Sin With a Scoundrel: The Husband Hunters Club (25 page)

Chapter 35

L
ady Carol hadn’t taken to her bed, as Tina had feared. In fact she was quite chirpy since the highway robbery; it seemed to have put things into perspective for her in a way nothing else had. And Sir Thomas had a look in his eyes when he smiled at her that made her heart beat just a little bit faster, as it used to when they were young.

Silly really, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to help the way she felt. It was as if they had fallen in love all over again.

“My dear, my dear!”

Her husband’s voice brought her from her reverie, and Lady Carol hurried from her parlor and into the study. She could run quite fast now there was barely any furniture to impede her journey, for although they were still in their home in Mallory Street, the house itself was almost empty.

Sir Thomas was standing at his desk, the day’s post before him. There were several discarded bills, but that was commonplace nowadays. It was the open parcel that caught Lady Carol’s eye, and the gleaming booty within its nest of brown paper wrapping.

“Is that . . . ?”

She came closer, hands clasped, and peered down at her necklace of pearls within the packaging.

“Your pearls, my dear. And my old fob watch, too. Who on earth sent them back to us?”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “The highwayman? But no, he was a repulsive fellow! Those horrid eyes. Such a pale blue color. Like ice. I don’t believe he would do anything so charitable.”

Charles, hearing the commotion, had also arrived in the study, and now he expressed his wonder at the arrival of the parcel. But he’d overheard his mother’s final remarks, and something about them struck a chord in his memory.

“Mama, you haven’t mentioned that fellow’s eyes before.”

“I try not to think about him, Charles,” she retorted.

“Yes, but, Mama I think . . . that is, he sounds very like . . . oh dash it, perhaps I’m making a mountain out of a badger hill.”

“Mole hill, my boy,” Sir Thomas corrected him fondly. “Just tell us what you’re thinking, and we will tell you whether it is important.”

Relieved, Charles proceeded to remind them about Tina’s meeting with the thief in the library at Arlington Hall and what he had since heard of the man’s description.

“Sir Henry spoke to me about it when I went to talk to him about Horace.”

“Poor Horace”—Lady Carol sighed—“but he will go associating with undesirables. Perhaps he has learned his lesson now.”

“Lord Montague is doing his best to free him, but Sir Henry seems to have more power than the prime minister,” Charles grumbled.

“Yes, yes, but what is it about this highwayman that reminded you of Tina’s man?” Sir Thomas interrupted. “Do stick to the point, Charles.”

“His eyes!” Charles burst out. “She said he had cold pale blue eyes. A killer’s eyes.”

Lady Carol shuddered violently, and Sir Thomas had to take her into his arms to comfort her. Charles looked on dubiously.

“I think we should tell Sir Henry,” he said, when he thought his elderly parents had indulged themselves enough in this hugging nonsense. “And that the pearls and fob watch have been returned. It is very odd, and he’ll want to know. It’s the sort of thing that might happen if the thief was sorry and wanted to make amends.”

“That creature who robbed us wouldn’t want to make amends,” Lady Carol said.

“No, but his master might. And from what Sir Henry said there is a chap in charge of Branson and this thief, someone they call the Captain.”

Sir Thomas nodded. “Very well, Charles, tell Sir Henry if you think it will help to catch this Captain and clear Horace’s name.”

“And bring Tina home!” his wife wailed. “I want my little girl here, safe, with me.”

“Sir Henry says—” began Charles, only to stop as his parents turned to glare at him. “As you please,” he muttered, and retreated from the room. Sir Henry would be very interested in what he had to say, and with luck he might visit Horace at the same time.

Sir Henry
was
interested, and afterward, with Sir Henry’s permission, Charles did manage to get in to see his friend.

Poor Horace was being kept prisoner at a house not far from Whitehall, and although it was a nice house and certainly not a prison cell, he was still being prevented from leaving.

“It is John Little,” he said as soon as Charles explained about the highwayman.

“But the eyes—”

“No, you fool, not the highwayman. The fellow in charge. I’ve told them, but they won’t listen. I remember seeing him at that inn on the way to Kent. I was going to see that pretty ladybird I was fond of at the time. Her husband was out of the country, and it was the only chance we had. And now the doxy refuses to admit I was with her!”

