Stroke of Midnight (7 page)

He closed the door as Laura headed to the single window and threw open the tall wooden shutters. Sunlight flooded a pair of leather chairs and the large oak desk. Atop a blotter sat a collection of ink pots, pens, and other writing paraphernalia.

He suspected her choice of venue was purposeful. It conveyed the message that she considered him unworthy of being received in the formal drawing room. He would allow her this one small victory. There were more important battles yet to be won.

Facing him, she crossed her arms, but the action only served to draw his attention to her shapely bosom. He tried not to stare. Laura Falkner still took his breath away—even more so now that she was a mature woman. Despite the passage of time, she had retained her feminine figure, her flawless skin, her natural sensuality. And no one else of his acquaintance had eyes that deep ocean blue. It might be a poetic cliché, but a man truly could drown in those big eyes.

Curiosity twisted his gut. She could not have been without admirers all these years. What other men had she known? Had she given herself to any of them? It seemed impossible that such an extraordinary woman could have reached the age of eight-and-twenty with her virginity intact.

“Is Brown your married name?” he asked.

She frowned. “No. It was merely one that Papa and I adopted. Even though we were living abroad, we feared someone might come looking for us.”

“You must have stayed out of public view, then.”

“We did what was necessary,” she said dismissively. “Now, you’ll be wondering why I’m here in this house. Pray be assured it is only to earn my living. I would never have taken this post had I known Lady Josephine was your aunt.”

Alex didn’t want Laura to change the subject. He craved to learn every detail about what she’d been doing in the decade since she had sliced open his cheek with a penknife. But her personal life was not the line of questioning that he needed to pursue.

Settling onto the edge of the desk, he said, “Lady Milford arranged for you to be employed here. It all makes sense now.”

“Sense?”

“Over the past year, she’s gained something of a reputation as a matchmaker. She must have recalled the ill-fated romance between us and decided to meddle.”

Her lips pursed, Laura walked back and forth. “Your aunt, too, seems to have taken a wild notion that we’ll suit. Clearly neither of them has the slightest inkling of how very much we detest each other!”

He fixed her with a hard stare. Her vehemence spoke volumes. Nothing remained of the naive debutante with the sparkling smile, the adoring girl who’d melted in his arms. Whatever fledgling love Laura had once felt for him had been destroyed on the day he’d found the proof of her father’s crime.

If only he hadn’t discovered those stolen earrings, he wouldn’t have felt honor-bound to apprehend Martin Falkner. And the trust in her eyes would not have turned to hatred.

But the past could not be changed.

“Aunt Josie and Lady Milford are old women with nothing better to do than to play matchmaker,” he said. “However, I cannot profess to being entirely displeased that you’ve returned.”

Laura’s eyes widened; then she gave him a guarded look. “I hope you don’t mean to expose my identity to … to anyone.”

Did she fear he would turn her over to the police?

Alex gave a cool smile intended to keep her as off balance as he’d felt in the garden. “That remains to be seen. Though I’ll wager Lady Milford has no idea that her little scheme will serve an entirely different purpose than she intended.”

“Different?”

“Come now, you must know that we’ve certain matters to settle … given how abruptly we parted ten years ago.”

A militant sparkle entered her eyes. “If you intend to take retaliation for that”—she pointed to his scar—“then you are
not
a gentleman.”

Rubbing the long ridge with his fingertip, Alex wondered what she’d say if he told her there was no need for reprisal. The score between them was settled already—because he had wronged her, too. He had deceived Laura all those years ago. Initially at least, his courtship of her had been calculated. He had sought her out on purpose in order to investigate her father.

Not that he intended to tell her so now. It would only lead to questions that he was not at liberty to answer.

“All I wish from you is the truth,” he said. “First and foremost, where is your father?”

Her cheeks paled. She averted her face, glancing down at her clasped hands. “He’s … dead.”

Alex could deduce nothing from her bowed head. Jumping up from the desk, he caught her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “You protected him once and you could be protecting him again. So tell me, why should I believe you?”

