The Bachelor Trap (17 page)

She was instantly contrite. “I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking. Why don't you put your arm around my shoulders for support.”

He accepted her suggestion with alacrity, not only because he needed the support, but also because he wanted to hold her. He kept thinking of what might have happened in her cottage had he not followed her, and a nameless dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He would be the first to acknowledge that she did not lack courage, as she'd proved when she tried to wrestle the gun away from her assailant. But her bones were small and fragile, and a woman's strength was no match for a man's.

Their sham betrothal gave him the perfect excuse to put leading strings on her. He didn't want her to stray far from his side until they'd caught the thug who had broken into her house. It seemed to him, now, that the episodes at Vauxhall and the King's Theater were connected to the attack on her at the cottage, but he was reluctant to mention them. She had been through enough already, and he did not want to add to her worries.

“Marion,” he said, “I don't want you to go back to your cottage until we're satisfied that you're no longer in danger. No one will think it unusual if you stay at the Priory for a few weeks.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “That's exactly how I feel anyway. I've told Emily and Phoebe to stay away from the cottage as well. I keep thinking of what would have happened if one of them had surprised the intruder and no one was there to help them.”

He withdrew his arm from her shoulders and turned her to face him. “If they are anything like their big sister, I'm sure he would have been glad to get away from them.”

“He had a gun.”

“He wanted the letters, that's all. He only shot at me because I had a gun, too, and he knew that I would use it.”

He wasn't convinced by his own words, but he wanted to ease Marion's fears.

They walked on, but slowly, with Brand leaning on Marion's arm for support. After a moment, he said, “Don't you have any letters from Hannah at all?”

“I haven't come across any. As I told you, all I have are a few letters that Edwina wrote to my mother, and I brought those with me from Keswick. They don't say very much.”

“All the same, I'd like to read them.”

“Fine.”

They talked back and forth, speculating about this and that, then Marion said, “I think we should start our investigation with Hannah. Who were her friends? What were her plans? I know she was a governess in Brighton. Perhaps her last employer would know—if we can find her.”

He flashed her a smile. “It seems that we've been thinking along the same lines. I know who her last employer was: Mrs. Love of Ship Street. And she still resides there.”

She was thunderstruck. “How do you know this?”

“I got that piece of information from the good doctor. As it turns out, Hardcastle remembers Hannah and all the Gunns very well. He told me, in between doctoring me, about Mrs. Love. Hannah asked him to give her a character reference, you see.”

“And Mrs. Love is still at the same address?”

“Apparently.” He gave her a sideways glance. “He also told me that Edwina was so strict that Hannah didn't have much of a life. He accepted the rumor that Hannah had eloped because she was desperate to get out from under Edwina's thumb.”

She let out a little sigh. “I think Edwina and my mother had much in common. They were both strong-minded, determined women.”

“Like you?” he quizzed.

She looked up at him with an arrested expression. “Is that how you see me?”

“I meant it as a compliment. Only a strong-minded, determined lady,” he went on, “would attack a man with a gun and try to take it away from him. You're a formidable woman, Lady Marion Dane.”

Though she said not a word in reply, her cheeks bloomed. He felt oddly touched, surprised that such a careless remark should affect her like this. She was a lovely, intelligent, capable woman. Now, if only she could see him as a handsome, intelligent, capable man, they could stop sparring and…and what?

He couldn't imagine marriage, but he had a clear picture of taking Marion to his bed. He felt an entirely masculine and primitive satisfaction when he remembered how she had responded to his slightest touch, not to mention that he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself.

So where did that leave him?

Marion interrupted his train of thought. “Do you know, Brand, I'm puzzled about Hannah's little dog. Governesses don't usually have dogs, do they?”

“None that I know.”

“Then who did it belong to and what became of it?”

“Perhaps Hardcastle knows.”

“Or perhaps Mrs. Love. You
are
going to take me to Brighton to interview her? After all, I'm Hannah's niece. She might tell me more than she would tell you.”

“I'll think about it.”

Her look of outrage was his reward. He had every intention of taking her to Brighton with him. That's how leading strings worked. Where he went, she went, and vice versa. But he did enjoy sparring with her.

“I'm the one with the memories!” Her breath came out in huffs and puffs. “Mrs. Love may say something that means something to me but nothing to you. I could be of immeasurable help in our investigation.”

“That's true. But we don't want our villain to get wind of what we're doing. Whatever we do must appear innocent and unthreatening.”

“I know
that
. I'm not a simpleton!”

He couldn't argue with that.

Brand made the formal announcement of their engagement over luncheon. Her sisters were thrilled. His family, as expected, received the announcement with their usual sangfroid, even the duchess, who Marion knew was pleased by the news.

