That Infamous Pearl (29 page)

"Alaric, you can't
possibly believe that this was planned," said Rowena the moment he was
gone. "Dozens of people could have been killed or injured. Surely Lady
Bingham would not wish to injure innocent people."

"Whoever was
behind Ingram's death did not seem to mind killing him to get at me,"
observed Alaric. "Perhaps our murderer suspects what we are up to. I am
not entirely sure that you should go to the Brandfon's with me. You'd be safer
staying in London."

"Alaric, you
will not keep me locked up here while you try to trap Marguerite! She will
never betray herself to you, for you were the object of her plot. You know you
must allow me to go."

"I would rather
remain under suspicion for the rest of my life than endanger you," said
Alaric heatedly. "This killer is completely unscrupulous and may well have
been behind your accident today. I cannot allow you to be a target."

"Nonsense. This
was surely an accident, and even if it was an attempt on my life, I survived it
unharmed. You may be content to live under suspicion, but my brother is a wanted
man, likely to be hung if he is caught. His future is at stake as well."

Alaric stiffened. He
had forgotten Rowena's fierce loyalty to her brother. In the past few days he
had begun to hope that he had repaired some of the damage he had caused over
the past weeks, when he had treated her so harshly, refusing to trust her and
instead believing the lies of others. It had seemed to him at times that her
affection for him was returning, and it was painful to him to realize that she
still put Malcolm before him.

"I am sure there
is another way to clear Malcolm's name," he said harshly. "It must be
possible to do so without putting you in danger. Even he would not ask that of
you."

"My safety is
not at stake. You will be at the Brandfon's to protect me, as will Malcolm.
Between the two of you I imagine I will scarcely be able to breathe, and it
will be impossible for anyone to hurt me with so many people about. Alaric, you
must allow me to do this. It is of the utmost importance to my family and to
me."

She looked up at him,
her expression serious. Alaric gazed back at her, trying to gauge her emotions.

"Clearing
Malcolm's name means a great deal to you, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Of course it
does. He's my brother." Rowena swallowed. She wished to tell Alaric that
clearing his name as well was her fondest wish, that she hoped if she could do
that he would allow the ghosts of the past to depart and they could start on a
new life together. But she knew that he would only turn away if she said
something so emotional.

"Very well. You
may go to Brandfon's with me." Alaric held up a warning finger as Rowena
gave a squeal of excitement. "But you must do exactly as I tell you at all
times."

"Yes, of course,
Alaric. I promise to be very good. You will be amazed at how obedient I can be."

Alaric smiled. "If
you are obedient, Rowena, I will be amazed indeed."

The next afternoon the
Earl of Brayleigh's traveling chaise bowled up the long drive to Brandfon
Abbey. As the coachman halted before the imposing front steps, Rowena looked at
the house with a mixture of amazement and dismay. Sir Peter Brandfon apparently
had fallen under the spell of the current rage for all things Gothic, for the
house, built of forbidding gray stone, rose in a mass of turrets and spires
that soared above them with no apparent pattern or discernable design. Narrow,
leaded windows gave it the appearance of a fortress, while the vegetation,
apparently chosen to perfectly complement the gloom of the house, gave the
impression of being about to enfold the visitors and perhaps consume them.

"Goodness,"
she murmured.

"As I said, Sir
Peter and Lady Brandfon have very little taste," commented Alaric. "You
see what a sacrifice I have made for you. Sir Peter will doubtless spend the
entire evening soliciting my opinion of his home. And, while I have a
constitutional dislike of lying, I can hardly tell him the truth."

Rowena gave a gurgle
of laughter. "I did not realize before how very indulgent you are of me,
Alaric. I will remember this in the future."

Alaric looked down
into her smiling violet eyes and an answering smile appeared on his face. "See
that you do," he said with mock sternness.

"Good lord. What
the hell is this place?"

Alaric looked over to
see Malcolm, dressed in the livery of one of the Brayleigh grooms and wearing
his brown wig, leaning in the windows of the carriage.

"One of the
finest country houses in all England," he answered lightly. "I gather
it is not to your taste?"

"Lord, no,"
said Malcolm flatly. "What a hideous pile of stone."

"Hush,"
said Rowena. "It wouldn't do for someone to overhear you. We don't want to
offend our hosts."

"The opinion of
a groom would hardly matter," said Malcolm. "I'm thankful now that I'll
be sleeping in the stables. A place like this would give me nightmares."

"Then see that
you stay in the stables," said Alaric. "Remember your supposed station
while you are at it; I don't believe my groom should be speaking to me so
familiarly. Between you and your sister, my reputation will soon be in shreds."

"It was in
shreds anyway," observed Malcolm cheerfully. "I thought we were
trying to restore it."

