No Other Love (12 page)

“Nicola!” She jumped to her feet when her sister entered the room. “I was so worried! Isn’t this wonderful, Richard, that she is all right?”

“Wonderful,” he agreed dryly. “She came riding in as we were about to leave on a search party.”

“I am sorry for worrying you,” Nicola told her sister, doing her best to ignore Richard. “One of the villagers had a sick baby, and he caught me just as I was about to leave. I had to go see the child.”

“Really, Nicola,” Richard said. “Why do you bother with them? It isn’t as if you have any responsibility toward them. This isn’t even your family’s land.”

“That does not remove my human obligation,” Nicola replied frostily. “Perhaps if you treated your workers and tenants more humanely, they wouldn’t consider The Gentleman such a hero.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? And where did you hear that?”

Nicola realized instantly that in her irritation she had made a dangerous mistake. She shrugged. “I don’t remember specifically where. There is gossip all around the village about him. Everyone wanted to talk about it, because they had heard that he stopped me last night.”

“So they all revere the man?”

“No, of course not. Why would they revere a thief? I merely heard that there are those who regard him as a sort of Robin Hood.”

“And who are those people?”

“How should I know?” Nicola countered. “No one would tell me who says such things. After all, they know that Deborah is my sister.”

“Yet you are such a
friend
of the common people. I would think that many of them opened their hearts to you.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Nicola had no idea whether he believed her, but there was no way that he could make her tell him who had talked to her about The Gentleman. “They appreciate what I do for them, of course, but I am still the aristocracy. They are not going to reveal any secrets to me.”

“Mmm. I am surprised. I thought you mingled with the lowborn quite freely.”

Nicola knew that he was making an oblique reference to her love for Gil years ago, and a shaft of pain lanced her with such ferocity that she could hardly breathe. Tears filled her eyes, and her hand slipped unconsciously to where the ring lay beneath her cloak.

Richard’s eyes narrowed, following the movement of her hand. She turned away, saying in a stifled voice, “I am sorry. I am afraid I am quite tired. Please excuse me.”

“Of course.” Deborah, frowning with worry, stood and started to follow her sister, but Nicola waved her away and strode out the door.

The Earl watched his sister-in-law leave. He turned thoughtfully toward Deborah. “Did you see that gesture she made?”

“What?” Deborah looked at him blankly.

He raised his hand in imitation. “This.”

“Oh. Yes. I have seen her do that before. She used to wear a ring there a long time ago.”

“When?”

Deborah glanced at him, puzzled. “Why, I don’t know. Years and years ago, before we were married. Some talisman, I suppose. Perhaps that old woman gave it to her, that Granny Something-or-other. She used to visit her frequently. That is where she learned her herbal knowledge. It was an odd old ring, quite simple and plain, not the sort of thing one would cherish.”

“When was the last time you saw her wear this ring?”

“What?” Deborah looked at him oddly. “Why, I don’t know. Why do you care?”

“It is just…something I am curious about. I shall tell you another time.”

Deborah, accustomed to her husband’s frequent secrets, simply shrugged. “I suppose the last time was, um, at our wedding. I am almost sure she had it on, and the neckline of her dress was too low, so she had to take it off and push it down into her bouquet.

“Our wedding. Then it was after…”

“After what?”

He shrugged. “After that summer, when the stable boy died at Lady Falls.”

“Oh, yes. That dreadful time.”

“Well…” Richard shrugged. “It is scarcely important, anyway. Now I think it is time that you were in bed.”

Deborah smiled at him tentatively. It seemed a long time since she and her husband had conversed this much. “Yes. No doubt you are right.” With a hope she could not quite stifle, she took his arm and let him lead her from the room.

S
HE HAD BETRAYED
G
IL THIS EVENING
!
Nicola threw herself into the chair beside her bed, flooded with guilt and shame.
How could she have let that man kiss her? How could she have enjoyed it so?

Ever since Gil’s death, she had remained true to him. She had not loved another man. Oh, she had engaged in little flirtations, had even allowed a kiss now and then, but they had never been anything but harmless diversions, and she had never felt the powerful passion that she had experienced with Gil. When she had told Jack this evening that for a woman passion and love were inextricably entwined, she had meant it, for that had been her only experience. She had loved Gil, and his kisses had filled her with desire; she had neither loved nor desired since him. But tonight…!

She had never experienced anything like what had happened with Jack. She barely knew the man, had no liking for him whatsoever, yet when he kissed her, the earth seemed to open up beneath her. She had been lost, swept up in passion.
How could it have happened like that?

