Margo Maguire (3 page)

She didn’t want to face it. “Lady Fairhaven, if your brother was not killed, what do you think happened to him?”

She gazed down at the letter as though she would find the answer there. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “With Lang, anything is possible.”

“Is he likely to have done something illegal?”

“Like what?”

“Murder, theft, smuggling, forgery. To name a few.”

She shook her head. “No. He’s not a criminal.”

“There could have been circumstances . . .”

“I don’t think he would kill anyone.” She folded the letter and put it on the desk. “But if he has done something scandalous, it might cause an end to Felton’s engagement.”

“Felton?”

“My eldest brother, our father’s heir. He is engaged to marry the daughter of the Marquess of Bedlington. The marquess’s family accompanied ours to Genoa.”

Gavin’s arm throbbed and when he glanced down, he noticed the bandage darkening with blood under his shirt. He pulled off the clean garment before it could be ruined, and tossed it over a nearby chair.

“Captain Briggs!” He’d shocked her aristocratic sensibilities, but that was little concern to him. The only thing that mattered was finding a way to get her to Windermere as soon as possible. He feared that if he could not convince her that her brother was dead, he would be trapped into assisting her.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no wish to bleed all over my only remaining intact shirt, Lady Fairhaven. Who was the last person to see your brother after he left
The Defender
?”

“Lieutenant James Norris. They were good friends.”

“And Norris agrees—your brother might not have been caught up in the explosion and fire that was supposed to have killed him?

She looked away. “No. Lieutenant Norris identified Lang’s body.”

C
hristina needed a moment to compose herself. She left Captain Briggs in the drawing room and returned to the pantry to retrieve his old shirt and another length of linen.

No, James Norris did not think Lang had survived. But several men had been killed in the accident. Christina had overheard the talk . . . it had been difficult to identify Lang. What if he’d already left the area when the explosion occurred? Maybe he didn’t even know he was thought to have died.

It was her only hope, and now that she had news to the contrary, she did not want to consider, much less speak of, the possibility that it was untrue. She was determined to find out the truth.

She took the shirt back to Captain Briggs, then reinforced the bandage around his arm. “Please wear the shirt until Alfred returns with the doctor.”

Thankfully, Briggs donned the garment, then looked down with irritation at the hole in the arm. Or more likely, irritation with her ultimatum.

“I promise to repair that for you . . . I-I mean to say I’ll have one of our maids . . .” She sounded like her pretentious old mother-in-law. “Oh hang,” she muttered. “It will be fixed for you. Just . . . Please, help me to deal with the blackmailer and find Lang. Then I will go with you to Windermere.”

He breathed a quiet curse, a couple of words she could barely hear.

It was then that Christina knew she had him.

She returned to her seat in Edward’s big leather chair and put her hands in her lap to wait.

“Let me see the letter again,” he said.

She handed it to him and he read. Whether it was to remind himself of its contents or to gain some time in which to think, she did not know. But when he finally looked up at her, she saw that he had made up his mind.

“Do you have the money? The two thousand pounds?”

She shrugged. “Not yet.”

“How do you propose to come up with that sum? It’s an insane fortune.”

“I know how much it is, Captain Briggs. All I need to do is take my jewels—”

“Your jewels?”

“My husband bequeathed me this house. I own it and all its contents.” It had probably been an oversight on Edward’s part, but Christina would not quibble with it. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing his mistress had received nothing more upon his death.

By all accounts, she’d caused it.

“Lord Fairhaven kept jewels here?”

“He obviously did not intend to die as he did, else he might have secreted them away somewhere else.”

Briggs quirked his brow. “You suppose he did not intend for you to have them?”

She shrugged. “Some he gave to me. Others . . .” She stiffened visibly and picked at a thumbnail. “Well, I’ve learned in recent months that he gave at least a few pieces to his mistress.”

Christina almost managed to disguise the catch in her voice. But not quite. She could not allow Edward’s unfaithfulness to bother her. After all, theirs had not been a love match. Her father had promoted the marriage because of its advantages—affection not being one of them. She knew he thought he’d done well by her. At least, until the scandal of Edward’s death became public.

