Surrender Becomes Her (37 page)

The portrait was on the floor, leaning neatly against the book-lined wall, and the door to the safe gaped open. Smothering a curse, Marcus leaped across the room and frantically dug through the items in the safe. Everything was there…except the memorandum.

Jack was on his heels, having realized the significance of the opened safe at the same instant Marcus had. Marcus whirled to look at him with wild eyes. “It’s gone!”

“But how? Who knew about the fake and where you put the original?”

“No one!” Marcus said. “No one.” He glanced past Jack at the tall windows behind him. Blackness met his gaze, but he knew to anyone standing outside that inside of the room would have been lit up like a stage in a theater. Harshly, Marcus said, “Someone must have been watching me and realized what I was doing.”

Pushing Jack aside, he snatched up a candelabrum and strode toward the door. “There’s one way to find out. Grab that one,” he said, indicating the twin to the candelabrum he held in his hand. “Follow me.”

Flinging open the door, he nearly walked over Isabel, neatly dressed in a simple green muslin gown, who was just preparing to enter the room.

She took one look at Marcus’s face and touched his arm. “What is it? What has happened?”

Marcus gave a shake of his head. “In a moment. I need to confirm what I believe happened. Wait in the office for us, we will be right back.”

Hand on her hip she waited until the two men headed down the hallway and then followed them, picking up the candlestick that Thompson had left burning on a table in the entry. Stepping out of the house a moment after the two men, she walked along quickly, guided by the light of their cande
labra. When Marcus spied her following him, he growled, “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

She smiled sunnily at him. “Did you? I must have misunderstood you. But since I am here…”

Marcus snorted and continued on his way. Arriving at the side of the house and the area just outside his office, Marcus glanced at her and said, “We’re looking for signs that someone hid out here and watched me in my office.”

The flickering candles pierced the darkness and, though daylight would have made the task simpler, after a few minutes Isabel said, “Marcus, I’ve found something.”

She had indeed. There in the soft dirt at the edge of one of the many flowerbeds that flowed around the house were several footprints. From the depth and overlapping of the prints it was obvious that someone had stood here for several minutes. Closer examination revealed that two different-sized boots had made the prints.

Once he and Jack confirmed what she had found, Marcus stepped into the footprints and looked inside the windows. His entire office could be clearly seen and anyone standing here would have had an excellent view of the inside—and everything he had done. Following the prints in the flowerbed, he moved to a position next to the window and easily lifted it. Sticking his head inside, he glimpsed the faint dirt smears on the rug. His expression grim, he shut the window and turned back to the others. “It’s clear he entered this way. There are more signs inside the house.”

Silently the three returned inside and to Marcus’s office. Looking for them now, it was easy to find the occasional smudge of dirt that had clung to the bottom of the intruder’s shoes as he had walked directly from the window to the safe. This time when he offered Jack a brandy, Jack did not refuse. Isabel accepted a small glass of ratafia, enjoying the scent of apricots that wafted up from it before taking a dainty sip.

Jack’s brow rose at Isabel’s presence and Marcus said
tersely, “I’ll have no secrets from my wife. And after what happened today, she has every right to be here.”

Jack took a drink of his brandy and said wearily, “Very well. Tell me what the devil is going on. And you can start with the reason you created a fake.”

Marcus related the events of the day, starting with the discovery that Isabel had been abducted. He ended with finding her in the stables and the news that a well-known local smuggler, Collard, was presently lying dead somewhere in that same stable.

“Collard and his companion wanted you to betray England, risk the lives of those men for me?” Isabel demanded angrily, when he finished speaking. “Of all the dastardly deeds! Oh, I am so glad that Collard is dead!” Her face glowing she added, “And Marcus, it was so very clever of you to think of a fake!”

“I couldn’t let you come to harm,” he said thickly, his eyes locked on hers, “but neither could I turn over the memorandum to them.”

“Of course, you couldn’t,” she exclaimed. “And I would not have wanted you to.” She smiled lovingly at him. “But I am very glad that you came up with a way to thwart them.”

“But it would appear that in the end he didn’t,” Jack reminded them sharply.

