Stroke of Midnight (30 page)

“No, I only saw the sergeant in charge of the case. Pangborn is the officer who discovered your father lying in the alley? I read the report that he filed.”

Frustration daunted her. She had hoped for confirmation that the officer had
not
been outside Copley House, lounging against a lamppost. Although she’d decided it was a case of mistaken identity, a niggling worry lingered. Should she tell Alex? Or would he think her mad? He already believed her to be imagining guilt in Lord Haversham.

While she was still deciding, Alex went on, “There were no valuables in your father’s possession, not so much as tuppence. You won’t want to hear it, but that seems to confirm that he was robbed.”

“Or it was set up to
appear
as a robbery.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Alex glanced away before meeting her eyes again. “I’ll concede to the possibility.” He studied her a moment, then stepped closer to place his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Laura, if there is the slightest chance that you’re right and someone else
did
steal the diamond, I cannot allow you to endanger yourself with this foolhardy investigation. You’re not to question Haversham—or anyone else—unless I’m present.”

Laura pursed her lips. Was that why Alex had told the butler that she wasn’t to venture out alone? Because he was worried about her?

A part of her balked at agreeing to such a condition. Nevertheless, she felt encouraged by the thought that he finally believed her, if only conditionally. “Will
you
will make the same promise to
me
?” she asked.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Don’t be absurd. I’m far more capable of protecting myself.”

She didn’t want to admit the truth in that. He would only use it to mollycoddle her. “Well, it doesn’t matter for the moment, anyway. The marquess is out of town until the end of next week.”

“So I heard.”

Alex appeared preoccupied, and she suspected that he had stopped by Haversham House after her. What had Evelyn said to him? Had she attempted to make another play for his affections despite his marriage? Laura’s insides clenched. But she didn’t want to waste another thought on that malicious woman.

In an effort to recapture his attention, she slid her hands over the lapels of his coat. “Alex, you never did answer me. May we bring your aunt home with us for a time? Until another companion is hired?”

His gaze sharpened on her, and a faint smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. His voice falling perceptively lower, he said, “You’d be willing to spoil our honeymoon?”

Just like that, the air became charged with sensual awareness. His heart beat in heavy strokes against her palms. The scent of his masculine cologne stirred her, as did the heat radiated by his muscled body. Her gaze strayed to his mouth, and she remembered all the wickedly wonderful ways he had employed it the previous night.

Even if he never came to love her, she would gladly take the physical closeness that he offered. Raising herself on tiptoes, she murmured, “I do believe we could still find time for our own pleasures, don’t you?”

His hands moved down to grip her waist. He drew in a deep breath, his eyes dark and eloquent with desire. Bending his head, he took her lips in a kiss that was cut off too soon when the sound of ascending footsteps came from the stairs.

They broke apart just in time.

Mrs. Samson trudged into view. She stopped short on seeing them. Toting a pitcher of water, she curtsied while eyeing Alex carefully. “Pray pardon me. I came to check on the mistress.”

“It would behoove you to do so more often,” he said.

Her tall, spare form seemed to wither under his stern gaze. She clutched the blue china pitcher with whitened knuckles. “Yes, my lord. What happened was my fault. Mine entirely, and I … I only hope you will grant me the chance to redeem myself.”

In spite of their prior animosity, Laura took pity on the woman. The housekeeper had spent twenty-five years of her life under this roof. It would be difficult for her to find another position without a letter of reference.

Laura tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “I’m sure his lordship would agree that one infraction does not warrant your being discharged from service here.”

Alex cast Laura an enigmatic look. She feared he would challenge her statement, but he surprised her. “I’ll concede to my bride’s generosity,” he told the housekeeper. “Nevertheless, I want you to prepare an overnight case for my aunt.”

Mrs. Samson appeared torn between gratitude and a new concern that she wasn’t to be trusted to watch Lady Josephine. “But … where will the mistress be going?”

“To a place where she’ll be safe until another companion can be hired. She’ll stay at Copley House for a day or two.”