“I’ll go with you to All Hallows Church,” Briggs said, “but you have to leave the pistol behind. We won’t need it. And when we’re done at the church, you’ll return to Windermere with me. Agreed?”

Chapter 3

G
avin could not believe she’d put his back to the wall so effectively.

Clearly, Christina Warner was a force to be reckoned with. She was not about to make a quick trip to Windermere for his benefit while there might be information to be had about her brother. It would be a wild-goose chase, but Gavin had no choice but to help her if he wanted his ten thousand pounds from Windermere.

“You realize things might be exactly as they seem,” he said, getting back at her just a little. He supposed he could throw her over his shoulder and tie her to his horse, just as he’d threatened, but Windermere was more than sixty miles away. He needed her cooperation.

She refused to yield. “Or the blackmailer might have some new information.”

“It’s hardly likely.”

She shuddered in her chair and then stood quickly, as though she wanted to step out of her own skin for a moment. Her ties were obviously much closer to her adoptive family than Gavin’s were to his own father and brother. “So you expect me to ignore the possibility that Lang is alive and . . . and could be in trouble? Or in need?”

“Why wouldn’t he have contacted someone in that case?”

“Because he’s Lang. He’s always been . . . unpredictable.”

Gavin believed she was being generous with her description, but gave her a short, resigned nod. “All right. I’ll go to All Hallows Church and see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” She appeared relieved that she did not have to consider any dire possibilities. At least, not at the moment.

“We ought to leave now,” Gavin said. If they went right away, they could make Windermere by tomorrow night. He only had to convince Lady Fairhaven that would be best.

“Not until the doctor has seen to your arm.”

“My arm is not an issue,” he said, approaching her. He looked dark and dangerous. “Pack what you need and . . . Do you have a carriage?”

“No, we came on horseback.” She gestured to the clothes she wore, and Gavin realized she was pointing out that it was a riding habit.

“Perfect. Much faster that way.”

“Captain Briggs, I—”

“I repeat.” He took her arm and turned her toward the front door. “If we start now, we can make forty miles before dark.”

He started moving her along, but she stopped dead in her tracks. “But Alfred—”

“Leave him a note.” He drew out a few coins and dropped them on the writing table. “This should cover his trouble and that of the doctor as well.”

“U
nhand me, Captain Briggs,” Christina said, breaking his grasp on her and turning to face him. “You realize it is entirely improper for me to travel alone with you? We must stop at Holywell House—”

“There is no time for that. Holywell House is completely out of the way.”

Not completely. It was only a slight deviation to the east. Fortunately, her mother-in-law had not been in residence when Christina had arrived the previous evening. She always felt like an undesirable child in Leticia’s presence. The older woman had not been pleased with Edward’s marriage, and Christina had come to realize Edward had married her only for political gain. He’d wanted her father’s favor. “It will not take long—”

“Aye. It will. We can ride to Windermere first and—”

“
Windermere!
” She narrowed her eyes. “We agreed there is no time for any such diversion.”

“Lady Fairhaven—”

“I will return to Windermere with you after.” She swallowed. This could be it. The rendezvous in the church could provide her with crucial information about Lang. She was not going to chance missing it, even to meet her sister. “I promised to go to Windermere with you after we deal with matters in London, and I stand by my word, Captain Briggs.”

She made an attempt to dismiss him from her mind, but found she could not. The thought of spending several days and nights with the man while they traveled together was all too intriguing to be strictly proper.

And altogether impossible. She sat down at the writing table and jotted a quick note to Alfred, then turned to speak to Captain Briggs. “I’m quite sorry, Captain, but we—” she said, but he’d already walked out of the house and was standing on the front drive. She rose from her chair and followed him outside, putting her note to Alfred on the top step, along with Captain Briggs’s coins.

He stood waiting impatiently, and Christina reminded herself that she was a viscountess, a woman of some authority and mistress of her own fate, even though she did not feel it.

She took a moment to put on her hat, then pulled on her riding gloves, and assumed the haughtiest attitude she could muster as she approached him, carrying her satchel full of Fairhaven jewelry. She had no doubt it would bring at least two thousand pounds. Some of the pieces were absolutely breathtaking.

