Love In The Library (26 page)

The windbag had presented Mrs. Bexley with a bouquet that was demmed near as tall as she was. Most crass of him. Such a "gift" did not demonstrate good taste, though Elvin had assured him Long
mouth
, as obnoxious as he was, had impeccable taste in clothing, and Melvin had been able to ascertain for himself the man's eye for fine horseflesh. "I daresay one with pockets that deep can purchase good taste," Elvin had said. That had to explain it.

To put Melvin in an even grumpier disposition, his twin was making a cake of himself over Mrs. Bexley. "You must, my dear Mrs. Bexley, allow me to take you driving in Sydney Gardens," Elvin said. (This came not long after he plopped himself down on the sofa right next to her.)

Long
mouth's
eyes had been reduced to slits as he watched Elvin. "Now, pray, which twin are you?"

He was forever asking that question of the twins. When the one being questioned was Melvin, Long
mouth
continued to glare. But if Sir Elvin responded, a smile transformed the old toad-eater's face.

"I am Sir Elvin."

True to his stripes, Long
mouth
offered Elvin a broad smile. "I remember fondly our days at Eton. You were quite the cricket player."

"Actually my brother was the better player." Elvin nodded in Melvin's direction, but Long
mouth
obviously did not deem a mere Mister worthy of a glance.

Mrs. Bexley smiled at Elvin. "Lord Sedgewick told me everyone wanted
both
Steffington twins on their teams. He said you were very fine players."

"Sometimes our brothers will allow us to play with them," Lizzy interjected. "When we're in the country."

"And when they are exceedingly bored," Annie added with a little laugh.

"Sir Elvin," Mrs. Bexley said, "you must introduce Mr. Longford to your youngest sister."

Elvin glanced at Long
mouth
. "She's certainly not old enough to be out yet, but she and Mrs. Bexley have taken a liking to one another, so I told her she could come with us today. Mr. Longford, may I present to you my youngest sister, Miss Elizabeth Steffington."

"There is a striking family resemblance among all of you." Toadie got to his feet and crossed the room to bow in front of Lizzy. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Steffington."

Melvin was proud of how gracefully Lizzy inclined her head and wasn't excessively talkative—which she was at home. She was acting like the perfect lady.

Long
mouth
continued to stand. "Actually, Mrs. Bexley, I can only stay here for a moment. I had to assure myself on your health. I understand you were sick the past two days, but you look very fine today."

"Thank you." From the expression on her face, Melvin could tell she wished that particular caller to perdition.

Long
mouth's
gaze swept to Elvin. "I shall have to compete with you, Sir Elvin, to win Mrs. Bexley's companionship for a ride to the Sydney Gardens."

Curiously, she had not answered in the affirmative to either man. Melvin knew where her thoughts were today. Tomorrow was the 22
^nd
. It was a wonder she allowed any of them in her home. She must be devastated.

If only there were something he could do.

"I must hurry home to meet with my solicitor this afternoon," Long
mouth
said. "Please, my dear Mrs. Bexley, tell me you are up to coming to the Assembly Rooms tonight."

"I don't know how I shall feel tonight." She looked incredibly tired—though not unbecoming. In fact, Melvin thought the little roses on her frock matched her mouth. He supposed she looked awfully pretty. If he knew about such things. Which he really didn't.

Elvin settled his hand over hers. "You mustn't overdo. You have so delicate a constitution."

For a fraction of a second, Melvin considered crashing his fist into his brother's face. What did Elvin know of Mrs. Bexley's constitution, Melvin wanted to know! Melvin was the one who understood her better than anyone in this chamber. He wouldn't be surprised if he didn't understand her better even than her
dear Mr. Bexley
.

Furthermore, Elvin knew just as well as Melvin that she had not been ill. He was the only other person who knew exactly what she'd been doing the previous two days. It was obvious he was up to his old rakish ways, trying to seduce a lady. And Melvin would not stand for it!

Added to Melvin's uncharitable thoughts toward his brother, he wondered what right Elvin had to put his hand on Mrs. Bexley's? That was entirely too intimate.

