My Lord Murderer (14 page)

Lady Hazel regarded her with mild surprise. “I believe you are laboring under a misapprehension, my dear…”

“Misapprehension? I think not,” Gwen said icily.

“But really—” Lady Hazel began.

“Were those flowers brought by Lord Jamison?”

“Yes, indeed, but—”

“Then I’ve apprehended the situation perfectly.” She threw her bonnet on the sofa with an angry toss and began to pace about the room. “Am I never to be free of that man? I thought I had made it quite clear to him that—But never mind. There’s no hope for me at all if my own family connives with him behind my back. Really, Hazel, I would have thought that
you
, of all people—”

“Gwen, don’t be a shrew,” Lady Hazel said, putting down her crocheting and rising with elaborate dignity. “You’re making a cake of yourself.”

“Good heavens, Hazel, you sound like Tom. Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean that you have no right to scold me about Lord Jamison’s visit. It had nothing whatever to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with
me?
” Gwen asked, baffled.

“Nothing,” Lady Hazel responded decisively. “The gentleman came calling on
me
, if you please.”

Gwen was at a loss for words. “On you?”

Lady Hazel was enjoying herself hugely, though she was careful not to smile. But her eyes had a decided twinkle as she threw her shawl over her shoulder with an insouciant swing and swept to the door. “Yes, on
me
. And incidentally, my dear, the reason he came was to give me a gift. He wanted to deliver it in person.”

“A g-gift?”

“Yes, my dear, a gift. Flowers. The flowers, you see, were for
me
!” And with a saucy toss of her head, she sailed out of the room.

Gwen stared after her, openmouthed. Had Drew truly come to see Hazel? She felt a complete fool. With a little stamp of her foot in irritation, she glared at the door. Hazel had quite enjoyed watching her make a dolt of herself. She ran to the door and down the hall. She caught up with her mother-in-law at the bend of the corridor that led to Lady Hazel’s bedroom. “Hazel, wait,” she said breathlessly.

Hazel paused and turned. With an eyebrow raised quizzically, she asked demurely, “Yes, dear?”

“How can you be sure?” Gwen asked challengingly. “How do you know that Drew wasn’t just using you…”

“Using me?”

“As a ruse to get into the house to see me.”

Lady Hazel looked at Gwen with an expression that combined pity with annoyance. “You’re becoming quite puffed up with yourself, Gwen,” she said shortly, and turned on her heel and marched off down the hall. “I
know
he came to see me because he told me so,” she called over her shoulder. Then she disappeared into her room, letting the door close behind her with a decided slam.

Gwen pouted and followed. Without bothering to knock, she opened Hazel’s door and poked her head in. “He
told
you so, did he? Well, what does
that
prove?” she asked in a tone of heavy sarcasm.

“It proves nothing to a suspicious mind,” Hazel retorted, motioning Gwen to come in and sit down. “However, since he waited outside our door in his carriage until he saw you leave the house, I am quite convinced that he had no interest whatever in seeing you.”

“Oh,” said Gwen, crestfallen. “Did he do that?”

Lady Hazel’s eyes had held a twinkle throughout the exchange with her daughter-in-law, but now the twinkle faded. “Yes, love,” she said kindly, “I’m afraid he did.”

“I see.” Gwen sat down on the edge of a chair, her eyes thoughtful. “Hazel, has it occurred to you that Drew can accomplish through
you
the goal he could not accomplish through me?” she asked, her tone no longer tinged with accusation but with a weary despondency.

“What goal is that?”

“He had hoped that a … friendship with me would put an end to the gossip concerning the duel. He could not succeed in that, so … don’t you see…?”

Hazel fixed her puzzled eyes on her daughter-in-law’s face. “No, I’m afraid I don’t quite…”

Gwen looked up at her mother-in-law earnestly. “A friendship with you—Rowle’s
mother
—would accomplish the very same thing.” Her eyes wavered and dropped embarrassedly as Hazel’s face showed her disdain for what Gwen was suggesting. “Isn’t it true that
your
approval of his company would quiet the gossip as effectively as mine?”

“I suppose it would,” Hazel answered coldly. “Are you asking me to refrain from receiving him?”

Gwen recognized the coolness in Hazel’s voice. She glanced up, her eyes troubled. “I can’t … I know I shouldn’t ask such a thing of you—” she began hesitantly.

