The Bewitching Hour (23 page)

Stratton didn’t believe he could have possibly heard right. “She went where?”
    Rand winced and pressed his fingertips against his temples. “Bloody hell, Stratton, could you lower your voice? I’ve spent the past twenty-six hours trying to find out where my shipment of cotton is and I’ve got a devil of a headache. Bring me some more coffee, would you? I’ve sent most of the help out on errands. I didn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.”
    Knowing he wasn’t likely to get any satisfactory answers until Rand had ingested a sufficient quantity of coffee, Stratton rose from the dining chair in Rand’s breakfast room and headed to the sideboard. He poured two cups of the steaming black brew and returned to the table.
    “Thank you.” Rand blew on his coffee to cool it, took a healthy swallow and set his cup gently into the saucer. “Miss Hawthorn went into Compton’s Curios. It’s a pawn shop masquerading as a curio shop.”
    “I know what it is. It’s the first place I looked when some of our plate went missing.” Stratton stared at his coffee and tried to compose his thoughts. “What were you doing there? It isn’t one of your usual haunts.”
    “I wasn’t. I had Harris keeping an eye on her. And before you decide to rip my head off, let me explain. Neither one of us can watch her twenty-four hours a day.”
    “I thought I told you to stay out of it.”
    Rand held up his hand to stop his friend’s impending rant. “You’re afraid she’s in some sort of trouble and since she won’t tell you what it is, someone needs to find out what she’s up to. It was easy enough to send Harris out. I keep him on retainer. He doesn’t ask questions and he’s good. Miss Hawthorn doesn’t know him and despite his size, he blends in very well with the background when he needs to.”
    “He is good,” Stratton conceded. “What did she do at Compton’s?”
    “She dropped off a parcel and left.”
    Stratton frowned as he thought. “She was at her solicitor’s office the other day. Do you suppose she needs money?”
    Rand shrugged. “She didn’t collect any money while she was there. As I said, she just dropped off a parcel and left.”
    “Did anyone of note go in after her?”
    “I don’t know. Harris had to decide whether to stay and watch the pawnshop or see that she got home safely. He followed her home.”
    “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Stratton closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. “So what do I do? Confront her? Confront the shop owner? I’m almost afraid of what I’m going to find out though I can’t see her mixed up with anything illegal.”
    “No. I don’t think it’s as bad as all that, but I do think it would be best to keep an eye on her for the moment. Better let me keep Harris on her.”
    Stratton wasn’t so certain that he liked that idea. “I’ll do it.”
    Rand heaved a sigh of frustration. “Use that bloody aristocratic head of yours. It will look like you’re stalking her. Someone’s bound to notice.
She's
bound to notice.”
    “Very well.” He threw his napkin on the table. “I’m going to see if I can find out what this is all about.” Stratton rose abruptly, tipping his chair over on its side.
    “Christ!” Rand winced as the wood clattered against the floor. “Was that absolutely necessary?”
    “Sorry.” Stratton picked up the overturned chair. “You should get some sleep.”
    Rand waved him away. “No time for that. See what you can learn from your lady-love. I’ll be at my office if you need me.”
    Beldon eyed him with a dubious expression. “Mrs. Hutton is away from home, my lord. I shall see if Miss Hawthorn is receiving.”
    It seemed that the butler had not forgotten their last encounter—not that Stratton gave a damn what the butler thought. He rested his foot on the door jam. “You must realize, Beldon, whether or not Miss Hawthorn says she’s receiving is of no consequence,” Stratton said. “I’ll scale the wall, if needed, so you may as well let me in.”
    Beldon moved aside and allowed Stratton into the entrance hall. “If you’ll wait just a moment, my lord, I’ll let her know that you’ve come to call.”
    The viscount shook his head. “You will not. You may take me to her now, or I shall find my own way.”
    Beldon sighed deeply. “As you wish. Come this way.”
    Stratton followed Beldon up the stairs and down the same hallway he had traveled the week before. They stopped outside Priscilla’s private parlor and Stratton rapped on the door.
    “Come in.”
    Stratton pushed the door open. Priscilla sat in a chair by the window, with an open book in her lap. If she were surprised to see him it wasn’t apparent. She gazed at him while addressing the butler. “Thank you, Beldon. If we decide we’d like tea, I’ll ring for it, but I don’t believe Lord Stratton has come for tea.”
