Debra Mullins (17 page)

“I know.” Her heart screamed in protest, but she believed in her soul that Lavinia was right.

“You must be the one to do it, Anna. Refuse to see him. Give him only the barest of civilities when you encounter him socially. Do not go off alone with him under any circumstances.”

“All right,” she whispered.

“Be strong, Anna.” She sighed. “I have come to know you a bit, and I think that you must care for my brother to take such risks. If you do, you must do what’s best for him. He can have no future with you when you are promised to Haverford.”

“I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“But it has happened, and you are the only one who can ensure that it will not happen again.”

“You’re right.” Anna lifted her chin with determination. “I cannot let this continue.”

“If you love him, free him.”

Love him?

Did she love this man who struggled so hard to live an honorable life? This man who fought to make his dreams come true, who was so protective of his family? This passionate man who constantly put himself between others and harm?

“I do love him.” Even as the words slipped from her lips, she knew it was the truth. Shocked, she could only gape at Lavinia, who looked back with a mixture of sympathy and concern. “Dear heavens, I hadn’t even realized it myself.”

“Love has a way of tangling everything. If I didn’t think you loved him, I would cut you from my social circle without hesitation. But because I can see it whenever you look at him, I find I am not so mean-hearted.” She squeezed Anna’s hand between both of her own. “And if I see it, then others might, too. Woman to woman, Anna, I beg you to do the right thing.”

Her heart grieved even as her mind accepted the truth. “I will.”

“That is all I can ask.” With effort, Lavinia rose from her chair. “I fear I must curtail our visit today, Anna. I do not feel quite the thing all of a sudden.”

“What’s the matter?” Anna rose, too, alarmed by Lavinia’s pallor.

“Probably just the babe.” Lavinia bent down to
pick up the magazine off the floor, then tilted precariously as she stood back up. Anna’s firm grip on her arm prevented her from falling. “Good heavens! Thank you, Anna.”

“You had best lie down,” Anna said. “And do not fear for your brother any longer. You have opened my eyes.”

“I’m glad.” Slowly, Lavinia walked Anna to the doorway of the parlor. “I feel so much better after our conversation.”

“I was worried I had lost your friendship,” Anna said, “and that I could not bear.”

“It might have come to that,” Lavinia admitted, “had you been resistant to the plan. But you love him.”

“I love him.” Tears stung her eyes, and she bit her lower lip to stop its quivering. “But I love him enough to save him. Thank you for showing me the truth, Lavinia. And I do hope you feel better.”

Lavinia gave a wan smile. “I have more bad days than good lately. However, I am told it will pass. I expect to see you at Haverford’s house party.”

“I look forward to it,” Anna said. “Perhaps with so much distance between your brother and me, what I have to do will become easier.” Squeezing her friend’s hand in farewell, she moved into the hallway.

As Anna waited to be shown out, Lavinia made her way slowly up the staircase. Dour Bliss appeared in the company of the butler, and Anna
waved her on ahead. The woman marched outside to the carriage as if keeping time with a military troop. Anna took up her reticule and followed.

When she stepped outside, she saw her carriage waiting. Bliss was already climbing inside. And Rome Devereaux was making his way up the steps toward her.

She froze where she was, conscious of the servants all around, of the people walking down the street, of the interested stares of the occupants of passing coaches.

She had promised Lavinia—and herself—that she would have nothing more to do with Rome. Cold civility, that was the thing. But when he looked at her with that familiar green gaze, her insides softened, and her heart yearned.

With effort, she kept her expression politely distant. “Good afternoon, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Miss Rosewood.” He stopped a couple stairs down from her, putting them almost at eye level. “How are you today?”

“I am well.”

“I’m glad.”

Silence. Aching, dreadful silence where they watched each other with wary, hungry, hopeful eyes. Memories of his kiss haunted her, like an exquisite dream that had slipped through her fingers upon waking.

“Your sister is not feeling well,” she said finally.

His brow furrowed with concern as he
glanced at the house. “Oh. I had hoped to speak to her today.”

“Another time perhaps.”

“Another time,” he echoed, his voice heavy with wishes unspoken. He brought his gaze back to hers. Waiting.

He still wanted her. It was there in every inch of his body, in the way he leaned slightly toward her, as if unable to stay away. She wanted to step into his arms and lose herself in his embrace, but they stood in front of all of London, like players on a stage. No matter how they longed for each other, this was not meant to be.

Her eyes stung with sudden moisture, and she dug blindly in her reticule.

“Anna…” His hoarse whisper nearly broke her will.

