The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (10 page)

* * *

Tally was alarmed when
Foster, blunderbuss over his arm, almost ran her over, hobbling as
fast as he could from the front door to the stairway.

“I don’t trust that
scoundrel,” he grumbled.

“What scoundrel?”
What had Reed done to provoke
Foster this time?

“That footman —
leastways, he were dressed like one — that just came to the door
asking for some fancy Viscount.”

“Viscount?”

“That’s what he
said. I told him there was no lofty-tofty Viscount here, but it was
clear he didn’t believe me.” He hesitated, “I don’t suppose
yon Gordon could be a Viscount, eh?”

She let the shocking
idea sink into her mind.

Foster cackled loudly
at his own joke, then bent over in paroxysms of coughing. “The only
way any Viscount would be living with us was if he did what yon
Gordon did and climbed the wall into the house! As if any Viscount
would climb the wall into a young lady’s bedroom!” he wheezed.

She agreed it was not
very likely. “For a moment, I thought you were serious. You scared
a year off my life!”

He resumed his course.
“I’m going to take a look from the window in your room, Missy. He
didn’t act like no footman I’ve ever seen. I watched him all the
way down the street. Just before he turned the corner, he gave me a
bold-as-brass grin.” Foster rasped in a breath, briefly
interrupting his tirade. “I think he’s going around to the back
lane.”

“
I’ll
go. You stay here, in case he tries to come in the back door.” She
knew she’d get there much faster. She rushed up the stairs, into
her bedroom and straight across to the window to look out. She was
appalled to see a grubby-looking man out there rifling through their
dustbin.

She’d never
considered that poor people might wander into the neighborhood to
rummage for food. Mind you, the scruffy-looking individual didn’t
look much like he was starving. He had strong, wide shoulders and was
quite tall, though he insisted on hunching over almost in two. He was
about to turn his face upwards and she hoped to get a glimpse of his
face, when a loud whistle deflected his attention.

A jaunty-looking man in
livery was coming down the lane.

Foster’s
footman!

She watched him nearing
the house where the shabby man was still bent over the bin. The man
in livery called something to him in low tones, too low for her to
hear. When he got closer, he began talking with much gesticulation.
The tramp was quite his opposite and responded in a laconic manner.
Suddenly, the footman looked up. When he spotted her at the window,
he hesitated, obviously wondering what he should do next. He must
have concluded it was too late for further subterfuge, because he
gave her a flippant salute and flashed a bold wink at her.

The derelict hissed,
“You fool!” and immediately began to shamble rapidly, head well
down, back along the lane in the direction of the park.

Following him, the
footman continued talking without pause. Maybe he was explaining his
failure to get information at the door or maybe he was describing
her. She didn’t like either conjecture.

Suddenly, she heard
Joseph running up the stairs, with Foster lumbering up behind him.
Instead of coming to her room, they went first to Reed’s room. They
probably wanted to follow the oddly matched pair’s progress through
his window at the front of the house. Soon, though, they were rushing
across the hall to her room.

“I’ll kill you, ye
bas– er... barbarian!”

She whirled around from
the window to see who her butler was shouting at. He had his
blunderbuss aimed directly at Reed’s head. His drowsy head. He was
struggling to sit up, looking as if he’d fallen asleep on her bed.

How in heavens had she
missed seeing him sooner? More to the point,
what was he doing there?
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart soared. Had he
wanted to continue what they’d started last night?

She glanced sideways,
noted the suspicious glare Foster was giving him and her heart came
thudding back down to earth. Or might he have been waiting to
communicate with those two men outside, possibly his associates?

Joseph cast an uneasy
glance at Foster who was still holding his gun ready, yet he seemed
unaware — as only a child could sometimes be — of the
undercurrents crackling in the room. He tugged at her skirt to claim
her attention. “Miss Leighton, ma’am.”

She lifted her finger
bidding him to wait a moment and went over to push the blunderbuss so
it aimed down toward the floor. “What are you thinking?” she
muttered.

“What’s he doing in
your room?” he muttered back. “On your bed?”

