The Romantic (30 page)

“Certainly, madame. I would not think to travel without it.”

Pen sensed Julian in her chamber. His presence roused her out of the deep sleep that had claimed her once she returned from the docks.

It had taken longer than a couple of hours to attend to Catherine and her child. The captain had accepted St. John’s letter without question, but required some persuasion to understand that he needed to make sure that the privilege of passage was transferrable. Pen had decided that she wanted him to write it out once he agreed, so that Catherine would have the letter in her possession.

Julian had not been waiting when she returned, which she decided was just as well since he would scold her for leaving. As she had prepared for bed she thought that she heard indications that Laclere had come home, but Julian did not come up the stairs with him.

Now he was here, hours later.

“Did you pretend to go home so that my brother would not be embarrassed?” she asked as he joined her in bed.

“I felt the need to walk for a while.”

“To clear your head? Too much drink?”

“To clear my head, but not because of drink. Go back to sleep, darling. I will be here only a short while. I must return to my house soon so you can prepare for your journey.”

“Journey?”

“Your brother has decreed that you are all going down to Laclere Park.”

“Has he now? That is a sudden decision, since Bianca knew nothing of it several hours ago.”

“You are all to leave tomorrow.”

“She has done nothing to prepare, and will be displeased by Laclere s whim.”

“All the same, you will be off, and I will accompany you. I believe St. John and Burchard intend to bring their families the next day as well.”

She rose up on her elbow. “Why are we abruptly forming this house party?”

“Vergil interferes too much. It is an old habit of his and does not improve with the years. Now go to sleep.”

She sank back to her pillow and nestled up against his side. She was flattered that he had come when it could only be for an hour or so, but these sudden new plans were very odd.

“Julian, did something happen tonight to raise my brothers’ caution?”

“Glasbury was at the club. That is all.” He spoke with a finality that ended the conversation.

She doubted that was all. It was clear Julian was not going to tell her what had happened, however.

She would just have to wait and get the details from Bianca.

Pen left London the next afternoon as she had entered it, in a parade of carriages. Transporting Laclere’s family to the country was not a simple affair. Children, nurses, governesses, and tutors filled several equipages.

Dante and Fleur rode with Pen and Julian. Pen had been in Naples when Dante and Fleur married, and had only heard the full story of their romance upon her recent arrival back in London. She was grateful for this opportunity to spend some hours with them.

Fleur was expecting, and had just begun showing. Dante treated his wife with a solicitation and care that Pen thought was adorable.

“I really do not need another blanket, darling,” Fleur said when her devoted husband tried to tuck a second one around her.

“I think it has gotten colder now that we are in the country. You must not catch a chill, Fleur.”

“A woman in my condition is rarely chilled, my love. Quite the opposite.”

“Perhaps you should let Fleur guide you on how to see to her comfort, Dante,” Pen said. “She will not put herself at risk.”

That checked him. “Of course. You are right.”

Fleur gave Pen an appreciative glance.

Pen returned one of her own. It was a joy to see the change in Dante, and his unabashed love for his bride. She felt a new closeness to him because of it, since she now comprehended that emotion as she never had before.

Her own lover was very silent on the journey.

She looked at his perfect profile, with the landscape moving behind it through the window. He sensed her attention and looked at her.

He took her hand in his and glanced meaningfully to their companions. Dante and Fleur were head to head in a private gaze, lost to the world.

“And to think I advised against that marriage,” Julian whispered.

“Is that why you are brooding? Is the solicitor counting his mistakes?”

“I am not brooding. I was admiring their peace, their contentment in their love, and their joy in the child that is coming.”

She did not think he had only been admiring them. She wondered if he had also been envying them.

Her contemplation of that was suddenly interrupted. For some reason the carriage began slowing.

The change startled Dante out of his private world. “Another blockade? Glasbury must know we will not permit highway robbery.”

Julian stuck his head out the window. The carriage rolled to a stop, but the sounds of carriages and horse hooves continued in the distance. “We are being followed and hailed, but I do not think it is Glasbury. A coach and four is approaching, and two horsemen.”

One of those horsemen galloped past on a bay steed. Julian opened the carriage door and stepped out to get a better view. “He is speaking with Laclere.”

“I wonder what this is about,” Fleur said. “Do you recognize the man?”

Julian looked back on the road. “Unfortunately, I recognize one of the men stepping out of the carriage that just arrived. His name is Lovejoy, and he is an inspector with the Metropolitan Police.”

Dante muttered a curse. “He is also Glasbury’s puppet.” He jumped out to join Julian.

An old, familiar panic beat in Pen’s heart. It was the sensation she used to have when she thought the earl was
stalking her, before Julian’s protection had made her feel safe.

Suddenly she did not feel safe at all. Even with her brothers and Julian here, even with Laclere s footmen and servants forming an army to shield her, all the vulnerability returned.

A hand touched hers. She looked down to see Fleur’s glove covering hers in comfort.

Boots and low voices approached. Julian’s expression hardened. Suddenly Laclere was standing alongside the carriage with two men she had never seen before.

Laclere appeared concerned. He stared the strangers down until they retreated a few steps. He then said something to Julian.

They both came to the open door of the carriage.

“We must all return to London at once,” Laclere said.

“What is happening, Vergil?”