Nicola could not understand it. She still loved Gil. Why, just last night she had sat in this very room and cried at the ten-year-old loss of him. Yet this evening another man—a loathsome, horrid stranger!—had kissed her, and she had responded to him as if Gil had never existed, as if her heart did not lie in a grave.

Was it because she had been thinking so much about Gil these past two days? Had the memory of his love, his kisses, made her vulnerable to another’s kisses? Had his kiss somehow carried her back to those days with Gil, and had the passion she felt been the old desire for Gil?

She knew immediately how absurd that thought was. The highwayman was so unlike Gil in every way that she could not imagine how his kiss could evoke the memory of Gil. Gil had been gentle and loving, and his kisses had been sweet, whereas this man was rude and unkind, his kisses hard, almost punishing. He did what he wanted, took what he wanted, with no regard for her or her feelings, which was in no way like Gil’s loving tenderness. Gil had spoken like a member of the lower classes and had worn the rough clothes of a groom, yet he had possessed the essential qualities that belonged to a gentleman—he was honest, loyal, kind and noble. On the other hand, the highwayman acted and talked like an aristocrat, yet he was a cruel, sardonic thief. He did not even resemble Gil physically. This man was taller and heavier than Gil had been, a powerfully built man rather than a lean boy. His dark eyes held none of the warmth that Gil’s had; they were hard and cold through the slits in his mask.

No, Nicola could see no way to blame her lapse on his touching the chord of love in her for Gil. She had been seized by an inexplicable lust, an overpowering physical response over which she had seemed to have no control.

Guilt and shame burned in her, and she told herself that it would never happen again. She would not allow it. Hopefully, she would never see the thief again, and if by some strange chance she did run into him, she would be on the watch this time. She would keep a stern grip on her emotions and desires. She refused to succumb to her basest instincts. Nicola thought of the way he had laughed at her, that knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had been fully confident that he could make her respond to him with desire even though she did not like him. She was
not,
she vowed, going to give him another opportunity to look at her that way.

N
ICOLA WAS NOT SURE WHAT AWAKENED HER
—the faint scrape of a shoe, the click of the door—but something invaded her sleep and brought her suddenly, instantly awake, with the heart-pounding feeling that something was wrong. Her eyes flew open. There was a man in her room.

He was tall and dressed all in black, with a mask over his face. He stood in front of her vanity table, bending over and quietly searching through the things that lay scattered across its top.

“What are you doing!” Nicola demanded, anger surging through her.

The figure turned toward her, startled, then ran for the door. Nicola jumped up to intercept him, not thinking of the danger but only of her anger and indignation that he dared to come into her room and mess about with her things.

“Stop!” she shrieked, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. “Stop!”

The man jerked his arm away and swung out at her, catching her cheek hard with the back of his hand and knocking her down. Then he flung open the door and rushed out into the hall.

The blow and the fall dazed Nicola, and for a moment she sat, stunned, where she had fallen. Then she scrambled to her feet and darted after him, shouting, “Help! Stop him!”

There was no one in the hallway or on the stairs. Nicola ran to the top of the stairway and peered down it to the dark foyer below. Behind her a door opened, and then another. She turned and saw Deborah standing in her doorway. Further down the hall, Richard, clad in an elegant brocade dressing gown, came out into the hall.

“Nicola? What happened? Did you scream?”

“Yes. I—something woke me, and I saw a man standing in my room.”

Deborah gasped, and Richard exclaimed, “What!” He strode rapidly toward her, saying, “No one could have gotten into the house. It must have been a dream. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

Nicola opened her mouth to retort hotly that she knew very well the difference between reality and a dream, but then she saw the meaningful look Richard gave her and the way he nodded his head subtly toward his wife.

Nicola glanced at Deborah and saw that her face was white with fear, her eyes wide, and she realized her mistake. Swallowing her bile, she managed to say, “Oh…oh, yes, perhaps it was a dream. It seemed so real, but you’re right. I was probably asleep and didn’t realize it.”

She was rewarded for her lie by the immediate look of relief on her sister’s countenance. “Oh, thank goodness, Nicky. I was so scared!” She breathed out a tremulous sigh.

“I am sorry to have scared you. You should go back to bed now. Your feet will get cold, and we can’t have you getting sick,” Nicola added.

“Yes, no doubt you’re right.” Deborah glanced down at her bare feet. “But I can’t leave you when you’ve had such a fright.”