Tittering nervously,
she said, “He
is
my
husband.” She gave him a pointed look, telling him without words
that, with this display, he was causing her problems she’d have
trouble explaining afterwards.

He harrumphed and,
still grumbling, retreated to the window to keep watch outside.

She turned back to
Reed, who looked ready to demand an explanation. “Why don’t you
let Foster help you back to your room, while I find out what Joseph
has to say and then I’ll come explain what’s going on.”

“Good. It’s about
time somebody explained something to me!” He glared at the old
soldier. “I don’t need your help. I can get there by myself!”

Foster glowered back
and stayed by the window.

She waited until she
was certain Reed was in his room, then she signaled to the boy to
come away from the door. “Now, Joseph, what did you want to tell
me? And speak as quietly as you can, so we won’t disturb Mr.
Leighton.”

“I was outside,
Ma’am, and when a beggar man began to look in the dustbin, I got
scared, so I hid around the corner of the house. Then that footman
came and the two of them started to talk — them talked…”

At her admonishing
smile, he corrected himself. “
They
talked like gentlemen...?” She nodded. “Didn’t talk like no...
any
poor man I know.”

“Did you hear what
they said?” She tried to sound unconcerned, not wanting to alarm
the boy by sounding desperate to know exactly what they had said.

“Yes, ma’am. The
footman said he thought the fool had just gotten married. The beggar
shouted ‘What?’ He was angry. He said ‘that devil’s got his
pri… his prior–’”

“Priorities?” She
winced at the child’s repetition of the man’s salty language.

“That’s it! ‘His
priorities are wrong. He should be tending to business first…’
The footman said something I couldn’t hear and then the beggar
said, ‘It’s too serious, too dangerous to delay.’ The boy’s
eyes were half fearful, half wide with excitement. He was too young
to understand how serious it was and, to him, this was far more
interesting than cleaning out the dustbin!

Foster moved from the
window to the child’s side, as if to protect him.

“Thank you...” she
began.

“There’s more! The
tramp was angry. He said something else, something awful.” Now fear
took predominance. “In a scary voice, he said he had to admire a
man who risked death...’ there was more, but all I can remember is
that he ended with ‘for a woman, no less.’”

The boy screwed up his
face. “Then the scariest part of all. He said, ‘And when the
Vanisher kills them, we’ll lay the two of them out in the same
grave.” The child shivered and Foster lay his hand on the boy’s
shoulder to offer him comfort and support. He looked up at the old
man and continued, “Like bloody Romeo and Juliet! How romantic!’
But I don’t think he truly meant that in a good way, ma’am. He
sounded evil when he said it.”

Oh
my god. She was doomed!

She forced herself to
smile, wanting to reassure the child. “Very good, Joseph! How
clever of you to remember all that! Thank you for being so attentive.
Now, go see if Mrs. P has a sticky bun for you. Tell her I said you
deserve a reward for being such a big help.”

He gave her a grateful,
sunshine smile then said in a solemn voice, “I’ll be sure to keep
the back door locked, I promise.”

“I’m sure you will,
Joseph, I have confidence in you.”

He walked quietly from
the room and she worried this may have dampened his exuberance. She
was relieved when she heard him give a happy shout before he
clattered down the back stairs. The thought of a treat would go a
long way toward easing any remaining fear.

“Just as I expected.
You and yon…” At her frown, he clamped his mouth shut. “...and
Mr. Leighton there must be their ‘too serious and too dangerous’
business.”

“But why?” They
must have her confused with someone else. She’d done nothing to
make her the target of a killer. She rubbed her temple to ease the
sudden stabbing pain there. And now she had to go explain this to
Reed. He was waiting for her, no doubt impatiently, so she dare not
tarry.

“We’ve wasted
enough time this morning, don’t you think?” She cocked her head
in the direction of Reed’s room and tapped her ear.

“Yes, Miss.” Foster
was quick to catch on. He understood she didn’t want ‘yon Gordon’
to overhear their conversation. “I’ll go make sure Joseph is
getting his work done now that the excitement is over.”

