Stroke of Midnight (17 page)

How Laura wished that she dared to walk up the three granite steps to the portico and knock on the brass-trimmed door. She could only imagine his lordship’s reaction at recognizing the daughter of his nemesis standing in his entrance hall. Would he turn pale with shock?

Would he wonder if she’d guessed that he’d arranged for Papa’s murder?

Tugging lightly on the leash, she slowed Charlie’s pace to match her own. She pretended to be admiring the frontage but could see no sign of life inside the forbidding stone residence. Unfortunately, it was too soon to let Lord Haversham learn of her presence in London. First, certain facts must be ascertained.

Her hope had been to catch a maidservant polishing the brass or a footman collecting the post from the box. Then Laura would have reached into her pocket for the sketch she’d drawn of Papa’s face. She could have asked if by chance he had visited here some six weeks ago.

Disappointment filled her as she strolled past the entrance and headed for the corner. Perhaps if she returned early in the morning, she might meet with more success. Most servants did their cleaning before the family was awake. If she walked Charlie past here twice a day at varying times, eventually someone would be outside …

From behind her came the click of a door opening and the sound of voices, then the trill of ladylike laughter. Laura glanced over her shoulder and spied a liveried footman holding open the front door as a woman emerged from the house. Lady Evelyn!

Or rather, Her Grace, the Duchess of Cliffington. Violet had said that Evelyn was now a rich widow.

Laura quickly veered course to an iron bench by the street and sat down. Charlie cocked his head at her in a puzzled glance. She bent down to scratch his floppy ears. “We’re only stopping to rest for a moment, darling. We’ll be on our way again soon.”

Pretending to be absorbed in petting the dog, Laura watched the porch from beneath the rim of her bonnet. Evelyn wore an exquisite emerald-green gown with a daffodil sash that nipped her slender waist. A straw bonnet sat cunningly atop her stylish auburn hair and framed her delicate features. With her milky pale skin and fine figure, she looked more like a debutante than a widow of eight-and-twenty.

A gentleman appeared directly behind her in the doorway. He stepped into the sunshine and clapped a tall black hat onto his flaxen hair. In his silver-gray pin-striped coat, burgundy waistcoat, and starched white cravat, he had a dapper air that struck a chord of recognition in Laura.

Mr. Rupert Stanhope-Jones. She remembered seeing him in the crowd at Lord Scarborough’s ball. Long ago, he had been among Laura’s circle of admirers. In fact, he’d been one of several ardent gentlemen who had proposed marriage to her. But now it appeared he had transferred his affections to the merry widow.

How interesting, for Evelyn had been playing up to Alex, too. Was she merely a flirt, as she’d once been, or did she now take lovers to her bed?

Laura clenched her teeth. She didn’t care what Evelyn did—even with Alex. All that mattered was proving Evelyn had aided Lord Haversham by planting the stolen earrings in Papa’s desk.

Carrying a decorative gold-topped cane, Mr. Stanhope-Jones offered his arm to Evelyn and escorted her down the steps toward the waiting phaeton. Laura didn’t want to be caught staring, so she took Charlie up into her lap and cuddled him while she strained to eavesdrop. Much to her frustration, however, a carriage rattled down the street and she caught only snatches of their conversation.

“… the perfect day for a drive in the park,” Evelyn said. “I wonder if…”

“… your beauty will outshine them all…”

A warble of laughter drifted on the breeze. “… such a flirt, Rupert … I daresay … why, look! Have you ever seen such a sweet little darling?”

Laura continued to fuss over the spaniel ensconced in her lap. Delighted with the attention, the pup licked her chin while wagging its tail.

All of a sudden she noticed the tap of approaching footsteps. From the corner of her eye, she spied an emerald-green skirt sweeping toward her across the paving stones. Evelyn.

A horrifying realization struck Laura too late. The
sweet little darling
Evelyn had referenced was none other than Charlie.

*   *   *

A white-wigged footman led the way through the arched doorway, announced the arrival of the Earl of Copley, and then departed on silent feet. Alex stepped into an airy morning room bedecked in subtle shades of rose and yellow. The decor was as elegant and feminine as the woman seated in a gilt chair by the window. Seeing him, she closed her book and placed it on a nearby table.

He went straight to her and bowed over her slim, outstretched hand. “Lady Milford. It’s good of you to receive me on such short notice.”