“Pen, Glasbury was found dead this morning. Someone killed him.”

chapter
22

L
aclere forestalled the police by pleading his sister’s shock and grief. He gave his word as a gentleman that the Countess of Glasbury would return to London immediately to attend to her husband’s funeral preparations.

No one in the carriage spoke on the ride back to the city. Julian held Pen in his arms the whole way. Although his voice was quiet, his heart was not.

The earl was dead.

Penelope was free and safe.

His soul yearned to speculate on what that could mean.
Pen resting her gray hair on his shoulder, warming him through winter after a magnificent summer

He dared not release the emotions straining to burst in him. He worried about the circumstances of Glasbury’s demise.

When they arrived back at Laclere’s house, Julian jumped out and cornered Vergil as soon as the carriages stopped.

“I am taking Pen to your study. No one is to join us, not
even you. Send a message at once to Nathanial Knightridge and ask him to come here. Send him to the study as soon as he arrives.”

“Knightridge? Surely you don’t think—”

“Just do it, Vergil.”

Julian fetched Pen from the carriage and quickly escorted her to Laclere’s study. She was in such a daze that he had to physically lead her to a chair and press her into it.

He found Vergil’s supply of brandy and poured her some. “You have had a shock, darling. Drink a little of this.”

She obeyed. Some color returned to her face. “I find myself in a very strange state, Julian. Almost numb. I do not think I have even begun to accommodate the news.”

“That reaction is normal. Just rest quietly for now.”

“I have wanted this. God forgive me, I have sometimes wished he would die.”

It was admissions like that, made while in shock, that he did not want others to hear. “We cannot always control our thoughts. You should not feel guilty for them now.”

She made a valiant effort to collect herself. He could see her pulling the pieces back together.

“Julian, those men. The police. Why did they follow us to bring me this news?”

When he did not answer, her head cocked thoughtfully. A startled realization entered her eyes.

“They think I may have had a hand in this, don’t they?”

“They will want to ask you some questions. Once it is clear that you have not had any contact with Glasbury since you arrived in London, once they are shown that you
have not even been out of this house alone, they will be satisfied. It will end there.”

“Except that I have been. Out alone, that is.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have left the house alone. Not really alone, but without Bianca or any servants.”

Hell.

“When was this, darling?”

“Last night.”

Jesus.

“Catherine sought me out. She had her daughter, and knew her husband would be looking for them. So I took her to St. John’s ship and gave her some of my documents.”

She described the events of the night. The solicitor in him heard them the way a court would hear them. He saw at once the holes that made her terribly vulnerable.

“Who knows that you did this, besides Catherine and the ship’s captain?”

“A scullery maid, and the footman who hired the cab. And the driver, of course.”

More than one, which meant far too many. One could be bought off, hidden, sent away.

She still appeared dazed. Nothing in her expression indicated that she comprehended her danger.

He lifted her up and sat down in her chair. He pulled her into his lap and embrace. “I am waiting for a man to come, so you can speak with him before anyone else. Until he does, let us think about better things. What will you do now, Pen? Your goal was to be free of him, and suddenly you are.”

She looked at him with an odd, blank astonishment.

“That is what I cannot accommodate. I realize that I have no idea what I want to do with that freedom. I never dared to plan or dream how to live afterward.”

He kissed her temple. His heart twisted.

If she had never planned or dreamed, it meant that she never really believed it would happen.

“Thank you, Countess. I think that I have a clear understanding of the facts now.”

Pen rose to leave the study. Nathanial Knightridge gave her a reassuring smile. Julian escorted her to the door and handed her over to Laclere, who had been waiting outside.

Julian closed the door before Laclere could think of entering.

Knightridge had made himself comfortable at Laclere s desk. He jotted a few more notes onto the sheet he had used, put down the quill, and lounged back in the chair.

He was a tall, athletic young man with a compelling presence. His dark golden hair framed a face with dark eyes that could hold a crowd’s attention with ease.

Those physical details, along with a tendency for flamboyance and an undeniable brilliance, had made him very successful at the Old Bailey. At only twenty-six years of age, Knightridge had become famous for his defenses. He possessed a remarkable talent for exploiting the few moves and strategies permitted to defense counsel in criminal trials.

“I will speak frankly, Hampton. The word in chambers is that it was a caustic poison. He was found in his dressing room, and there was blood that indicated intestinal bleeding. There were two glasses and a bottle of wine still
there. The remains of one glass smelled of more than the grape. So, he had a guest, and the guest poisoned him. That is the police’s thinking.”

“Do they suspect the countess?”

“The pursuit of her on the road shows that they do. She could easily gain entry to the house, for one thing. They probably envision that she met with him, pretending to reconcile, and then did the deed. If she were not a countess, and her brother not a peer, I expect she would be in prison already.”

“You certainly do speak bluntly.”

“If you want me to lie and offer false hope, I will oblige. That will not help her, however.”

No, it would not.

Julian stared out the window, seeing nothing.

He should have forced Pen to take that ship to America.

He should have gotten down on his knees and begged her to flee into obscurity with him and find a new world for themselves. He should have asked her to be his lover with no excuses when she weighed her choices in the Bruton churchyard.

Would she have done it? Would the protection he offered have been enough to sway her? Would she have decided she cared for him enough to sustain a lifelong affair of convenience?

“Do you think she did it?” Knightridge spoke as blandly as if they discussed some waif accused of being a pickpocket.