“It’s all right, Deborah.” Impatience tinged the Earl’s voice. “I will talk to Nicola until she is feeling calmer.”

“Yes. You go on to bed,” Nicola agreed, smiling at her sister. “I shall be fine.”

“If you’re sure.” With a doubtful glance back at Nicola, Deborah turned and went back into her room.

Richard watched her until the door clicked behind her, then swung around to face Nicola. “Thank you for going along with that little charade. It is imperative that Deborah not be upset. Now, what happened? Did this intruder threaten you? Harm you?”

“No.” Nicola shook her head. “Well, I mean, he did knock me down, but that was after I screamed and tried to stop him.”

“He hit you? Are you all right?”

“Yes, although I may have a bruise tomorrow.” Nicola reached up to touch her cheek gingerly. “He caught me on the cheek, I’m afraid, and it knocked me down.”

“The blackguard. It was that damned highwayman, no doubt.”

“That is what I thought at first,” Nicola admitted. “But I’m not so sure now.”

“Why not? Who else could it be? We aren’t exactly overrun with thieves around here.”

“I don’t know. It just, well, it didn’t seem like him. There was something different.”

Nicola realized that she could scarcely tell the Earl that she doubted the highwayman would return for a visit when he had just talked to her earlier this evening. If she did, she would have to hear a lecture from him about her reckless ways, and then he would doubtlessly insist that she take a groom with her every time she went riding. Nor could she explain to him that the highwayman would be more likely to linger and exchange words with her than to knock her down and rush out the door. There was an exciting air of danger about the highwayman, but it was different from the menacing chill she had felt when she saw the intruder lurking in her room.

“Different how?” Richard asked impatiently. “You told me you could scarcely describe the highwayman.”

“I’m not sure. He just—moved differently, or something. Besides, why would The Gentleman return to paw through my vanity when he had ample opportunity to steal everything I own yesterday when he stopped the carriage? Why risk coming into the house with servants all about?”

“To tweak my nose!” Richard replied bitterly. “It is exactly the sort of impudent gesture he revels in. Well, it won’t happen again, I assure you. I shall send the servants out to search the house and grounds right now. Henceforth, there will be a patrol at night.” He set his jaw, and his eyes flashed. “I shall send Stone to talk to you tomorrow morning. Perhaps you might be able to add something to your description of the man now,” he added dryly.

“I don’t know how, since it was dark, and he wore a mask. Besides, I told you—I don’t think it was the same man.”

“Nonsense. Who else could it be?” He paused, then added shrewdly, “I realize that you have no desire to help me, Nicola. Ever since that unfortunate incident at the Falls, you have regarded me with—”

“Unfortunate incident!” Nicola exclaimed. “You killed the man I loved, and you call it an ‘unfortunate incident’?”

“It was an accident. You know that. We were struggling, and he fell. I regret that it happened, but I can scarcely go on atoning to you for it for the rest of my days.”

“I don’t ask that you atone to me,” Nicola retorted. “Whatever happened is between you and God. But you can scarcely expect me to regard you with liking after what you did.”

“No, I have realized that. However, I would think you would care about your sister and our unborn child. This fellow disturbs her, and you know how delicate her health is. The slightest thing could bring about another tragedy.”

“Are you suggesting that the highwayman’s larcenous escapades could bring about another miscarriage for my sister? Really, Richard, I think that is carrying it a bit too far.”

The Earl’s brows drew together in a haughty look. “I must say, Nicola, this work you do among the fallen women of London has brought a certain coarseness to your speech. I must hope that you do not speak so bluntly in front of your sister.”

“No, I protect Deborah as much as I can from the harsh realities of life. However, I see little need to shield
you
from them, as well. Whatever the reason my sister has lost each of her babies, it has had nothing to do with this highwayman. It simply tramples your pride that he manages to elude you.”

“I might have known that you would make a hero of him, too.” Richard’s voice dripped acid. “The man is nothing but a common thief. One would think that this evening’s incident might have demonstrated that to you. But you remain stubbornly woolly-minded.”

“I have not made a hero of him.” Nicola’s eyes flashed, and her hands doubled into fists. “And I promise you that I am not in the slightest woolly-minded. However, the man in my room tonight was
not
the highwayman. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to return to my slumber…and I believe that you said something about searching the grounds?”

“Yes. Of course. Good night.” Richard offered her a small, stiff bow and whipped around to start down the stairs.

