The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (35 page)

“Selly?” Morley
tossed the name at him.

“Who?” He didn’t
have to feign puzzlement.

“I forget you didn’t
come to London until after the war,” the Baron said. “Selly is
Viscount Selwich’s nickname.”

“Never heard of him,”
Mason drawled.

His friend continued as
if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Selly, who incidentally is Chase
and Francis Eames’ older brother...” He looked at Mason,
obviously expecting him to know them. “No? You’ve never met them?
They’re one of us. I was sure you’d met most of the Spares by
now.”

“Heard their names,
but haven’t met them yet.” Where was this name game going?

Mason was becoming
impatient and the Baron must have sensed it because he dropped the
do-you-know bit and started explaining. “Selly refuses to use his
title these days. Insists on being addressed as “Gordon”, his
maternal family name. His full name is Reed Gordon Eames.”

He didn’t think he
had given himself away, but the Baron’s eyes narrowed and he
persisted with renewed fervor. “Seems his father disowned him six
years ago and he’s been living in Egypt ever since.”

“And this concerns me
how?”

His friend must have
belatedly recalled Mason’s aversion to gossip, because he came
straight to the point. “He’s recently returned and I understand
there’s some mystery as to his whereabouts.”

“I see.” Mason
considered that. He liked the Baron, trusted him too, but he wasn’t
about to divulge anything regarding his case. Mrs. Leighton — who
he was quite certain was no such thing (
He
could spot a maiden from across the room, having grown up surrounded
by them.
) — was in enough hot water and he had no wish
to bring her situation to a boil. He owed her his first loyalty. “And
you heard about my supposed client from…?”

“I have dealings with
Hallmoor.”

“You know the Chief!”
He wasn’t able to hide his surprise. Not many people had the
Chief’s ear. But Morley didn’t exactly say the Chief had told him
anything. At the other man’s nod, he said, “I can’t imagine him
discussing my work with you or anyone.”

The Baron leaned
further across the table and lowered his voice even more. “I was
telling him about the odd encounter Fitz and I had with Selly the
other day. Outside the Royal Academy.”

Och, they must have
shown up right after he’d left. Thank God for that! Fitz, the
Baron’s cousin and an heir, not one of the Spares, was not the most
discreet of persons. He’d have been asking all kinds of tactless
questions and then spent the rest of the week disseminating
everything he’d learned to all and sundry.

Mason was willing to
bet that “Miss Tally” — as her butler called her — must have
drawn a few of her amazingly accurate sketches of the Baron and Fitz
and she’d no doubt be presenting them to him when he got home! He’d
have to find some way of avoiding her for a day or two until he
figured out how best to deal with this new hitch.

For now, he wasn’t
about to reveal “Mr. Leighton’s” real identity to the Baron.
Not even to reassure him that Reed was being well taken care of. He
needed to untangle more of the knots, to know a lot more about what
was going on in that house, before he’d divulge even the smallest
morsel of information.

The Leightons were in
trouble and it was not the right time to reveal anything to anyone
about them. And that went both ways. He had no intention of telling
his client about this little chat either. He had no idea who was
threatening either of them yet, but he planned on staying in their
house until he did. Both were in danger and he was being paid to
protect them and investigate who was so set on killing Mrs. Leighton
and who had shot Leighton or Gordon, or whatever he was called!

He’d had no idea that
Leighton… Gordon... was a Viscount. He doubted Mrs. Leighton did
either. That footman they’d told him about had asked for a
Viscount, though Foster hadn’t noted the name, which meant that
someone else was looking for Mr. Leighton. Had the fribble, Mrs.
Leighton mentioned, who’d asked for the owner, also been seeking
the Viscount?

“Look. If you don’t
want to say anything, that’s fine,” the Baron reassured him.
“Just... watch over him. Really closely. According to the Chief,
there are some very dangerous characters doing their best to kill
him.”

The tension in his
friend’s voice underlined the seriousness of the situation. Icy
tingles of premonition told him to heed this warning. He knew in his
gut that this was the turning point in his investigation. The link
he’d been searching for.