But she didn’t want any of it. They were only reminders of the husband who had held such little respect for her.

Christina did not know what would happen in London, but she was absolutely certain she needed to have the two thousand ready . . . just in case. There were several reputable jewelers in town, any of whom would be pleased to buy her treasure. She was sure she could get a good price for each piece.

“Captain Briggs.”

He turned impatiently toward her.

“I am sure you are aware that I cannot travel with you alone, sir. As I attempted to tell you before, we must go to Holywell House and fetch my maid. And I’ll need my carriage, since I’ll have to bring luggage. And my footmen. For safety, of course.”

G
avin stood perfectly still as Lady Fairhaven walked past him down to the gravel drive. She moved with purpose, heading toward the stable a short distance from the house.

Short of tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her all the way to Windermere, he was not going to get her to Windermere in the next couple of days. He sighed, unable to keep from feeling more than slightly irritated by the turn of events.

And he’d thought it would be simple once he’d discovered who Windermere’s second granddaughter was.

He understood she had little enough reason to want to meet the grandfather who’d abandoned her. But Gavin had seen the spark of interest in her eyes at the mention of meeting her sister. He knew it was a large part of Lily’s reason for going to Windermere Park.

Gavin had to give it one more try, to see if he could entice her to Windermere rather than riding all the way to Holywell to collect her maid and her carriage.

He caught up to her. “Lily is your twin, you know. You’re identical in appearance, your voice, your mannerisms . . .”

It caught her off guard. Christina stood still as Gavin walked on, her hand pressed against the center of her chest. “Identical?”

He nodded. “Born the same day, only a few minutes apart. The sixth of April.” He’d found himself wishing he’d located Lily a few weeks earlier, before she’d arrived at Ashby Hall and met the earl she’d married. Lily was a modest, sweet-tempered young woman, raised in humble surroundings—quite unlike her sister, the very epitome of all that Gavin despised in the aristocracy. Perhaps if he’d met Lily before Lord Ashby . . .

He brought himself up short. It was water over the dam. He’d been summoned to Windermere by the dying duke merely to find the old man’s granddaughters and bring them back to Windermere Park. For that, the duke would pay him an exorbitant fee.

In retrospect, Gavin should have realized the duke’s heir, Baron Chetwood, would cause trouble. Gavin recalled a chance encounter with the baron and his wife before he set out in search of Lily and Christina.

The two of them had come like carrion birds to await the old duke’s death, but when it became obvious that Windermere was not quite ready to give up the ghost, Chetwood’s frustrations erupted. Gavin had come upon them in a small parlor at Windermere Park while they were in the midst of a serious argument.

Gavin happened into the room just as Lady Chetwood spat, “You wouldn’t dare!”

At that, Chetwood grabbed his wife’s arm. “Just watch me,” he growled, raising his fist. It seemed to Gavin the man was about to strike her, but stopped cold when he caught sight of Gavin, then spun away from his wife, his face red, his fury barely under control.

With considerable distress, Lady Chetwood had quit the room in haste, and Gavin followed suit. He had not realized at the time that Chetwood would become his problem. Though it had been clear the baron was capable of substantial violence, Gavin did not expect the man to go after Windermere’s granddaughters. He’d only subsequently learned that Chetwood was a prominent member of the depraved Hellfire Club.

One serious attempt had been made on Lily’s life, and Gavin made the logical assumption that Lord Chetwood had been responsible for it. He knew the baron was a greedy lout with extravagant tastes who had not taken well to sharing Windermere’s fortune.

In order to protect Christina, Lily’s husband, Lord Ashby, intended to visit Windermere and see that he changed the idiotic stipulation that required his granddaughters to come to him before they would be eligible to inherit. Ashby would convince the old duke that Chetwood ought not to inherit either Lily’s or Christina’s portions under any circumstances. That way, the baron would have no reason to do away with either of the two sisters.

“The ride to Holywell is an unnecessary delay, Lady Fairhaven,” he said, hoping to sway her. “You could make your sister’s acquaintance before we go to London . . .”

