Love Is Blind (37 page)

Nay,
she thought unhappily.
There must be someone else. Someone . . .

Clarissa's steps slowed to a halt as a sudden thought struck her. There
was
someone else who had been both in the city and here, she realized with surprise. But no, she thought at once, it could not be. Could it?

Frowning, Clarissa entered the house and headed for her room, then changed direction and headed for the library instead. She needed to think on this.

"Cousin!" Reginald entered the salon into which Adrian had been shown, a wide, welcoming smile on his face. "I thought you would be too busy with your new bride for visiting, else I would have ridden over to see you myself."

"I already have a houseful of guests," Adrian said. "One more would have been no bother."

"Actually, I knew that," Reginald admitted. "I did not think you needed another."

"How did you know?"

Reginald's eyes widened at his cousin's sharp tone. "For one thing, Aunt Isabel arrived here just moments before you and mentioned it. In fact, I was seeing her to her room when Lord Wyndham's butler came up to inform me that you were here."

"Oh." Adrian frowned. He'd thought he'd caught

Reg
out: If Reginald had been sneaking about
Mowbray
the last few days, that was one way he'd have known about the guests presently there.

"So, what can I do for you?" his cousin asked lightly, dropping into the chair next to Adrian. "Do you need help with your wife? Advice on wooing her or some such thing? I am at your service as always." He grinned.

Adrian's mouth tightened. It was so hard to believe hat this man might be trying to kill Clarissa. In fact, all but one small corner of his mind did not believe it. But that uncertain
litde
corner was causing him trouble. He had to know.

"The night of the
Crambray
ball," Adrian said abruptly, and Reginald's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What of it?" Reginald asked.

"You did not give that letter to a lad to give to Clarissa, did you?"

"Of course not. I went to the ball to speak to her in person, and to send her out to you as planned. Why id I send a message?" He paused and frowned. "Though perhaps I should have thought of that. It would have saved my having to attend. That ball was Rally quite boring, even for the short while I was there."

Adrian frowned and glanced away, then asked, "What time did you leave?"

"Right after I talked to you. Well, not
right
after. I had a little difficulty finding
Jeevers
. But once I'd found him and told him I was leaving, I did so. I went to
Staudt's
and lost a small fortune."

Adrian's mouth tightened.
Jeevers
was
Reg's
friend who had actually been invited to the ball, and whom Reginald had accompanied to get in
 
to speak to

Clarissa.
Staudt's
was a gaming hell known for being shady.

'You went alone?" he asked.

"To
Staudt's
?" Reginald glanced up in surprise. "No, actually, I ran into
Thoroughgood
on the way and he came with me." He frowned. "Why all these questions, Adrian?" His mouth tightened when Adrian hesitated to answer, and he said slowly, "Aunt Isabel told me that Clarissa was poisoned the other day. I gather this means you were right about some of her accidents being attempts on her life."

Adrian shrugged and avoided his gaze.

"Aunt Isabel said that you, Hadley, and Lord Cram-bray are trying to sort out who might be causing Clarissa's 'accidents.' That you all are in accord that it must be someone who was both in the city at the time, and who is now in the country."

Adrian shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Like me," Reginald continued
quiedy
. When Adrian flinched at the comment, he was suddenly on his feet. 'You
do
suspect me!"

"I did not want to," Adrian assured him quickly, "but as you say, Hadley pointed out that it had to be someone who was both in the city and here, and .. . well, I preferred to think it was Lydia, but she has been proven innocent, and that left—"

"Me," Reginald interrupted dryly. "Well, thank you very much. After all I did to try to help you two get together—not to mention all the years you and I have known each other. You have now decided I am some mad killer?"

"Not mad," Adrian said quickly—but knew at once it was the wrong thing to say.

"Why on earth would I want to kill Clarissa?"
Regi
-

nald
asked. "Did this Hadley even consider that I do not have a motive?"

"Well, actually," Adrian admitted, "he supplied a motive."

Reginald blinked. In disbelief he asked, "What? What possible motive could I have to kill your wife?"

"It would appear he got hold of some rumors that
vou
may be in dire financial straits."

Reginald snorted. "That is all it is, rumor. And one I started myself. Besides, that would be a motive to kill
vou
, not your wife."

"You would not inherit if Clarissa were alive."

"No, but I could always marry Clarissa. In truth, if I were to enact such a wretched plan, I would be more likely to kill you and marry her. She is a lovely little bundle, which I noticed from the first, and absolutely charming. If only I had taken the time to get to know her better, and to realize that she was not refusing to wear her spectacles out of vanity, I might be the one married to her instead of you. Unfortunately, I could not get away from her quickly enough after she burned my piffle."

Adrian scowled at the suggestion of his cousin and Clarissa married, then asked, 'You said the rumor of your financial difficulties is one you started yourself. Why?"

Reginald grimaced, and now he was the one finding it difficult to meet his cousin's gaze. He finally sighed and admitted, "I am interested in a certain lady who has come out this season. However, I have had it suggested to me that she is a fortune hunter. So I have dropped a word here and there suggesting that I am in dire straits in order to test her out."

"Really?"
  
Adrian
  
asked
  
with
  
surprise.
  
He
  
was

amazed to see his cousin flushing in embarrassment. This seemed to suggest that Reginald was seriously interested in the woman in question. "Who is she?"

His cousin scowled. "Never mind that. Let us get back to the topic of Clarissa and her would-be killer."