Horace pulled at his hair in such a way Charles feared he might make himself bald.

“Now, now,” he soothed, “you know we’re all on your side, old chap. Just stay calm, and we’ll get you out of here.”

Horace’s face darkened. “It’s that swine Eversham. He wants Tina, and he thinks with me locked up his way is clear.”

Charles frowned. “Steady on, Horace. Eversham seemed genuinely concerned about Tina, and even Sir Henry believes she is in real danger.”

Horace muttered something his friend chose not to hear. For a time they sat in silence while a clock ticked on the mantel.

“I’ve asked Anne to marry me,” he said at last, a little shyly. “Haven’t told anyone else yet. I’m going to see her father when this business is all over, and I hope he’ll give me his permission.”

Horace eyed him sourly. “Well good luck with that. Maybe I’ll be out of this gaol by the time you have your fortieth wedding anniversary.”

Horace wasn’t himself these days, Charles decided, but he wouldn’t hold it against him. Besides, Charles was far too happy at the moment to spend any time being miserable. He was in love, and if luck was on his side, then soon he would be married to the most beautiful woman in the world.

S
ir Henry was mulling over the information Charles Smythe had brought to him. It sounded very strange, and yet his instincts told him there was a connection. Sutton the highwayman had been hanging about the Hall for a reason, and that could well be a meeting with the Captain. Branson had admitted as much although he still insisted the Captain was Lord Horace Gilfoyle. Lord Montague—suddenly Lord Horace’s best friend—was furious and threatening all sorts of action, but so far Sir Henry had managed to keep the reins in his own hands.

Not for long, though. Lord Horace knew some powerful people, and they were all lobbying on his behalf.

He sat down and picked up a pen, dipping it into a pot of ink. He would write at once to Richard in Kent, warning him of the latest developments. Sir Henry just hoped everything down there was going to plan. And from now on, he was going to keep a very close eye on John Little.

Chapter 36

E
velyn Eversham popped her head into Tina’s room after knocking and being asked to enter. “I hope everything is all right, Miss Smythe?”

“Yes, thank you. I am very tired so I will retire now.”

Maria was turning back the covers on the bed, and Tina longed to climb in and close her eyes. Her head was aching, and she wanted nothing more than to forget all her troubles in deep and untroubled sleep.

“You may borrow my personal maid, if you have need of her,” Evelyn went on.

Tina glanced at Maria, aware of her maid’s stiffened back and stony silence. “Thank you, Mrs. Eversham, but Maria has been my maid for many years now.”

“Oh.” Evelyn’s gaze lingered on Tina, as if judging her and finding her wanting. “Well, if you change your mind, my maid always relishes a challenge.”

“Thank you.” Tina didn’t even have the energy to be insulted.

“I will see you in the morning then, Miss Smythe. Oh, by the way, you were asking about Anthony, my husband . . . I should have mentioned that before I married Anthony, I was engaged to Richard, in case he forgets to do so. He has always loved me, but, of course, when Anthony and I were together, there was no question of Richard’s interfering. It is only now that Anthony is dead that Richard has felt able to declare his love for me once more.”

And she was gone, the door closing gently behind her.

“She’s utterly poisonous,” Maria muttered.

Tina was still too stunned to say anything. A bubble of laughter welled up in her throat, but when it came out it was actually a sob. She covered her mouth to stop it, swallowing hard.

“Miss Tina, please don’t listen to her. Archie says she is a terrible woman, and Mr. Eversham is always having trouble with her. He does not love her. It is quite clear to anyone with eyes that he loves you!”

“Maria, I really don’t care. Mr. Eversham and I are nothing to each other. Now I am going to bed.”

And she climbed between the covers and shut her eyes.

She could hear Maria hovering, but eventually her maid drifted off, folding clothing and putting it away, turning down the lamp, and setting the fire screen about the fireplace. Tina was beginning to float into her longed-for sleep when she heard the faint click of the door closing as Maria left the room.

Tina sighed. At last she was alone. Now she could cry all she wanted to. But strangely enough she no longer wanted to. She was sick and tired of the Evershams, and she had more pride than to allow them to make her cry. From now on, she would maintain a dignified disinterest.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed into the soft mattress, and in another moment she was asleep.