She raised her chin and continued her march toward the stable, her stride that of a self-assured viscountess. “There is no time.”

“We can make the time.”

“Now that I know I have a sister, Captain Briggs, I will meet her. But not until I deal with the situation at All Hallows Church. That must come first.”

“If we ride to Windermere, we can leave from there—”

“I will not travel without my maid.”

“Your entourage, you mean,” he muttered. He’d known any discussion would be futile, but he’d had to try it.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“Then let’s head to Holywell, by all means.” He could not keep the sarcasm from his voice.

G
avin had not spent much time in Britain during the past decade. Early in his career, he’d been recruited by Colonel Manningham to become a rifleman, and distinguished himself while an officer in the Ninety-fifth Rifle Regiment. Soon afterward, he’d been tapped by Lord Castlereagh to become a specialized agent of the crown—sometimes seeking information on enemy movements, other times eliminating threats with a well-placed bullet. This was what his father had wanted to know—details about activities Gavin intended never to share with anyone.

He’d been away when his younger sister’s pregnancy had become visible—and his father had tossed her out. Gavin had heard of Eleanor’s difficulties only when their cousin, Hettie Mills, had written him from London.

Eleanor had always been a quiet girl, far too meek for her own good. Their mother’s death had put Eleanor squarely at the mercy of their father and their taunting elder brother, Clifford. Neither was disposed to be kind to such a docile child as Eleanor, though Gavin had done what he could to protect her from their malice.

He regretted having been unaware of her predicament and unable to be there to protect her during her most serious time of need.

Fortunately, Hettie had opened her modest home to Eleanor before the child was born. But
un
fortunately, Cousin Hettie’s circumstances were nearly as dire as Eleanor’s. And now that her meager income was supporting Eleanor as well as her little daughter, life had become increasingly difficult. Gavin needed to intervene. He’d sent money, of course, but he was not a wealthy man.

Not yet. But once he collected his fee for finding the Windermere granddaughters, there was a manor house and small estate in Hampshire that he intended to purchase. It was a place where he could retire in peace, where Eleanor and her child could live in comfort and free from worry.

For years, he’d thought about finding a tidy little piece of land where he could make his home with Amelia Winter, but that was not to be. The woman he’d loved since his youth had wed another while he was away. Lady Amelia had become the wife of an earl whose status was far more favorable than that of a viscount’s younger son and former officer in His Majesty’s army.

Her jilting had stung badly. Amelia had known Gavin would never inherit anything of significance from his tightfisted father, but she’d promised him her heart anyway, insisting it did not matter. She’d written often to say she anxiously awaited his return from the continent. But everything had changed during the last year of the war. The letters had become less frequent, their tone more distant. Something had definitely been amiss.

Gavin knew it was pointless now to reflect upon Amelia’s perfidy. He supposed it was better this way, since she would eventually discover what his primary function had been while in Lord Castlereagh’s service.

And she would be appalled.

What gentlewoman would want a former assassin for a husband? Especially one with few prospects beyond his army pension?

Gavin’s assignment from Windermere had been an unexpected boon, one that would provide him with an income that was far more than he ever expected. He intended for Weybrook Manor in Hampshire to be a new beginning, not only for himself, but for his sister. She was unknown in Hampshire, so there was no reason that anyone would ask about her daughter’s legitimacy. Their neighbors need never know that little Rachel’s father had been killed while serving in France before he’d had the chance to marry her mother.

It was also an ideal place for Gavin to try to assuage his conscience and forget all that he’d been required to do during the past few years in Castlereagh’s service. Best yet was that Weybrook was far removed from Durham, so neither he nor his sister would be subject to the disdain of their arrogant father and brother.

Gavin considered his current mission and vowed it would be his last. He could not begrudge Lady Fairhaven wanting to know the truth about her brother, much as he wanted to. Because if Gavin had learned of Eleanor’s death, and then the possibility that she was alive, he would do all he could to pursue the matter. So he would help Christina determine what had happened to Lang, and then drag the woman back to Windermere by her hair—by those fascinating curls—if need be.