Chapter 25

Three days later, Lady Josephine had been settled back in her own house with a brisk, cheerful widow as her companion. Laura had interviewed countless applicants before finding one who satisfied her exacting standards. Mrs. Duncalf had an efficient manner and a warm disposition, which made her perfect for the post. She had immediately established a bond with her ladyship by cooing over Charlie.

When Laura said good-bye after tea, the two women were sitting together in Lady Josephine’s bedchamber, alternately trading stories of their youth and laughing at the spaniel’s attempts to retrieve a leather ball from beneath a footstool.

Only one moment of confusion ensued. As Laura rose to go, Lady Josephine clutched at her hand. “Oh, my dear, I must warn you. Don’t run away as Blanche did.”

Laura puzzled over the reference to Lady Josephine’s younger sister, Alex’s mother. “Run away?”

“She left without telling me or the earl,” the old woman said urgently. “You must never, ever do that or something dreadful will happen.”

The earl … did she mean Alex’s father? She must. At her birthday dinner, Lady Josephine had related the story of how the cruel man had lashed out in anger and broken the leg of Alex’s puppy. Had the old earl threatened Blanche? Had she fled because she feared for her life?

Laura burned to know more, but she didn’t want to air any family secrets in front of a stranger. Besides, it was Alex’s place to tell her about his parents. She mustn’t press Lady Josephine for details.

“I won’t run away,” Laura said, dropping a kiss on that plump, wrinkled cheek. “I promise I won’t. I’ll be back on the morrow to visit.”

Mrs. Duncalf sat watching with wise blue eyes, and she offered a distraction at once. “Look, my lady,” she said, pointing down. “Charlie isn’t having much luck jumping into your lap.”

They all laughed as the puppy made an attempt, then fell back in a heap on the carpet. Clucking sweet nothings, Mrs. Duncalf lifted the small dog and handed him to Lady Josephine, who happily cuddled him to the shelf of her bosom.

Laura took the opportunity to slip unnoticed out the door. She had left a set of detailed instructions on her ladyship’s daily routine. The garden gate had been secured with a padlock. A footman was stationed by the front door to prevent another absentminded foray by Lady Josephine into the neighborhood. Finally, Laura felt she could relax again. And in this respite while Lord Haversham was away, it was time to turn her attention to another matter.

Unraveling the mystery of her husband’s past.

*   *   *

That evening, she sat cross-legged in her large, rumpled bed with a drawing pad balanced on her knees. She wore Alex’s discarded dressing gown, the bronze cord tied loosely at her waist. Only minutes ago they had been wrapped in each other’s arms, awash in mindless pleasure, and the radiant aftereffects lent a fluid ease to the movements of her pencil over the paper.

She was sketching a subject dear to her heart.

A short distance away, her husband lay on his side. Alex had propped himself up on one elbow, the white coverlet draped strategically over his privates. The golden glow from a branch of candles on the bedside table bathed his naked body.

With dark, indolent eyes, he watched her work.

A warm awareness of him nestled low in her belly. He was profoundly beautiful, from his tousled, cocoa-brown hair to his broad chest to his muscled calves. But of course she wouldn’t feed his conceit by telling him so. He already had a faint smirk on his lips.

He’d been vastly amused that she wanted to capture his virile form on paper. And he had demanded the promise of payment in the manner of his choosing once she was finished. Although that enticing prospect threatened her concentration, she needed to convince him to speak of serious matters.

“Your aunt was delighted to be home again,” she said, the pencil in her fingers flying across the paper. “Of course, it wasn’t that she was
unhappy
living here with us, only that she prefers her own familiar surroundings.”

“I told you she likes all that clutter. The reminders of my uncle Charles are everywhere.” Alex tilted himself forward, straining to see over the edge of the pad. “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“In ten minutes? Hardly! Lie still now or you’ll spoil the image.”

He pulled a disgruntled face as he resumed his pose. “At least I’ll have a reward for this degradation of my pride.” His gaze dropped to her bosom where, she realized, the dressing gown gaped open to give him a glimpse of her bare breasts. “A long, enjoyable, and gratifying reward.”

