Punish Me With Roses - a Victorian Historical Romance (24 page)

Could such a man open his heart to a woman that had made such mistakes?

Instead, she asked, "What is the purpose of this chase? What do you
men
hope to accomplish by going after your family?"

"A confrontation. An accusation. Perhaps a few insinuations." He smiled.

"I'm glad you can find humor at such a time."

"Since I've found you, I can find joy in anything."

She rejoiced. That
must
be love.

"To answer your question more succinctly, your uncle intends to
thank
them for almost killing you."

"This is your family they are talking about. Do you feel just a little disloyal?"

"My loyalty belongs to those that deserve it." He stood up. "I think they'll be expecting me to finish in here. We need to leave immediately."

He had taken his hand from her forehead and the removal of it suddenly made her feel empty and alone.

"Fabian will be here to keep an eye on you."

She shivered. "I need a guard?"

"Just in case," he said, but the implication did not escape him. He frowned, looking around the bedroom nervously. "I don't believe you're in any danger. But if you were, rest assured that Fabian is a crack shot."

"I thought that you didn't
approve
of Fabian." She felt warmer thinking of his jealousies.

"I don't, but your uncle made that decision. I think they felt safer choosing a guard that Rafe knew personally, and someone not of this town. Then there's no chance he could be in league with me."

"What are you implying?"

"Just that your uncle doesn't completely trust that I'm on your side," he said, walking to the door.

Immediately she thought that he didn't deny it to her. She assumed that it was implied in the fact that he was mentioning it to her. Was she getting suspicious again?

His hand was on the door handle. "Don't worry, Victoria. We'll straighten this whole thing out and then..." He smiled broadly.

Her heart did a somersault. "And what if it doesn't get sorted out?"

He opened his mouth a second before the door shot open, hitting him square in the back. "Watch it!"

Rafe stuck his head in through the opening and grinned. "I think it is you, sir, who needs to
watch
where he stands." He looked at her, then back at him. "We need to go. Now."

Her cousin's head disappeared and Alex stood aside to open the door completely. He turned back to her. "I'll be back before you know it. Good-bye, Victoria."

The moment he left her vision, she closed her eyes to the pain. What he was doing might be dangerous. While his father and brother seemed to have started out small, they were getting more violent. And it seemed that the more they were pressed, the more they bit back. She couldn't help but fear for his life. He had become so important to her.

She lay back, trying to feel that something would finally be accomplished. She was able to relax just a little bit and feel more powerful than she had since the tragedy. Perhaps she would finally know what would happen to her. Would she be labeled a murderess or would she be labeled an unknowing pawn in a grand scheme? And what about her future with Alex?

The pain swiftly returned like a physical blow to her chest. Had he done it intentionally? Did she need to be worried? She felt like mud.

He hadn't answered her last question.

The knock on her door was faint, barely audible to her over her pitiful thoughts.

"Yes?"

Through the door, she heard, "It's Dr. Fabian Mallory. I just thought I'd let you know that I was here. So if you need anything..."

She groaned. "If you'd like to speak to me, just open the door."

"I believe that would be improper if it didn't have anything to do with your health."

"There's going to be something wrong with your health if you don't stop talking to me through the door."

The door creaked open. The doctor stepped inside the room. "How is your health?"

"I'm fine."

"Any headaches? Pain?"

She could see that he was looking for an excuse. "Perhaps my bandage needs to be changed?"

"Yes, let's do that." He came towards the bed and she saw that he'd already had his medical bag in his hand.

"When did they leave?" she asked.

"You mean Alex?"

There was no use pretending. "Yes."

"Not long ago. About an hour."

She'd fallen asleep soon after he'd left her room. Through sorrowful dreams and terrifying nightmares, it seemed as though she hadn't slept as long as she thought. Dr. Mallory pulled a chair up to the bed and reached for her arm. He unpinned the bandage and began to unwind the gauzy strips. When he was finished, she had her first look at her injury. The blood hadn't even gone past the first layer of gauze and the scar was nearly imperceptible.

"Not much of a war wound, is it?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. If you want to see a scar, you should see Alexander's father. He sports a mighty large one on the side of his face."

Somewhere in her consciousness, that was important to her. Was it something she had heard about his father?

"But this cut is very insignificant.
He
wouldn't have left you had it been worse."

She didn't feel completely comfortable sitting with a man she hardly knew discussing a topic on which she had so much riding. Instead, she asked, "Why did you feel it necessary to talk to me through the door?"

"I told you. I'm a single gentleman and you're a lady. It wouldn't be proper, under normal circumstances, for me to be in your boudoir." He bandaged her up slowly, obviously in no rush.

His quiet seriousness had so far been far removed from his reputation. "The funny thing is, from what I've heard of you, I didn't realize that was a concern of yours."

"If you've heard anything about me, I'm quite sure there were no
ladies
involved." He grinned, revealing fine, white teeth.

She watched him finish with the bandage.

"There you are," he said, standing up.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Let me know if you need anything else," he said, and he left.

She was alone once again. Alone with thoughts of what terrible things might befall the man she loved. As she'd told him before he'd left, she felt that she was to blame for everything. Many lives would have been different if not for her. If she hadn't poisoned the brandy and instead just gone to sleep, her life would have turned out completely different. If she hadn't helped the beggar, she never would have anything to poison. If her parents hadn't died, she wouldn't have been there to--

The beggar! She sat upright in bed, almost calling for Fabian immediately. But no, she had to think things through first. She could be completely off-track. Except that she didn't think that she was.