As Long
mouth
took his leave, Melvin managed to mumble some kind of a farewell. His gaze kept darting to his brother's hand, which continued to rest atop Mrs. Bexley's.

Melvin was out of charity with his brother. And he was even more out of charity with Long
mouth
. The longer he sat there, the more inflamed he became.

Suddenly, he stood. "I have just recalled a prior appointment. I shall walk back to Green Park Road."

Worry flashed across Elvin's face. "Will you be all right? I can send you in the coach."

"It's but a short walk." Melvin eyed Mrs. Bexley. "If I can be of any service to you—any service at all—you must send for me."

Her downcast lashes lifted, her smoky gaze connecting with his. And she nodded solemnly.

* * *

Melvin had decided he would go to Long
mouth's
and bluntly tell him his attentions were
not
wanted by Mrs. Bexley. She had enough on her mind without having to be pestered by the most intolerable bore in the kingdom.

Melvin was in so foul a temper, his long legs chewed up great stretches of Bath pavement in a short span of time. If Long
mouth
had gone straight home, and since he was being conveyed in a fine coach with prized horses, he would have gotten home ten to fifteen minutes before Melvin rounded the corner of Longmouth's street. His fine coach was in front of his residence, the coachman sitting on the box and another man climbing up to sit beside him.

The coachman flicked the ribbons, and the carriage started to roll toward Melvin. As it drew nearer, Melvin got a better view of the man sitting next to Long
mouth's
coachman. From a distance, Melvin realized there was something familiar about that man. As they sped past him, he got a clear glimpse of the man who was chattering away to the driver.

It was his attacker.

In a matter of seconds, Melvin understood everything, including the whereabouts of the Chaucer.

He must rush to Mrs. Bexley.

Chapter 20

He must warn Mrs. Bexley! If that cut-throat had succeeded in disabling a big fellow like  Melvin, he could kill a delicate creature like her. Melvin sprinted uphill toward the Royal Crescent—not without attracting attention. One ruddy potato cart driver—his eyes wide as he watched Melvin—came to a complete halt and turned to watch the frantic man racing through the streets of Bath.

The farther Melvin went, the more winded he became. He remembered the last time he’d grown this short of breath. That had been when he carried Mrs. Bexley up the seemingly never-ending staircase at Lord Seacrest’s. This wasn’t nearly as steep, but the distance was much greater. No matter how desperately his lungs begged for rest, he would not allow himself to stop until he reached her home.

He was still some distance away, not even close enough to observe the grassy park in front of the Royal Crescent. When the neoclassical semicircle of stately residences finally came into view, he was mildly disappointed that his brother’s coach was no longer in front of Number 17. It was looking as if Elvin might have to be called upon to be of significant service to Mrs. Bexley in the next four and twenty hours.

Once the numerals of Number 17 came into view, his pace—by necessity—slowed, but he still walked briskly. He mounted the steps and knocked upon her door.

When Simpson opened it, Melvin was too winded to speak coherently. “I need. ." Gasp.

“Allow me to show you to the library, Mr. Steffington. I shall tell Mrs. Bexley you are here.”

How in the deuce could Simpson tell which twin he was? Outside of his family, only Mrs. Bexley and Blanks had ever been capable of identifying him.

Simpson started for the stairway, then turned back. “You do not require me to show you to the library, do you?”

Already on his way to the cozy chamber, Melvin offered Simpson a smile and a decisive shake of his head.

He went to sit upon the sofa in front of the library’s fire. More than any room in the kingdom, he felt at home within these walls on the sofa covered with green fabric selected by Mrs. Bexley. Now why would he remember a useless piece of information like that? It wasn’t as if fabric held any allure for him.

Another perplexing matter was how he could like being here so much even though it had belonged to her
dear Mr. Bexley
—a man for whom Melvin had no affection.

His memories skimmed to those days he and Mrs. Bexley had sat here at the desk facing one another and how content he’d been, how comforting had been their joint silence, how being close to her always  wrapped him in a deep contentment.

