Her Ladyship's Companion (25 page)

“He wasn’t Harforth’s?” Adrian said mildly when it became obvious Melissa would do nothing but look bewildered.

“No. And not by any of that stable of lovers I was supposed to keep. I was a respectable little soul actually. My first marriage hadn’t given me any great taste for male company, I assure you. God, we’re all fools when we’re young. My wild days came much later, when I hadn’t a shred of reputation left to lose.”

“It’s often that way, I believe,” Adrian remarked. “I don’t mean to pry, but who was the father? Stop me if I’m being gauche.”

“I never asked his name. I was out hunting and got separated from my party. The horse threw me. A laborer found me.” Lady Dorothy’s face was alarmingly pale. Her lips curled in a vast distaste. “My brother killed him. The local magistrate was convinced to look the other way. And Harold was the result. No one was particularly surprised when I retired from society for a few months. After that stupid runaway match I’d made they were glad to think the worst of me. Harforth was ...” Her eyes softened until she scarcely looked like the fierce old dowager at all. She said softly, “Harforth was, as always, the best of men. He even went along with the charade that Harold was his own. We sent the boy to good schools, provided for him. He had my own personal fortune to draw upon. Oh, he was labeled a bastard, but the real truth never came out. We did our best by him.”

“He said Harforth was his father.” Melissa faltered. “Out on the cliffs, that’s what he told me.”

Lady Dorothy shrugged. “He may have even believed it. He hated me,” she said calmly. “I’ve known that for years, along with certain other ... undesirable characteristics he had. But I didn’t realize he’d convinced himself of that. I told him the truth years ago. He hated me for it.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Lady Dorothy fixed her with a piercing stare. “There were times, when he was a boy, that I could scarcely bring myself to look at him. So I sent him to stay with relatives, people who wouldn’t know anything of his story. I’m not guiltless. If he’d tried to kill me, I could have accepted that. The hate between us was partly of my own making.”

“Don’t feel neglected,” Adrian said dryly. “You were to have had your turn. I’m not even convinced that he was mad. It was a mighty clever scheme to get his hands on one of the foremost fortunes in England.”

“Two of them,” Lady Dorothy said. “I would have inherited from Giles, and he’s no pauper.”

“I stand corrected. Two. Merely at the price of three murders.”

“A few more perhaps. Anyone who got in his way.” Lady Dorothy studied Melissa absently. “Just this once, and only for the ears in this room, I’ll say that I’ve never been easy over the circumstances of the deaths of Robbie’s parents three years ago. There was no good reason for that carriage accident.”

Adrian and Lady Dorothy stared steadily at each other. “I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said at last.

“Giles doesn’t need to know that.”

“He already does.”

“I see.”

Silence in the little parlor. At last Lady Dorothy stood painfully. “No. Don’t help me, Melissa. It’s better to suffer a little bodily aching. It’s the least I can do if I can’t bring myself to mourn.”

It seemed that was going to be Harold’s epitaph.

“I must go upstairs and tell Anna a suitably edited version of what’s happened before she hears it from one of the servants.” Lady Dorothy walked from the room with something approaching her old self-assured stride. “It may be the making of the girl. Everyone should have a tragedy or two in her past to make her interesting and give her something to think about at parties.”

On that note she left.

Sir Adrian, who had risen with Lady Dorothy, seated himself comfortably by the fire again. He spoke to Melissa’s profile.

“I’d say she took it remarkably well, all things considered.”

Melissa was still trying to sort out the events of the last few days. She felt as if her entire mind had been grasped firmly and turned briskly inside out, like a sock. “Why didn’t I see,” she said at last, “that it was all Harold?”

“No one else did either.”

“Giles did. He must have. He sent for you, didn’t he?” A trace of sarcasm crept into her voice. “The expert?”

Adrian raised his dark eyebrows. “He did indeed send for me. But it was all conjecture. I see now that we should have known. All he really wanted to know was whether one of the servants might have gotten Miss Coburn with child and then disposed of her. A threat to Robbie wasn’t apparent at the time.”

“Harold arranged the robbery, too,” Melissa said wonderingly. “Did he actually hire men to kill a child?”

“It’s been done. But in the end they were too decent to do his dirty work for him. Not above a spot of blackmail, though.”