Having failed to
unearth a Debrett’s in the house library, Tally was on her way to
the local lending library with Mr. Mason and Joseph trailing along
behind them. For such a well-stocked home library, it was
unbelievable such a vital tome was missing. Annoying too! Now, she
was forced to go out to find one. Fortunately, she learned that the
public library was only a few streets away, allowing them to go on
foot.

She was impatient to
get there. For some unexplained reason, Mr. Mason had been unable to
accompany her yesterday. Didn’t he appreciate how urgent this
matter was? She hoped he’d understand better by the time this
morning was over. As they walked, she explained her intentions. “I’ll
begin by looking up ‘Windhaven’, the place Foster thinks he heard
them mention.”

He nodded. He’d been
mainly silent, which made her uncomfortable and so she was gabbing
away, something she didn’t usually do. He had insisted that Joseph
come along. The cynic in her suspected it had more to do with his
reputation than hers!

Well, that was just too
bad. She hadn’t asked for a member of the
beau
monde
to be her bodyguard and investigator. If he was
worried about his good name, then he was the one who needed to take
care of it.

Despite her grumbling,
she was glad of his presence. He made her feel safer and, although he
wasn’t loquacious, nor was he averse to offering his opinion when
asked. And she needed plenty of advice at the moment.

“Foster only heard a
little part of the conversation but he said that the two men we ran
into outside the Royal Academy, seemed to think “Windhaven” was
somewhere Mr. Leighton would be keen to get back to, as if he’d
been out of the country for a long while.”

“I may have heard of
Windhaven.” The investigator surprised her by saying. “I can’t
recall the connection at the moment, but I might be able to get that
information for you fairly soon.” He leaned down, nearer, and
lowered his voice. “And with those sketches you gave me, I’m sure
my sources should recognize at least one of the two men.”

She’d never realized
quite how tall he was. Somehow the disparity in their heights was
more apparent when walking on the street with him.

“That’s wonderful.”
She smiled gratefully. Perhaps having a member of the upper echelons
as her investigator might end up being useful, after all. Though just
the notion that Reed might be a peer made her tremble with dread.
Seeing his friends had only increased her fears that he was. He might
have met them while working at this Windhaven, she supposed, but the
warm manner in which they’d greeted him suggested he was one of
them. If so, she hated to imagine how he and his family were going to
react when they…
if
they, learned she was pretending to be his wife.

He
might already be married!
Why hadn’t she thought of that
sooner? Unlike women, men rarely wore any outward sign of their bond,
so it had never occurred to her. Was there a wife sitting at home,
frantic, awaiting his return? Children?

She felt ill at the
possibility. But there wasn’t much she could do about it now, so
she forced the notion to the back of her mind. She had research to
do. The good thing was that she now had a name to verify. One of the
men had called the other “Morley”, and she hoped to find out who
he was.

Less than an hour
later, she had. They were now on their way back home. She hadn’t
learned anything about Windhaven, but had been dismayed to discover
that “Morley” was almost certainly Baron Bernard Morley. Reed’s
friends were indeed peers, which meant he must be too! She gulped in
trepidation. What could a peer do to her for shooting him?

She was having trouble
believing it. He had been dressed nicely and he even acted a
gentleman but why would a peer she’d never met, scale the wall and
climb into her bedroom?

“I’ll make
inquiries about the Baron too, shall I?” Mr. Mason suggested.

There was an unusual
blandness to his voice. She darted a searching glance sideways at
him. There was something odd about the way he’d said that, but she
saw only his usual, impassive expression.

“That might be best.
But we have to be careful lest anyone guess why we’re inquiring.”
Caution was of the utmost importance. She didn’t want to alert
others to their predicament.

“Understood. Someone
shot Mr. Leighton and, without his memory, he’ll be an easy target
for them to come back and finish the job.”

“Exactly.” Inside,
she groaned. She was going to hell and damnation! It was the one
thing she and Foster had agreed not to tell the investigator. How
would a man, whose job was to uphold the law, feel about her having
shot a man? So they told him the same tale they’d told Reed and had
planned to tell the authorities, should it ever come to their
attention. Now, she had to tell him the truth... at least, part of
it.