“He’s lying in a pauper’s grave at St. Giles cemetery,” she said, her voice low and strained. “He was buried there several weeks ago. You may view the gravestone for yourself—look for Martin Brown. He couldn’t even be laid to rest under his real name.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she wrenched out of his grasp and walked to the window to gaze outside. He didn’t think she was playacting. Laura had always been one to freely express her deepest feelings—that was part of what had intrigued him about her long ago. Unlike himself, she wore her emotions on her sleeve.

Besides, he had to believe her since she’d given him the means to check her claim. Martin Falkner was dead. That left his daughter as the only link to the missing diamond necklace.

Alex walked closer to put himself into her line of vision. The glint of a tear track on her cheek stirred in him the unsettling need to comfort her. But she wouldn’t welcome his embrace. Especially once she realized he intended to probe further into the matter of the robbery.

“Please accept my condolences,” he murmured. “Nevertheless, I do need answers. The Blue Moon diamond has never been found—and I must know what happened to it. Was it sold? Or did your father come back to England to retrieve the necklace from wherever he’d hidden it?”

Laura spun toward him. Her fingers clutched at the windowsill, the knuckles turning white. “No! Absolutely not. I told you long ago that my father was
not
the thief. He was made a scapegoat by someone else.”

“Then explain why he returned here.”

“I … don’t know for certain. He left Portugal without telling me. I can only presume he intended to confront whomever he thought had framed him for the deed.”

Her voice rang with fervor. It seemed Laura really
did
believe her father was innocent of the crime.

That fact put Alex in an uncomfortable situation. It meant she knew nothing of Martin Falkner’s private past. The man had had secrets that he must not have seen fit to confess to his daughter. Secrets that gave him ample cause to steal the priceless jewels from the Duchess of Knowles. Secrets that Alex had no intention of divulging.

The devil of it was, he couldn’t reveal the truth even if he was inclined to do so. When he’d been charged with the task of finding the stolen pieces, he had sworn a vow of silence.

“And just who might that be?” he asked for the sake of argument. “Did he ever name the person he’d suspected?”

“I’m afraid not.” Laura lowered her lashes slightly. “However, I’ve a theory of my own. It’s the only one that makes sense to me.”

“Go on.”

“Perhaps, my lord, it was
you
who placed Her Grace’s gems in my father’s desk.”

If she had drawn a pistol, she could not have startled him more. “What! That is preposterous.”

“Is it?” She gave him a look of reckless disdain. “
You
were the one to discover the earrings, were you not? Perhaps you thought to avoid a marriage to someone beneath you in rank. Perhaps you wanted my father imprisoned so that I would be ruined by association. Then you could offer me the role of mistress without suffering the encumbrance of a ring upon your finger.”

His jaw tightened. He would never forget the awful jolt he’d felt on opening the desk drawer to see the cold glint of the diamonds. Despite his prior knowledge of Martin Falkner’s secret life, Alex had not wanted to believe the man capable of such a deed, for Laura’s sake. But duty had compelled him to accept the truth and see justice done.

Now she was so far off the mark that he felt insulted, his honor sullied. Maybe that was her intention.

Stepping closer, he caught her face in his hands and let his thumb graze her soft lips. “If I’d wanted to make you my mistress, Laura, I’d have needed no subterfuge. I’d have taken you to my bed—and you’d have come willingly.”

A faint flush stole over her skin. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. With every breath he inhaled her scent of sunshine and flowers. How tempting was the thought of seducing her—if only it wouldn’t lend credence to her wrongheaded opinion of him.

He traced the bow shape of her mouth, and she gave a little shiver of pleasure. “See?” he murmured. “You haven’t forgotten how it was between us.”

Laura turned her head to avoid his caress. “What I haven’t forgotten is your disdain for propriety. You never did behave as a gentleman.”

She stopped, apparently thinking better of mentioning their stolen embraces in darkened gardens, in closed carriages, and one memorable interlude in a closet in the midst of a party. But Alex needed no reminder. Every stroke, every kiss, every sigh, was branded into his memory. Despite his purpose back then, he’d fallen hard for her. What had begun as a calculated courtship had swiftly become genuine.