S
utton stood a moment, listening to the world around him, but there was nothing that shouldn’t be there. He’d seen the outriders leaving earlier but didn’t find anything suspicious in it. Doubtless Eversham believed himself safe here and was not expecting Sutton to have followed him from Arlington Hall. There were servants watching the entrances to the house, but they were easy meat to a man like him.

With a cruel twist of his lips, Sutton approached Eversham Manor.

T
ina woke in an instant. There was no confusion, no in-between moment when she imagined she was dreaming. She was awake, lying frozen in her bed, a hand hard across her mouth.

She screamed, except she barely made a sound, and then she flung herself about, arms trying to strike out, legs kicking.

He lay on top of her, his heavy weight bearing her down into the soft mattress until it seemed to be swallowing her up like quicksand.

“Tina, in God’s name . . . it’s me . . . it’s
Richard
 . . .”

She stopped, uncertain, peering at him through the gloom.

“Sshh, don’t wake Evelyn, please. She’s still up, creeping around, watching us. That’s why I had to wait so long to come to you. Tina? Can I remove my hand? Will you be quiet now?”

She waited until he took his hand away, and then she wriggled out from under him, as far as possible to the side of the mattress. She was breathing quickly, and her heart was thudding heavily, but that was anger rather than fear.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered furiously. “I thought it was
him.
Sutton.”

“I’m sorry,” he said regretfully. “I just need to talk to you, Tina, and Evelyn hasn’t left us alone together for a moment since we arrived.”

She was tempted, very tempted, to order him from the room. How dare he frighten her like this? But common sense prevailed. She knew they needed to talk, that he probably had official things to say to her, and Evelyn had been very evident.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she said at last, with a trace of huffiness, to let him know she still wasn’t completely appeased.

Richard turned onto his side, facing her, and she found herself doing the same, although there was still a safe distance between them. Just as well, because Tina had no intention of doing anything other than talk.

“I don’t know what Evelyn’s told you—”

“Your sister-in-law and I have no secrets,” she assured him.

Richard gave a groan. “I was afraid of that.”

She watched him, trying to read his expression in the darkness, preparing herself for more lies. She wouldn’t believe him this time, no matter how plausible he was, she’d not be hurt by him again. And yet, as he began to speak, Tina found herself listening despite herself, caught up in his spell.

“I grew up here at Eversham Manor. My brother, Anthony, was three years older than I, and we were the best of friends. We didn’t realize at the time of course, but our life was idyllic until our mother died. She was a great believer in freedom; we played outside—had no lessons until I was six—no formal lessons. In fact our mother was teaching us constantly—we went for long walks on the weald, and she taught us the names of the plants and birds—she was the daughter of a bishop and a very well educated woman. She would read to us every night.”

“Your life
does
sound idyllic,” Tina said, and found herself smiling before she remembered they were no longer friends and stopped.

“Father would join in at times, but even then he was a rather distant figure. We didn’t realize that it was our mother who made us a family until she died. It was sudden, she didn’t suffer, a failure of her heart the doctor thought. We missed her terribly, but it was worse than that. With her gone everything changed.”

Despite herself Tina found her heart aching for the little boy he’d been then.

“We needed our father, but he just became more distant. Mother was the most important person in our lives, but to him she was his whole life. As time went on and the grief lifted, Anthony and I learned to look to the servants and each other for comfort. We became closer than ever and, being the elder, he took it upon himself to look after me.

“It was the same at school. He protected me from the bullies, made sure I wasn’t too homesick. I relied on him . . . too much. When we came home again, nothing had changed, our father was probably more distant than ever, and spent most of his time reading in his study or walking the countryside. He didn’t need us, barely acknowledged us.

“Anthony stayed down here, running the estate, quite happy with country life. When our father died, I was off in London, enjoying myself. I had a substantial allowance and saw no need to spend it wisely, and I found plenty of people who were only too willing to help me spend it. I was a fool, but I was a happy fool, or so I thought.

“Then I met Evelyn.”

Tina waited while he sought a starting point to the next part of his story. She was not surprised to hear about his wild years—it was part of his current reputation as a rake, and the reason he was an expert on what women wanted from their men.
Not an expert on me, though.