Nicola grimaced and stalked back to her bedroom. She had never felt less like sleeping, but she needed to get away from the annoyance of her brother-in-law and think. Inside her room, she lit a lamp and quickly checked her vanity and dresser. She could find nothing missing from her things. She could also not find a key to the door anywhere, even though she searched all the drawers and even climbed up to look on top of the large wardrobe.

She did not relish the idea of going back to bed in a room that she could not secure. She glanced around, then picked up a small straight-backed chair and hauled it over to the door, propping the top of it under the handle. Nicola was not sure that it would jam and prevent the door opening when pushed, but at the least it would create a great deal of noise when it fell, and she would wake up.

With that task done, she pulled on a dressing gown over her night rail and stepped into her bedroom slippers, tasks she had overlooked in her rush to catch the intruder. Then she walked over to the window and shoved aside the curtain to gaze out at the dark and think.

Richard obviously wanted to blame the highwayman for what had happened tonight; she would never change his mind. However, she was equally certain that her intruder had not been Jack. The problem, as Richard had pointed out, was that there were no other likely candidates for the role.

This was a quiet country area, not a city teeming with burglars and footpads. It was unusual for a highwayman to be operating in such a place; the thought that there might be a house thief here, as well, was patently absurd.

The second problem was that even if she admitted the far-fetched possibility of such a thief breaking into Tidings, it would have been the height of foolishness on his part to sneak into the room of a young woman in search of valuables. An unmarried woman, even a wealthy one, rarely had jewelry of any value. She, for instance, had nothing other than a cameo or two on ribbons, a string of pearls, and a few earbobs of jet, pearl or opal—and even these had been taken by the highwayman. The only jewelry she valued was Gil’s ring, which hung warm against her flesh beneath her nightgown. She would have been immensely sad if it had been stolen, but even then, it was not particularly valuable in the world’s eyes. Any self-respecting thief would have gone straight to the silver and gold plate downstairs, or to the safe, where Richard doubtless kept the family heirlooms. And if anyone in the house were so careless as to leave valuable jewels lying about, it was much more likely to be in the Countess’s room—though that thought was enough to make Nicola shudder.

Such reasoning applied to the highwayman as well as any other thief—even more so, since he would know that Nicola had no jewels, having taken them himself the night she arrived in Dartmoor.

So if thievery were not the aim, what was? Being logical, Nicola knew that she must consider that the man had been after herself, not any jewels or money. He could have broken in to rape her. Nicola had seen the aftermath of such attacks too often among women in the East End to not know that it could happen.
However, if that had been his intent, why had he been standing in front of her vanity?
It would be more logical to go straight to her sleeping form on the bed, she thought. There was also the fact that when she woke up, he ran, rather than rushing to her to subdue her. Though she admittedly had little knowledge of the workings of such a man’s mind, his actions made little sense if he were intent on harming her…in any way.

Yet he must have been there for some reason.
If it was not to hurt her or kill her or steal from her, what was it?
No matter how hard she racked her brain, Nicola could come up with no reason.

She decided to go at the problem from another direction. If she could not figure out
why,
perhaps she could work on
who.
Because of the mask and his height, her first thought had been of the highwayman, but she had discarded him as a suspect. It would be far easier and safer to enter her room, she thought, if one was already inside the house rather than having to break in. It could have been a servant—one or two of the footmen were perhaps tall enough. Of course, it would be foolhardy in the extreme for one of them to be caught in her bedroom for whatever purpose, but perhaps if they were driven enough by greed or lust…but again the same problems came to the forefront. Any of the servants could get much more money from taking some of the silver or some other valuable object in the house—and it would be much less risky for them to do it in the daytime, anyway. And if it was lust, again, why would he be hanging about her vanity instead of her bed?

Mr. Stone came to mind. She had not liked him, and she could well see him in the role of intruder. He was not staying here, but rooming in the inn in the village. However, he had been in the house a good deal and could have jammed a door or window so that he could reenter easily. However, he was not as tall as the man she had seen. And there was Richard, whom she could readily cast as a villain. He was tall enough to have been her intruder and had easy access to her chamber, being only a few yards down the hall. She had seen him come out of his room, but there might have been enough time for him to run to his room, discard the mask and throw his dressing gown on over his clothes, then make his appearance, looking innocent and surprised. She had, after all, been dazed and had sat for a moment, then struggled to her feet.
How long had it been before he had emerged from his door after she went into the hall?