Regency 02 - Betrayal (16 page)

Greville watched the worried look deepen on
her face before it changed to an expression of sadness. He wondered
what earth-shattering secret they were about to be made privy
to.

She smiled ruefully. But her rueful smile
turned quickly into a frown. “Does this have anything to do with
Lady Rothsmere?”

Connor nodded. “Have you noticed something,
anything?”

“Only that she is in some sort of trouble
that has escalated beyond her control. Adam asked me to keep an eye
on her before he left. I have noticed the fear with which she looks
at her betrothed. It is not natural even in an arranged alliance
such as her ladyship’s obviously is.”

“Do you have any idea what the problem may
be, what is causing her fear?” Greville asked.

Miss Emerson turned the full force of her
seductive gaze on him. She stared at him wordlessly for a moment
before replying. “I really couldn’t say. I would hate to accuse him
of raping her but I have seen that particular type of fear before
in several of my more unfortunate fellow actresses. She does not
appear broken, however, my lords. She has an unusual amount of
spirit, I think.”

“I will convey your information to Adam,” the
marquess said grimly. “Where is he?”

“He is in Cornwall, gentlemen. And,
incidentally, he has broken off his association with me so that is
the extent of the help I am able to provide, I’m afraid. I highly
doubt he will be confiding in me any longer.”

Greville had felt his heartbeats pick up a
pace at her pronouncement and she again met his eyes. The dark
depths held an invitation he would be a fool to ignore. Indeed, he
decided impulsively, he would not ignore it.

The express was sent off. Now all they could
do was wait and watch. If something happened between now and Adam’s
return to London, they would have to act without him. Connor hoped
that would not be necessary.

Verena demanded to know what was going on.
She cornered him in his study and refused to take no for an answer.
Connor reluctantly told her, omitting to mention the possibility of
rape. His wife was indignant enough as it was. She didn’t need a
reminder of her own traumatic past.

“You have to do something,” she told him
unnecessarily. “You can’t let them do this to her.”

The marchioness was pacing back and forth in
front of him like a caged panther. She paused to glare at him.
“Well?”

Connor stood before her and had to fight down
a grin despite the seriousness of their topic of conversation. He
crossed his arms over his chest and raised one pale brow. “Well,
what?”

Two small fists came up and planted
themselves on her hips. “What do you plan to do?”

“I sent for Adam.”

Verena became very still. “You…
what
?”
she asked in a deceptively mild tone of voice.

“I sent for Adam. He is the best one to help,
you know.”

“No, I’m sure I don’t know. Bri hates him and
well you know it. And he isn’t particularly fond of her either. Why
would he so far extend himself to help her now?”

Connor shrugged. “Probably because he loves
her,” he replied carelessly.

Verena released a snort of laughter. “You
must be jesting! Or foxed. Are you foxed?”

He smiled. “No, Doll, I am not foxed. Just
observant. And I seem to recall a comment you made to Adam in
regard to his losing something of value before he’d even found
it.”

She bristled. “Meaning I’m not? Observant, I
mean. And I only said that to needle him. I didn’t really believe
it.”

Her husband’s brows snapped together. “You
are very prickly of late. Are you increasing again?” He almost
laughed when she blushed. He did smile. “Another set of twins?” he
asked hopefully.

“Good Lord, I hope not,” she exclaimed with a
mock grimace. “The set we have are enough. A single child would be
most welcome, though.”

Connor grinned at her and took her in his
arms. She snuggled into his chest and sighed. He kissed her dark
curls and murmured, “Stay out of this situation with Bri, my love.
Especially now.”

She stiffened but her voice was calm. “You
can’t stop me from trying to help my friend, Con. You won’t stop
me.”

The marquess drew away from her and stared
down into glittering violet eyes. His expression was as stern as
his voice. “You will obey me in this, Verena.”

She jerked away. “And if I don’t?” she
challenged recklessly.

“You’ll be sorry.”

Her little chin went up a notch and her arms
crossed over her chest. “Are you threatening me? Will you beat me,
Con?”