“I’ve something in my eye,” she said, and yanked a handkerchief from her bag. Something white fluttered to the pavement as she raised the delicate lace to dab at the welling tears.

Rome bent and picked up the much-folded paper.

“Give that back.” Anna snatched it from him and, in her haste, dropped it again.

They both bent to retrieve it and found their faces an inch away from each other.

Anna straightened with a rush, and Rome followed suit more slowly, bearing the worn letter in one hand. The note had fallen open, and he stared at the familiar symbol.

“Good God, Anna, what are you doing with this?”

“It was Anthony’s.” She nipped it from his fingers and crammed it back into her reticule.

“Anna, wait!”

“Good-bye, Mr. Devereaux.” She paused to take one last look at his beloved face, then hurried to her waiting carriage, before he saw how much leaving him tore her heart to pieces.

Hidden from view, he watched the carriage pull away with a frown. So, that was where the missing letter had gone. No doubt Anthony Rosewood had passed it on to his sister in hopes of betraying the secret of the society.

Well, he’d learned his lesson, hadn’t he?

From his hiding place across the street, he watched Rome Devereaux turn around and descend the steps without ever knocking on the door, then head off down the street. He waited until Rome had disappeared from view, then cautiously stepped from the shadows.

He had finally discovered what had become of the lost missive. The mystery had taunted him for over a year, the only loose thread in an otherwise perfectly woven plan. But now he knew where to find it.

And he planned to get it back.

“T
his is your chance, Anna,” Henrietta whispered.

Anna closed her eyes tightly for an instant, focusing on Charlotte Fellhopper’s lovely soprano. They had just finished their first dinner at Haverford Park, and the earl had coaxed Charlotte into an impromptu performance. Of course, that was not enough to stop Mama when she had something on her mind.

“Use this opportunity to encourage the earl,” Henrietta continued in a low tone. “The Season is almost gone, and you must secure an offer from him.”

“Mama, not now.” Anna kept her attention on Charlotte, not wanting to appear rude to those around her.

“You should be sitting beside him,” Henrietta whispered.

Anna glanced at the earl, who sat in the chair nearest the pianoforte with Charlotte’s brother beside him. Haverford appeared mesmerized by the performance.

“I refuse to disrupt the musicale,” Anna breathed. “Now, please, Mama!”

Charlotte finished her song, and Anna joined in the riotous applause.

“Do play another,” Haverford said, as Charlotte made to rise from the bench.

“I’m certain there are others who wish to play.” Cheeks pink, she hesitated in leaving the bench and glanced around the room. “Mrs. Emberly? Anna?”

“I fear I cannot sing a note,” Lavinia replied cheerfully.

“That’s not quite true,” said Henry, who had arrived just after dinner. “I believe you can sing
one
note.”

This brought laughter from the entire group.

“And I do not sing or play at all,” Anna said. “My talent lies with watercolors, I fear.”

“Definitely don’t want the gel to sing,” Admiral Rosewood added, with a deep chuckle.

“Quentin!” Henrietta sent her husband a warning look, then turned a sweet smile on those assembled. “My Anna is quite talented.”

“I’m certain she is,” Haverford agreed gallantly.

“Would you like to play?” Charlotte asked again.

Anna shook her head. “I cannot compare to you. Please, do continue.”

“I would love to hear you sing again,” Haverford said eagerly.

Charlotte dropped her eyes, her pink cheeks darkening even more. “Very well, my lord.” She sat down at the keyboard and began another tune.

Henrietta sat back in her chair with a scowl. “I do not like the way he looks at her,” she murmured so only Anna could hear.

Anna rolled her eyes and sat back to enjoy the performance.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Peter said, tossing back an ale. “You’ve saved my life, Roman.”

Rome leaned forward across the gouged wooden table. “Have a care with your words,” he warned, grinning for the sake of those watching. “You never know who’s listening.”

“I thought we’d lost any followers.” Suddenly wary, Peter glanced around the rowdy dockside tavern. No one paid him any mind as the other patrons drank and sang and fondled the barmaids.

Rome shook his head and took a swallow, then plunked down the tankard. “Stop acting like a virgin at Almack’s, Peter. This crowd can smell uncertainty like a pack of wolves smell blood.”

Peter stiffened. “If you seek to comfort me, you’re not.”

“Just remain calm. Captain Morrow has assured me of your passage, and the ship leaves at dawn. All is well.”

Peter wrapped both hands around his tankard and stared down into the foamy depths. “It will be so odd not to live in England anymore.”

“You’ll be alive,” Rome murmured. “That’s enough.”