The library door flew open, and she breezed into the room. “You’ve found out something about the Chaucer!” A rosy glow that was absent an hour earlier now tinged her cheeks, and her pretty eyes twinkled with what appeared to be happiness.

Why was it impossible for either of them to hide something from the other? “I believe I know who took the Chaucer.”

She gasped, her lashes never flickering as she watched him. “Who?” she finally managed.

“I believe it was Longford.” This once, he had no desire to use the man’s playful moniker. There was nothing funny about what that man had done to Mrs. Bexley.

“You can’t possibly be serious. Mr. Longford isn’t even interested in books, and I don’t think he reads. I don't mean to say he
can't
read. He just doesn't avail himself of the practice.”

"Daresay he's too busy going around buying horses," he mumbled.

Her eyes widened. “You think he purchased it because he enjoys owning objects that he perceives have extraordinary value?”

“He did not purchase it.”

A puzzled look on her face, she asked. “Then what? Surely you’re not accusing him of stealing?”

“Men that wealthy send others to do their evil deeds. I know this first hand.”

She dropped onto the sofa beside him, her shocked gaze never leaving his. “What do you know firsthand?”

“You remember when I was beaten a few days ago?”

She nodded solemnly.

“I have reason to believe my attacker was in the employ of Longford.”

Her brows arched. “Go on.”

“I saw him leave Longford’s house this afternoon as I was returning to Green Park Road from you house.”

“How can you possibly connect the beating—as dreadful as it was—to the theft of a Chaucer?”

“There’s something else, something I didn’t tell anyone about my attack.”

Her eyes rounded. "What?"

“I was threatened. He told me it would be dangerous for me if I continued to seek the Chaucer.”

“Why did you not tell me this?” she demanded, anger in her voice.

“I thought if either you or my brother knew of the threat, you’d do anything in your power to prevent me from continuing to seek the manuscript.”

“That’s true! Your life is more precious that any manuscript!”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

Their gazed locked. Her eyes were moist, then as if revealing her fragile emotions embarrassed her, she shook her head and attempted to speak in a more strident voice. “I don’t understand any of it. Why would Mr. Longford wish to steal from me? He claims to, I believe. . ." She finished on a whisper, "love me.”

“Let me ask you this. Had he attempted to court you before you married?”

An even more puzzled look crossed her face. “Yes, he did. How could you know such a thing?”

“I didn’t know; I guessed.”

She shook her head. “I fail to understand your meaning, Mr. Steffington.”

“The only way I can make sense of this is to theorize.”

“And?”

“And it’s my belief that Longford has been in love with you all these years. I believe that to ensure you would accept his proposal of marriage once your mourning was over, he wished to see you penniless.”

“You’re saying he had the Chaucer stolen for one purpose only: to make me destitute enough to wish to marry him?”

“I am.”

“That’s preposterous! Diabolical!”

“I’ll say it’s diabolical! Especially when he sent his evil-doer to bash my head against a brick wall.”

She winced. “I can’t bear it! You could have been killed!” Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at him. “I shall never forgive you for withholding such information from me. Pray, Airy, why did you continue to help me, knowing you could be killed?”

“I told you. I don’t like not to complete something I start.”

Her hands flew to her face. "The man's evil!"

"Longford?"

"Yes! I'm sure he must have also perceived you as a rival for my affections."

"That's ridiculous."

"The day you were attacked Mr. Longford briefly left my drawing room, and I've just remembered he did so as soon as he ascertained which twin was in the chamber with us that day. I believe he knew you were alone, and he went out to his coachman and instructed his servants to see you harmed and threatened."

"You have just demonstrated remarkable deductive thinking."

"Thank you." She sat there peering into the fire, shaking her head for several moments. “What will we do now?”

“You, madam, are to do nothing. That’s why I came first to you. I have no way of knowing if that vile man might harm you if you continue to seek the Chaucer. You must stay here until I return.”

“Return from where?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“I’m going to Longford’s, and I’m going to demand he hand over the Chaucer, or I shall report him to the magistrates.”