Cloaked in Danger (16 page)

Adam wasted no time getting to the door, and rapped his fist on the peeling, splintery wood. Moments later, the same buxom woman appeared. In the light, she was attractive, though older than Adam had thought. Her...attributes were clearly on display in the open dressing robe and nearly sheer nightgown. She looked up at him, befuddled but unconcerned over her lack of modesty.

“What can I do fer ya, gov’na?” she asked.

Adam pushed the door open and stepped past her.

“This is me house!” she cried. “Ye can’t jes barge in.”

“Watch me.”

“Dorothea?”

From the single doorway that likely led to the bedroom, the earl emerged, his cravat loose around his opened shirt. As he focused on Adam, his brows drew together and he turned a pointed glare at his woman. “What is going on?” His gaze snapped to Adam. “What is he doing here?”

Dorothea rushed to his side, grasping at the edges of her dressing gown to yank them closed. “I don’t rightly know. Ye ‘ave to help, Alfred! I didna invite ’im in.”

Dunlevy grabbed a candle from a nearby table and lifted it up. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Adam looked around the small room. There was naught to find here, but hopefully some answers. “Lord Dunlevy?”

“Yes?” the other man replied with a frown. “Wait, Merewood, is that you?” Dorothea stood behind him, her tousled head peeking out around the man.

Adam nodded. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“This is a damned deuced time for questions, old chap. Whatever it is, it shall wait. See yourself out.” He turned toward the bedroom.

“I’m afraid it can’t, Dunlevy. I am in need of information now.”

“About what?” Dunlevy demanded. “What can’t possibly wait until tomorrow?”

“Your whereabouts a while back. If you could kindly tell me where you were during March and April.”

The man sucked in a breath and even with the sparse candlelight, a panicked expression crossed his face. Adam waited for less than a second before he moved forward, yanked the candle out of the man’s hand, and shoved it toward his mistress.

“Go in the other room and close the door,” Adam ordered her.

With wide eyes cast at Dunlevy, Dorothea clutched the candle close enough that Adam thought she’d set herself on fire, and then whirled to the door and ran. It slammed shut behind her, taking the cloud of light with her. In the sudden shadows, Adam shoved his hand against Dunlevy’s chest and pushed him back with a hard jolt against the door.

“Tell me what you know, or so help me God, I will break every bone in your body.”

Dunlevy shook his head frantically. “I don’t know what you want!”

“Then why are you so bloody skittish?” He moved his hand closer up toward the man’s neck. “Tell me where you were.”

Dunlevy raised a hand tentatively in the air. “Might I request we discuss this outside perhaps?”

“Tell me now.”

“Very well. I was visiting...” His words grew softer by the breath until Adam couldn’t understand a thing he said.

“Louder.”

Dunlevy flicked a glance at the door behind him. “I was visiting the Dancy estate.” His words were hushed still.

“That would hardly be worth keeping secret.” Then Adam recalled that the Earl of Dancy had a lovely daughter who had debuted last season until she fell from a horse and broke both her legs. She’d not returned to the marriage mart since.

Beads of sweat on Dunlevy’s forehead glistened in the dim light and gathered at his bushy brows. “I was visiting with—” He paused, then with overly exaggerated movements, mouthed the rest, “La-dy Hannah.”

Adam’s hand slackened and he pulled back from the man. “Lady Hannah?”

Dunlevy cringed and held up a hand. “Please, not so loud,” he urged in a stage whisper.

Nonetheless, the door behind him was yanked open and Dunlevy went crashing to the floor. Dorothea stood over him, hands on hips and temper near setting her hair aflame.

“Did I hear Lady Hannah? This is regarding that Dancy girl again?” She snapped her gaze to Adam. “What is this about? Why have you broken into my home over Lady Hannah?”

Dunlevy held a hand up. “Darling, ’tis nothing for you to worry about. I believe it was likely a case of mistaken identity or some such nonsense.”

Adam frowned. “Then you were not at the Dancy estate in March?” Which Adam noted was less than half a day’s ride from London and far, far away from the Red Sea.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to mention as Dorothea let out an outraged scream. “You were with me countless times that month, and you left my side to go see her? In the...the country?”

Adam could debate that less than half a day’s ride from Town was not truly the country, but he doubted his opinion mattered. And from the way Dunlevy moved to his knees—and stayed there—to plead forgiveness, Adam found it difficult to believe the man capable of any sort of subterfuge.

But still...”Why would Dancy keep your visits quiet?” He’d heard nothing of it, and was certain had one of the women in his family done so, the gossip would have been common knowledge. Adam would have thought the Earl of Dancy would announce to the world if his daughter had a suitor.

