The Purloined Papers (24 page)

Lady Grayson turned furious eyes on Laura. “And to think I believed you when you swore the stable boy had tampered with it.”

“I thought I’d seen the worst of your schemes when you tried to trap Lord Grayson for yourself,” snapped Lady Rockhurst. “But I was wrong. You’re evil.”

Chloe said nothing, though she’d not known this particular tale. How many other crimes had Laura successfully hidden?

“It’s lies. All lies,” wailed Laura.

“Gospel,” said Andrew quietly. “If you have any pride at all, you will retire to your room, then concentrate on finding a new companion. I haven’t the authority to throw you out of Seabrook, but I doubt William will keep you here after this.”

Laura turned a complete circle, staring at everyone in the room.

“She’s not evil. She is mad,” whispered a lady.

Mrs. Truitt cut Laura dead.

“Quite mad,” confirmed another.

Martha averted her eyes.

“I heard she beds footmen.”

Lady Rockhurst shook her head sadly, but said nothing. Even Sarah turned away.

Chloe could almost feel sorry for Laura, but this latest attack had been too low to forgive.

* * * *

Andrew stared at his sister, appalled at her cruelty. Thank God he’d recognized Kevin’s writing on the letters. But this might yet hurt Chloe. Even a hint of wantonness would keep students away – which was why he’d decided to discredit Laura publicly. Chloe was leaving, but gossip could follow her. Faced with the choice of which lady to protect, he’d had to choose Chloe.

He should have anticipated this, but he’d expected Laura to admit that she’d gone too far in Chloe’s room yesterday. To atone, she should have remained graciously civil for the remainder of the party. It was not a mistake he would make again.

But choosing this course presented its own dangers. Everyone in the room now knew that Laura Seabrook was mad. The realization would stain the family name. Most people feared madness and went to great lengths to keep it from their family trees. William now stood in danger of losing Martha.

Laura turned slowly, flinching as she reaped the rewards of her outburst. Cuts from her sisters. Cuts from the Truitts – Mr. Truitt had actually left rather than remain in the same room. Cuts from the neighbors. Only Chloe still met her eyes, but she would not forgive.

Laura fled, sobbing wildly.

A dozen ladies burst into voice. Most of them converged on Chloe. He started to follow, then realized that they were comforting her rather than demanding details. Many related previous experience with Laura’s lies, though some admitted that they’d only learned the truth much later.

Leaving Chloe in their hands, he joined the Truitts. He had to smooth this contretemps and prevent the scandal from growing.

“Are you sure you wish to join this family?” Mrs. Truitt was saying to Martha. “That woman is mad.”

“Not really, Mama. While it is true that she is selfish and arrogant, she retains all her faculties. We’ve known for a year that she cannot be trusted. Remember the lies she told you about Lord Seabrook?”

“But were they lies?”  For all her eagerness to improve her consequence, Mrs. Truitt seemed genuinely shaken. “Madness obviously runs in the family.”

“No, it does not. I agree that she is unpleasant, but sly calculation underlies every word. Today’s outburst was an act she staged to drive me away – her arrogance decries any connection to trade. Lord Seabrook and I discussed the possibility some days ago.”

“But that means that he deliberately left you to this embarrassment.”

“No, Mother. He has done everything possible to control her, but she cares nothing for society’s opinion. Thus few threats carry weight with her. But that is beside the point. Lord Seabrook is nothing like his sister. Nor are his other siblings.”

“A truer word was never spoken.”  Andrew stepped forward, grateful that William had taken his advice to warn Martha that Laura might try something. Not that he believed it was entirely an act, but at least Martha wouldn’t cry off. “Forgive me for exposing the family’s dirty linen so publicly, but Laura ignores private suggestions. And I cannot stand aside while she savages an innocent.”

“I understand, Captain,” murmured Martha. “William explained that Miss Seabrook is prone to ill-conceived outbursts. Unpleasant, but we will handle it.”

What a benign way to call her selfish, arrogant, and a born liar. But Martha’s equanimity proved she had the situation under control, and her eyes promised to placate her father.

He turned the subject to the betrothal ball, then glanced toward Chloe.

She was gone.