Alaric sighed. "Spare
me from such help," he said. "I will be lucky to get out of this with
a whole skin, much less with my good name intact."

"We are doing
this for all of us," said Rowena firmly. "And I am sure we will be
successful. In only a few days both your names will be cleared."

"I only wish I
had your optimism. The best I can hope for is that we are not all hauled up
before a magistrate before the end of the weekend." Alaric looked around. "We
had best alight. Malcolm, you will go with the carriage to the stables, and you
will stay there unless I send for you. Do you understand?"

Malcolm exchanged a
glance with Rowena. "I understand you, Brayleigh."

"You will not
come unless I explicitly ask for you," repeated Alaric. "And I wish
you to stay away from Rowena. If someone sees the two of you together they
might figure out the ruse. There is a certain family resemblance. Also, Charles
will be present. While I doubt he is a threat to you, it would be best if he
didn't see you."

Malcolm shrugged. "Very
well. But if I hear that Rowena is in danger, I'll come up to the house anyway.
I'm not going to have her harmed."

"You may rest
assured that I will be watching her every movement," said Alaric.

"See that you
do," answered Malcolm. He turned away from the window and busied himself
helping to unload the luggage.

"I think your
brother still dislikes me," observed Alaric as he opened the door and
helped Rowena out of the carriage.

"He is just not
accustomed to working with you," said Rowena. "He has thought you a
murderer for many years, after all. And you are so different from each other.
Malcolm is warm-hearted and rash and you are--"

"I am what?"
asked Alaric, biting back a sharp rejoinder at her unfavorable comparison of
him to her brother. "Cold and stiff?"

"No, not at all."
Rowena gestured hastily, anxious to make herself understood. "I meant only
that you are more sophisticated, and think before you act. You are more mature
than Malcolm is."

"Soon you will
have me doddering about the house, drooling in my soup," observed Alaric. "I
think we had best not pursue this line of conversation."

Rowena looked up at
him helplessly. It seemed that nothing she said to Alaric came out right. He
had been kind to her since their reconciliation, but she sensed that he was
holding her at arm's length, and it hurt. Would he never allow her to get close
to him again?

"Alaric--"
she began, but the doors to the house swung open and flurry of servants
surrounded them, escorting them into the house and removing their luggage to
their rooms. In the hallway Sir Peter and Lady Brandfon awaited, their faces
wreathed in smiles. Sir Peter stepped forward and seized Alaric's hand.

"Brayleigh! How
wonderful to see you. I am delighted to have you here at Brandfon Abbey. I have
been anxious to get your opinion on my home, as well as to show you my
grandfather's art collection. It is quite magnificent, I believe. This must be
your lovely bride. Our felicitations to you both. It must be very exciting to
you, Lady Brayleigh, to be married to such a mysterious fellows as Brayleigh,
eh?"

To Rowena's relief
Sir Peter did not wait for an answer, but plowed ahead. "You must allow me
to show you the entire house as soon as you are settled. We have given you the
very finest rooms and hope they meet with your approval. And you are acquainted
with our other guests as well. Your cousin Charles Montfort is here, and the Brenderbys,
and Lord and Lady Rushton, and Lady Bingham, who of course you know--"

Sir Peter broke off
when his wife nudged him in the ribs and he gave Rowena an anguished glance. "No
need to worry about Lady Bingham," he said contritely. "I'm sure
there are many things to occupy you both here at Brandfon Abbey. I look forward
to showing you about."

"Thank you,"
said Alaric gravely, taking Rowena's arm. "I am sure Lady Brayleigh would
like to rest now."

"Certainly,
certainly. Hodges will show you to your room. If there is anything you want,
please ask for it immediately. We wish you to be very comfortable here."

Alaric inclined his
head formally and escorted Rowena up the stairs in the wake of the servant. She
followed him silently, but when they entered their rooms and the servant bowed
and left, she broke into peals of laughter.

"Poor Alaric,"
she managed to gasp at last. "How very brave it was of you to come here.
If I ever doubted the sacrifice you were making, I no longer do so."

Alaric smiled at her
amusement. She was so warm and enthusiastic. He was amazed when he remembered
the emptiness of his life before she had come into it. It seemed like a very
dull existence in retrospect.

"I am glad you
appreciate it," he said. He moved towards her and took her into his arms. "Believe
me, I shall exact payment."

Rowena peeped up at
him through her lashes. He seemed to be in a remarkably good humor now, she
thought. The dark mood he had been in seemed to have lifted.

"What sort of
payment might that be, my lord?" she asked.

In answer Alaric bent
his head and took her mouth in a fierce kiss that deprived her of breath. "Perhaps
you should take that rest I mentioned," he murmured. "I can think of
far more delightful ways to spend the afternoon than looking at Sir Peter's
paintings."