“Well, you needn’t worry,” Hazel cut in. “When Lord Jamison brought the flowers to me today, he explained—in the kindest way possible—why he intended never to visit this house again. So you see, you are quite out about his motives.”

“Oh,” Gwen said in a small voice, edging back in her chair and lowering her eyes. “May I ask what reason he gave you for that intention?”

“He said that he at last realizes that his presence causes you pain. He therefore has decided not to ‘inflict’ himself upon you again.”

Gwen stared at Hazel for a moment, then looked down at her hands folded in her lap like a chastised schoolgirl. “I
have
been quite puffed up with myself, haven’t I?” she asked, shamefaced.

“Yes, a bit,” Hazel said gently.

“You should be quite cross with me. I’ve been terribly rude to you.”

Lady Hazel came up behind Gwen’s chair and put her hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “You are my family, as I am yours. If we’re rude sometimes, we can easily be forgiven on the grounds of intimacy. Especially if the injured party understands the reasons.”

“
Do
you understand the reasons why I was so rude?” Gwen asked, turning to look up at her.

“I think I do.”

Gwen looked down at her hands again. “You think I … I … love him … don’t you?”

Lady Hazel looked down at Gwen’s averted head with a small, tender smile. “I’ve been suspecting something of the sort.”

Gwen got up and walked slowly to the door. “It doesn’t make any difference, you know. Not a bit of difference. I’ll never marry him,” she said in that weary voice. And she left the room.

Hazel looked at the closed door with troubled eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you will, poor child,” she said with a sigh.

Drew was just finishing a letter to his man of business when Mallow announced Tom. Drew had not seen the boy since they’d returned from Suffolk, and he looked up from his desk with a warm smile. “Tom, old man, it’s good to see you,” he said. “I had quite convinced myself that, in the press of your various London activities, you’d forgotten me completely.”

Tom shook his head in an embarrassed denial. “You know that’s not so,” he said shyly. “I just didn’t want to make a dashed nuisance of myself.”

“Cawker!” Drew said affectionately. “You know better than that.”

“I hoped you’d come around to our house,” Tom suggested tentatively.

Drew turned away from the boy’s direct stare. “I’m afraid I won’t be stopping at Rowle House in future,” he said quietly, fingering his quill pen absently.

Tom, well aware that a serious rift had occurred between his sister and Drew during the stay at Stone-haven, looked down at his shoes in awkward silence.

“However, I hope I don’t need to say,” Drew said earnestly, “that you are welcome here whenever it pleases you to come. And your visits had better be frequent,” he added with a smile, “or you shall have me thinking that my reputation among the young bucks of your acquaintance is slipping badly.”

Tom grinned. “No fear of that, at any rate.”

“Can you take luncheon with me today? I’m expecting Wys shortly, and I know he’d like to see you.”

“Yes, thank you. I’d like to. By the way, Drew, my friends and I stopped in at Jackson’s gym last week. I looked for you, but I was told you hadn’t come in.”

“Circumstances prevented it last week. But I plan to go in next Thursday. Would you like to come along with me?”

Tom looked at him eagerly. “Do you mean it?” he asked, obviously thrilled at the prospect. “I wouldn’t be in your way?”

“Don’t be a gudgeon. Would I ask you if I thought that?”

Tom blushed with pleasure. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“Good,” Drew said smiling. “I’ll come by for you next Thursday at two—” His expression clouded over. “I mean … perhaps you could come by
here
at about two,” he finished lamely.

Tom nodded and awkwardly got to his feet. In an obvious attempt to dispel the shadow that Drew’s relationship with his sister had cast between them, he looked around the room for a subject to talk about. His eye fell upon a magnificent pair of dueling pistols which were mounted on the wall above the fireplace. “Oh, I say, Drew,” he said admiringly, “what fine pis—”

But Drew seemed not to hear. He had risen and walked to the window. He now stood with his back to the room, staring out at nothing in particular. “Did you tell her you were coming here today?” he asked without turning.

“Do you mean Gwen?” Tom asked, feeling stupid and inept.

Drew nodded.