“No,” Marcus admitted bitterly, “it would appear not.” Staring down into the amber liquor, he muttered, “To think I had the bloody memorandum in my hand…”

“But you had no way of knowing that they were watching you,” protested Isabel. “You couldn’t have known. It is not your fault.”

“She’s right, you know,” Jack said quietly. “I would have wished you’d have notified me the minute you found the memorandum….”

“I couldn’t,” Marcus snapped. “It was my wife’s life at stake. You would have only cared that Roxbury got his precious memorandum back!”

Jack flushed. “I would have helped you,” he said tightly. “I can’t deny that my first reaction would have been to get it to Roxbury, but I wouldn’t have abandoned you and snatched it away from you and ridden hell-bent for London.”

Marcus ran a hand through his hair and sent Jack an apologetic smile. “I’ve insulted you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Or rather all I could think of was Isabel’s safety.”

Jack nodded curtly. “Apology accepted.” He took a quick drink of his brandy and, glancing at Isabel, he asked, “Can you tell us anything about the two that abducted you?”

Isabel made a face. “Not very much. As you know, I never saw their faces and their voices were not familiar. I do know that there were two of them. One of which we now suspect was Collard. The other one…” She hesitated and said slowly, “I had the impression that the other one was the leader and that he was of a higher social standing than Collard. He seemed to be the one making the decisions. His speech was that of a gentleman; in fact, I thought of him as the ‘gentleman’ and Collard as the ‘other.’” She looked uncertainly from one man to the other and added, “It is hard to explain but the gentleman was almost kind to me.”

“And that’s all you can tell us?” Jack asked, disappointed.

Isabel frowned, trying to recall every word that had come from the gentleman’s mouth. “He was worried,” she said abruptly. “He said something about plans changing, that nothing had gone as planned. I don’t think he trusted Collard.”

“Was any mention made of Whitley?” Marcus asked.

Isabel shook her head. “No. They said very little in front of me and Whitley’s name was never spoken.”

It was a depressed little trio that occupied Marcus’s office. There was joy that Isabel had been returned unharmed, but all of them were aware that the fateful memorandum was in the hands of the “gentleman” and no doubt on its way to the French even now. They had failed, and many men might die because of it.

Jack shook himself and, tossing off the last of his brandy, said, “I must leave for London now. The sooner Roxbury knows of this latest event, the sooner he can set things in motion to change Wellesley’s plans.”

Despite the lateness of the hour, Marcus didn’t try to dissuade him. “You have everything you need?”

Jack smiled wryly. “Yes, even a full moon to light my way.”

He took his leave and strode from the room.

Marcus had not forgotten that the squire and the constable would be arriving shortly after daylight and so, despite a strong inclination to stay delightfully wrapped around his wife’s soft, warm body, he rose in the hour before dawn and dressed and prepared to meet the day. The squire and the constable were suitably shocked by Collard’s death, but there was nothing they could do but shake their heads. The identity of his assailant remained unknown and they agreed that most likely it was a fellow smuggler. Marcus saw no point in suggesting otherwise. Neither mentioned the peculiar circumstances or the odd fact that the murder had taken place on the grounds of Sherbrook Hall.

“I never liked the man and I always knew that he would come to a bad end,” remarked the squire as he mounted his horse and prepared to leave.

“Yes, indeed,” said the constable, a bluff, hearty man known to frequently look the other way as far as the smuggling community was concerned. “No question about it, Collard was a bad ’un. Can’t say as I’m surprised.” He tipped his hat to Marcus and added, “I’ll have someone pick up the body—don’t you worry about anything. My best to you and your wife.”

His official duties settled to his satisfaction, Marcus walked slowly back to the house. There would be no further investigation in the matter of Collard’s death and, while the servants were aware that the mistress had been at the center of
something
, it had ended well and that was the end of it. Jack
was well on his way to London and steps would be taken to keep Wellesley and his troops from harm. The escape of Isabel’s gentleman gnawed at him, but Marcus decided he could afford to be magnanimous: Isabel was safe and in the end that was what mattered most to him.