Rowena reached up and
touched his cheek with gentle fingers. He was so beautiful, she thought with a
catch in her throat. How she wished that he would look at her with more than
affectionate amusement.

"Don't you think
we would be missed?" she asked.

Alaric shrugged. "I
really don't care if I annoy Sir Peter. His is hardly the sort of acquaintance
I wish to encourage."

"Then it is my
wifely duty to obey my husband's commands," whispered Rowena. "I
believe I could use some rest."

Alaric smiled and
pressed his lips to hers again, his hands moving up her arms to her shoulders,
which he caressed gently, sending a shiver of excitement through Rowena's body.

"You are very
beautiful, Rowena," he said.

"Alaric, I love
you," she breathed against his lips.

Alaric suddenly
became very still, and Rowena's eyes widened in horrified shock when she
realized what she had said. He lifted his lips and looked down at her, a
stunned expression on his face.

"Alaric...I'm
sorry, I didn't--"

There was a knock at
the door, and with an impatient oath Alaric strode to it, flinging it open as
Rowena hastily struggled to rearrange her clothing. Charles stood in the
doorway, his pleasant smile fading when he saw the dark look on Alaric's face.

"Am I disturbing
something?" he asked. His eyes swept over Rowena once, taking in her
agitated state. "I apologize. Sir Peter asked me to tell you that he would
like to conduct a tour of his gallery now, and he was sure that you would be
interested."

There was a pause as
Alaric glowered at his cousin. Rowena stepped forward hastily, anxious to fill
the breach. She had no desire to discuss her startling statement with Alaric.
He would surely laugh at her for giving in to such emotions, or he might even
believe she was lying to him in order to get something out of him. She didn't
know if she could stand being confronted with his suspicions again.

"Certainly,
Charles. It would not do for us to neglect our kind hosts. Alaric and I were
simply looking at our wonderful rooms, but I believe we are settled now. I am
sure Alaric will be fascinated by Sir Peter's collection."

Charles eyes widened
as his cousin growled something under his breath. "I did not mean to
disturb you," he repeated.

"Really, it is
no problem. We will come with you immediately, won't we, Alaric?"

Alaric's eyelids
dropped, and when they lifted again he had resumed his cool demeanor. "Certainly,"
he drawled. "The gallery must be faced at some time; it might as well be
now. We will follow you, Charles."

Charles looked curiously
from one to the other and then shrugged. "Very well," he said,
heading down the hall.

Rowena hurried past
Alaric, anxious not to let Charles get out of earshot, but her husband reached
out and caught her arm as she passed.

"We will
continue this conversation later," he said under his breath.

She gave him a
sidelong glance but didn't respond, and they followed Charles down the hall in
silence. Alaric watched Rowena narrowly as they walked, noting her agitation
and apparent confusion. What had she meant by the words she had said, he
wondered. Perhaps, the thought suddenly struck him, she was trying to distract
him from something. Could she and Malcolm be hatching another plan? He would
have to watch her carefully to make sure that she didn't go tearing off on one
of Malcolm's hare-brained schemes.

"Ah, Lord and
Lady Brayleigh. I am so glad that you could accompany us on our tour." Sir
Peter beamed when the three of them entered the sitting room. "Charles was
uncertain as to whether you would be too tired to join us or not."

"We are looking
forward to it," said Rowena.

"Well, I cannot
pretend that my collection is as fine as your husband's, but I flatter myself
that it is of great value and in excellent taste. You shall judge for yourself."
Sir Peter smiled on them all. "I believe you are acquainted with Mr. and
Mrs. Brenderby, and uh, Lady Bingham."

Marguerite stood up
and smiled maliciously at Alaric and Rowena. "We are old friends. Or at
least Brayleigh and I are. I have only recently become acquainted with his
charming wife," she purred.

"Lady Bingham."
Alaric bowed to her coldly, his eyes raking over her tight dress and elegant
curls. He wondered with disdain how he could ever have found someone so hard
and thoughtless to be attractive.

"Then shall we
proceed?" asked Sir Peter, anxious to smooth over the awkward moment. "This
way, please. I wish you to be utterly honest with me, Lord Brayleigh, on the
matter of these paintings. My family is very proud of them, but please do not
spare my feelings. I wish to know their true value, though of course they will
always be cherished for having been collected by my ancestors."

Rowena glanced
nervously at Alaric as they followed the group from the sitting room, but he
seemed to have forgotten what had happened earlier. She breathed a quiet sigh
of relief. Surely he would not want to pursue such a sensitive topic any
further. It could only cause embarrassment for them both.

They walked through
several dark and drafty hallways before entering the Great Gallery, a long room
that ran the length of one side of the building. Alaric sighed when he noticed
that the windows were small and the room rather dark, making it difficult to
distinguish one painting from another. It was going to be a long afternoon.