Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (15 page)

Ian glared at his faithful servant. “Next time I’d be
expect’n
some kinder treatment from the likes of ye,” he snapped.

Charlotte hid her smile behind her hand. Without a word, O’Toole opened the door and stood back for the woman to pass. “I’ll treat you better when you start showing a little more respect for those who are better class of people.”

“Bah,” Ian spat before leaving the house.

Charlotte moved to the window and peeked through the curtains. When the old woman passed by, the commissioner’s men didn’t bat an eye. Silently, she prayed her husband could put his talents to work and find who’d been playing him for a fool.

As the sun rose higher in the sky the following day, a cool western wind swept through the city. It blew the leaves off the trees, preparing the earth for an early winter. Charlotte curled on the sofa, pulling an afghan across her legs. She watched out the window as Ian’s neighbors scurried from their homes swathed up in warm coats. She’d chosen not to venture outside, but to stay by the fire. Her vibrant spirit had taken a beating and she sat in the parlor weighing her problems.

During the morning, a few people had dared to disturb her solitude, but she instructed O’Toole to send the neighbors away. She simply wasn’t in the mood for visitors. Besides, she suspected they were merely attempting to find out why the commissioner and his men were hanging around the property. Of course, it was difficult to believe Ian could do what they accused, but the fact remained, she really didn’t know Ian Fielding.

She leaned her head against the cushion and closed her eyes. Just before she could relax, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves pounded on the drive. She parted the curtains, and then cursed. The commissioner’s men were back.

She stood and smoothed out the few wrinkles on her lavender day dress then met the obstinate men at the door with a scowl. “What do you want now?” she hissed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fielding. I’m Commissioner Jeffrey Franklin.” He tipped his hat to her and gave her an artificial smile. “We would like a moment of your time, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind. Your men have asked me so many questions that my head is empty. I have nothing further to say, and I’d kindly appreciate it if you left me in peace.”

The commissioner slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Fielding. We’re only doing our jobs, but unfortunately, we cannot leave. I’m posting a few of my men in front of your house in case your husband decides to return.”

“I’d have appreciated knowing this last night.”

“Then forgive me for my tardiness, Mrs. Fielding.”

Huffing, she slammed the door in his face. During the next hour, the lawmen lurked in front of the townhouse. As each minute passed, her temper lifted a notch higher. She wandered aimlessly through the house, but it only made her more depressed. Thoughts of home plagued her mind and she seriously considered returning to Surrey. There was no reason for her to stay here now. She doubted Ian would give her an annulment, but staying wasn’t going to finish their bargain, either.

The afternoon passed as she stared out the window, and soon weariness consumed her. She stepped out of the parlor and ascended the stairs to her room. Just as she reached to top floor, a loud knock sounded at the door. Without a backward glance, she left O’Toole to answer it. However, she couldn’t ignore the familiar male voice that spoke to the butler. She swung around and raced down the stairs to the door before O’Toole closed it.

“O’Toole,” she shouted. “Let him in.”

Confusion touched the older servant’s face, but he did as was told. O’Toole escorted a tall figure into the parlor. The man wore a black hooded cape and leaned heavily on his cane as he limped into the room.

She smiled at her unexpected visitor. “Lord Thatcher. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you in town.”

“I usually don’t come to town, but I just had to know how you were faring.”

She shrugged.
“As well as can be expected.”

Lowering his hood, he curiously glanced around the room. “Why, Mrs. Fielding, your husband shouldn’t be accused of stealing when it’s quite obvious he hasn’t the need.”

She laughed lightly. “Well said, Lord Thatcher. I wish the commissioner would think the same. Unfortunately, that man believes Ian sells what he steals and then purchases these nice things.” She waved her hand around the room, indicating the expensive paintings, vases, and statues. “O’Toole? Please take our visitor’s cloak.”

Handing the cape to the butler, she excused the servant who lingered in the doorway then closed the door behind him. “Please have a seat, Lord Thatcher. I truly appreciate your visit.” She sat on the sofa beside him and sighed. “Something is terribly wrong. Those men have been through this house from top to bottom and haven’t found a clue, yet they still think my husband is their thief. Ian will not come forth to prove his innocence because he says he knows the way the law is handled around here and they won’t give Ian a chance to prove himself before they hang him.”

Lord Thatcher’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You spoke to your husband already?”

“Yes, he was here last night, in disguise.”

He nodded. “Well, I must say your husband is correct. He’s better off in hiding for now.”

“Ian is looking for clues to find who has been pointing the commissioner in his direction. I do hope he finds the culprit.”

“As do I, but it might take a mite longer than you expect. Commissioner Franklin is a cunning man.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I really didn’t need to hear that. Now I fear all hope is lost.”

“Mrs. Fielding, please forgive me for being so blunt, but I’m a lonely man living in a huge castle, and I thought you both could come stay with me for a while.”

Her mouth fell open, but she quickly closed it. “Are you jesting?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because of your dislike for my husband.”

“You’re correct, of course. I struggled with myself to even come see you, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Look at it this way—the castle is large enough that your husband might never bother me, or be bothered by me. Also, I’ll have the added pleasure of your charming company.”

Her cheeks heated. “Why, thank you, my lord.”

“So, will you come? My lands are as private as you need right now.”

“I should get in touch with Mr. Fielding somehow to let him know.
As long as I can sneak away without the lawmen following me.”

“Do you know how to find your husband?”

She smiled. “Yes. He’s masquerading as an old woman.” She chuckled over his puzzled expression. “And believe
me,
he does such a superb job of playing the part that even his servants don’t know.”

