The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (21 page)

“Oh, yes, well
nothing much more to say about him, sir. Being that he’s a good
friend of Masters Anthony and Alexander’s, Missy says he is welcome
to visit us whenever he pleases.”

“I see.” Indeed, he
did see. Too well. That wretch, under guise of friendship with her
brothers, was no doubt bent on wooing Talia. Well, Reed did not
intend to lose his wife’s affections, especially while he was at
less than his best. He was going to keep an eye on this Mason.

“May I be of further
help, sir?” The manservant was shifting from leg to leg, unable to
disguise his discomfort.

“Maybe later. I need
to get something to read in the library?” At the butler’s nod, he
continued, “I notice you’re having more trouble than usual with
your legs today, Foster.”

“It’s the blasted
damp, sir. Makes me legs ache something awful.”

“I can help you with
that.” He pointed to the ladderback chair. “Why don’t you sit
while I explain how.”

“Oh no, sir, that
wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“To hell with
appropriate. I can teach you to do something with your legs that will
help them move better and ache less.”

“You can?”

Reed heard the hope in
the old fellow’s voice and saw that he was tempted. He was such a
stickler and disapproved of Reed. He must be in terrible pain to even
contemplate allowing him to help. “Here, let me show you.”

* * *

“Traitor!” Tally
raised a mocking eyebrow. They were in the library the next
afternoon, their usual spot for their confabulations. She’d been
trying to get Foster alone since seeing him with Reed yesterday but,
for once, he’d been illusive.

“Missy!” He sounded
hurt. “How can ye accuse me of that?”

“I saw you. In
his
room. You were leaning, face forward, hands against the window sill,
grunting. He was holding one of your legs out straight behind you.”
Curious but not wanting him to think she was checking up on him, she
teased, “Were you rehearsing for the ballet?”

“Har har har.” His
sarcastic laugh meant that he was annoyed she’d found out about
whatever they were doing. That made her even more curious. “I
thought he was hurting you and almost rushed in to rescue you. Then I
heard him say, ‘Now, your other leg’ and you switched legs. What
were you doing?”

Reluctantly, he
explained. “Yon... er...
Mr.
Leighton
lived in a place — he can’t remember the name
— where he was taught how to relieve muscles when they were sore
and he was teaching me what to do to lessen the pain I get in my
legs.”

“Oh.” She was
surprised… and suspicious. Why did Reed suddenly want to help
Foster who, from the first, had never hidden his reluctance to help
‘yon Gordon’, as he was so fond of calling their uninvited guest?
“And did it help?” She tried to wipe away all traces of sulkiness
from her tone. Not that she resented Foster learning how to decrease
his pain, but did that man have to start winning over her most loyal
ally in the world? She completely ignored the fact that he was doing
his best to win her over too.

“Too soon to tell,
though they feel looser somehow, not as tight. He said to do some of
them ‘leg stretches’ every day and I should feel less pain.”

“Humph” she said.
She couldn’t very well find fault with that. She knew how her aging
retainer suffered.

He grinned knowingly
and she realized whose grumpy sound she’d just borrowed. Then he
sobered. “I know I’ve already asked, Miss Tally, but can we be
sure yon
husband
there isn’t responsible for the troubles you’ve been
experiencing?” He asked in an undertone, jerking his thumb back
over his shoulder toward the door.

She was relieved to
know he hadn’t been completely won over by Reed’s attentions. One
of them needed to be wise about this stranger who had invaded their
lives.

“Why? Did he let
something slip?” Suspicion blossomed again, full-blown.

“No, no, nothing like
that. I just…” He stopped. “It’s just, why is he being so
nice to me?” he sounded dubious. “Makes me suspicious.”

She almost laughed
aloud at his convoluted thinking. To look askance at a good turn was
so typical of her dear curmudgeon.

“I wonder…” he
mused, while straightening the grate in front of the hearth. He’d
lowered his voice so she had to come right up beside him to hear.
“Mebbe the Scot should start investigating yon...” At her frown,
he smoothly changed it to... “Leighton first, even before he looks
into those men who are out to harm you. That way, if we find out he’s
connected to them, then we’ve solved both problems.”

