Tammy Falkner - [Faerie 02] (13 page)

Finn looked absolutely miserable in the coach, with Margaret seated across from them. His thigh pressed hard against Claire’s, like with that simple action, he could tell her how very much he wanted to touch her. Margaret cleared her throat and he nearly jumped out of his skin. But he did move his leg away from Claire’s.

“Where would you like to go today, Miss Thorne?” he asked. He looked over at her and smiled. His smile really was quite stunning, and she hoped that after she’d looked at it for ten or fifteen years, it would still make her heart race the way it did now.

He wanted her; she could tell. It was as plain as the nose on his face.

“Ribbons,” Claire reminded him. “We were going to buy some ribbons.”

“Oh yes, ribbons. Now I remember.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “How many ribbons must a lady own in order to be satisfied with her ribbon purchases?”

Claire forced herself not to grin. “It really depends on how the lady will be using the ribbons.”

“Particularly, what ways are there?”

“Hats, dresses, shoes. We might wear them in our hair. Then there are our underthings.”

Margaret cleared her throat again.

“Margaret,” Claire scolded. “You really should do something for that cough.”

Margaret cut her eyes at Claire. “Oh, you’re right. I’ll be certain to tell your father about it.”

Finn snorted. Goodness, he was handsome. His sandy blond hair had been disturbed by the wind, and he had a fine shadow on his face. He looked rather… rugged.

“I’d give just about anything to know what’s on your mind,” he murmured close to Claire’s ear.

“I was thinking of how handsome you are, if you must know.” Heat crept up her cheeks at his stark look of need, which nearly brimmed from his eyes.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked softly.

“Dashing. Deliberately devilish. Those dimples make you look much more innocent than you are, I’m afraid. A regular wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. Finn stepped out and moved to hand Claire out of the carriage. Margaret went to follow. “Wait here, please, Margaret. We’ll only be a moment.”

Margaret harrumphed. “I sincerely doubt your father would be happy with my doing that.”

“My father isn’t here.”

Margaret raised her nose into the air. “Exactly.”

Claire rolled her eyes as Margaret descended from the coach. She waited for them to take a few steps, and then she followed them into the small storefront.

Claire jumped when Finn’s fingers reached down to tangle with hers briefly. She looked up at him, and the twinkle in his eye took her completely by surprise.

Margaret ambled away from them and pretended to be perusing some fabric, while Finn asked the proprietress for ribbons. “Where might I find enough ribbons to keep my bride happy?”

Claire leaned close to his arm and whispered. “I don’t really need any ribbons.”

He whispered very dramatically back down to her, “Oh no, my Miss Thorne, you need enough ribbons that I could dress you in them.” His eyes darkened a bit, as a flush rose across his cheeks. “Never mind,” he murmured. He stepped away from her.

But Claire followed him doggedly. “I just wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

***

Her statement hit him directly in the groin. Finn barely withheld a feral growl. It wouldn’t do to disgrace them both here in the store. Not with Margaret looking on and every other lady in town also shopping there, it appeared.

Finn wanted to be alone with Claire more than he needed his next breath. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. Then he winked at her and walked away. He had to walk away. If he didn’t, he’d have no choice but to make good on his taunt.

She was going to marry him. That much had been determined. For some reason, the thought didn’t make him want to run away, not the way thoughts of marriage normally did. In fact, he wanted to run toward her. He just didn’t want to do it right now.

Finn held up a length of pink silk to show her.

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

He held up a length of green silk. She nodded and smiled at him. God, her smile could almost knock him to his knees.

Could he wait two more weeks to kiss her? He supposed he didn’t have a choice. At Ramsdale House, her family pretty much had her under lock and key.

“Pardon me, my lord,” a voice said by his left shoulder. He turned quickly and had to force himself not to step back. “She told me to give you this, my lord,” the boy said.

“Who?” Finn took the missive in his hand and opened it quickly. When he looked up, the lad was gone. Finn ran to the exit, but the boy was faster than he looked.

Finn looked back down at the note.

Lord Phineas,

The special item you ordered for Mrs. Abercrombie has arrived. Shall I send it to you, or do you wish to retrieve it yourself?

Best regards,

Colette

Finn hadn’t ordered a special item for Mrs. Abercrombie. Claire hadn’t dressed as her since the day they’d gone to the ball, not that he knew of.

She wouldn’t have gone out as Mrs. Abercrombie on her own, would she? She had better not.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked as she stepped up behind him.

“How is Mrs. Abercrombie doing, Claire?”

Clair faltered for no more than a moment. “The last I heard, she was touring the continent.”

He pressed the letter into her hand. “What do you know of a special item I might have ordered for her?”

She took it from him and read it quickly. Then shrugged. “I have no idea what that’s about.”

But a lady standing near them and looking at the ribbons as well said, “Did you say Mrs. Abercrombie? Lovely lady. She’s not touring the continent. She was at the Asterlys’ house party not two days ago.”

The lady turned to walk away.