Marion told herself that it was for the best. She need not feel guilty when the day came to announce that she and Brand were going their separate ways. There would be no tears, no dismay. She would be lucky if, a week after that, they remembered her name.

Emily rounded on Andrew as soon as they were alone. They were making for the stable block to look over his new curricle.

“What is the matter with your family?” she demanded. “Have they no feelings? Do they have ice in their veins? Don't they know how to be happy? Where was the champagne to toast the happy couple?”

He looked startled. “They were happy,” he said. “We just don't show our feelings as easily as some families do.”

“Why not? You're supposed to be Cavaliers, aren't you, and Cavaliers are supposed to be gallant and gay and…and larger than life?”

His lips curved. “You're the Cavalier, Emily.”

She gave a self-conscious laugh. “You don't think I'm like this with everyone? I feel I can say what I like with you, Andrew. And I say that we should have done something special for Marion and Brand.”

When they arrived at the stable block, they found Manley in conversation with Theodora's man of business. Mr. Forrest was proudly showing off his latest acquisitions, and Mr. Manley was obviously impressed.

Manley looked up when he saw Andrew and Emily.

Emily said, “Lord Andrew is taking me for a drive in his new curricle, Mr. Manley.”

“Is he now? Well, it just so happens that I have nothing to do. I'll act as groom.”

“That won't be necessary,” replied Andrew, not coldly, but not warmly, either. “I can manage quite well on my own.”

Manley's smile grew wider. “I'm sure you can, Your Grace. But I have my orders. I'll just set things up for you, shall I?”

When Andrew stiffened, Emily surreptitiously elbowed him in the ribs. “Thank you, Mr. Manley,” she said. “We'll wait outside.”

As they waited outside, Emily said, “There's no arguing with Manley. He has the instincts of a sheepdog and, I'm afraid, he sees me as one of his lambs. We'll just have to grin and bear it.”

Andrew shook his head.

“What?” she demanded.

“He's only a servant.”

“All the more reason for
you
to treat him like a prince!”

The curricle was brought out, and a pair of well-matched bays were soon harnessed to it. Andrew took the reins, Manley helped Emily into the curricle, then took his position in the rear. A flick of the reins and they were off.

Emily knew within a few minutes that Andrew was an accomplished whip, because when she glanced over her shoulder, she caught Manley smiling. After that, she settled back to enjoy herself. The curricle bowled rapidly down the drive and was soon traveling along the High Street.

“Look, Andrew,” she said at one point. “There's Victor Malvern.”

She waved to Victor in passing. Andrew tipped his hat. Victor's face went fiery red. There were others, however, who responded in kind and shouted out a greeting.

Emily was pleased because Andrew was finally coming into his own.

Andrew was pleased because Emily was pleased.

Almost a week went by before Brand was fit to make the journey to Brighton. In that time, he and Marion did a little discreet sleuthing. Several people remembered a white dog, but it had belonged to Theodora and its name was Snowball. A few of the residents remembered Hannah, but no one had known her well. They all seemed to share Dr. Hardcastle's view, that Edwina Gunn had kept such a close eye on her sister that poor Hannah was glad to take up a position in Brighton and escape Edwina's vigilance. As for Clarice, she added nothing to the story that she had already told Marion: that when their ghost appeared, and she heard an animal howling, she had run up the hill to the Priory while Marion went downhill to her aunt's cottage.

“I'm coming to think that there was only one dog,” said Brand. “Theo's dog.”

Marion nodded. “When I think of it, I have no memories of Scruff in Edwina's cottage. That's not to say,” she went on quickly, “that he was not there. As I keep telling you, my memories are vague at best. What about Edwina's letters? Did they tell you anything new?”

“Only by omission. Hannah's name was never mentioned. I wonder why.”

Marion sighed. They didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Mrs. Love was the only real lead they had, and Marion was impatient to meet the lady.

She learned that there was more to their trip than interviewing Mrs. Love. Brand was expected to put in an appearance at several key political functions leading up to the election and, as his fiancée, she would be expected to put in an appearance, too.

She made no protest. In the first place, an announcement of their engagement had already appeared in the local paper. In the second place, this was all part of Brand's plan to throw their villain off the scent. No one knew their real purpose in going to Brighton. Everyone thought they were going for the election.

It was a clever scheme and she was determined not to let Brand down.

That did not mean that she didn't give a thought to her sisters. But as Brand pointed out, they were no threat to anyone, since they had not even been born when Hannah disappeared. All the same, Andrew had agreed to watch over them, and the groundsmen had been instructed to keep a close watch on the cottage in case the thief returned.