Never Trust a Rogue (35 page)

“Most certainly.”

“If you require a bedchamber, there are several empty ones upstairs.”

She took his hand and planted a kiss in the palm. “That’s very kind of you, my lord.”

“You can have breakfast with Jocelyn. She should be waking up soon. Just tell her—”

“I know what to tell her,” Lindsey said with a laugh. “Now do run along. We will be needing that special license straightaway.”

His reluctance to depart was a balm to her heart—especially since he had not said he loved her. But surely his actions showed that he cherished her, and she must trust that eventually he would voice the words she so longed to hear from him.

He brushed his lips over hers one last time, then turned and strode out into the corridor. She stepped to the doorway and watched as he headed down the passageway and disappeared into the library, where the connecting door led to his house.

Lindsey leaned against the door frame and smiled like a besotted fool. Only a few short weeks ago, Thane had kissed her in that very library and she’d fended him off with a letter opener. How long ago that all seemed now!

Now she had shed the vestiges of girlhood and become a woman. She had been a wife to him through the joining of their hearts and bodies. It was stunning to think that their lovemaking might have already borne fruit. She smoothed her hands over her midsection, imagining herself carrying Thane’s baby. The awe-inspiring thought brought a rush of tenderness and reaffirmed her resolve to marry him.

Deciding to freshen up, Lindsey found the back staircase and mounted the steps. She encountered no one on the way. How lonely it must be for Jocelyn to have only Mrs. Fisk and the other servants for company. Once
Lindsey and Thane were wed, all that would change. She would spend time every day with the girl and invite Blythe over to visit often. Mama could no longer object to the acquaintance; she would have to accept the marriage or lose face in society.

Buoyed by the thought, Lindsey tiptoed down a carpeted corridor upstairs and peeked into an open doorway to see a comfortable bedchamber decorated in blues and whites. She went inside and quietly closed the door. It would cause fewer questions if she didn’t make her presence known for a little while yet. No one must guess that she’d just spent the most sinfully wonderful night of her life.

Then she caught sight of herself in a pier glass and laughed out loud. With her bonnet askew, she resembled a ragamuffin. Her gown was sadly wrinkled, the hem damp and somewhat muddied from stepping in puddles.

In front of the dressing table, she removed the bonnet and tidied her hair. Perhaps she’d wait a little while longer before writing that note to her parents. It would serve Mama well to worry a bit. Although perversely, she owed her mother a debt of gratitude. If Wrayford had not made the abduction attempt, then Thane would not have come riding to her rescue.

The image of him appearing out of the gloom on horseback made her heart clench. Welcoming the opportunity to savor all the memories, she wandered to a chaise, stretched out, and closed her eyes. A blissful relaxation bathed her. The pleasant ache between her legs gave testimony to the numerous times she and Thane had made love during the night. They’d taken turns waking up in the darkness to stroke and caress each other. There had been a dreamlike quality to it all, the most lovely dream she had ever known. . . .

Lindsey awakened to the muted chime of the ormolu clock on the mantel. For a moment she didn’t recognize her surroundings. Then a quick perusal of the blue and white bedchamber released a flood of remembrance.

This was Jocelyn’s house. Thane had left her here while he had gone to obtain the special license.

She squinted at the gold hands of the clock and then sat up straight. Lud, it was noon already. She’d slept for four hours. Papa must be frantic. Had Mama admitted to him her scheme to marry off their middle daughter to Wrayford?

Lindsey doubted it. Mama would hide the truth from him as long as possible.

She snatched up her bonnet and left the bedchamber. Swinging the straw hat by its ribbons, she hastened downstairs to seek out Jocelyn. At least the lateness of the hour would make her excuses simpler. Since no one had spied her as yet, she could claim to have stopped here while out on a walk. Jocelyn needn’t know that Lindsey had napped in one of the bedchambers.

But when she entered the sitting room, the chaise where Jocelyn always sat was empty. The white blanket that usually covered her legs lay neatly folded on a cushion.

Jocelyn could be anywhere in the house, in her bedchamber for a visit to the necessary, in the dining room eating luncheon, or perhaps in another room, diligently at work with her art master. It might be best to wait right here for her. Meanwhile, the girl’s lap desk would have paper and pen inside for Lindsey to use for her note.

Had Thane returned yet?

The thought of him proved an irresistible distraction. Abandoning her plan to linger, Lindsey took the back stairs down to the library on the ground floor, where she intended to use the connecting door. It might be too forward of her to visit his town house unchaperoned, but she no longer cared about her reputation. She needed to see him
again, to find out if he’d succeeded in obtaining the special license. With any luck, they might speak their vows this very day. And then they would be together tonight and all the nights for the rest of their lives. . . .

An odd muffled thumping noise came from within the library. Thinking there was a servant at work, Lindsey stepped into the open doorway. She stopped, stupefied, her gaze riveted on the sole occupant of the room.

Clad in a pale green gown, her blond hair tied back with a ribbon, Jocelyn was standing up. Even more amazingly, she was using a cane to make her way toward the mantelpiece, where a coal fire hissed on the hearth.

“Jocelyn! You’re walking!”

The girl gave a start of surprise, thrust one hand behind her back, and nearly toppled over in the process. Lindsey rushed to offer support, slipping her arm around the girl’s slender waist.

“Lud, I can scarcely believe my eyes!” Lindsey exclaimed. “This is wonderful news. Why didn’t you tell me? But you ought to have someone here with you. Where is Fisk? What if you were to fall down?”

Jocelyn promptly burst into tears.