So genuine that he could feel it still burning inside himself.

He let his breath feather her cheek. “What we once shared was only the first course. A mere taste of the feast that I could have given you—and could still give you if only you would allow it.”

Her lips parted slightly, and the sight tempted him sorely. He wanted what he’d been forced to deny himself, the chance to clasp that curvaceous body to his, to stir her to passion, to revel in her surrender. Ever so slightly, he moved closer, determined to claim that soft, sinful mouth of hers …

Laura twisted free. She flew to the desk and snatched up a penknife, pointing the blade at him. “Stop! Or you’ll have a matching scar on your other cheek.”

Alex held up his open palms to show that he meant her no harm. God! He didn’t trust her with that weapon. Not after the way she’d slashed him the last time they’d met.

Yet he was more irked with himself than with her. If he’d been thinking with his brain, he’d have removed all sharp objects upon entering the office. Hell, he would never have attempted seduction in the first place. Laura was no longer the adoring debutante. She held a deep-seated grudge against him, and perhaps that was for the best. He needed no distractions from the task of determining what her father had done with the Blue Moon diamond.

He strolled to the door, leaned a shoulder against the frame, and crossed his arms. “A simple
no
would have sufficed,” he said. “I haven’t yet sunk to such depths as to force a woman.”

“I won’t be your light skirt. Not now or ever.”

“A wise decision. An affair undoubtedly would be discomfiting for my aunt.”

Laura eyed him mistrustfully as she slipped the penknife into the pocket of her apron. “I hope that means you won’t send me away,” she said. “Lady Josephine needs my companionship. She enjoys being with people. Yet apparently she never calls on anyone or goes anywhere—nor has anyone visited her in the time I’ve been here.”

“What? She’s always had many friends.”

“One has to pay calls in order for them to be returned.” Laura took a determined step toward him. “It’s apparent to me that she’s become too forgetful to organize her own schedule. Did you know that she had a desk drawer stuffed full of unanswered invitations?”

Alex shook his head. He tried to think back on the last time he’d seen his aunt out in society—had it really been several years? Of late, his life had fallen into a pattern: playing cards at his club, taking his seat in Parliament, supervising his various estates. He still visited select friends when in town, but he’d grown bored with the superficiality of the ton. Each year the new crop of debutantes seemed more naive and giggly than the last, so that he had taken to avoiding most social events altogether.

Some weeks ago, while at the races, he’d run into Lady Milford. She had expressed concern about his aunt, and he had agreed that a companion might be needed. Then he had engaged in a round of betting and had promptly forgotten about it.

“I suppose it’s my fault,” he now admitted ruefully. “I seldom attend balls and parties. I didn’t realize I’d been neglecting Aunt Josie.”

“You have an elder sister, don’t you?” Laura asked. “Why hasn’t
she
seen to your aunt’s needs?”

“Cynthia is wed to the assistant governor-general of India. She’s been living in Calcutta these past twelve years.” Not to mention, he’d never been close to his only sibling, since she was six years his senior. He’d still been in short pants when she’d gone off to finishing school.

“I see,” Laura said, her gaze intent on him. “Then you must allow
me
to arrange Lady Josephine’s calendar. I’ll make certain that she renews old friendships and attends events where she might relish a good gossip with other ladies her age. You do wish for her to be happy, don’t you, my lord?”

“Of course.”

Even as guilt yanked a swift response out of Alex, he recognized that he was being maneuvered. Gut instinct told him that Laura had something up her sleeve. She seemed far too eager to venture out into society—as if for a purpose of her own.

Why?

Ten years ago, her lively wit and vivid beauty had made her the center of attention. Now her drab appearance would only fool those who hadn’t known her very well. She had to realize that if anyone recognized her, she would be expelled in disgrace. So what would induce her to risk such humiliation? If she merely needed income, a governess post in the country would have been a safer choice; no one there need ever guess her true identity.

It made no sense to Alex. Maybe she was a better actress than he’d imagined. Maybe he was mistaken to think she didn’t know where the Blue Moon diamond was hidden …