Connor’s blue eyes grew hard. “I won’t beat
you,” he replied evenly. “But I do believe you realize that it is
in your best interest to stay as apart from this as possible.”

Verena noticed the tone of his voice changed
and took on that implacable “lord of the manner” quality. She
dropped her hands and looked away. “I will obey you,” she responded
with the utmost reluctance.

“I do need your help,” her husband added
gently. Her eyes flew up to meet his. “It will be nearly a week
before Adam can get here. All we can do until then is wait and
watch. And hope that nothing happens to set our plans in motion
before Adam arrives.”

“What can I do, my lord?”

Connor threw her an exasperated look. “Don’t
do that, Doll.”

“Do what, my lord?” she asked innocently.

“Don’t ‘my lord’ me. I hate it when you do
that.”

“I apologize. What can I do, Lord
Connor?”

Her very patient husband exhaled in annoyance
but didn’t respond to her goading. He had discovered to his
amusement and chagrin that his meek little Doll wasn’t so meek when
she was increasing. “I need you to be there for her. I think she
will need a friend. But you have to act as though all is well. I
don’t want Steyne suspecting anything. He’s unpredictable enough as
it is.”

Adam read the blasted letter again. It was
unnecessary for him to hold it in front of his face as he did since
he had already read it so many times he nearly had it
memorized.

The message was clear. Bri was in trouble.
She needed him. Again. And of course, he would run to her rescue.
Again.

He had to return to London as soon as
possible. Tomorrow morning, in fact. Maybe even tonight. He would
have to inform Miles of Carlotta’s arrival after all, then. She’d
arrive in less than two weeks. He had hoped to leave it until the
last possible moment just as Miles accused him of doing
habitually.

Adam leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes. He tossed the letter on the desk in front of him. He didn’t
want to tell Miles. But he had to help Bri. Connor had neglected to
disclose exactly what was wrong. But Adam knew his friend well
enough to know that it was nothing trifling. The man was actually
requesting Adam’s return to Town after all. It had to be
serious.

Life or death, Adam thought as his eyes
snapped open. He sat up and stared unseeingly ahead of him. Damn.
It had to be life or death. Connor would never have asked him to
return else. He would have handled the situation himself.

Adam drew a frustrated hand through his black
hair. Then his hand knotted into a fist and slammed down on the
desktop.

“Bloody hell!”

Adam walked to the door, threw it open, and
strode into the hall bellowing for Miles. The steward appeared in
the doorway of the library with a look of question on his pleasant
countenance.

“Follow me and listen carefully,” Adam
commanded curtly as he continued on his way to his bedchamber.
Miles Prestwich dutifully fell into step beside him. “My wife is
due to arrive in less than a fortnight. Prepare the Rose chamber
for her and send for the doctor to attend her. She is dying. Tell
no one who she is. If anyone asks, she is merely a relative of some
sort. I’m sure you can fill in the details accordingly.”

He ignored his cousin’s openmouthed
astonishment and shouted for Morris. The valet appeared in the
bedroom, stood looking at his master for all of two seconds, and
disappeared again. Adam turned and left the room with his cousin
close beside him.

“Any questions?”

Miles swallowed uncomfortably. “Should she
die before your return…” he trailed off in question.

Adam stopped and stared at him. In truth,
although he knew she was dying, Adam hadn’t actually considered her
death
. He did now, albeit dispassionately. “Bury her,” he
replied laconically.

“B-bury her?” Miles said faintly. “Just like
that? Your wife? Adam, your
wife
?”

Adam sighed. “I haven’t the time for
explanations, Miles. She is my wife, yes. Unfortunately. It was a
mistake to marry her and that’s all I will say about it. Her name
is Carlotta. Carly. Call her what you like. I doubt she’ll care.”
He resumed walking towards the front of the mansion.

West appeared as if from nowhere. “Send for
my racing curricle and the blacks. Have them out front
immediately.” West bowed and shuffled off.

