The Stranger She Married (25 page)

Both ladies laughed and Cole forced a straight face. Livy mopped her face with her handkerchief and began fanning herself. “Oh dear, it's a bit warm, isn't it?"

"I hadn't noticed,” Alicia said.

After the carriage pulled up in front of the opera house, Cole escorted the ladies inside to his private balcony. Before the performance began, he felt the eyes of the
ton
in attendance upon them, whispering, speculating, but Alicia's eyes, dazzled by the theater and the excitement, remained thankfully unaware of the sensation she stirred simply by being an unknown lady at his side. Aunt Livy nodded with queenly grace, and Cole was glad he had invited her to keep Alicia's reputation pure.

"Oh, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, this is so grand."

"Please, my dear, call me Aunt Livy. After all, you are married to my nephew."

She started and then looked ashamed. “Oh, yes. Of course. My husband is a nephew of yours as well."

"Great nephew, actually. His father and Cole's father are a generation apart."

"First cousins once-removed, I believe it's called,” Cole added.

The Marquis of Trimbull, an old friend of his father's, stopped by their box. “Amesbury, glad to see you back in Town.” Lord Trimbull's gaze settled on Alicia, curious, assessing, but he turned to Aunt Livy. “Dear Olivia. It has been too long. You are lovely as ever."

Aunt Livy took out her fan and began to wave it furiously. “You are a silver-tongued rogue, Lucius,” she replied with a disapproving frown, but Cole saw pleasure gleam in her eyes. “Lady Amesbury, may I present Lord Trimbull? My lord, Lady Amesbury is one of my many nieces by marriage."

The marquis extended his hand and she allowed him to take hers, poised and gracious, and fixed her eyes upon him, a genuinely warm smile curving her mouth.

"My lord."

Though his expression remained carefully schooled, his eyes unmistakably approved of Alicia as he bowed over her hand. “I'm delighted, my lady."

The marquis and Aunt Livy exchanged pleasantries and asked after each other's families before the gentleman moved on.

Cole managed to evade explanation to others who stopped by their box until the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. The music was well-done, and the costumes, set, and acting better than normal, but his eyes strayed to her so often that he finally gave up and simply watched her watch the performance. The performance enthralled her.

She enthralled him.

He was lost and happier than he'd ever been.

At intermission, Cole's cousin Mary, a buxom beauty, came to their box, and Aunt Livy, waving her fan frantically, introduced the ladies. Mary greeted Alicia cordially, calling her Cousin, and directed a smile toward Cole.

"My husband just left for his club, Cole. Perhaps you will join him there?"

"I regret, Mary, that these two ladies would not forgive me if I abandoned them without seeing them safely home first."

Mary raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

"Charleston, go fetch me some lemonade, there's a good lad,” Aunt Livy said to her footman. He leaped to his feet and bounded away. She pressed a hand to her forehead, her fan flapping furiously, and a sheen appeared on her flushed face.

Mary leaned in. “Aunt Livy, are you unwell?"

"I am afraid I'm not feeling well. It seems terribly warm in here, but no one else appears to be suffering from the heat."

Cole half-rose. “Shall I escort you home, Aunt?"

She waved him away. “No, dear, don't trouble yourself.” The footman reappeared with the lemonade, but it failed to refresh her.

Mary sent her footman for her carriage. “I will take you home, Aunt."

"Do you wish us to accompany you?” Cole offered.

Mary shook her head. “Not necessary, Cole. You and Alicia remain here and enjoy the performance. I will see to her.” She turned to Alicia. “I hope to see more of you later, Cousin."

"I do, as well.” Alicia cast a teasing, sideways glance at Cole.

He inwardly groaned. The stories Mary could tell about him made him shudder. If he ever hoped to redeem himself in Alicia's eyes, her association with his cousin Mary certainly would undermine his efforts.

"I hope you feel better, Aunt Livy,” Alicia said as she took her hand.

"Nothing to fret about, my dear. Merely something I ate, no doubt."