Curses exploded through his head – not that he could blame her. Despite the outcome, Laura’s outburst must hurt. Embarrassment would drive her into hiding. But he needed to know that she was all right.

Excusing himself, he headed for the door.

* * * *

Chloe hurried upstairs, wanting nothing more than to lock herself in her room and cry. Her helplessness in the face of Laura’s venom gave her a new perspective on Kevin’s predicament. Laura would have staged a similar confrontation if he’d stayed. With Andrew away, no one could have saved him. He had literally chosen to die rather than accept Laura to wife. And who could blame him?  Seven years ago, few had suspected that Laura was a liar and a selfish schemer. She’d come out in local society that year, dazzling everyone for miles. Her father had doted on her, giving her everything she demanded. He would have accepted her word against anyone else’s.

But though Chloe had received the support denied to Kevin, she could not stay. Letting Andrew talk her into it had been a mistake. She’d known that, of course. But the temptation to spend one more day with him had been too much. Once she left, she would never see him again.

Shaking her head, Chloe pushed open her door, then froze. Mr. Truitt was pulling drawers from her wardrobe and dumping the contents on the floor.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, shocked into speech.

He whirled. His face flushed, then paled. “You should have remained in the drawing room, Miss Fields.”  He set his shoulders as if determined to finish an unpleasant chore. “At least the bitch will take the blame.”  He surged toward her.

Breaking her paralyzing shock, Chloe whirled. But Truitt slammed the door shut to prevent escape, then grabbed her. A hand choked off her scream. What had she walked into?

“Where are they?” he demanded.

“What?”  The word was muffled against his sweaty palm, but he heard it well enough.

“The letters. Where are they?”

“What letters?  Laura lied. I have no lover.”

“But you have the letters. Where are they?”  He shook her violently.

The motion loosened his hand. Twisting her head, she screamed.

“Damn you!”  He flung her against the wall, stunning her. Before she could roll away, he grabbed her neck, his body crushing her against the floor. “The letters!  Where are they?”

Chloe tried to kick, but her legs wouldn’t move. She clawed at his face and hands, but his strength was too great.

Fingers tightened around her throat. Spots danced before her eyes, thickening until they merged into solid black….

* * * *

A distant crash roused her. Another crash seemed closer. A third. A fourth. Thumps and bangs filled the room.

It took a moment to realize that she was free to move. The weight was gone. Nothing constricted her neck.

More time passed. The thumps ceased. Silence surrounded her. Had he finished ransacking the room, then left, believing her dead?

A hand touched her arm.

“What—”  Her voice croaked.

“Don’t try to talk,” urged Andrew, lifting her onto the bed. He covered her with a quilt, as if he knew that she was suddenly freezing. A cup touched her lips.

“Wine would do more good, but all I have is water. I’m not leaving you alone with him even for an instant. He might escape and try again.”

She turned her head. Truitt lay unconscious by the fireplace, hands and feet tied with her stockings. Overturned furniture joined the emptied drawers on the floor. Pages from Kevin’s folio were everywhere.

She burst into tears.

“Shush, Chloe,” murmured Andrew, drawing her into his lap. He tucked the quilt tighter. “He won’t touch you again.”

“I-I know,” she sobbed. “I’m fine. I never cry.”

“Of course not. This is just reaction.”  He turned her face up, wiping away tears with his thumbs.

Sensation exploded through her. Without thought, her hand fought free of the quilt to stroke his cheek. “Thank you for saving me, Andrew. Both here and downstairs.”

He groaned, then dropped his head and kissed her.

It was better than eleven years ago. Better than her wildest fantasies. Heat burst from his lips, tingling through her body. Pleasure melted her bones. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, reveling in the feel of his body against hers.

He shifted to gain easier access to her mouth. His pounding heart drove hers even faster. But it wasn’t enough. She needed him closer, hotter, wilder. Her fingers fumbled with his waistcoat.

He stiffened.

“We can’t,” he choked, pushing her hands away. “Not now. It isn’t right.”

It
is
right, she wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. She loved him. Eleven years ago. Now. Forever.