Adam turned around. Miles was watching him
with the same look of astonished horror that was on his face when
Carlotta was first mentioned. He sighed and took his cousin by the
arm. In moments they were back in the study. He pushed Miles into a
chair and poured him a brandy.

“Drink this and tell me what’s going through
that fertile imagination of yours,” Adam said curtly.

Miles looked up at him with wide eyes. “When
did you get married?”

Adam frowned. “It must be nearly three years
ago. Why does that matter?”

The steward shrugged and looked into his
glass. “Makes it all seem a little less fantastic just knowing that
one simple detail.”

“Indeed? Wait until you meet Carly,”
Prestwich responded dryly.

“How dare you deny visitors to me!” Bri raged
at her Uncle, the Duke of Corning, late one evening. “Lady Connor
Northwicke is my dearest friend. I will not have her denied
admittance.”

The duke raised one haughty brow and gave her
a look of contempt. “I will deny whomever I choose, Brianna. The
marchioness has a shady past to say the least, according to her
father and I’ll not have you associating with her.”

“I will see whomever I choose,
your
grace
. I am mistress here whether you like it or not. If you
feel the need to ride roughshod over someone, go to your
own
home and order your
own
servants around.”

Bri knew she hit a sore spot with the duke.
He was so short of the ready that he had no townhouse of his own.
He had no servants to order around. He was dependent upon her.

But he also had control of her money. And for
the time being, her life.

The old man rose slowly to his feet and
towered over her. His voice was filled with deadly menace. “Beware,
Brianna Derring. I will not tolerate impertinence. Remember what I
told you.”

She heard a strange whirring in her head and
fought the blackness that welled up. She couldn’t faint now. She
wouldn’t let him know how he frightened her.

She straightened. “I will see the
marchioness.” She turned to leave. “Denbigh is her father-in-law,
you know,” she threw casually over her shoulder. “I have heard he
is very protective of her.”

She closed the library door very softly
behind her and was rewarded with the sound of breaking glass on the
other side. A slow smile of genuine satisfaction spread over her
face.

Verena was disappointed and not a little
worried when she was turned away from Bri’s door earlier that
afternoon. But she wouldn’t let herself feel discouraged. She was
determined to see her friend.

Lady Connor returned the next day at the time
deemed proper to pay calls. She was admitted this time and actually
asked to step into a small private room to await the countess
instead of being simply shown into the drawing room with the rest
of the visitors. She declined the offer of tea and the footman
withdrew after bowing deferentially.

Verena sat down and looked around curiously.
The room was very small considering the size of the house. It was
lovely, though. The furnishings were delicate and very feminine.
Verena was charmed by the shades of pale yellow, blue, and green
that dominated the room. It had the peaceful quality of a field of
daffodils bathed in the afternoon sun.

The door opened to admit the Countess of
Rothsmere. The two young women stood and stared at each other for
what seemed an interminable amount of time. Then a tear escaped
Bri’s green eyes to trail miserably down her pale cheek and she
found herself being hugged tightly.

“Tell me what has happened,” Verena commanded
softly as she led her to a settee and pulled her down onto it.

Bri wiped the tears away with a tiny scrap of
lace and gave her friend a watery smile. She held up the now wet
scrap and said, “Useless. I don’t know why we ladies carry these
minuscule little scraps of lace around and insist on calling them
handkerchiefs.” She thought longingly of the larger one that now
resided under her pillow.

Verena smiled sadly. She reached for her hand
and held it tightly. “Do you need help?” she murmured gently.

It was the wrong thing to say. She realized
it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The countess sat
straighter and her chin lifted. Her tears dried instantly. It was
as if she hadn’t even been crying. Then she smiled with false
brightness.

“Help? Whatever are you talking about, Doll?
I am engaged to a handsome gentleman”—did she stumble over the
word?—“who adores me and I have my loving family.”—She definitely
gritted her teeth over that one—“What more could I want or
need?”

Verena shrugged and glanced down at their
linked hands. She knew something was wrong. The countess was
squeezing her hand painfully tight and didn’t even seem to realize
it.