“Remind me who Mrs. Abercrombie is, darling,” Finn said smoothly to Claire. He made certain he was loud enough for the other lady to hear. “For the life of me, I can’t place that name.”

He waited a fraction of a second for the lady to take the bait. “Oh, she’s a lovely woman. Very exotic. Hair that’s black as night. She’s a widow twice over.” So, the story of Mrs. Abercrombie was already circulating and being embellished. Good.

“Oh, I do remember,” Finn said. “Lovely woman.”

The lady finally did walk away, and Finn’s head was spinning like a top. She turned back.

“She’ll be at Lord Gelson’s dinner tonight. Are you going?”

“Of course,” Finn said smoothly. He had to find out who this Mrs. Abercrombie was. And if she had any relation to the person Claire had pretended to be.

“Can you choose your ribbons while I go on a quick errand?”

Claire’s brows drew together sharply. “Where are you going?”

He leaned down close to her ear so only she could hear him. “I have a feeling Colette needs to see me about Mrs. Abercrombie.” He arched a brow at her.

“Take me with you.”

“Claire,” he protested. He couldn’t put her in harm’s way. “I’ll tell you everything she says in a few minutes. I promise.” He bent quickly and kissed her on the cheek. Then he left to visit the modiste.

Colette looked up when he entered the shop, a rueful grin across her face. “Lord Phineas,” she said with a nod. “I expected for you to take longer to come and see me.”

“What do you want, Colette?” he bit out.

“Your young lady, the one you had with you the other day?” she asked, her head tilted to the side coquettishly. “She’s enjoying her time as Mrs. Abercrombie?”

So she did know. That didn’t surprise him. “What do you want, Colette?”

“I want to attend some of the functions Mrs. Abercrombie might be invited to attend.” She shrugged. She looked up at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes.

Several years prior, Colette had helped him with a difficult case, as she was able to pretend to be his paramour. At the time, he’d been intimate with her, so the ruse was easy. She was very good at subterfuge, he had to admit.

“I would bet you’ve already been Mrs. Abercrombie at least once, if the reports about town are any indication.”

She had the good grace to look chagrined. “I could keep an eye on Mayden for you.” What harm could it do? Claire would never be Mrs. Abercrombie again. Never. “You’ll report back to me what you find out?”

Colette batted her lashes at him. Once upon a time, that might have been attractive. Now it was just annoying. “Of course.”

“Do as you will,” he said and then he strode back out the door.

He collected Claire at the store, paid for the ribbons she didn’t need, and promised to tell her everything the next time they could be alone.

Claire appraised herself closely in the looking glass. This time, she’d tinted her hair a perfectly hideous shade of red. She perched a pair of jeweled spectacles on her nose and pursed her lips. She could do this. She was certain she could.

It had taken all afternoon to get the tint for her hair from the apothecary, and then applying it had taken even longer. It wasn’t an easy task to do by one’s self. But she had finally accomplished it, and she barely recognized herself in the mirror.

Claire had asked some of the staff about Lord Gelson’s soiree because the staff in a household knew everything about such events, and they knew everything there was to know about every other house in town as well. Lord Gelson and his wife were a nice, middle-aged couple who had had a bit of a debauched past. But then they’d married, had a few children, raised them, and gone the way of respectability.

Except for the masked ball they threw once a month. Claire retrieved her black mask from where she’d hidden it in her wardrobe and stuffed it into her reticule.

Claire’s hair was tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, and it hung over her left shoulder. Finn would murder her if he caught her in this gown. It was one she’d ordered for Mrs. Abercrombie. Claire couldn’t be Mrs. Abercrombie any more, particularly now that Colette had assumed the name. But she could pass herself off as someone else, couldn’t she? She tugged at her bodice. Her breasts were pushed up high, like they were set upon a shelf for display. Colette had assured Claire that she was stunning in the dress, but Claire wasn’t so sure.

She plumped the pillows stuffed beneath her counterpane and stepped back, satisfied with herself. She crept to the door and opened it slowly. It was late, and her parents often retired early and then rose with the sun.

Claire tiptoed down the corridor toward the servants’ stairs. She would go out the side door and catch a hackney, and hopefully no one would be the wiser.

It seemed almost a bit too quiet as she ran down the stairs and cautiously pushed the door open. Cool night air washed across her skin as she walked purposefully toward the street. She’d had a footman call for a hackney, supposedly for Marcus, a half hour before that. Hopefully, one would be waiting.

Claire sighed, anticipation sizzling across her skin. She loved this life. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

Claire was certain Finn would be going to Lord Gelson’s so that he could intercept Colette and find out what she had learned so far. No one had to know he also had some of his investigators in place at the party to keep an eye on Mayden.

She gave the driver instructions and slipped into the waiting hack. It wasn’t until someone reached out and grabbed her arm in a forceful grip that she had even the slightest bit of trepidation.

***

Finn knew it. He’d known she would try this. “Miss Thorne,” he said, his voice frosty even to him, as he sat down next to her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sir, I do not know who you think I am, but I must insist that you exit my carriage.”