She kept her voice
equally low, but made sure to face Foster so he’d be able to see
her mouth. Since his hearing had decreased, it was an unspoken
understanding between them that he often resorted to reading her
lips. “Could he do that without us having to reveal…”

They hadn’t told the
investigator that her fake spouse had come through the window or that
she’d shot him. They’d only told him that Reed had no memory
because of a fall. Unless they needed to, they didn’t want to
divulge more. She was worried that explaining the real situation to
Mr. Mason might plunge them into a great deal of trouble. If he
mentioned to anybody that she was living with a man who wasn’t her
husband...! How could they be sure word wouldn’t get out? She’d
always believed that a secret didn’t remain a secret for long when
shared beyond two people.

“But, how could Mr.
Leighton be involved? There have been two more attacks while he’s
been here, bedridden and without his memory?”

“Mebbe that’s part
of his ruse. Members of his gang might be doing it.”

“I did wonder,” she
admitted, “...but I was there when he awoke. I saw genuine
confusion on his face. He was unable to recall even his own name.”
It would have been hard, not to say impossible, to feign that kind of
dismayed shock and disbelief.

“He might still have
been coming in to do the deed that night. What happens if he gets his
memory back?” Foster was cracking his knuckles, something he only
did when he was worried. “Have you been locking yer bedroom door at
night?”

“Yes, of course.”
And she had, when she wasn’t wandering the hallway and looking in
on Reed during her mostly sleepless nights. She lowered her voice.
“Besides, we’re still giving him the opium, so he’d have
difficulty staying awake long enough to plot against me.”

“...eh? What was
that?”

Distressed that her old
friend’s hearing was diminishing, she spoke a bit louder. “I
said, I’m still giving him two doses of laudanum, though I’ve
slightly decreased the amounts. I hope the doctor is right that it
will speed up the recovery of his memory. I do want him to get a lot
of rest, but I don’t want him to become a devotee of the drug.”

“Humph.” Even
though Reed had helped him, Foster clearly didn’t give a fig if yon
Gordon became addled by the drug, as long as it kept her safe from
him. “Serve him right if he did.” He paused, then mumbled
shamefaced, “Even if he did help me with me legs.”

“Now that we have Mr.
Mason to help us, we should go back to Monsieur’s studio to see if
anything has changed there. We’ll go at a different time so they
won’t be expecting us,” she suggested. “Even with our
investigator’s protection, we need to take precautions. That last
attempt was too close.”

“I’m glad you’re
finally taking it seriously.” His acerbic tone told her that he
wasn’t ready to let her forget she hadn’t listened to his earlier
warnings. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help himself from cautioning
her. “Just be sure to take Mr. Mason with you every time ye go out.
And…” He pointed in the air to Reed’s room above them. “I’ll
keep an eye on yon husband.”

* * *

Reed’s mind was
reeling with suspicion.

After a short nap, he’d
decided he was steady enough to make it to the library on his own. It
was time he pushed himself to be stronger and stop depending on
others. He took the back stairs to avoid meeting any one and was
still perusing books when his wife and Foster entered. Instinctively,
he hid behind a bookcase at the back of the room. He didn’t want
Talia to know he’d come downstairs alone. She’d scold him for
overdoing it.

And so he’d been
forced into eavesdropping on their mostly whispered discussion. The
little he’d managed to hear didn’t sound good at all. He’d
heard only enough to know they were talking about him and that
strange things were going on that he didn’t know about… and
should!

When they’d left the
room, he waited a few minutes and then found his way up the servant
stairs to his room. He couldn’t believe he’d been so caught up
worrying about his lost memory, he’d failed to notice what was
going on around him. He sat down on his bed, but was too agitated to
stay still and stood up again to move around the room.

Talia was being
targeted by killers! Why? And why hadn’t she talked to him about
it?