Were those men talking
about Reed? What business had he failed to attend to? Murdering her?
Was that his mission, locked away in his forgotten memory?

* * *

“What’s wrong with
your butler?” Reed stood from his seat on the edge of his bed when
his wife entered his room.

He watched her
carefully. She was upset. Had she’d been afraid Foster would, in
fact, shoot him? He gestured for her to sit down and, once she had,
sat on the edge of his bed again.

“Nothing,” she
said. But it was clear she was troubled.

“If he’s aiming a
gun at me, there is.” Blunderbusses, especially the one the elderly
servant had been carrying, were almost antique now. He wasn’t sure
how reliable they were. He hadn’t dared push it away for fear of it
going off.

“Was he the one who
hit me over the head that first night?” Noting her startled
reaction to his forceful query, he softened his tone. “Is he the
reason I have no memory?”

She looked stunned.
“No, of course not!”

“I don’t see any
‘
Of course not
’
here.” Not after the old buzzard pointed that huge weapon at him.
Reed was annoyed and not feeling very charitable toward the man.

“Foster blusters a
lot, but he’d never shoot you.” She sounded as if she was trying
to convince herself.

“Besides, he was
aslee–… um… wasn’t there when you got injured.”

She sounded positive
about that. So if not the butler, who? And why was she so upset now?
She lifted her hand to brush back a lock of hair and he saw her hand
was shaking.
What was going on
here?

“Tell me how it
happened.”

“How what happened?”

He gave her an
exasperated look. “Me getting hit on the head so hard I’ve lost
my memory?”

She paused and he was
suddenly sure she was going to lie to him. She must not be used to
lying, if he could tell before she even opened up her mouth.

Was she trying to
protect her retainer?

No, she’d sounded too
definite when she told him the servant wasn’t there. Then who?

“I don’t know.”

He hadn’t asked that
out loud had he? No… Oh, she was answering his first question about
how it happened.

“Why not?”

“You were in here by
yourself. You tripped and knocked your head on the big dresser over
there.” She pointed to a huge, mahogany highboy. “At first, we
didn’t know that. You were unconscious, and we didn’t know why.
We only found the bump on your head later.”

It didn’t sound like
him, but then how would he know? He could be the world’s biggest,
clumsiest, hulking clod and he wouldn’t even know it.

Damnation! He hated
this not knowing.

“But why was I in
this bedroom rather than in ours? I assumed you put me here because I
was sick.”

“We...um...don’t
share a bedroom.” Her voice sounded timid.

“Don’t share a
bedroom? But we’re...” He heard the suspicion in his own voice.
He was practically calling her a liar. Yet why wouldn’t they have
separate bedrooms? It was more common than sharing one, among his
circle.

Among his circle!
A memory!
What was his circle? He tried to continue his
earlier thought, but already it had slipped away. He’d work on
trying to remember it later, right now he wanted to further other
paths. “We’ll have to rectify that once I am well again.”

He watched her reaction
to his words carefully. Was that… Why, that was fear in her eyes…
followed by a flush so rosy, he knew she must feel it burning her
face.

Without acknowledging
his intentions, she lifted the cover from the bottom of the bed,
waiting for him to lie down, preparing to lay it over him.

Did he really want to
sleep some more? He had no time to ponder it before she gently began
to cajole him.

“Now, don’t you
think it’s time to take a little rest after all that excitement? I
know it’s exhausted me.”

“Then why don’t you
lie down here beside me and we can snooze together. That’s why I
was in your room, you know. I hoped to convince you to have an
afternoon nap with me.” Two could play at this. He gave her his
best coaxing smile.

He watched her eyes go
wide. She seemed shocked that her husband wanted her to lie down
beside him. What a strange marriage they must have!

“Not this time. The
physician said you needed rest and you won’t get it if you’re not
alone.”

Ah, so that was it.
Realization demystified the bafflement he was feeling about his
marriage. The problem was she knew him too well. Sleep was the last
thing he’d have on his mind. Just contemplating her lying beside
him had him eager and alert.