    “You’re right, Miss Hawthorn. I haven’t come for tea.”
    “And shut the door, please,” she added. “I’ll be quite alright.”
    The door closed and Stratton listened as the butler’s footsteps faded down the corridor.
    He picked up a chair, set it by the window facing Priscilla and sat. “Tell me, Miss Hawthorn, what idiocy persuaded you to go to Compton’s? It’s practically in the stews. God only knows what could have happened while you were there.”
    She looked down at her lap. “So much for pleasantries.”
    “I’m not feeling particularly pleasant at the moment.”
    “That’s obvious.”
    “What do you expect me to do?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Stand back and observe with detachment while you behave in a reckless manner that puts body and soul at risk?”
    “I believe you’re exaggerating." She paused. "And as it turns out, I wasn’t at risk. You were watching me.”
    “I wasn’t watching you.”
    Surprise registered on her face. “Then how did you find out I went to Compton’s?”
    He wasn't about to tell her Rand was having her followed. “How I found out isn’t important. What matters is your wellbeing and I don’t know how to go about protecting you when I don’t know what I’m protecting you from.”
    She closed her book and set it on the small table next to her. Then she looked up at him with a guarded expression on her face and folded her hands in her lap. “There’s no need to protect me. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”
    “You’re wrong about that, love. Anything that affects you, affects me. That’s how it is when you love someone.”
    “Then I apologize for the worry I caused you.” She hesitated. “I owed someone money. I was simply paying them back.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Who did you owe money to?”
    “I’m not certain." She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. "I was rather reckless at a card party and lost a bit of money. Someone bought my IOU’s and demanded payment. I was instructed to drop the money off with the gentleman who worked at Compton’s.”
    It was a struggle to keep his expression impassive. “And this is why you visited your solicitor?”
    She nodded. “I had to request an advance on my quarterly allowance.”
    “You know if you need money, you can always come to me.”
    “No. As I said, it isn’t your problem.” Her hands unfolded and she began plucking at the embroidery on her muslin skirt. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. You must realize that if we were to marry, my debts would become yours. I could bring you to financial ruin.” She looked away. “I won’t do that to you.”
    His mouth twitched. “I appreciate your concern for my financial welfare. What game do you favor?”
    She continued to worry at the muslin fabric. “Oh, anything to do with cards or dice will keep me entertained.”
    “Come now. Every gamer has a favorite. I prefer Whist over Faro. It’s a game of skill, rather than luck. Shall we play a hand? Perhaps, I could help you with your strategy.” He smiled but there was no humor behind it. “In time, you could help fill my pockets rather than deplete them. We could become a duo to be reckoned with.” He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “Priscilla, my love, I must tell you something.”
    She moistened her lips. Other than the rise and fall of her chest, she remained perfectly still.
    “You are positively the worst liar I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of drivel you fed your solicitor, but I’m not buying it.”
    She glared. “I didn’t feed it to him. If you must know, he fed it to himself. It was much better than anything I could think to tell him.”
    If he hadn’t been so angry, he would have laughed. “Damn it! I am worried to death about you.”
    “You needn’t worry any longer. I’ve managed to put things right.”
    “Wonderful." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I am so happy to know that all your troubles are behind you. I can now pretend that the past week never happened and we will go on as before. Be ready at eight. I will escort you to dinner tonight, along with Aunt and Cecelia, and then we’ll go on to the theater from there. Mrs. Hutton is more than welcome to come along if she wishes to do so. We should have a delightful time.”
    “No.”
    “No?" He fought to keep his anger in place. "You must explain this reluctance, Miss Hawthorn. You’ve claimed to love me so I’ll assume it isn’t my company that you object to. Is it my aunt? If so, I have no qualms about hiding one of her little rats in the cellar again. It works quite well at keeping her out of the way.”
    “Of course, it isn’t your aunt. Don't be ridiculous. And I do want to see you, but it must be in private.”
    His temper flared unchecked. “So you’ll let me plow your belly in a rolling carriage, but you won’t be seen with me in public?”
    She visibly recoiled at his remark. “Don’t be crude.”