Dunlevy turned in his prostrated position. “My God, man, have I done something to offend you?”

“If you answer my question satisfactorily, then you’ve done nothing to offend. However, I must ask for an answer.”

Dunlevy dropped his head, and defeat washed over the man like bathwater. “I was courting Lady Hannah and—” he looked to Dorothea, “please, dearest, you must forgive me and understand that this does not replace my affection for you.” As she turned away from him, Dunlevy finally pulled himself to his feet. “I requested Lady Hannah’s hand in marriage. However given my well-addressed relationship with Miss Gedding here, they were unconvinced as to my devotion. They required a number of visits and...” Dorothea let out a strangled cry and ran back into the bedroom. Dunlevy stopped to give Adam a pointed glare. “Do you have what you came for? Would you get the bloody hell out of this house now?”

Adam studied the man’s narrow face, etched with resignation and annoyance. His story would be easy enough to confirm. And Adam’s betrothal to Aria was common knowledge.

If this man knew something about her father’s disappearance, he’d never be able to hide it.

Adam gave a short nod. “I am satisfied.”

“I’m glad one of us is,” Dunlevy said grimly. “Now kindly get out.”

Adam saw himself to the door, and as he closed it, he heard Dunlevy’s voice. “Darling, you know I have to marry. I love you...”

He didn’t envy the evening that lay ahead for old Alfred, one Adam had obviously turned into any man’s nightmare.

However, he had to face facts. The Earl of Dunlevy was the last name on Aria’s list, and he was not the man she had searched for.

That meant that he literally had nothing left to go on, and Aria believed her time was dwindling to find answers.

Adam had a very bad feeling.

Chapter Nineteen

The weight of Aria’s eyelids made opening them like prying a plank off a ship. When she finally did, the blurriness of her vision shrunk the world to the nearest five inches. A few more blinks and the world began to take shape.

She stared at a ceiling. She was lying in a bed, covered with warm blankets.

Aria sat up slowly, unable to move faster for the lethargy that encased her, and propped up on an elbow in surprise.

She took in the room amidst the shadows and splashes of candlelight—the pale blue silk wallpaper, the dark wood of an armoire, of a writing desk. Chairs settled into a cozy circle before the large fireplace, ablaze with the snap and crackle of a fire that toasted the room.

It was hers.

How had she managed to get back into her own room?

And why couldn’t she remember anything? What had happened?

Aria dropped her gaze downward to her own body. She wore a nightgown that wasn’t familiar. How had that happened?

“Well, answers won’t come if I lay abed,” she muttered to herself.

She rose from the bed and moved to the washbowl. Her hands formed into cups, she ladled cool water onto her face and scrubbed. To feel this groggy, she must have slept for quite a long time.

She put a towel to her face to dry the drips of water. The last thing she remembered was going for a walk. She’d headed toward the park and...

Beyond that, her memory went black, empty, leaving her with the unsettling feeling that she’d lost time somehow. She needed to see Adam. He would help. He would know what had happened.

Dropping the towel back on the table, Aria turned to the chairs in front of the fireplace. A tray of tea and breakfast had been placed on the short table in between the chairs and Aria quickly poured herself a cup. With a dash of milk and sugar, she settled into a chair with a blanket thrown over her lap.

Her head ached, and holding the cup in one hand, she lifted the other to her face to gently probe around her cheek. With a wince of pain, she pushed against what definitely had to be a bruise.

And she recalled the blinding flash of pain.

Aria sucked in a breath. Had she been attacked in the park? Had she been found somehow?

The sip of tea traveled down her throat, warming her from the inside. But she was so tired. Just a little more sleep. As soon as she got some strength, she’d find out what happened.

Aria set the teacup down and relaxed into the chair that was far less comfortable, worn in than she’d remembered. She had sat on it so many times the fabric had grown weary and the chair cushion had curved to fit her.

This one did not.

She brought her hand around and rubbed at her neck. More likely the chair hadn’t changed, but was less comfortable because her body felt like bricks had been dropped upon it.

God, she hurt. Aches began to pulse in every muscle. Her limbs felt they might snap from the tension she couldn’t release.

She wasn’t going to wait. She needed to know what had happened to her.

Grabbing her cup and taking another long sip, she lugged herself out of the chair and padded across the room.

She stopped at the blue silk paneled wall in front of her, where the entry to her dressing room should be. Ignoring the pain, she swiveled her head around and studied the rest of the room.

Something was wrong.

The walls, although papered in the familiar style she’d chosen herself, were different. Shorter on one wall, longer on another.