“True.” Peter raised his tankard. “To you, Roman. For saving my life.”

Rome clanked his tankard against Peter’s and drank. Then he plunked the empty vessel on the table. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To your room.” Rome stood and weaved his way across the room to the staircase, hoping to make anyone watching believe him foxed. “We’ll stay together tonight, then I will see you off in the morning.”

“No, we won’t. I’m not a child.” Peter stomped up the stairs behind him and followed Rome down the hall. “You have your own room right across from mine, Roman. I’ll be safe enough with you right there. You needn’t hold my hand all night.”

“Peter—”

“Roman, please. I’m a grown man.” They stopped outside Peter’s room.

Seeing the determination in the younger man’s eyes, Rome sighed. “Promise you won’t leave the room without me.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Roman,” he said, his hand on the door latch. “I would not be alive if not for you.”

“It is both my duty and my pleasure to be of assistance.”

“Good night, Roman.”

“Good night, Peter.”

Rome waited as the boy stepped into his room and locked the door behind him. “Are you watching, Richard?” he murmured. “I’ve kept my promise.”

Anna came down to breakfast the next morning to find the Fellhoppers there before her.

“Good morning, Charlotte. Mr. Fellhopper.”

“Good morning, Anna.” Charlotte smiled as she sipped her hot chocolate. Dennis peeked out from behind the morning paper to briefly acknowledge Anna’s greeting and grab his coffee cup.

“You’re both up early this morning,” Anna said as she selected her breakfast from the sideboard, then moved to the table.

“In Leicestershire, we rise very early,” Charlotte said. “We just can’t seem to sleep much past sunrise!”

“Sheep rise early, too,” Dennis said, from behind the
Times
.

Charlotte giggled, then abruptly quieted as Haverford strolled into the room.

“Good morning, all,” he said briskly, then began loading a plate from the sideboard.

“Morning, Haverford,” Dennis said. “Price of wool looks very promising this morning.”

“Excellent!” Haverford sat down next to Anna. “You ladies both look delightful for such an early hour.”

“We rise early at home in Leicestershire,” Charlotte offered.

At the earl’s inquiring look, Anna shrugged. “I simply could not sleep.”

Haverford frowned. “I do hope the bed was comfortable. You must tell me at once if we should change your room.”

“No, my lord, the bed was quite comfortable. My own thoughts kept me awake.”

“Hate it when that happens,” Dennis muttered, from behind the paper.

Charlotte leaned forward. “I find that a cup of tea before bedtime sends me right to sleep, Anna. Perhaps you might try that.”

“I might,” Anna replied, then set about slicing her ham.

“I find that tea keeps me awake,” Haverford commented, salting his food.

“My special tea would lull you to sleep,” Charlotte said, then blushed red. “Forgive me, my lord, for being so familiar.”

“Nonsense,” the earl said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “There are times when I could use such a remedy.”

“When we all could use such a remedy,” Dennis commented.

“Would you like to accompany me on a ride, Anna?” Haverford asked. “I have a mare that is spirited, but well suited for a lady.”

Anna couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “I would quite enjoy that, my lord. Thank you for the invitation.”

“My pleasure.” The earl turned his attention to the Fellhoppers. “You are both invited as well.”

“Excellent,” Dennis remarked, folding his paper. “I could use a good morning gallop.”

“Thank you for the invitation, my lord,” Charlotte said quietly. “I would quite enjoy that.”

Haverford stood. “Then let us all plan on meeting in the foyer in an hour. Is that enough time for you ladies to ready yourselves?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Of course, my lord,” Anna replied.

“Excellent! Until then.” The earl strode out of the dining room.

Charlotte rose from the table almost immediately. “I must go change into something more appropriate for riding. Are you coming, Anna?”

Anna indicated her half-full cup of chocolate. “Do go without me, Charlotte. I shall meet you in the foyer.”

Charlotte gave a quick nod and hurried from the room.

“My goodness, Mr. Fellhopper, but your sister is quite eager to be out of doors!”

He never took his eyes from the front page of the paper. “She loves to ride.”

Finally alone in his rooms, he took a bracing breath and pulled the black velvet pouch from its hiding place.

Did he dare do it now? She was going riding. The timing would be perfect.

But there would be other people around. He certainly didn’t want any witnesses to this particular act!

Haverford met his own eyes in his looking glass. Anyone who looked hard enough might see the conflict he fought with his conscience. He hadn’t realized the truth about Anna until recently, hadn’t put together all the pieces of this intricate puzzle.

But this new information changed nothing. He would do what must be done.