“Well, if there’s anything good I can say about your husband is that he has talents beyond imagination.”

She laughed lightly.
“Exactly.”
She rose and walked to the window. “I really do hope he can work his way out of this predicament, though.”

There was a small knock at the door and O’Toole
peeked
his head inside.
“Mistress?
Might you want some tea?”

Lord Thatcher quickly turned his face and Charlotte could sense his unease.
“Yes, O’Toole.
That would be lovely, thank you.”

After the butler left, Lord Thatcher stood. “It’s time for me to leave. Speak with your husband and let me know of your decision.”

She quickly stepped in front of the door to block him. “Lord Thatcher, I want you to know, you don’t have to feel uncomfortable around me.”

He gave her a questionable stare. “Are you trying to say that my face doesn’t frighten you?”

She swept her gaze over the mark on his face. “The truth is
,
it doesn’t.”

One of his bushy dark eyebrows rose.

Hesitantly, she lowered her gaze. “My husband told me what to expect.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Now that I know you a little better, I find it’s hardly noticeable.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing across the scar. “I’ve been gawked at for so many years. I know the kind of reaction people give me when they meet me for the first time. I shudder when I see young children because I know my appearance will frighten them. I don’t mean to
cause
anyone fear.”

She moved closer and touched his arm. “If they knew how kindhearted and thoughtful you really are, they wouldn’t be afraid.”

He raised his gloved hand and touched her cheek. “No, Mrs. Fielding. You’re the one who is kindhearted.” Dropping his hand, he quickly stepped back and took hold of the door handle. “I hope to see you again soon. Have a good evening.”

She followed behind and directed the butler to retrieve Lord Thatcher’s cape. When he left, the commissioner’s men scrutinized Lord Thatcher curiously, but when their eyes fell upon the scar, they looked away as he passed.

Charlotte hurried to her room and ordered her bath drawn. Somehow she must find Ian.
But how?
This town was too large to search for him, so she must wait for him to come to her.

As she waited for the water to fill the tub, she grinned. Lord Thatcher’s castle would give Ian the space and privacy he needed to hide while he searched for the thief. It also would provide her with company when her husband was away, and Lord Thatcher would be wonderful company, she was certain.

Guilt washed over her for thinking of herself. Now was not the time to be selfish, and she should really try to help her husband, even if she didn’t trust him. She believed he was really a good man with one evil enemy.

Memories from that night with him at the masquerade ball filled her head. Once again, she experienced the heated sensations that happened when his strong arms circled around her. Since that time, he’d been very attentive. He gazed at her with so much tenderness it nearly shattered her defenses. But she had to hold firm to her convictions. She couldn’t let him break her heart again.

“Mistress?” her maid interrupted Charlotte’s thoughts. “Your bath is ready.”

The steam rose from the tub and she sank into the water. The effect from the heat massaged her tired muscles. Clara washed Charlotte’s long hair then piled it high on her head.

“Is there anything else you need?” the maid asked.

Relaxing in the tub, Charlotte closed her eyes. “Not now.”

Charlotte slid the frothy sponge up and down her arms, sighing heavily as the water heated her body. In the quiet room, her mind drifted. Ian had been so attentive lately. Why? Was he really angling for her money? Were his finances in poor condition, as Lord Thatcher had mentioned? If they were, would the shops bend over backwards for her? Would people on the streets be so thoughtful and friendly? Charlotte’s eyes closed and lowered
herself
in the tub so the hot water lapped against her chin.

“I haven’t realized until now, how living as a woman and away from my wife as little as a day is such torture.”

The deep voice in the corner of the room startled her. She yanked the nearby towel into the water to cover herself as she peered into the dark recesses. “Where are you? Step out so I might see.” She reached for her robe, and then remembered it was still on the bed.

Ian moved out of the shadows, grinning. “I pick the perfect times to surprise you, do I not?”

She scanned his length. “What are you doing here, and dressed like—like—”

“Like myself?”

“Yes. Why aren’t you in disguise?”

The fawn colored shirt hung loosely on his chest, while the coffee trousers fit perfectly to his muscular legs. Dark brown knee boots made him look more like a stable boy than a gentleman. The contrast disturbed her, making her heart pound faster.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Outside is dark and
cold,
and those imbeciles working for the commissioner decided to take themselves inside the nearest inn. I found the chance to sneak into my own home, so I took it.” His eyes met with hers and his grin widened. “I’m glad I did. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have discovered such pleasures awaiting me.”

“Ian,” she pleaded, “please hand me my robe from the bed.”

He chuckled and moved into the other room to retrieve the article, but when he returned, he dangled the robe inches out of her reach.

“Bring it closer, if you will.”

His gaze swept over her body and his eyes darkened. “Would you deprive me of seeing my wife?”

She forced the weakening feelings out of her heart and replaced them with anger. “Yes, considering you haven’t wanted to play the part of my husband.”

He paused then nodded and brought the robe to her.
“Touché, my sweet.”

“Please turn your head,” she instructed.

She waited for him to obey, and after a few earth shattering seconds, he turned. Hurriedly, she wrapped the thick terry cloth around her wet body. Although the wet material stuck to her skin, she couldn’t very well take it off to dry herself. Not with him in the same room. Quickly, she stepped into the bedchamber. “I’m actually happy to see you tonight. I wish to speak with you.”

Instead of sitting on one of the chairs in her room, he sat on the edge of the bed.
“What about?”