She shook her head and closed her eyelids tightly. She was dreaming, or having a nightmare. Or perhaps she’d lost more than a few hours.

With a deep breath in and a slow exhale, she opened her eyes. Same room, like hers.

But not hers.

She spied the armoire on the wall across the room. It should be to her right. With long strides, she moved in front of it and threw open the doors. Clothing of all colors and fabrics hung inside, and she ran a hand over them, feeling the silks and embroidered edges, the ribbons trimming short sleeves.

Beautiful. But none of them were hers.

Her breath caught. Ten steps across the room and she stood before the windows, where morning light escaped in the corners of the heavy drapes drawn. They were her drapes, the rich, dark blue fabric sewn with the lining she’d chosen since she liked to keep the room dark in the morning before she arose.

She grasped a corner, startled at the stiffness of them and threw the drapes open. Panic spread through her chest at the unfamiliar view of another unfamiliar building, and she reached out to tug open the window lock.

Not her view. This was not her room.

But so much like her bedroom at home that tingles of alarm chased up her arms, set her blood to a sprinting pace. Panic set in.

“You should close the window. It’s unusually chilly tonight.”

Everything inside of her stilled at the calm, cool voice. It made no sense. She wouldn’t believe... She turned slowly.

Aria couldn’t find words as he strode into the room, leaned past her to push the window shut. “There. Now you shan’t catch your chill.” He looked her over, head to toe, and tsked. “I hope you will accept my apologies for the horrible way you were treated. I have dealt appropriately with my employees for their oversight.”

“Your employees? What are you talking about? Where am I?”

He spread his arms out. “This is your room. Is it to your liking? I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Lethargy weighted down every inch of her body like she was under the pressure of a waterfall. “My head...I can’t think clearly.”

Sympathy reigned in his face. “It’s the laudanum I put in your tea.”

She stared at the offending teacup. Her tea had been laced. And why did she feel the need to repeat everything to understand it?

“I hope you’ll forgive the necessity,” he said. “You forced my hand, my love, by your involvement with Merewood. That wouldn’t do. I could not have you sullied in any way. So, though it would do little good for you to try, I can’t have you attempting to leave.”

He ran a hand over her cheek. Aria pulled her face away, only to have his fingers grip her chin painfully. “Aria, it’s to keep you safe. It’s a precaution, until the end of the week. Then there won’t be any need for it.”

“Why the end of the week?” Exhaustion warred with panic, but her body wasn’t her own. She couldn’t respond like she wanted, couldn’t muster up the strength to scream.

A few heavy steps forward and she sank into a chair. She shook her head, but the fog refused to clear. “Explain...” The struggle to stay awake became ever more difficult. Even as she protested limply, he picked her up and set her on the bed.

“There will be plenty of time for discussion later. For now, you need your rest.”

Though she saw three of him, Aria tried to focus on the man in the middle. “Tell me.”

His hand traced down her cheek. “For our wedding, darling.”

The edges of the fog crept in even as panic unleashed in her chest. She lifted her arms, to no avail. She couldn’t even muster up the strength to think, let alone move. Marry him?

No, no, she couldn’t marry him. She had told him no. She was marrying Adam. She
wanted
to marry Adam. Had she told him that?

The bed she sat on shifted as he stood up. “Sleep now. We’ll talk more later.”

She collapsed to the bed and drifted toward the dark.

Patrick. She had told him no.

* * *

Adam slammed the door to his study as the first glow of morning light edged the horizon. It had been a useless, aggravating night. He knew nothing more than when he’d started.

He’d gone to Dunlevy’s house and skulked around, for he might realize that the man wasn’t involved but Aria did not. Adam had drawn the line at breaking into the house, but since he’d not seen any signs that she had done so, he figured it was an acceptable line to draw.

Next had been Cantonbury’s Mayfair residence, with the same results.

None.

A late night knock on Aria’s door had gotten him nothing but an irate, sleepy butler who apparently had no idea she might be in danger. The man had refused to check her room to see if she’d returned home and instead informed Adam that calling hours were a proper number of hours after daylight.

As if he bloody well didn’t know that!

He paced the room, wishing that Ravensdale was here this morning so he could take the man up on his previous night’s offer of a pummeling. He was sorely in need of something to hit.

Without an irritating duke’s face front and center, Adam grabbed a handful of papers on the desk and threw them with all his strength toward the fire. Rewarded for that with nothing but a free fall of papers swishing about his head, he heaved a sigh.

“Adam?”

The concerned voice had Adam blinking in surprise, and he turned around to see Cordelia standing in the doorway, a dressing gown tied snugly around her. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of something steamy.

