Love In The Library (28 page)

Elvin’s mouth gaped open. “You don’t mean. . .”

“He’s in the employ of Longford. And there’s something I omitted to tell you.” Melvin cleared his throat. “While the fellow was bashing my head into a brick wall, he told me he would do worse if I continued to seek the Chaucer.”

“And you went on to Wiltshire with Mrs. Bexley knowing you could be killed?” Now Elvin was livid.

“But the poor woman. . . I’m all she has.”

“And you happen to be the only twin brother I have! I don’t fancy some guttersnipe slitting your throat. Even if you do knock me to the pavement for no reason.”

"I'm awfully sorry. I know it's unforgivable."

"Perhaps that bashing to your head is to blame."

Melvin shrugged. “But now that I know what my attacker looks like, I won’t fall into his trap again. In a fair fight, I know I could beat him.”

“Men like that never play fair! He’d just as soon plunge a dagger into your back!” Sheer, naked hatred shone in Elvin’s face.

Which is exactly the kind of anger Melvin hoped to channel when confronting Longford in a few moments. “Where is your coach, by the way?”

“I told my driver to wait over at the circus.”

Melvin frowned. “The opposite direction from Longford's. Let’s just walk to his house.”

They strode briskly along the pavement. Melvin could not understand why he was so out of charity with his brother. “Now see here, Elvin, I just won’t have you dancing attendance upon Mrs. Bexley—especially when conducting liaisons with women like Mrs. Pratt.”

The puzzled look on Elvin's face cleared, then a sly smile spread. “Why do you not just admit it?”

“Admit what?” Melvin asked.

“That you want Mrs. Bexley for yourself.”

Melvin gave a hardy harrumph. “That’s nonsense.”

“It is not. I am equally as certain of one other thing.”

Melvin glared at his twin. “What are you so almighty certain of?”

“You have fallen in love with Catherine Bexley.”

Chapter 22

Melvin thought that was the most idiotic thing his brother had ever said. "Nurse must have dropped you on the head when you were a babe."

"You, my dear brother, may surpass me in mathematics and other scholarly pursuits, but I am the scholar when it comes to women."

"I never claimed expertise in that direction."

"I'll say! You don't even know when you've fallen in love."

"That's because I have
not
fallen in love. I think I should know it if I had."

Elvin's step slowed. "Allow me to inquire. . .  have you ever kissed Mrs. Bexley?"

At the memory of that remarkable experience, Melvin's pulse stampeded, and his breath became labored. How dare his brother ask him something so personal! "I don't have to answer that."

Elvin began to laugh.

"What is so bloody amusing?"

"You, my dear brother. It's taken you seven and twenty years, but you've finally succumbed to the feminine charms." He held up both hands, palms facing his brother. "I give you my word, now that I know how you feel about the widow, I shall no longer pursue the delectable creature."

Melvin whirled at his twin, glaring. "I don't like you referring to her as if she's something edible."

"Forgive me." He started chuckling again, shaking his head as if in dismay.

They silently continued in the direction of Longford's house.

Melvin kept thinking of his brother's claims. Of course he wasn't in love with Mrs. Bexley. But why in the blazes could he not rid his mind of her kisses? Why did he keep thinking of how much he'd like to kiss her again, keep remembering the pleasure of kissing her? Why did he long to return to those comforting days when he and she shared her library? Why in the blazes would he rather be with her than with anyone else?

Even if it were possible for him to be in love with Mrs. Bexley—which he couldn't be—he was in no position to act upon it. He had nothing to offer a wife.

He'd best direct his thought elsewhere.

"I say, Mel, should we not be armed when we go to confront Long
mouth
?"

"That runt?"

Elvin shrugged. "I suppose you're right. We could almost squash him with our boots."

"He deserves far worse."

"You're sure you saw his killer driving away?"

"The man may not actually be a killer."

"He might have killed you! Head injuries should never be taken lightly. And don't forget, he did threaten your life. I say the man's a killer."

Melvin may as well humor his twin. "So we'll refer to him as a killer."

"What if he shows up? What if he's armed?"