Adrian sighed and nodded; he could ask about his cousin's love life later.

"If it is not Lydia, and it is not me—and I assure you, it is
not
me . . ." Reginald paused to glare at him coldly, then added, "You may ask
Thoroughgood
about that, by the wav. He can tell you I was nowhere near the
Crambrays
' when the fire started. And you have my permission to ask my man of accounts about my true financial status as well."

"That will not be necessary," Adrian said, embarrassed even to have accused his cousin. He should have followed his instincts. Reginald was not a murderer.

"
Hmmph
,"
Reg
muttered in disgust. "It would seem it
is
necessary, or you would not have come here looking to see if I was a killer."

"Look," Adrian said, "I am sorry about that. I did not really think you were, but I had to know for sure.
Someone
is trying to kill Clarissa, and I—"

Reginald waved him to silence. "Let us just stick to the topic of who it could be."

Adrian closed his mouth, exhaling a sigh through his nostrils. Reginald continued.

"Anyway, as I was saying, if you are sure it is not Lydia, and I know it is not me, whom does that leave?"

Adrian rubbed his forehead. "That just leaves the servants—or someone we are not even aware of."

Reginald pursed his lips. "The servants, you say?"

"Yes." Adrian frowned. "But none of them has a motive."

"Well, neither did I, but you thought I did it," Reginald snapped.

"Don't get angry at me about that. You are the idiot going around claiming to be broke, not I."

Reginald huffed again, then said, "Back to the servants."

Adrian shook his head. "As I said, there is no reason that I can think of for any of my staff to wish my wife dead. Besides, I have one staff here in the country and another in the city. None of them would have been able to attempt anything at both places, except for
Keighley
and Joan."

"
Keighley
and Joan? Joan is Clarissa's maid, is she not?" Reginald frowned.

Adrian peered at him closely. "What? I recognize that expression, Reg. Something has occurred to you. What are you thinking?"

His cousin shook his head, uncertainty filling his face. "It is probably nothing. I am probably mistaken."

"About what, Reginald?" he asked
impatiendy
. "Anything you know, or think you know, may be of some help here. Just tell me, no matter how foolish it seems."

Reginald grimaced. "It is just... the night of the
Crambray
ball, when I went back inside .. . ?"

Adrian nodded.

"Well, as I told you, it took me several moments to find
Jeevers
."

Adrian nodded again. 'Yes, yes. And?"

"By the time I found him and explained that I was leaving early, then finally made my way out to the hall, Clarissa and her maid were coming down the stairs, returning to the ball." He hesitated again, then sighed and said, "Her maid reminded me of someone, is all— but it could not be her."

"Could not be
whom?
Whom did she remind you of?" Adrian asked.

"An actress I saw several times onstage," Reginald said finally. "But it could not be her. I heard she died in a fire."

"In a fire?" Adrian felt a tingling along the back of his neck, some memory in his mind being activated. "What was this actress's name?"

"Molly Fielding," Reginald said.

Adrian's hand slammed down on the armrest of his chair, and in the next moment he was on his feet and
hurrving
for the door.

"Hey!" Reginald rushed after him. "Where are you going?"

"Do you not recall the name of the man who kidnapped Clarissa and tricked her into marriage when she was child?" Adrian asked as he strode quickly up the hall to the foyer. His voice was as hard as his heart had suddenly turned.

"Yes. That was Captain Fielding,"
Reg
said. He followed Adrian out of the house and to the stables.

"And according to the tale, it was Captain Fielding and his
sister
who met her at the inn and traveled with her all over the place, and finally to Gretna Green."

"It could be a coincidence," Reginald warned. "I said the maid
looks
like Molly Fielding—besides, Molly died in a fire. That is why she was no longer onstage."

"Hadley said Captain Fielding's sister died in a fire. Molly Fielding has to be the sister," Adrian insisted. He began to walk the length of stalls in search of his horse.

"Okay," Reginald allowed. His cousin had stopped at the second stall and was opening it to let a horse out. Adrian recognized the roan as Reginald's mount.

"But you just said she died in a fire. How can
Clarissa's
maid, Joan, be Molly?"

"I do not know, but it all fits." Adrian finally found his own horse. He led the animal out beside Reginald's, and began to saddle him. "She was both in London and here. She had access to Clarissa's room, and easily could have left the piece of pie. And she is the one who called Clarissa away from the ball to receive die letter supposedly from me."

"But you said yourself at the time that she of all people would know that Clarissa could not read a letter. Why send her one?"

"I do not know," Adrian admitted. "Possibly for that very reason. She knows Clarissa cannot read without spectacles, and no one would think she would send a letter as a trap when Clarissa cannot read it. Which was a success. That was one of
the
reasons
I did
not suspect her," he pointed out. "Besides, if Joan is behind it all, and she arranged for that letter to be delivered, she could also have arranged for the time it was to be delivered—so that she could be nearby when the boy arrived. And, oh, how helpful she looked through it all," he added dryly.

"Why would Clarissa not recognize her?" Reginald asked with a frown.

"She cannot see without her spectacles," Adrian said. "And I do not think Joan has been with her long. Clarissa mentioned something about a maid, Violet, in the country. That woman served her mother before her, and was too old to be bouncing to the city and back. She retired when Clarissa left for London." He shook his head. "Clarissa has probably never seen Molly while wearing her spectacles. She . . ."

"What?" Reginald asked when he paused
abrupdy
.