“Cordie, what are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was getting a cup of chocolate when I heard you huffing and puffing in here. Is everything all right?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

She moved into the room on silent feet. “Sarcasm does not suit you.”

“It fits my mood, however.”

She lifted a shoulder as she settled into a chair. “That, I understand well.” He raised his brows in mock surprise, and her lips twitched. “I am known for a biting tongue and a heart built of ambition. It is hardly a secret, so do not look so surprised. I am well aware of my reputation.”

He considered her for a moment. “And are you are pleased by that?”

Her shoulder raised in a casual shrug. “It has served me well.”

He leaned back in his chair, placed his arms on his legs. “And did you come here this early in the morning to discuss your reputation?”

She bent her head to take a small sip of her chocolate. “No, I couldn’t blasted sleep.”

“Cordelia.”

“Well, I am sorry. I’m out of sorts, and since it sounded as though you were out of sorts, over Miss Whitney, I imagine, I thought we might make good company for each other.” She cocked her head. “You are throwing things about because of Miss Whitney, I assume?”

“Aria is missing,” he told Cordelia, then stood up to pace about the room. “She has not returned home since yesterday afternoon.” He turned to pace back. “Although she could be snug in her bed at this very moment, not that I would know of it.”

Cordelia smiled a bit smugly. “She is simply leading you on a merry chase, and you’ll discover her at her breakfast table in the morn.”

“Aria is not like that,” he snapped. “She would not be so thoughtless.” As he spoke, he realized it was the truth. No matter what Mrs. Whitney had said, he did not believe Aria would run off without a word. Not now. “Something has happened. However, I cannot announce this for another...” he strode to his desk and yanked his watch. Snapping open the lid, he glanced inside. “...for another two hours and thirty-eight minutes.”

“Very well. Then you may help me with my predicament in the meantime.”

“Predicament?” Turning to face her, he leaned back against the desk. Perhaps something he could fix.

She nodded. “It is ever so irritating, but I’m uncertain how to handle it.”

He lifted his hands. “Handle what, Cordie?”

Cordelia set her cup on her lap, then lifted it, then held it to her lips before muttering an answer, “I have developed... That is to say, I... Well, I am out of sorts.”

When she didn’t continue, he took in a deep breath. “And why are you out of sorts?”

Her lips pursed and she set the cup down on a nearby table with a rattle. “These blasted feelings.”

Adam blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

She stood and took up his path of pacing the room. “I have these blasted feelings, and they are getting in the way. I wish them to stop.”

Adam’s mouth dropped. If there were words he’d never expected to her from Cordelia, those were it. “Feelings about what?”

“About whom!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “It is confounding, and I do not like it. It’s not enjoyable whatsoever.” She stopped suddenly and held her hands to her stomach. “I am consistently uneasy in the stomach. My heart feels as if it might fly away at any moment and...stop smirking at me!”

His ambitious, heartless sister had developed affection for someone. “And who is it that creates such feelings, if I may ask?”

“He is entirely inappropriate,” she snapped. Adam opened his mouth to protest and she waved a hand. “He’s perfectly acceptable by society’s standards, but not by mine. He has little in the way of fortune. He does not stand in line for a title, and he leases a townhouse during the season for heaven’s sake!”

Because leasing a townhouse was a grave offense, of course. “And how did such a man come to cause your...feelings?”

Confusion crossed her face, and in that moment, the hard edges of her ambition faded and she looked like an entirely different girl. “When he enters the room, it is as if he brings the only candles in the world with him. In those moments, I feel...” she paused, glanced about the room as if searching for the right answer in shelves of books, then held her hands out empty. “I feel. And I don’t like it.”

“Who is he?” Adam asked, although he mentally began filtering through her suitors. That ruled out any man with a title and left...”Mr. Melrose.” Of all the men in the world for Cordelia to experience affection for, why did it have to be this man? “Has Mr. Melrose indicated an interest in you?”

“He has been more than effusive in his compliments. He visits with regularity. We haven’t had many opportunities to discuss any such feelings, but...” Her arms wrapped about her waist. “How could I be feeling such things if he was not?”

“Are you considering him for a husband, Cordelia?” he asked slowly. Perhaps Mr. Melrose truly did hold affection for Cordelia, and the moments he’d been with Lily were nothing more than coincidence. Or perhaps Cordelia’s emotions were fleeting. She had spent as many years as she’d talked of marriage also talking about ambition, wealth and the power that went with it, so he found it hard to imagine her giving up those things based on a moment or two of infatuation.