Laura’s insides curled with desire. “So you shall, my lord. Your wish will be my command.”

She flashed a brief smile at him while working on the illustration, adding shading to his arms and chest to enhance the contour of his muscles. She always loved seeing an image come to life with the stroke of a pencil or paintbrush. But tonight, her mind dwelled on the matter that had been haunting her since she’d left his aunt’s house. “By the by, Lady Josephine said something rather odd to me today. She begged me not run off as Blanche had done.”

Had Laura not been watching him closely, she might have missed the almost imperceptible tensing of his jaw. He gave a dismissive chuckle. “She says a lot of odd things lately. Now, I really do think you should let me see that drawing. For all I know, you’re depicting me with a forked tail and horns.”

He made a grab for the sketch pad, and she scrambled backward to evade his reach. When he wouldn’t give up, she rolled off the bed with the notebook clutched behind her back.

“Alex, for pity’s sake! I’ll show it to you when I’m done and not a moment sooner. You agreed to pose for half an hour. Otherwise, your reward can go to perdition.”

His gaze fixed on her breasts again. “You have five more minutes.”

“
Twenty
,” she corrected with a glance at the ormolu clock that ticked on a wall shelf. “And since you are being unmanageable, I believe you need a prop to hold.”

“I’ll be pleased to hold
you
.” He patted the sheets invitingly. “Why don’t you just remove that robe and join me here?”

Laura ached to do so. She also ached to find answers to questions that had been left too long unanswered. Questions that might lead her to a better understanding of him.

“Patience is a virtue,” she said tartly.

“Patience is for milksops. And I’m certainly not feeling very virtuous tonight.”

“You’ll have to be—or you won’t have your reward.”

Heading barefoot to the writing desk, she set down her pad and pencil, then opened the single drawer and fished around in the back of it. She grasped the oval miniature that she’d discovered on their wedding night. Her fingertip traced the fractures in the glass.

Laura clutched the miniature for a moment before turning toward him. She hesitated at the sight of his cocky smile. A part of her didn’t want to spoil his relaxed mood by bringing up the past. But it had to be done or Alex’s thoughts and feelings would forever remain a mystery to her.

She walked to the bed. “I’d like you to hold this.”

With a wry grin, Alex accepted the miniature. “What am I supposed to do with…?” His words ground to a halt as he glanced down at the small likeness of his father. A scowl wiped away all trace of the contented lover. Sitting up abruptly, he snapped, “What the devil? Where did you find this?”

Laura sat down on the edge of the mattress. “It was in the back of the desk drawer. I presume your mother placed it there a long time ago.”

He held the miniature between his fingers as if it were a piece of excrement. “This bedchamber was supposed to be cleaned from top to bottom. Mrs. Mayhew will hear about this in the morning.”

His angry reaction drew her sympathies. Laura yearned to share the burden of his past so that it would not weigh so heavily upon him.

“You will
not
scold the housekeeper. Anyone could have missed something so small.” Laura leaned closer to peer at the painting. “That’s your father, isn’t it? Why not have the glass replaced and put the miniature on display?”

Alex gazed at her with impenetrable eyes. “Fine. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

He turned away, tossing the little oval frame onto the bedside table. The negligence of his action caused the piece to slide off and fall to the carpet, though he made no attempt to retrieve it.

Laura scooped up the miniature and returned it to the desk. She wanted to reproach him for his carelessness. But perhaps the pain of his childhood lay behind the coldness of his manner.

Rejoining him in bed, she grabbed a feather pillow and hugged it to her bosom as she studied his chiseled features. “I suspect you’ve no intention of repairing the glass,” she said. “You’ll toss the portrait into the rubbish. The question is … why?”

His mouth formed a cool, mocking smile, the one he used to ward off bothersome inquiries. “I’ve no use for damaged items. Now finish your drawing. I’ll want to see it in precisely”—his gaze flicked to the clock—“fifteen minutes.”

Laura made no move to fetch her sketchpad and pencil. “You’ve a habit of deflecting attention from any questions about your past. Did you realize that? Consequently, I know very little about your youth.”

“There’s little to tell—”