It then occurred to Melvin that Elvin was sounding more like him than he did. Melvin was the one who never did anything, never went anywhere without a plan. Until today. He was in such a rage of hatred toward Longford he wasn't thinking with his usual clarity. Melvin's pragmatism had vanished along with his self control. He still felt bloody remorseful for slamming his fist into Elvin's face.

For likely the first time in his life, Melvin had no plan. He had not considered that the "killer" could show up during the confrontation—possibly with murderous intent.  He had not thought of arming himself. He hadn't even planned what he would say to Longford. Melvin gave his brother a puzzled look. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I hadn't thought of anything except landing a facer on that swine."

Elvin nodded. "Women can do that to you. They can shake the contents of your brain like a game of pick-up-sticks."

Melvin couldn't understand why his brother persisted in accusing him of being in love with Mrs. Bexley. "I wish you'd stop saying that! I am not in love with Mrs. Bexley."

"Keep telling yourself that, old boy."

Melvin supposed that because he enjoyed Mrs. Bexley's companionship it might appear that he had a romantic interest in her.

He would leave the romantic bits to Elvin—as long as he didn't pursue Mrs. Bexley. Melvin could not deny that he was inordinately relieved to learn his twin would no longer try to court Mrs. Bexley.

Just past the next block they would come to Longford's. While Melvin was not remotely frightened of the vile toad, his pulse unaccountably quickened. He had always hated confrontation. Even with Elvin. Arguments upset him.

Part of him, though, rejoiced at the prospect of flattening Longford's face and recovering the Chaucer. "Surely you don't think we need to arm ourselves?"

Elvin shrugged. "Not unless he sics the killer on us."

Melvin stopped and peered at his twin. "I shouldn't like to jeopardize you. Perhaps we ought to go back to Green Park Road and procure some kind of weapon."

"I'll take my chances with the runt. The sooner we confront him, the more likely we'll finish before the killer returns."

They rounded the corner, and Longford's fine neoclassical house came into view. It was the largest house on the street, covering half the block. All three stories featured identical Palladian windows—ten across for a total of thirty sparkling windows. Melvin took a deep breath and hurried up the steps to knock upon Longford's front door.

* * *

Walking toward Green Park Road
from
the Royal Crescent was a great deal easier than walking uphill
toward
the Royal Crescent. It bothered Catherine that she practically had to bypass Mr. Longford's house, which lay between hers and Green Park Road. She hated to think that Airy could be there—and possibly be in danger—and she wasn't in a position yet to be of service to him.

Thankfully, the uncommonly brisk walk was almost all downhill, and she arrived at the Steffington home in just ten minutes.

When she reached their door, she rapped with extreme impatience.

The stiff butler opened it and gave her an innocuous look.

"Pray, I must see the Steffington sisters at once."

He lazily perused her. "And you are?"

"Mrs. Bexley."

Catherine heard a clopping upon the stairs behind him. Just beyond the butler's shoulder, she could see Lizzy racing down the staircase. "Oh, Mrs. Bexley! I thought that was you. Do come in."

The elder Miss Steffington was well behind Lizzy, moving with far more grace.

Catherine stepped into the foyer, her gaze shifting from Lizzy to the butler, then back to Lizzy. "Pray, Miss Steffington, I've come on a matter of some urgency and beg a private word."

Annie spoke up. "Show her into the morning room, Lizzy."

A moment later the three of them stood in an intimate circle just inside the closed door of the morning room. "Pray, Mrs. Bexley," Annie said, her brows lowered, "What is this grave matter which brings you here today?"

"First, do you know if . . . Mr. Steffington was able to collect Sir Elvin in the past half hour?"

The sisters exchanged wide-eyed stares, then Annie cleared her throat. "I can tell you with certainty that Melvin came here looking for Elvin, and we directed him to where we had reason to believe our other brother was."

"I do hope he found Sir Elvin."

"Why are you so frantic?" Annie asked.

So much for Catherine's ability to conceal her emotions. "It's a long, muddled story, but I fear one or both of your brothers may be in danger, and it's all my fault."

Lizzy cried out. "Does this have something to do with Melvin's beating the other day?"

Catherine nodded.

"See, Annie, I told you it was
not
an unpremeditated act of violence!"

"Perhaps you'd better explain," Annie said to Catherine.