“Well, I…” Tom paused. He would have liked to throttle his sister. If she had any sense, she would know that a man like Drew could never have done anything dishonorable. Drew seemed to Tom so honest, so manly, so competent, so strong, so confident! He might have been Tom’s brother-in-law, if Gwen were not so blind! Tom, whose father was confined to a sedentary life and who had no older brother to model himself upon, felt that his association with Drew was the most fortunate stroke of fate ever to have befallen him. Would his sister spoil even
this?
“I didn’t tell her,” he admitted miserably.

Drew heard the shame in his voice and roused himself from the mood of self-pity which had suddenly engulfed him. He had been selfish and thoughtless and had embarrassed and depressed his guest. He turned quickly and crossed the room. Putting his arm across the boy’s shoulder, he said in a direct, casual way, “Perhaps it
is
best not to discuss me with her. I don’t want you to lie to her about anything, of course. If she should ask you where you’ve been or where you’re going, you must tell her. But I see no harm in avoiding the subject of our friendship, if you can. The knowledge would only upset her, after all.”

Tom nodded gratefully. Drew’s straightforwardness had cleared the air. “I won’t tell her about going to Jackson’s next week, then,” he said in relief.

“No need to, as far as I can see. I’ll get you home early enough to prevent her feeling any concern about your whereabouts. Now, then, what did you ask me a moment ago?”

“Oh, yes. I was wondering about those pistols on the wall. They are
something like!
”

“Aren’t they?” Drew smiled and crossed to the fireplace. He took one of the pistols down from the wall and handed it to Tom. “The silver work on the butt is remarkably intricate—a veritable work of art, I’m told.”

Tom took the pistol in his hand and turned it over admiringly. “Those stones—they’re surely not
real
rubies, are they?” he asked in awe.

“My boy!” said Drew in mock dismay. “It won’t do at all to suggest that the Regent would possess anything false!”

Tom goggled at him. “Did these belong to the Prince Regent?”

“Oh, yes. Who else would have ordered a pair of weapons of such grandeur?” Drew laughed.

“How did
you
come by them, Drew?”

“Prinny wagered them in a shooting match. I won.”

Tom gaped at him in awe. “What a prize! I’d give an arm to own a gun like this!”

“Nonsense. All that ornamentation would spoil your grip. Those pistols are good only for display.”

“You mean you’ve never used them?” Tom asked thoughtlessly. “Aren’t these the guns you used to—?” He stopped, colored to the tips of his ears, and hung his head miserably.

“To fight my infamous duel? No, those were not the guns, have no fear,” Drew said drily.

“I … I’m s-sorry…” Tom stammered.

“Look here, Tom,” Drew said pleasantly, “you must learn to speak your mind freely, if we’re to be friends. It won’t do to have to walk on eggs with each other, you know. By the way, if you really like these pistols, I’d be glad to give them to you.”

“Give them to me!” Tom said, overwhelmed. “Oh, no, I couldn’t take such a gift!”

“Why not?
I
never liked them above half. Prinny’s taste has always seemed to me more than a little ostentatious.”

“I don’t know about that, Drew,” Tom said firmly, recovering his equilibrium, “but I know that I can’t accept them. However, I’d be more than grateful if I could borrow them for a day or two…”

“Borrow them? Of course you may. But whatever for?”

“Well, you see,” said Tom with a mischievous grin. “I’d like to show them to Ferdy and Quent. Ferdy has a watch fob from his father that he shows off constantly, and Quent makes us wild bragging about his brother’s thoroughbred. If I could show them
these
, they’d turn positively
green!
”

Drew grinned. “I see. Well, then, take them by all means. We’ll have Mallow find the case and pack them up properly. There’s nothing more satisfying in the world, I am sure, than making one’s friends green.”

Wys strolled at a leisurely pace down Jermyn Street, having left his lodgings in plenty of time to arrive at Drew’s door at the appointed hour for luncheon. The day was bright and sunny, though the wind had a strong bite in it, forecasting the winter weather that daily threatened to arrive. He was glad he had worn his brown greatcoat. Although it sported only three capes, it afforded him more than adequate protection against the brisk wind.

The street seemed unusually noisy this forenoon: a number of dirty urchins were gathered on the opposite side of the street quarreling loudly over some prize; a number of carts and wagons were trundling along clattering over the cobbles on their way toward St. James Street; vendors were hawking their wares in their timeless, singsong way; and, most irritating to Wys, the driver of a hired hack was shouting curses at a wizened, gnarled old man who was pulling a cart loaded heavily with apples.