Yes.
Of course, she’d tell you. You, with your blank mind! How much good
do you think you can do her?
The door banged downstairs.
He glanced at the clock on the dresser. Joseph, on his way home.

Foolish woman! She was
too damned caring. She probably hadn’t wanted to worry him. And it
did! Especially because he was in no condition to help.

Now he knew for sure
that she was slipping him a second measure of opium. He’d have to
convince Mrs. P to bring him untainted food without the others
knowing. That would be preferable to starving himself. But he’d go
without, if there was no other way. He was prepared to endure a lot
of pain for a clear head and alert senses.

And he
was
in a fair amount of pain, though he’d only stopped taking the one
dose. He had to give his dear wife credit for trying to save him from
that. But, pain aside, he’d rather know about his wound than remain
in ignorance, and he’d choose to feel the pain every time over
being muddled with laudanum.

Leaning against the
window casing, he stared out at the empty street. Well, empty except
for the man in the house across the street pointing a telescope at…

Hell!
He moved swiftly back behind the curtain. The damned thing was aimed
straight at him!

This time it was
definite. They were watching
this
house.
What kind of man was he,
that people were watching his every move?

First, he awoke without
a memory. Next, he discovered someone shot him! Now, he’d just
heard his wife’s life was in danger. And then, there were those men
spying on him!

He moved well clear of
the window. Who the hell had shot him? And why? The why bothered him
as much as the who. What the devil had he’d done that warranted
shooting him in the back? The only thing imaginable was confronting
someone in defense of his or his wife’s honor.

Must have been a duel.
It made him angry to think he’d be stupid enough to take part in
such a useless exercise but, sometimes, circumstances went beyond
your control and you might be coerced into a challenge.

Had he shot his
opponent? Perhaps killed him? Had the man’s second shot him as he
was walking away? That didn’t make sense. But it might explain why
they were keeping him here, hidden away. Killing one’s adversary
was no longer acceptable. It usually meant fleeing into exile. He
remembered that much.

Talia and her faithful
helper could be trying to save him from the noose or from the man’s
vengeful friends, in which case, they had put themselves in jeopardy
to do so. No wonder she was so aloof with him. She must be furious
he’d put her in that position.

Getting his memory back
was becoming urgent. If he didn’t know who his enemies were,
anybody could stab or shoot him and he’d not be expecting it.

He felt totally
drained. Going downstairs for his meals and his little trip to the
library had only added to the toll on his limited energy. If an
unknown assailant was trying to kill him, he needed to speed up his
recovery. Every day he was a target, his wife was in danger too.

He had to regain his
stamina so he could go out and about to learn more about himself. At
present, he was only recovering vague recollections, with very few
featuring people he recognized.

As for that decrepit,
old codger! Reed was offended. He’d tried to help the man ease his
inflamed muscles, and what did the damn butler do the first chance he
got? The ungrateful old coot was even questioning whether Reed had
something to do with the assaults on his own wife!

How
could he even think Reed would harm a hair on her head?
Again
he had to ask himself, what kind of man was he that someone thought
him capable of that? True, the butler knew about the bullet wound.
He’d taken over cleaning and dressing it, much to Reed’s chagrin.
Unfortunately, once he mentioned discovering the wound, his wife
stopped coming to his room at night. He missed her erotic visits,
even if they had left him wanting.

What concerned him most
was that, from the jumbled memories coming back to him, he sensed
imminent danger. Were they aware of that? He couldn’t tell. But
Talia also knew about his being shot, yet she’d told Foster she
believed Reed was not dangerous. Of course, she had to say that. He
was her husband, after all.

He paused to absorb
that for a moment. He was hearing Foster’s words and tone repeat in
his head. ‘
That fellow
,’
he’d said. They’d been speaking about him like they would a
stranger and not a beloved spouse.

Perhaps he wasn’t so
beloved. Just the idea made his stomach twist.

They had only been wed
three weeks, at most. Again he wondered whether theirs had been a
forced union? He hoped not. He felt genuine affection and respect for
his petite wife, and he sure as hell desired her.