Catherine quickly sketched the details of the stolen Chaucer, the threat against Melvin, and credited Melvin with solving the crime. "Now," she concluded, "he's gone to confront Mr. Longford. I'm ever so worried about him. He gave me his word he wouldn't go without Sir Elvin."

Annie nodded. "Thank goodness! Two are much stronger—and safer—than one."

Lizzy's brows elevated. "What if that odious attacker shows up? Why, he could kill both our brothers!"

Catherine was powerless to stop her voice from cracking. "I should die if anything happened to him. He's more precious than a hundred Chaucers."

Both sisters eyed her sympathetically. "You refer to Melvin?" Annie inquired.

Catherine, her eyes moist, met Annie's gaze and gave a somber nod.

"Well," Lizzy said, "they won't dare harm our brothers whilst we're there."

"She's right. No one would dare harm three innocent females." Annie began to stride for the door.

"I agree, but before we leave, I must send a message." Catherine eyed the little French desk. "May I?"

"Of course," both sisters said at once.

Catherine scratched out a note. "Pray, have you a servant who can deliver this to Winston Hall?"

A smile lifted Annie's face. "Yes, of course."

* * *

Longford looked from one twin to the other, a puzzled look on his face. "How nice of you gentlemen to pay me a call. Forgive me for not recognizing which of you is Sir Elvin."

Glaring, Elvin moved toward the desk Longford stood behind. "I'm Sir Elvin."

Apparently alarmed by Elvin's stiff demeanor, Longford asked, "Is something the matter?"

Now Melvin  rounded the desk and rammed himself into the thief. The top of Longford's head did not reach Melvin's shoulder. "I've come to collect Mrs. Bexley's Chaucer."

The half smile disappeared from Longford's face. His eyes widened with something akin to fright. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Elvin directed an icy stare at Longford and spoke dryly. "My brother s not stupid."

Longford's nervous gaze flicked to Melvin. His face had gone white, and a vein throbbed at his temple. "Your intelligence is well known." The shakiness in his voice betrayed his guilt.

"Then don't expect me to believe you innocent. We can report you to the magistrate and have you arrested, but we only want the Chaucer." Melvin gripped the top of Longford's arms and easily lifted the man until their eyes were level with each other. "What you did to Mrs. Bexley is unpardonable." Melvin's guttural voice was thick with malice.

Then for the second time in the same day, something within Melvin snapped, and he hurled Longford with all his might. The man's body struck against the desk, and he cried out. Slowly, and not without wincing in pain, he turned toward Melvin, his eyes narrowed to slits, his sputtering voice weighed down with hatred. "I should have had Stockton kill you!"

That comment enraged Elvin, who whipped around the opposite side of the desk from where his twin stood. Now the sniveling Longford was wedged between the two angry twins. "How dare you threaten my brother!"

Melvin forced himself to count slowly to ten to keep the rage from obliterating his words. "You have as good as confessed to the theft by acknowledging your association with the loathsome Stockton."

Now color rose like flames in Longford's face, and his voice trembled with only barely controlled fury.  "What makes you think I could possibly have stolen the manuscript?"

Melvin's eyes glittered. "How did you know it was a manuscript? All Chaucers in the world are printed—save two manuscripts. I'd say your choice of words gives away your culpability."

"Why would I stoop to common theft? I am wealthy enough to purchase anything my heart desires."

Melvin lunged toward Longford and sneered. "You cannot purchase Mrs. Bexley." Saying that made him feel as if he were the  lady's champion. He'd feel even better if he could crash a fist into the bounder's face, but he was trying to act civilized.

Longford's eyes rounded.

"You meant to force her into marrying you by rendering her penniless," Melvin continued. Just thinking of the motivation behind Longford's theft enraged Melvin.

Longford cackled. "That's preposterous."

Melvin's gaze swung to Elvin. "Why don't you run along now and fetch the magistrate? I'm sure Mrs. Bexley will be happy to also give a statement about the theft."

"Wait!"  Longford pleaded.

Both Steffington twins eyed him.

Footsteps shuffled beyond the closed door of Longford's library, then the door banged open. The unshaven, unkempt man standing there looked even more menacing today than he had the day he'd attacked Melvin in that alley.