Finn had to look at her very closely to assure himself that it was, indeed, Miss Thorne who sat opposite him. Some little piece of him wasn’t entirely certain, but he would bet his life that it was her behind all that ghastly red hair and those spectacles. He leaned close and sniffed her neck.

“You smell like Miss Thorne,” he said softly. She shivered. He very tenderly touched his lips to the place where her neck met her shoulder and suckled. “You taste like Miss Thorne.”

“What does Miss Thorne taste like, sir?” she asked.

“Heaven,” he murmured against her skin. “She tastes like heaven. And she tastes like she’s mine.” Finn pulled the spectacles from their perch on her nose. “Where did you get these?”

“I don’t recall,” she said with a shrug. She folded like a house of cards under his piercing stare. “I borrowed them from one of the maids, if you must know.”

Finn had never seen a maid with jeweled spectacles, so that was probably a lie. He chose to overlook it. Finn heaved a sigh. “You do know that I’m not going to let you go to Lord Gelson’s, don’t you?”

She tilted her head and regarded him somberly. “You do know that I didn’t ask for your permission, don’t you?”

“Damn it, Claire. You have to stop these missions of yours.”

She snorted. It was quite an endearing sound, really. “I’ll never stop my missions. I’m a faerie, for goodness sake. If you take away my missions, you might as well take my wings.”

Finn lifted a lock of her hair to his nose. She still smelled like summer. Would he ever tire of that scent? He hoped not. “Will this wash out?”

“It’ll be gone by tomorrow.” She patted his knee. “Don’t fret.”

He finally looked down at what she was wearing. She wore an emerald-green gown, trimmed with a wide gold ribbon beneath her breasts. Breasts that made him fear they were about to tumble out of her gown. Would be such a bad thing? Definitely not.

“I’m taking you back home,” Finn said.

“I want to go to Lord Gelson’s. We don’t have to stay long. I just want to see how well Colette pretends to be me pretending to be Mrs. Abercrombie. What I don’t understand is why Colette wanted to be Mrs. Abercrombie in the first place,” Claire said.

“Colette has wanted entrée into that part of society for quite some time. I assume she met Mrs. Abercrombie, or you, as it were, and decided that since Mrs. Abercrombie was going to be ‘leaving town,’ she could step into her shoes for a night or two.”

“The gall of that woman,” Claire bit out.

“It’s actually quite fortuitous,” Finn said.

“How so?”

“She’s in the line of danger instead of you.” Finn reached up to rap on the roof and get the driver’s attention.

Claire stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked down at her. She was a vision, even if her face was heavily powdered and her hair a hideous color. He ran one finger along her eyebrow. “You dyed those too?” he asked.

“Whatever it takes.”

“Can you be anyone? Anywhere?”

She mulled it over for a moment. “Typically, yes.”

“What’s the real you?” he blurted out.

She laughed. “You know the real me.”

“Do I?”

She looked directly into his eyes. “Yes. You do.”

***

He didn’t. He didn’t know anything about her. He knew of her world, but nothing about what made it work. He didn’t know she carried his child. He didn’t know that she was quite happy that she had to marry him. Of all the men she could have been stuck with, she supposed he was the best.

“You worry me, Claire. What was your plan tonight?”

“My plan was to introduce myself to Mrs. Abercrombie and learn what I could.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. Would she always vex him so? The pulse beating at the base of her throat was the only sign that she was even the smallest bit nervous. Would he ever know her feelings? Would he ever truly trust that she was what she was supposed to be in his head?

The carriage rolled to a stop and Finn leaned to look out the window. “What the devil is going on out there?” he murmured to himself. There was a long line of coaches outside Lord Gelson’s home where they’d come to a stop. But something was wrong. Guests walked to and fro on the lawn, rather than in the house. And someone had called the watch. Finn slipped his mask from his pocket and moved to get out of the coach. “Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is. But the watch wouldn’t be here for no reason.” He pointed a finger at her. “Do not get out of the coach.”

Claire pursed her lips and didn’t respond to him.

“I mean it, Claire.”

She looked out the opposite window and ignored him.

Finn walked slowly into the small crowd milling about on the lawn, wandering about like he’d been with the guests the whole time, until he saw one of his men. “What’s going on?” he asked as he pulled the man to the side.

His man talked out of the corner of his mouth. “There has been a murder.”

The hair on the back of Finn’s neck stood up. “Who?”

“A widow. I’m not certain of her name yet.”

Finn’s heart stopped for a moment. “A widow, you say?”

“Yes, she was found in one of the playrooms. Some-one had slit her throat.”

“I see.” Finn’s heart was still beating like the hooves of a runaway horse. “Find out everything you can, and come see me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said.

Finn walked quickly back to the carriage and opened the door. As he climbed in, nothing but empty space embraced him. “Damn her,” he muttered. If she didn’t get herself killed all by herself, he was tempted to wring her pretty little neck.