Charles Trevelyn had become a sailor when it suited his purposes, what else might he have become? It was all starting to fall into place. She strained to think of the beggar and of what she had noticed on that cold night in December. She remembered that he'd had clean fingernails. Yes! Too clean for a beggar, she'd thought. His clothing too had been obviously fine beneath layers of dust and some rips and tears. That kind of subterfuge was easily put together.

Most importantly, she finally realized why Fabian's earlier conversation had seemed so important to her. The scar. The beggar had a huge scar on his face. So did Charles Trevelyn.

If Charles Trevelyn had been the one to give her the brandy, there was no way he'd assume she'd poison it. It must have been already poisoned!

She pulled the bell cord beside the bed.

Fabian came at once. "I would have sent the maid, but she's quite slow to respond."

"Good, I wanted
you
. I have to ask a favor of you, but first, let me ask this question. What does Charles Trevelyn's scar look like?"

He put his finger on his face. "It goes across his right temple, from here to here," he said.

The two men had to be one and the same. She clapped her hands together, thinking of how much this would help them. She wouldn't be charged with murder! "You have to take me to Blackmoore."

"Surely, you kid."

"Let me explain."

He nodded and she gave him the entire story from start to finish.

After she explained the likelihood of Alexander's father being the beggar, she said, "So I have to tell them. It's important."

"They'll be furious with me, Miss Fyn."

"Not if it works out the way I've planned." She pulled back the covers and turned to place her feet on the floor. She stood up. "And I feel fine. Even you said that I was perfectly healthy. You have to do this for me. It's
my
future and I need to do all I can to secure it."

He hesitated, opened his mouth, and closed it again.

She knew she had won.

Chapter 14

Many hours later, they arrived in Blackmoore.

"Mr. Mallory, I don't know how I'll ever thank you for doing this for me." They stood outside the house, and she stared up at the yawning empty windows with admiration. Some things never changed, and that ancient house was one of them. For some reason, it inspired her. There
were
some constants in life.

"I know better than to try to change a woman's mind."

"I can go inside alone," she said. "I don't want you to get involved unnecessarily."

He shook his head. "Not a chance. Alexander and I may have had our disputes, but he was once a very good friend of mine. If anything happened to you, he'd kill me."

"What makes you so sure that he cares?"

"As I said, he was once a very good friend of mine."

She wasn't so sure, but maybe he could love her that way if she proved her innocence to him once and for all. If that was just a little unfair, she chose not to think about it.

They approached the house quietly and made the decision to sneak around the side to see what could be discovered. It wouldn't do any good to walk right into the lion's den.

Her heart beat in double tempo to her steps. They crept closer to the study and suddenly she stopped. "I think I heard some voices," she whispered.

"Is there any way to get closer?"

"Yes, but I we're going to have to be very careful now. It could be Alexander's father or brother. Although how they would have convinced the servants to let them in, is unbeknownst to me."

"Rich men always have their ways."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Let me go ahead. We need to go around a part of the garden and it's a little tricky if you're not familiar with it."

He nodded.

Now in the lead, she slipped around a few tall pivot hedges and moved closer to the study. Her heart pounded in her ears. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by Charles Trevelyn. She was thankful that Fabian had insisted upon coming.

The voices were louder then. She crept closer to the ground, her breathing impossibly shallow. If she looked around the next pivot hedge, she'd be able to see inside the room. She looked, then breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's Alex," she said.

"Is he alone?"

She looked again. "Yes."

"Then who was he talking to before?"

"It must have been my uncle and Rafe. Who else?"

He shrugged.

She looked again, then stood up. "I'm going to go inside."

"Maybe you should wait."

"It's Alex. There's no reason to." She crossed the remaining distance between where Fabian still hid and the glass doors of the study. She turned the handle and, finding it unlocked, walked inside.

"Victoria," he exclaimed, in a half-whisper. "Get out."

"What?" she asked, and then she heard the other voices. They didn't belong to her uncle or her cousin. She turned heel and sped through the glass door and back into the garden. But she knew when she heard the yell that she'd been spotted by those she'd wished to avoid.

Not wanting to reveal Fabian as well, she ran in the other direction toward the back of the house.

"Come back here!"

She ran, and with each step he gained on her. Her skirts slowed her down, it was a lost cause.

He grabbed her from behind, ending the pursuit. "Thought you'd get away from me?"

How Alexander could have such a slimy brother was beyond her comprehension.

"Not feeling talkative?" he asked as he dragged her back toward the house.

She ignored the question and wondered where Fabian was. More so, she wondered why Alexander was talking to his family if they'd all come there to settle differences. Perhaps they'd already been resolved?

No. She wouldn't have been chased down if that were true.

They finally made it back to the study and she saw that it truly was a family reunion.

"Well, well, well, she's fallen right into our laps," said the man she'd feared without ever having meeting. But of course, she
had
met him. Smoking a cigar before the fire was the beggar: Charles Trevelyn.

"You've done well for us, after all, Alexander," said Michael, sitting beside his brother.

Oh no, what was he saying?

Mr. Trevelyn approached her. "You've finally come to turn yourself in?"

She looked at Alex, unable to craft a response. He looked away.

"Well?"

How could she answer him? Of course she hadn't come to turn herself in and he knew that. He was expecting some sort of witty repartee. A stubborn set of insults, even though she was thoroughly beat. Perhaps clever answers to his biting, insinuating questions. She couldn't do anything of the sort.

It simply wasn't possible when her heart was breaking. "Where is my uncle? Rafe?"

"Securely locked away," Michael replied, smirking.

She looked down at the floor. They had been betrayed. She had no clever witticisms left, not when she was looking at a man who'd played with her emotions until he'd gotten her right where he wanted her
. Had it been easy for him?
she wondered, to take her to the heights of pleasure knowing all along that she meant nothing to him?