“Evelyn was an actress. Not a famous one but she had a number of parts in famous plays and musicals. The gentlemen flocked to see her, as you can imagine. She was just as beautiful then as she is now, and hard not to notice. I set her up in her own little house, paid her bills, bought her clothing and jewelry. She seemed content with the arrangement—I think she’d done the same before with several other men.

“She just happened to be in my rooms one day when Anthony turned up, and he was smitten. She gave the impression that she was, too.”

“That must have hurt you.”

Richard gave a humorless laugh. “I was jealous and hurt. My own brother—the brother I looked on more as a father—had taken the woman I believed myself in love with. I see now that it wasn’t as simple as that. Evelyn later admitted that she’d been interested in Anthony all along, he was the heir and had more to offer her than I, and when she had the chance she made her move.”

“She still believes you are her property, you do know that?” Tina said dryly. “She warned me off. Do you have an understanding with her?”

Tina didn’t know what she expected him to say but she squeezed her hands into fists as she waited.

“Tina”—and his voice sounded weary—“Evelyn is the most entirely self-centered person I have ever had the misfortune to encounter, and I will celebrate the day I finally get her out of my life.”

Her tension eased, and she found herself tucking a hand under her cheek, moving a little closer to where Richard was lying.

“But I have an obligation,” he went on, choosing his words carefully. “If not to Evelyn, then to my brother. He loved her, poor fool, and he would want me to look after her.”

Richard was an honorable man, Tina already knew that, but it was a shame he couldn’t be a little
less
honorable where Evelyn was concerned. Although if he had been, Tina admitted to herself, she wouldn’t love him.

She sighed. Yes, difficult as it was to acknowledge, she
did
love him. Did that make her a fool, too, like Anthony?

“When he confessed to me that he and Evelyn were going to be married, Anthony tried to make it up to me. He knew how betrayed I felt—I was a selfish creature, I admit it, but I suppose I’d only ever had my brother to look up to and to care for me. To have him suddenly betray me, as I saw it, was desperately painful. He apologized over and over again and said he would do anything to make up for his action. But he was unable to give me the one thing I really wanted. So I turned my back on him and refused to see him.

“I didn’t know it then, but Anthony had been recruited by a group called the Guardians; they work for the government in matters that require secrecy.”

“You mean spies?” she said ironically. “I think I gathered that.”

“Anthony had a mission to find a man known only as the Captain. I think he did find him and was following him, but the Captain found out and, his identity under threat, struck out and killed Anthony. He was found here, not far from the house. They brought him home, and incredibly he was still alive. His wife didn’t send word to me, so I never knew. He lived for three days and never regained consciousness. He died here without my being able to tell him how much he meant to me and how sorry I was. I know he was unconscious but . . . it would have meant a great deal to me to see him once more.”

Tina was shocked. It was obvious Evelyn wasn’t a nice person but to do such a thing was cruel. She felt angry tears stinging her eyes and wiped them away with her sleeve.

“The servants were here, too, and were like family to him, after our mother died. You mustn’t think he was alone with no one but Evelyn. They made his last days as comfortable and bearable as possible. I know, because they told me.”

“What happened next?” Tina demanded huskily.

“When Anthony died, I was recruited by Sir Henry into the Guardians, and I learned that his death was probably due to the Captain. I vowed then that I would not claim any part of his legacy—the house, the rights as heir—and I would not make a happy life for myself by marrying—I knew I didn’t deserve to be happy—until I found the man who had killed my brother and brought him to justice.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “The promise. Now I understand.”

She was ashamed to think how she’d disregarded his promise, thought it nothing important, and persuaded him to break his vow for her own pleasure. He hadn’t been lying to her, not then at least. He’d been frank and honest. If anyone should feel mortified, then it was Tina.

“I couldn’t tell you everything. I’ve never spoken of my work outside the Guardians. Can you forgive me, Tina? I know I’m asking a great deal, I know I’ve hurt you and made you distrust me, but I want us to be friends again, at least.”

If she were Evelyn, no doubt she would use this moment to her full advantage, extracting all sorts of promises from him, making him beg and grovel, but Tina wasn’t Evelyn. And she didn’t want revenge. She just wanted him.

With a soft cry, Tina threw herself into his arms.