“And Giles gave them money,” Melissa said. She’d forgotten that she wasn’t supposed to know that. Adrian looked at her speculatively.

“I disapprove in principle, but it was the easiest thing to do. The Tarsin name to be considered and all that. And they gave us the name of their employer, which helped prove the whole fantastic business. Giles can easily absorb the expense. Or maybe he’ll charge it to the estate.”

“Giles should have
told
me,” Melissa cried.

“As a matter of fact, he was of the distinct opinion that you already knew more than was safe for you to know. Who shall say events have proved him wrong?”

“Harold put the laudanum in Robbie’s chocolate. He was the only one alone long enough to do that. I should have seen that. Why didn’t I see that?”

“Perhaps because you were unable to credit a murderer at once so ruthless and so inept. Anyone with half a mind to could have polished off every third person in this house in the time it took Harold to bungle the murder of one small boy.” Sir Adrian’s tone deplored such lack of finesse.

“If I hadn’t been so busy suspecting—” Melissa stopped suddenly and turned red. Sir Adrian inspected her interestedly. At this moment it was incredible that she could ever have thought Giles was a killer. The conversation she’d overheard in the library was a long way off. She’d clearly misunderstood everything they were talking about.

It didn’t seem to matter anymore. Strangely, now that it was all over and Robbie was safe, she felt only much older. And lonely.

“I think I’d better go upstairs and rescue Robbie,” she said wearily. “Nanny will fret him to death if I’m not there. And ... there’s a lot that I have to do.” She stood up.

Sir Adrian added casually, “Oh, by the way, Giles conveys his compliments to you and respectfully asks to wait upon you this afternoon at three o’clock in the library. He should be through with his interview with the doctor then. You will try not to tire him too much, I hope.”

Melissa’s heart was curiously lightened.

Chapter 18

We
never really know ourselves, do we?

Excerpt from the journal
of Melissa Rivenwood, August 3, 1818

Melissa waited outside the library until the clock struck three. She entered. Giles was seated in one of the leather chairs, wearing a red velvet lounging jacket. His arm was in a sling.

“You’ll forgive me for not rising, Melissa,” he said. “I’m saving my strength for later.”

If Melissa noticed his use of her first name, she made no demure. In fact, she’d come to a decision that would make such objection superfluous. He beckoned to her, and she walked slowly across the book-lined room until she stood next to him.

Giles gently took her hand and pulled her to sit in the chair facing him. His face had a few new lines in it; otherwise, he was no different. Melissa was the one who was different. It was hard to meet his eyes.

After a minute she broke the silence, asking politely, “Does your wound pain you greatly?”

Giles glanced down at his arm almost in surprise. “No. I’ve had worse than this in Spain, and butchers for doctors besides. They’re the ones that kill you, not the French, we used to say. I’ve promised to be in bed again in an hour. That should satisfy them. But you, Melissa. Are you none the worse for your experiences?”

Melissa dropped her eyes and became very concerned with the arm of the chair. It curled around and ended in a carved wooden claw. She ran her fingers over it. “Thank you, I’m quite recovered.”

Giles waited out the little silence. “And so,” he said pleasantly, “we seem to have exhausted the topic of health between us. Shall we talk about the weather?”

Even now Melissa’s ready sense of humor caught her, and she let out a chuckle. She looked up unwarily. Her clear blue eyes met Giles’s intent gray ones. Then she shyly gazed down at the chair again. She said restrainedly, “Robbie is out of danger. Perfectly well, in fact.”

“Yes, I know. The doctor told me. Durable little fellow, Robbie. If he weren’t an earl, he’d make a damned fine cavalry officer someday.”

Melissa cast about in her mind for another topic of conversation. Anything was better than squirming in this chair with Giles’s amused, knowing eyes on her. “Lady Dorothy is taking Harold’s death well,” she volunteered.

“She’s durable, too. Harold dead will be less worry to her than Harold alive. I hope you’ll allow me this cynical attitude toward a man who punctured me with a bullet and almost threw you over a cliff.”

“Anna’s been having hysterics.”

“Naturally. She’s had a luckier escape than she deserves.”

There didn’t seem to be any answer to that.

“How are you and Adrian getting along?” Giles asked.

“I don’t ‘get along’ with Sir Adrian,” she said tartly. “I feel like a field mouse being asked to play nicely with the cat. I’m just glad he’s on your side. At least I suppose he’s on your side.”