    He raked his hands through his hair. “Christ!” he muttered. “One of us belongs in Bedlam.” He pushed himself away from the chair and started toward the door. “I’m just not certain which one.”
    “Wait. Where are you going?”
    “I’m plan to wait in your drawing room until Mrs. Hutton arrives. I will inform her that you have been completely and thoroughly compromised. After that, I will post the banns and we will be married in three weeks time. The announcement of our impending nuptials shall be in tomorrow’s paper, so do prepare yourself for the deluge of well-wishers that will come your way.”
    “No! You can’t” She leapt from her chair and ran to the door in an attempt to block his way.
    He couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t be absurd. I’m more than twice your size. I will simply pick you up and move you out of the way.”
    Her shoulders fell in defeat. She stared at the floor a long moment. When she looked up her eyes were dry, but the anguish on her face was heart-wrenching.
    His anger dissolved. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and reassure her that everything would be fine. “This can’t continue. Tell me, love. Just tell me what this is about and we’ll decide what to do next.”
    She sniffed and nodded slowly.
    “Come and sit down.” He put his arm around her and led her over to the settee. “What has you so distressed?” he asked as he settled in beside her.
    “I promised I would tell no one," she said in a rush. "And I haven’t, but someone has found out and now everything has gone wrong.”
    He reached over and took her hand. . “What did you promise?”
    “I promised Patrick I wouldn’t tell anyone. There was no need to tell anyone. I found out during our engagement party.” She paused, closed her eyes and took in a long breath as if she were summoning the strength to continue. “It was a lavish affair, far more lavish than I wanted, and it seemed as if half of London was invited. Our townhouse wasn’t large enough to accommodate everyone, so my stepfather leased a home a few streets over just for the party. It was very sweet of him, but as it turned out, a great waste of his coffers.”
    He gazed at her and waited.
    “Everyone knew of it, but our engagement was to be formally announced that night. I was nervous and a little overwhelmed by the attention I was receiving. I left the ballroom to find a few minutes for myself. There was a small parlor at the back of the house that we weren’t using so I decided to go there.” She fell silent for a few moments. “I’ve never known whether that was the best decision I’ve ever made, or the worst.
    “I opened the door and walked in on Patrick and another man—a servant, I suppose, as he wore the livery of the service my stepfather hired.” She swallowed. Embarrassment brought a blush to her cheeks. “They were fully clothed, but they were kissing one another quite passionately. Had I been a few minutes later, I suppose it would have been much worse.” She fell silent once again.
    Despite the impact this would have had upon her life, it didn’t explain her recent behavior. He gently squeezed her hand, prompting her to continue.
    She looked up at him. Her chest rose and fell as she took several long breaths. “I’m not as sheltered as you might think," she said. "I know there are men who prefer other men." Her hand fisted beneath his. “Patrick and I had known each other since we were children and I hadn’t any notion. I thought I knew him so well, yet it turned out that I didn’t know him at all.
    He squeezed her hand again. "I'm not Patrick, love. You can trust me."
    “At first, I wanted to call off the engagement, then and there, but Patrick was mortified by the idea. He was right. To break our engagement at our engagement party—I don’t know that we ever could have lived down the scandal. He said if I would wait a month before calling off the engagement, he would make things right. I didn’t see how he possibly could, but I agreed to wait.”
    Understanding dawned on the viscount. “He bought his colors and went off to war before that month was up, didn’t he?”
    She pressed her lips together in a hard line and nodded. “Several months later, he was dead. He left here with the intent of never returning. There are times when I feel as if I sent him to his death.”
    “Don’t.” The word came out sharper than he had intended. “You can’t blame yourself. To have married him would have been untenable.”
    “It would kill his father to know the truth." A single tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away with her fingertip. "I went to visit them last month and he’s not well. They didn’t even come to London for the season this year. He mustn't find out.”
    Stratton considered the gist of what she had told him, but her explanation left too many questions unanswered. “Tell me why you needed the money, love. Are you being blackmailed?”
    She slowly nodded. “I’ve received two notes. The first threatened to expose Patrick’s past, if I continued to see you. The second was a demand for money. A hundred pounds. Not a fortune, but enough that I needed an advance.”