“Short notice? Why, shame on you for giving me no notice at all. You may count yourself lucky to find me at home on such a fine afternoon.” The scolding was a tease, for her smile warmly welcomed him. “I regret to say, I am engaged in half an hour for a carriage ride in the park with Lord Melbourne.”

That she was a confidante of the prime minister spoke well of her sense of discretion. “I shan’t keep you long. I merely need a second opinion on a private matter.”

“How intriguing. Do pour yourself a brandy and sit down.”

He went to the set of crystal decanters on a side table, the contents glowing golden-brown in the sunlight. “I should rather call it more mystifying than intriguing,” he said, removing the stopper and pouring a neat measure into a glass. “You’re the only person in whom I dare confide.”

A vision in lavender silk, she eyed him closely as he seated himself in a nearby chair. “Ah. I would surmise, then, that this visit has to do with Lady Josephine’s new companion?”

“Quite. We are the only two in London who know Miss Falkner’s true identity.”

Alex took a swallow, though with his wits in such a flux, the superlative quality of the liquor was wasted on him. He had lain awake late into the night, staring into the darkness and trying to deduce the workings of Laura’s mind. At one time he had known her every thought. She’d worn her emotions on her sleeve for all the world to see.

But Laura no longer regarded him with starry-eyed adoration. She kept him at arm’s length—except when it suited her. She had invited his kiss the previous evening, only to end their embrace far too precipitously. More than anything, her poise irked him. She had been too much in control of herself—while he had been mad with passion. Now he resented being ordered to wait two days while she decided whether or not to accept his offer of help.

What the devil was there for her to ponder? She knew that he had the advantage of her in society. Whether she liked it or not, that was reality.

He realized that Lady Milford was politely waiting for him to continue. “I’m in something of a quandary,” he said. “Miss Falkner is adamant that her father did not steal the Blue Moon diamond. She believes that someone else in society framed him for the deed. And I fear the little fool is determined to apprehend the culprit herself.”

Lady Milford raised a dainty eyebrow. “Indeed? I wondered if she might have a hidden reason for wanting a position. Now, just to clarify, you aren’t simply speculating. Did she tell you this herself?”

“Yes. She admitted it to me yesterday evening—after she’d consumed several glasses of wine.” When that eyebrow arched higher and a shrewd light came into those violet eyes, he quickly clarified, “It was my aunt’s birthday.”

“I see. And did Miss Falkner reveal the name of the person she suspects?”

“No. That’s the devil of it. She refused to breathe a word.” Alex scowled at the liquid in the bottom of his glass before fixing his gaze on Lady Milford again. “I was hoping that with all your knowledge of society, you might help me determine the answer.”

A cool contemplation entered her exquisitely beautiful features. Her hair was rich and dark in the sunshine, and not for the first time he wondered just how old Lady Milford was. She had to be of his parents’ generation, and yet she seemed ageless.

“First I must ask you a question that has been troubling me,” she said. “Is there even the slightest chance that Miss Falkner may be correct about her father’s innocence?”

The question struck Alex like a deep blow. He had asked it of himself all those years past. And he had done everything in his power to ascertain the truth. “No,” he said curtly. “None whatsoever.”

Lady Milford gave a nod. “Well, then. Let me see. I scarcely knew Martin Falkner, though he seemed to be a gentleman of upright character. Like everyone else, I was shocked to learn of his thievery.” She paused. “Tell me, has Miss Falkner been making inquiries about anyone in particular?”

“Only my godmother … Good God, you don’t suppose she’s formed some wild notion that Her Grace planted the diamond earrings herself?” Alex paused, wondering if Lady Milford even knew that the Duchess of Knowles had a reason to want to ruin Martin Falkner. “Never mind, that’s absurd. There would be no purpose to it.”

“Unless Her Grace had noticed your interest in Miss Falkner and wanted to nip it in the bud before an engagement could be announced.”

Far from it. The duchess herself had dispatched him to court Laura as a means of secretly investigating her father. But no one knew that—least of all Laura.

Alex shook his head. “The duchess would have had to pretend the Blue Moon had been stolen. It would mean she could never wear it again—and merely to stop an engagement? My godmother is fond of me, but not to that degree!”