“He is.”

“Just as well. I wouldn’t want to be his enemy. And to think I once imagined he was a fool.”

Giles nodded approvingly. “He’s no fool. In fact, he’s a very bright fellow indeed. When I met him, he was in intelligence in Spain working against the French. What you would call, in plain talk, one of our spies.”

“But he’s a gentleman!”

“Not entirely.” Giles made the correction with a grin. “Or not exactly. No one with Adrian’s taste for doing odd things could be entirely a gentleman. That’s why I sent for him to help me work this problem out. There’s no one better. We were almost too late.” Giles shifted in his chair as if his wound were paining him. Melissa looked up in concern. “Adrian tells me you’ve been eavesdropping in the housekeeper’s room.”

Her quick color wrote guilt all over her face, “Mr. Tarsin.” She stopped, feeling foolish.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I didn’t mean to listen. You see, I went down to look for the ... And the window was open. So I went to close it and then ...”

“And then you overheard something that sent you running out to find Harold as soon as you woke up this morning. I’d give a lot to know what it was you heard that made you so frightened of me last night.”

“Frightened?” Melissa played for time.

“A pale shade of pea green frightened.”

She couldn’t say anything.

Giles continued. “Suppose, just suppose, by complete chance, someone had overheard me paying off that tiresome amateur highwayman. Do you think someone could have jumped to the conclusion I was involved with him in a plot of my own? It never occurred to me that anyone would suspect me of being a murderer. Adrian assures me that I’m the most appallingly limpid and open of creatures. Opinions vary?” Giles finished on an interrogative note. Melissa blushed even deeper red. “Yes. I see,” Giles said calmly.

“I wonder what else you heard,” he continued, as if to himself. “Unfortunately I have no very clear recollection of all the things Adrian and I were talking about last night. But it was obviously enough to convince you I was a double-dyed villain.”

Melissa began nervously pleating the skirt of her dress between her fingers. At last she ventured to speak.

“I didn’t hear anything that isn’t explained now,” she said softly. “I mean, you were making plans to protect Robbie, not harm him. I was a fool to think otherwise. It was just the way the conversation fell out.”

“Is that all you heard?” Giles persisted. “My memory may be at fault, but I recall mentioning my plans for you, too, Melissa.”

Much against her will Melissa was compelled to answer. “I did hear what you said about me.”

Giles smiled at her. “I suppose I put my foot in it. I wish I could remember what it was I said. But whatever it was, it could only have been that I’m determined you won’t get away from me. I won’t let you go, Melissa, and you simply must accustom yourself to the thought.”

Melissa nodded. “That’s what you said.”

“Was that what you found so frightening, so distasteful?”

He was waiting for an answer. Melissa had difficulty making her voice come out just the way she wanted it to. She spoke in almost a whisper. “When I thought— When I feared that you might be a murderer, it was very distasteful indeed.” Her voice died away. Then she encountered an ironic look in his eyes and was moved to defend herself vehemently. “I didn’t want to believe it. But I heard you admit it with your own lips. That’s the way it sounded. And I knew somebody was trying to kill Robbie. And you
are
the one next in line for the title and all that money.” She propped her head in her hands miserably. “What else was I to think? I assure you, it didn’t make me happy.”

Giles rose and stood next to her chair. He put his hand on her hair. “It was not, then, my proposal itself that frightened you so?”

Melissa shook her head. Finally she managed to say, “Not at all. It will take a little getting used to. I never really expected to marry anybody, not in my situation. Let alone accept a … a carte blanche. So it will take a while to … to learn how to go about it. But I don’t find the thought of living with you at all distasteful. I’d already decided to accept if you still want me.” There, it was said. Her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t look at him.

Giles put one hand carefully under her chin and lifted her face up until she had to meet his eyes. His face was solemn. Something in his eyes at the same time lit up with an unholy amusement. “Come now, Melissa,” he said gently. “There’s nothing worth all these tears, surely. I’m not such an ogre.” He touched a forefinger to her cheek and let a tear slide onto his finger. “I’m sure this is something two practical people can work out in a mutually satisfactory manner. It’s not going to be so horrible as you imagine. I’ve given it a great deal of thought. There, that’s better.” Giles eased his weight onto one of the library tables and leaned on the back of her chair, laughing down at her.