Remorse swept through Lindsey. “Oh, you poor darling. I didn’t mean to bombard you with questions. You must have overtaxed yourself. Here, let me help you to a chair.”

“No, you don’t understand!” Jocelyn said, wrenching away and nearly stumbling. Desperation shone on her tearstained face. “I’ve something I must burn—and quickly.”

“Burn? What do you mean?”

“The diary. I have to get rid of it before that awful man comes back.”

Jocelyn showed her a small leather-bound volume that she held half-hidden in the folds of her dress. Leaning on the cane, she limped again toward the fire.

Perplexed, Lindsey hastened forward and gently pried the book from the girl’s dainty fingers. Taking hold of her arm, she guided Jocelyn to a chair. “You aren’t burning anything until you explain matters to me. Now, sit down. You’ll tell me exactly what’s going on here.”

Jocelyn tensed as if to protest again; then all the fight drained from her and she sank into the chair. Her shoulders drooped in a pose of abject misery. “Oh, Lindsey, something dreadful has happened,” she said, her green eyes shimmery with tears. “I can scarcely believe it. I—I don’t know even where to start.”

Lindsey pushed an ottoman closer. She perched right in front of Jocelyn, placed the small book in her own lap, and then took hold of Jocelyn’s hands. “Start at the beginning, of course. What’s happened to make you so overwrought?”

Jocelyn drew a deep, shaky breath. “A—a man came to call on Lord Mansfield this morning. He looked like a gentleman; that’s why I didn’t realize who he was at first. I—I saw him from the window.”

“Do you mean . . . you
walked
to the window?”

Jocelyn nodded. “I’ve been practicing every day and doing my exercises. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly accomplished your purpose. Now, do tell me what happened to upset you.”

“The man . . . he was next door for only a short time. Then a little while later, I overheard Fisk chatting to one of the maids out in the corridor. She said . . .”

“What? What did she say?”

Jocelyn tightened her grip on Lindsey’s hands. “Last night, there was another murder by the Serpentine Strangler. He left the . . . the body in Hyde Park, the same place as all the others. Oh, Lindsey, you won’t believe who was killed . . . it was Miss Valentine.”

The cold fingers of shock crept down Lindsey’s back. She pictured the plain, dark-haired woman who had given Thane a look of admiration. “The clerk from the dress shop?”

Jocelyn nodded. A tear slipped down her pale cheek. “The man who came to see His Lordship was a Bow Street Runner. The maids were saying that . . . that he intends to arrest Lord Mansfield for murder!”

Lindsey sat frozen. A Runner who was dressed like a gentleman could only be Cyrus Bott. But she had sent notice to him that he was to cease investigating Thane because the two missing maidservants had been found. So why would Bott make such a threat?

Because he had seen Thane visit the shop? Bott
had
been lurking outside in the alley there, watching him.

But such flimsy circumstantial evidence was hardly cause to arrest Thane. Perhaps Jocelyn had mistaken the purpose of Bott’s visit. The girl had a flair for the dramatic. Maybe he had merely come to consult with Thane. After all, Thane had mentioned he was trying to find evidence to prove that Wrayford was the killer.

She rubbed the back of Jocelyn’s cold hand. “Don’t worry, darling. Lord Mansfield is not a murderer. You may be absolutely certain of that.”

“But-but I heard he didn’t come home last night,” Jocelyn said shakily. “The maids were whispering about that, as well.”

Lindsey fought back a blush. She couldn’t reveal that she knew precisely where he’d been. “I’m sure there’s a very good reason. Gentlemen often stay out until dawn. He could have been at a party or at his club. You mustn’t leap to conclusions.”

“But I’m
not
.” Jocelyn glanced at the open doorway and lowered her voice to a whisper: “I feared that awful man might come back and search through His Lordship’s belongings. So I sent Fisk away and made the footman carry me down here. Then I went next door and looked through his desk in the library. And I found this.”

She took the small volume from Lindsey’s lap. “Look, it’s Miss Valentine’s diary.”

A sick dread in her stomach, Lindsey opened the book. On the flyleaf, in spidery handwriting, was the inscription
Miss Harriet Valentine
.

She stared in perplexed shock. Why would Thane have this diary in his possession? Had the shop clerk given it to him for some unknown purpose?

A more logical explanation occurred to her. Perhaps upon leaving here this morning Thane had learned the news about the murder. Instead of obtaining the special license, he had changed his plans and gone to Miss Valentine’s place of residence, where he had procured the journal as evidence. Then he must have brought it back and secured it in his desk with no one the wiser.

Yes, that must be it. There was no other viable reason for him to possess the diary of the dead woman. Lindsey flipped through the pages to see tiny, precise script that filled every inch of the precious paper. Perhaps Thane hoped to find something written here that would connect Wrayford to Miss Valentine.

“Don’t you see?” Jocelyn said urgently. “Someone must be trying to
make
Lord Mansfield look guilty. And that’s why I have to burn it before that nasty man returns.”

Lindsey couldn’t break her promise to Thane. He didn’t want people to know that he was trying to find the Strangler. “I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for the diary being in his desk. In the meantime, it would be wrong to destroy a valuable piece of evidence.”

“But I
must
. His Lordship will be thrown into
prison
if I don’t. And then what will happen to me?”

Lindsey’s heart went out to the girl. Leaning forward, she embraced Jocelyn. “Is that what’s worrying you? I give you my word, in such an unlikely event, I’ll watch after you, darling. You won’t ever be left to fend for yourself.”