But honor ruled his life. He would soon leave. If they finished what they’d started here, guilt would consume him. In time, he would come to hate her and himself.

“I know,” she managed, though her throat burned on the words. “I’ll be fine. You take care of him.”  She nodded toward Truitt.

* * * *

Andrew sucked in another breath, strengthening his control. He couldn’t believe he’d nearly taken her, attacking when she was half dead from strangulation. How could he take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable – barely conscious, shivering from shock, unable to think?  He should be flogged.

This was not the time to realize that he loved her – had always loved her. No wonder he’d had little interest in other women, seeking sex only in the aftermath of battle. Not that loving her was of any use. Nothing had changed. He still lacked the means to support her, so he could not court her.

Stop touching her, he ordered himself. Let go before you defile her completely.

“Why is he here?”  He laid her on the bed, then clasped his hands behind his back and examined the room. “This can’t be about Laura.”

“When I arrived he was searching the wardrobe. He demanded letters. When I couldn’t produce any, he attacked.”

Letters?
  “Damnation. We had the answer all the time and didn’t see it. Don’t move,” he ordered when Chloe tried to sit up, then added, “I’ll be right back.”

* * * *

Chloe huddled in the quilt, cold now that Andrew was gone. She ought to know why he was so excited, but she couldn’t think. She ought to clean up the mess, but she couldn’t move. Her arms felt like wet yarn, and she doubted her legs would support her. How had she become so weak so quickly?

Rolling over, she buried her face in a pillow to muffle a fresh bout of tears.

She should have left yesterday instead of clinging to her fantasies. It had seemed so harmless – one more day in her old world. But pretense was no way to live.

“Everything is all right now, Chloe,” murmured Andrew, stroking her back.

She hadn’t heard him return.

“It’s not,” she sobbed. “I’m no better than Laura, clinging to fantasies when I ought to be facing reality.”

“What nonsense is this?”  He tried to turn her to face him.

She resisted. “Staying on as a guest played out the pretense that life has not changed despite my decision to go into service. I should have known better. If I had left yesterday, that confrontation downstairs would not have happened. Now I’ve brought ruin to your entire family.”  Everyone knew Laura was mad. It would taint the Seabrooks for years.

“Nonsense. Don’t let Laura play tricks with your mind. You haven’t damaged any reputations. Martha is downstairs right now assuring everyone that Laura pretended madness to drive her away. People believe her, for Laura has a long history of twisting facts for her own purposes. Do you know that she cowed Mary into believing that she was clumsy, inept, and useless?”

“No.”

“Yes, she did – by pointing out everything that might support such a charge. Mary was twenty before she realized that Laura had manipulated her. Laura has been doing the same to you, treating you like a lower form of servant and playing on your insecurities. But she is wrong. You had nothing to do with this week’s troubles. Laura is solely responsible for that scene downstairs. And Truitt is at fault up here.”

“Yes, but—”

“As for comparing yourself to Laura, you missed several important points. Dreams are not evil. We need them to survive. Where Laura went wrong was forgetting the difference between dreams and reality, which is not a mistake you would ever make. And that is not the only difference between you. Laura deliberately hurts others, while you go out of your way to help. And Laura never accepts responsibility for her actions.”

His words sent warmth tumbling through her heart. Suppressing another sob, she sat up, ignoring the hand that would have helped her. She was too unsettled to risk his touch. But the change in position made her sway.

“Did he break something?”

“No, I’m just very weak all of a sudden.”

“I should have warned you. Danger has that effect, among others.”

“Such as?”

“Chills, so stay wrapped. Sudden movement can make you nauseous. And you will be lightheaded for an hour or two.”

His matter-of-fact tone relaxed her. He must have experienced these reactions himself – a vivid reminder of the dangers he’d faced, and would again. “Where did you go?”

“To my room. I left the contents of your jewelry casket there while Henshaw fixes it. Truitt must want Kevin’s letters.”

“Surely not!”  But she could see his point. It was Laura’s mention of letters that had sent Truitt from the drawing room. “But what could he want with them?”

“I’ve no idea. But the one place we didn’t look is this packet of letters.”  He removed the faded ribbon and grinned. “Aha!  Two of these are not from Kevin.”