He opened the bag and shook the ring out into his palm. The gemstone glittered in the morning sunlight, and he closed his hand around the cursed bauble. The responsibility and loyalty tied to it chafed like a noose around his neck. How could he have known it would come to this?

He shoved the ring back in the bag, then tucked it away into its hiding place. Not yet. Later, he would summon the courage to take care of the matter.

It would be quick and quiet. Then the matter of Anna Rosewood would be put to rest.

Finally.

He left the room, slamming the door so hard that it rattled the swords mounted on the wall.

The docks were bustling in the morning. Food vendors called out to passersby, hawking their tasty wares. The aroma of fresh food mixed with the scent of aged wood and brine in the air. Beneath it all lurked the dank odor of things left too long near the sea.

Rome stood with the sun shining its warmth down on him, taking some of the morning chill from the air. Shading his eyes, he looked at the place where Captain Morrow’s ship, the
Mary Louise
, had sat at anchor. All that remained was sea and sky.

He’d awakened early and gone to Peter’s room to fetch him. There had been no answer to his knock. Finally, the innkeeper had unlocked the room, and Rome had discovered an empty bed. Curse his hide, but the proud young man had left without him.

He’d hurried to the docks in hopes of saying good-bye, but the
Mary Louise
had already set sail.

He hoped the stubborn lad found happiness and peace in America.

He turned back toward his horse. With Peter safe, he could concentrate on bringing to justice the brigands who called themselves the Black Rose Society. He had an appointment tomorrow with Edgar Vaughn to talk about the diplomatic position, and while he was there, he intended to ask a few subtle questions of his own and determine if the man was indeed as guilty as he appeared.

He mounted his horse and set about navigating the pedestrian-clogged streets.

The traffic was worse than usual. He followed along behind a hired hack, using it to cleave a path through the throng that he and Sisyphus could easily traverse. But when the hack stopped abruptly, his gelding almost crashed into it.

“Easy, fellow.” Patting the horse’s neck, Rome craned his neck to see what was going on. He noticed a crowd gathered outside the tavern where he and Peter had shared their last ale together, but the people pushed and shoved so close to each other that he could see nothing else.

“What the devil is going on there?” he murmured, frowning. He didn’t like coincidences, and the fact that all the interest was focused on the tavern where he had last seen Peter sent his instincts tumbling over one another like hissing snakes.

He tried to maneuver to a closer position through the mass of spectators, but the mob only pushed him aside. The jangle of alarm that pricked the flesh at the back of his neck would not go away.

Frustrated, he dismounted and eased his way through the crowd, leading Sisyphus behind him. The closer he got to the tavern, the more tightly the masses pulled together, forcing him to push his way through with more roughness than he had originally intended.

“Watch it there!”

“Easy, guv!”

A cold glare hushed up the complainers, and he continued to move forward.

“—found him this morning, just like that.”

“—lying in the alley like a sot—”

“—killed by that gang of cutthroats what use swords—”

Swords.

Ice shot through his veins and froze his heart in his chest. Uncaring of the protests, he thrust forward through the onlookers. As he reached the front, he saw the man lying facedown in the alley.

Familiar blue coat.

Dark hair.

Outstretched hand with the family ring of the Brantleys on one pale, still finger.

“Peter!” He charged forward. The extended arm of a watchman halted him abruptly.

“Keep back if you please,” the burly fellow said.

“Damn you, let me through!
Peter!
”

The watchman looked at him with interest. “You know the bloke?”

“Yes, I know him!” Rome snarled. “Now let me through!”

The watchman narrowed his eyes as if considering planting him a facer, then called over his shoulder, “Anson! This fellow says he knows the poor sod.”

A tall, thin watchman pulled away from the group gathered around the body. “Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Rome said. “If I could but see his face…”

Anson gave a short nod. “Let him pass, Higsby. But leave the horse behind.”

Rome handed the reins to a startled Higsby, then ducked under the man’s arm and hurried to the body. As he got there, one of the watchmen rolled the victim onto his back.

Dark eyes stared up at him, wide and empty, and a blossom of blood seeped through the fine blue material of what had once been an elegant coat.

“Dear God.” The strength poured out of his body, and he sank to his knees beside the cold corpse of the boy he was supposed to have protected. “Peter, my God.”

“Do you know the deceased, sir?” Anson asked, his face softening with compassion.

“Peter.” Rome could barely say the word beyond the grief that choked him. “Peter Brantley.”

Idling the day away on horseback was not conducive to her investigation, Anna thought. She hated being trapped in the countryside when she could be in London, searching for clues. But her mother had taken control of matters, and all she could do was go along.