After the performance ended, Cole guided Alicia to the carriage. He knew riding in the carriage alone with her pushed the edge of propriety, and might cause tongues to wag. He had done it in the country, and had enjoyed it immensely, but looking back, realized how careless that had been. Although it had probably saved her life. Still, he never wanted it said that Alicia was anything less than a perfect lady. He'd spent most of his life sneering at convention and shrugging at the tales told about him, but he wanted no scandal to touch Alicia.

Inside the carriage, Cole forcibly kept his thoughts on neutral matters to avoid drawing her into his arms. His best defense was humor. He kept her laughing with the contents of his brother Jared's latest letter which outlined a harrowing flight during a visit to a tiny island. They'd encountered hungry natives who invited him and his crew to stay for dinner. As the main course. He also hinted at lovely native girls who offered themselves as his bride the night before the feast.

"Does he live a life of debauchery, then?"

"Undoubtedly. I think it's in our blood."

"You value a woman's virtue so little, then?” She looked away.

Cole softened his voice. “I have never robbed a woman of her virtue. The first virgin I make love to will be my wife. And it will be with her consent. Not only her consent—her desire."

She turned to him, astonishment clear in her expression. “Then you will marry someday?"

He laughed. “Of course. Don't look so surprised. We discussed this the time first time we met, remember? I must, sooner or later, produce an heir, which requires that I be married to his mother at the time."

"Then it will be a business match.” She looked disenchanted.

"Good grief, I hope not. I am not so foolish as to think that everyone marries for love as my parents did, but I hope to be at least fond of my wife.” He watched her, falling further under her spell. “I entertain hopes that I might actually love my wife. Whoever she might be."

"I dreamed of marrying for love once,” she murmured, her eyes far away.

He remained silent to allow her time to her thoughts, and only admired her. And desired her. And plotted how to make her dream come true. And his.

She hugged herself, staring out of the window. She spoke so softly, he had to lean forward to hear her. “Of course you should marry. Your family is counting on you."

Cole wasn't sure what to make of her words. She appeared sad, disappointed. In him? He wished he could truly divine her thoughts. She used to be easier to read, but with his emotions so strongly overshadowing his judgment, his perceptiveness regarding her had dimmed.

"My father's health is poor. Soon he will leave me with his title. Much is expected of an earl."

"You never speak of your father."

"He lives in Bath with my brother, Christian, and my sister, Rachel. We hope he will improve. Since my mother's death two years ago, his health has steadily declined. They were desperately in love. Some of his friends tried to convince him to take a mistress in the hopes that it would restore his vitality, but he refused."

"It is my understanding that many men keep mistresses. Even while still wed."

"That doesn't make it right, does it?"

Her golden eyes appeared luminous so near his face, and his eyes were drawn downward to her lips. It took all of his self control to not move nearer and capture them with his mouth.

"Then you would not do the same?” she asked.

He had to replay their conversation to remember what she meant. He forced levity into his voice. “Take a mistress? Absolutely not. If a lady were mad enough to marry me, the least I could do is be faithful to her."

A smile touched her lips. “You surprise me, Cole."

He swallowed at the sound of his name on her tongue and his voice was husky when he found it. “How so?"

"I thought you a man of loose principles and morals."

"Perhaps you were wrong about me,” he whispered.

"Perhaps,” she whispered back.

Her light fragrance taunted him, her lovely face tormented him and their conversation had taken an unexpected turn. This was getting too serious.

Turning on a flippant grin, he leaned back lazily and stretched out his legs. “You were right the first time, I am an unprincipled, incorrigible cad."

"Oh, good. Glad to hear I was right about you all along, then.” Though she attempted to use levity, she sounded strained.

He admired the fine lines of her face, the soft ringlets brushing against her neck, the fullness of her ripe, soft lips. “Astonishing."

She blinked at him.

"Mesmerizing. Exquisite."

"Pardon?"

He grinned. “I am thinking up new words to describe your beauty. Remember, I promised to compliment you more often."

"Oh.” A smile began at her mouth and found its way to her eyes. “Do you flirt this brazenly with everyone, or only married women?"

"I haven't earned the reputation of a shameless philanderer by accident,” he quipped.

She frowned. “Did I say incorrigible? I meant impossible."