Marcus and Isabel spent a delightful day together, wandering through the gardens, their hands entwined, stopping now and then to exchange dizzying kisses in the shadows and nooks that abounded. That evening, as dusk was falling, they had just finished an intimate meal in a courtyard at the side of the house, when the sounds of galloping hoofbeats and the creak and rattle of a fast-approaching vehicle caught their attention. With Isabel at his side Marcus strolled to the front of the house.

An elegant traveling coach pulled by four matched bays swung around the wide driveway. Lanterns winked in the deepening twilight on the corners of the coach and a pair of outriders flanked either side of the vehicle.

The coachman pulled the horses to a stop and the two outriders halted their steeds and dismounted. If he hadn’t already spied the crest in the center of the door of the coach, he would have known the identity of his sudden guests.

A broad grin spread across his face and he said to Isabel, “It is Julian and Charles and their wives.”

While the servants at the back of the coach leaped down to help the ladies alight, the two gentlemen approached Marcus and Isabel. Isabel had met Julian, Lord Wyndham, as a child, but she had never laid eyes on Charles Weston, another of Marcus’s many cousins. No one had ever told her that Julian and Charles could have passed for twins and, when she first caught sight of them, she gasped at their similarity, right down to their keen green eyes. Like her husband, both of his cousins were tall, broad shouldered, and black haired, and though there was a lesser resemblance to Marcus, it was obvious that they were related.

Charles flashed a quick grin and said, “I see that your hus
band has not yet told you about his handsome cousins.” He sent Marcus a look. “For shame!” Turning back to Isabel, he bowed and said, “I am Charles Weston and most happy to meet the woman who has finally brought him to heel.”

Isabel giggled, charmed by his outrageous manner.

Julian smiled and said, “It is a pleasure to see you again, madame. And I congratulate you upon your marriage. I wish you happy.” He flicked a glance at Charles and added, “You must forgive him. It is his nature to be incorrigible. Fortunately, he is also vastly amusing, so we put up with him.”

Delighted though he was to see them, Marcus couldn’t help saying, “You know that you are more than welcome, but what brings you so unexpectedly to my door?”

Wryly, Julian said, “Nell. She had a dream.”

It was obvious Marcus and Charles understood the meaning behind that cryptic statement, but Isabel looked in puzzlement from one lean face to the other. Before she could demand an explanation, Nell herself came rushing up, followed by Daphne, Charles’s bride of only a few months. The two women were very different in appearance. Nell’s hair was a soft golden-brown, her eyes sea green in color and, though Nell was tall, Daphne towered over her by half a head. Daphne’s hazel eyes were warm as she greeted Isabel and her thick black hair had been caught back in a neat chignon. Isabel, enfolded in scented embraces, could only marvel at fate. These beautiful women and handsome men were her relatives!

Several chaotic moments followed as the entire group wandered inside the house where a gaggle of servants was dispatched to help unload the coach and orders for bedrooms to be prepared were given. Eventually, they were all scattered about the library, Thompson happily overseeing the serving of refreshments. Once everyone had been served, Thompson waved the footmen from the room, bowed, and departed, shutting the big double doors behind him.

Conversation was general for several moments, the ladies sipping their tea, the gentlemen enjoying brandy, before Isabel
asked Nell, “What did your husband mean when he said you had a dream?”

Her eyes somber, Nell murmured, “Marcus hasn’t told you about…Charles’s terrible half-brother, Raoul, and my nightmares about him?”

Scowling at her husband, Isabel said, “No. He hasn’t.”

Daphne leaned forward and asked softly, “Didn’t he mention the ghosts we encountered at my brother’s home in Cornwall either? It was only a few months ago.”

Looking guilty, Marcus said quickly, “We’re newly married, I didn’t see the need to fill her head full of…”

He stopped and Charles finished dryly, “Nonsense?”

Isabel saved him by saying, “But what does any of that have to do with Nell having a dream?”

Deciding that now was not the time to drag up the past, Nell said simply, “I dreamed that you were in grave danger. I clearly saw you bound and gagged and blindfolded.” She looked across at Marcus, her face compassionate. “I knew that Marcus was in anguish.”

“She woke me,” said Julian, “and insisted that we had to leave for Sherbrook Hall immediately, that we were needed here.”