. She would ask him about that, as if her curiosity had not let her sleep.

She tapped at the door and opened it immediately afterward, not waiting for an answer. Deverel was standing in front of his dresser, laying the last of his shirt studs upon it, and he turned at her entrance. He had removed his coat and ascot, and his shirt hung open down the front, just as she had imagined it. She could see a wide swath of his chest, smooth and muscled, lightly sprinkled with hair, and her mouth was suddenly dry. The words she had prepared flew straight out of her head.

Deverel started toward her, then stopped.

“I—um, I came to see what you had found out tonight,” Julia said.

“Found out?” His eyes ran down her figure, clad in only the white nightgown. With some difficulty, he pulled his gaze back to her face. “Oh. Yes, of course. Not much, I'm afraid. A few men I spoke with had heard the rumors. One thought he had heard she was a ballet dancer. Another thought the name was Bessie or Betsy something. They had heard it at parties, or they couldn't remember where. Everyone was quite vague.”

Julia couldn't keep from looking at his chest. She wanted to open up the shirt. She wanted to run her hands all over him. Her heart was racing. “It—it sounds as if none them had actually heard anything directly from Selby.”

“No. I think it was all rumors.”

Julia nodded. She had no excuse to stay any longer. She cast her mind about for something to keep her there. “Shall I help you with your boots?”

Deverel looked at her blankly. “What?”

Julia pointed to his glossy, tight-fitting boots. “Your valet's not here. I could help you take off your boots.”

“All right.” His voice sounded a trifle odd, and the skin on his face looked tightly stretched across his bones.

Julia moved closer. “You'll have to sit down.”

He sat down on the bed, the nearest place, and Julia bent over, putting her hands on his heel. She began to tug on the boot, working it down. Her breasts bobbed with her efforts. Bending over as she was, Deverel could see straight down the neck of her gown to the lush blue-veined orbs. He dug his hands into the bedspread.

Julia looked up. “What? Did you say something?”

He shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. There was a fine sheen of perspiration across his upper lip. She knew with satisfaction that he was not immune to her. She returned to working on the boot. When it finally came off, she set it aside and turned to the other one. This time she turned her back to him and straddled his leg, bending down to grasp the boot and pull.

“Julia…” She felt his hand caress her buttocks.

She pulled off the boot and put it down, turning to face him. Deverel's face was taut with passion, and his eyes blazed into hers. He reached out and put his hands on the outsides of her thighs, sliding them up, then down. With a groan, he wrenched his hands away, balling them into fists and clamping them against his legs.

“Dammit, Julia, this isn't fair. I told you I wouldn't—”

“I know,” Julia said quickly, “but I have been thinking. About children. I don't want never to have children. Do you? Wouldn't you like to have an heir?”

He stared at her, swallowing hard. “Are you saying that you want—that it's all right with you if we…make love?”

Julia nodded, throwing caution to the winds. “Yes, if you are willing.”

If he rejected her, she would simply have to live with the humiliation, she told herself. But she had to try her utmost. She could not let this man slip away from her into a distant, celibate marriage.

Slowly Deverel stood up, his eyes never leaving Julia's face. “If I am
willing?
” He let out a brief, breathy laugh.

He started to reach for her, but Julia smiled sensually and said, “No, this time you aren't going to have all the fun. I want to touch you.” She put her hands on his chest, between the edges of his shirt.

She felt a tremor run through him. “All right,” he breathed. “Anything you want.”

Julia smoothed her hands over his skin, exploring the curves of his musculature, following the lines of his ribs, running her fingers down the narrowing trail of hair over his stomach to the top of his trousers. His chest rose and fell rapidly as she covered every inch of his exposed skin. Then she slid his shirt off over his arms and tossed it onto the bed. Her hands went to his arms, exploring them in the same way, and finally she walked around him to caress his back. His skin trembled beneath her touch, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath now and then, but he made no move to stop her, simply stood and let her do what she willed.