Lady Milford gave him an astute stare. “I am only trying to put myself in Miss Falkner’s frame of mind. To her, that may be a viable possibility. Do you know if the duchess ever expressed her disapproval of the match directly to Miss Falkner?”

“No. Laura—Miss Falkner—would have told me of it.” Anxious to leave the topic of his godmother, Alex said, “I’ve been pondering a more likely possibility. Martin Falkner had had an old quarrel with Haversham. Do you know the source of it?”

A pensive look came over her face. “There was a scandal some thirty years ago. They nearly came to blows over a woman, Miss Falkner’s mother, Aileen, if I remember correctly.” Glancing into the sunlit garden, Lady Milford tapped her chin. “She was a great beauty, connected to Irish nobility. When Mr. Falkner won her heart, Haversham shunned them both. Of course it was all for naught since Aileen died shortly after giving birth to Laura. Such a tragic tale.”

A long time ago, Alex recalled, Laura had spoken wistfully of the mother she had never known. “Martin Falkner must have told his daughter about the feud, perhaps many times while she was growing up. She would have acquired his dislike of Haversham.”

“And be quick to blame him for planting the earrings.” Lady Milford pursed her lips. “I certainly can see where the ancient feud might have led her astray. However…”

“Yes?”

“Miss Falkner might be more inclined to suspect Haversham’s daughter of planning the hoax. They were, after all, rivals for
your
affections.”

“Evelyn?” Alex gave a burst of sardonic laughter. “She can be a cunning creature, but I doubt she was
that
much in love with me to set up so elaborate a scheme.”

Lady Milford’s lips curved in a slight smile. “You underestimate your appeal to the ladies, Lord Copley.”

He shook his head in abject denial. “Laura is a sensible woman. She’s bound to see that Evelyn wouldn’t have had the opportunity to commit a jewel heist, even if she’d been so inclined. Was she to have crept into the duchess’s house in the dark of night like a footpad? How ridiculous!”

“Miss Falkner will surmise that Haversham helped his daughter. And Miss Falkner will be trying to determine if
he
had access to Her Grace’s bedchamber.”

Alex’s amusement vanished in a flash. “I hardly think—”

“I’m aware that very few know of Her Grace’s occasional affairs,” Lady Milford broke in. “She has been exceptionally discreet. That is why Miss Falkner will land herself in quite a lot of trouble if she pursues this course.”

Alex drained the last of his brandy. “Precisely,” he said grimly. “Yet short of dogging her every step, how am I to stop her?”

“You must find a way. Society will flay her alive if you fail.” Lady Milford gave him a keen look. “And you must ensure that Laura Falkner does not suffer any longer for the sins of her father.”

*   *   *

As Evelyn came closer, Laura froze with her hands around Charlie’s warm, furry form. Now what? She considered jumping up from the bench and making a mad dash down the street. But running away would only draw undue attention to herself. No servant would behave in so peculiar a fashion.

Better she should brazen it out. Play the timid, paid companion afraid to speak to her betters.

Evelyn stopped in front of her. “Do pardon me, miss,” she said in a haughty tone. “I couldn’t help noticing your spaniel. He’s quite the handsome fellow. How old is he?”

Laura kept her chin tilted down, whispering, “I-I don’t know, m’lady.”

“Speak up,” Evelyn commanded. “It is exceedingly annoying when servants mumble.”

Her gaze fixed on Charlie, Laura raised her voice ever so slightly. “I wasn’t told his age, m’lady.”

“Who is his owner, then? I should like to speak to your employer and find out if there’s another in the litter that I might acquire for myself.”

Laura sat mutely. Good heavens! She didn’t dare give out Lady Josephine’s name. The last thing she needed was for Evelyn to call at the house and catch a better look at Laura without the concealment of the wide-brimmed bonnet.

Mr. Stanhope-Jones took his place beside Evelyn. Laura could see the tips of his polished black shoes beneath the perfect crease of his trouser cuffs. His well-manicured fingers leaned on the gold-topped cane. “There, there, Duchess, don’t badger the poor girl. It’s clear she’s frightened to death to speak to someone of the Quality.”

“But I want a dog exactly like this one.” Evelyn bent down and stretched out a kid-gloved hand to Charlie. Her petulant tone switching to baby-talk, she murmured, “Ooh, look at the precious little puppy. Do you have a brother or sister who needs a mama?”