"Thank you."

"You said earlier you have three brothers, but you've only mentioned Jared. Tell me of the others."

Cole grinned again at her obvious attempt to introduce a new topic. “Grant is younger than Jared. He's friends with some Bow Street Runners and often helps them on their more interesting cases. He also likes skulking about the streets going after the most dangerous criminals. He tracked a fleeing murderer all the way to Scotland."

"An odd pastime for the son of an earl,” Alicia mused.

"Like the rest of us, he's always sneered at convention. But he came back from the war positively hardened. I can't decide if he's that dedicated to making London a safer place, or if he's trying to get himself killed. Maybe he just likes scrabbling in the streets with ruffians. I never understood Grant."

"Poor man. He must be protecting a wounded heart."

Cole uttered a sharp laugh. “You wouldn't say that if you met the lout."

"And the youngest?"

A surge of mingled protectiveness battled with old resentment. “Christian. The favorite. He, unlike the rest of us, plays the piano with admirable skill and he's one of the finest amateur painters I've ever seen. Women adore him, but he's a bit shy around them."

"How refreshing."

Cole ignored the barb. “He fences, boxes, and hunts with the best of them. He's also mad about the steeplechase. It has been the plan all along for him to become a clergyman, but he hasn't seemed to be in any hurry to do so. He frequently buries himself in his art. Still, he's young, only three and twenty. There's time to decide."

"You mentioned sisters?"

"Two, both older. Rachel is with Christian in Bath with my father. Margaret is here in Town. I hope to introduce you to her soon."

The carriage stopped in front of the house on Pall Mall and he saw her to the door. Formally, he bent over her hand and stepped back. He clenched his hands behind his back to avoid touching her. A soft light entered her eyes and she looked up at him with affection. Encouraged, he returned to the carriage grinning like the fool he knew he was.

"Lieutenant Amesbury, you ol’ dog, what brings you here?"

Cole grinned and clasped the hand of his former shipmate, Charles Grady. “I heard you needed a good navigator. Something about guiding your bank through the murky waters of finance."

Grady laughed. “If I needed a good navigator, why have you come?"

"For a chap who couldn't add, I'm surprised they gave you a job in a bank,” returned Cole.

"Come into my office, dolt, before I embarrass you publicly.

"That's Lord Dolt, to you,” Cole corrected him with a wry smile.

"Oh, right, you're some kind of swell, eh? I know you were an officer and all, but you so seldom acted respectable."

"Not respectable. Just born under the right blanket."

A few bank employees smiled at their exchange as Grady led Cole to an office in the rear of the bank.

Grady closed the door and sat down at the desk. He folded his hands and eyed Cole searchingly. “What brings you here, my friend?"

"I need a favor. And you're not going to like it."

"Do I ever?"

"I need to know if a large sum of money mysteriously appeared in Vivian Charleston's account a year and a half ago."

Grady frowned. “You're right. I don't like it."

"I'm not asking for you to reveal any sensitive information, or any specifics, I'm only looking for a possible motive."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No. But a friend is. I'm looking into the possible murder of her family."

"'Her family', huh? And now you're a Bow Street Runner?"

"No. I'm just trying to determine if my gut instincts on this are right before I take action."

Grady stroked his chin. “Your gut instincts got us out of a few scrapes on the ship. Think they're as reliable on land?"

"One can only hope.” Cole waited while his former shipmate struggled between ethics and his desire to help a shipmate.

"You're doing this for a bit of muslin?"

"A lady."

"Ahh.” A glint came into his eyes and he grinned. “Not as untouchable as we thought, eh?"

Cole mustered up his most fearsome scowl. “Are you going to help me or not?"

"All right, all right, I'll see what I can find. Wait here. Ah, my lord,” he added as an afterthought.

Cole paced the office while Grady was gone. In the wee hours of the night as he wrestled with his conscience and the desire to simply throw Alicia over his shoulder and carry her off, he relived details of the encounter with Armand and their subsequent duel. Those urges danced with a suspicion that continued to nag him that something seemed terribly wrong with the duel, not only the incident itself, but everything that led up to it.