“We… um… didn’t
tell you the whole story.” She sounded reluctant, even to her own
ears. “Mr. Leighton didn’t exactly arrive in the usual way.”

His glance sharpened
suspiciously. Although she trusted he wasn’t about to blab about
their dilemma to all and sundry, she still felt as if she were about
to jump off a cliff. Figuratively holding her nose, she jumped.

Just above a whisper
she said, “He came in my bedroom window.”

“He what!” For a
usually phlegmatic man, Mr. Mason couldn’t conceal his astonishment
at her revelation. He stopped walking to gape at her.

She wasn’t sure if he
truly hadn’t heard her or if he was so shocked, he disbelieved her.
“Mr. Leighton climbed in my bedroom window.” Should she tell him
she’d shot Reed? Perhaps not.

“He’d already been
shot by then and that must have caused him to stumble and hit his
head.” She rushed on, not wanting him to pay too much attention to
that part of her story. “When he awoke the next day, he remembered
nothing. We didn’t know what to do. We sent for a physician and,
when the doctor called him Mr. Leighton, assuming I was his wife, he
seemed relieved to know he belonged. When I told the doctor I didn’t
even know the man, he insisted I not tell him the truth or it might
harm his chances of ever getting his memory back.”

“So you’re not
married?” The Scot seemed remarkably unconcerned by her admission.
“And Mr.... His name is not Mr. Leighton?”

“No.” She was
relieved to tell someone else about the muddle she’d landed in,
through no fault of her own. “We think his name might be Mr.
Gordon. Foster found a gold watch in his pocket and, though time has
eroded the engraving, “Gordon” appears to be the name inside. But
we didn’t know if he stole the watch or not, so we’re not certain
that is his name.

“Stole?”

“Well he did climb in
my window, and usually only thieves do that, don’t you agree?”
She looked at him for confirmation.

As usual, he paused to
weigh his response. She thought she glimpsed an instant of doubt in
his eyes before his almost reluctant, “I suppose.”

Uncertainty had not so
far figured in the Scot’s character. He was always quietly
confident. Deciding it must have been the way his eyes closed against
the wind that caused her to think that, she came back to her own
pressing problems. “Believe me, I had no idea following the
doctor’s orders would become so complicated.”

“Aye, yet you’ve
kept this stranger in your home and have been caring diligently for
him.” He sounded amazed. Or was he astounded by her stupidity?

“You’re a good
woman, not many would do as you have done.” was his surprising
comment.

She flushed rosily at
his approval. “At the time, we had no idea he was a gentleman. It
seemed more likely he was a thief
(or
worse! she added to herself)
and we assumed that, when…
if… he recovered his memory, he’d wish to remain silent about the
circumstances, to keep his crime a secret…” she tapered off.
“Now…” Her worried grimace must have told him what she was
having trouble voicing.

“Now,” he finished
her reasoning, “you aren’t sure what a peer of the realm, or his
family, might be capable of once he gets his memory back.”

“Exa...ctly,” she
moaned her agreement.

“And you’re worried
your role in it will become public knowledge.”

She nodded vigorously.
“Yes!”

He understood her
dilemma completely. It felt good to have someone on her side. Someone
who knew what was what in London society. Ever since that encounter
with Reed’s friends outside the art exhibit, she had been almost
wishing that his memory never be restored. Now, knowing he must be
Quality and that there was a way for him to recover his life, if not
his memory, via his friend, the Baron… she was hopeful that Mr.
Mason might be able to make it happen. She was frightened, but she
wanted it done as quickly and quietly as possible, for both their
sakes.

I’ll
never shoot a man again!
she vowed.

Yet, even as she
thought it, she knew she’d had no choice. Either she shot him or he
killed her. That’s what she’d thought at the time!

“Thank you for
telling me the whole story.” He resumed walking. “My job will be
easier, knowing when and where I have to tread carefully.”