Secrets (18 page)

She was getting married in two days. Married to Slade. She didn't care about what had happened during the train robbery, and, more importantly, she did not want to remember James or her feelings for him. And most important of all, she didn't want to know who she was—just in case she wasn't Elizabeth Sinclair.

Regina got up to change her soaking-wet nightclothes. Her body still trembled. She could not stop the encroaching feeling of dread. She had to face it. She was almost certain that she had been remembering
the train during the robbery, not just dreaming. “I don't want to remember!” she cried frantically. “I am Elizabeth!”

She yanked open the drawer to her bureau, trying not to succumb to hysteria. Blindly, she pulled out another nightgown. When she did, something which had been tucked in its folds fell to the floor.

Regina stared at her locket.

She cried out, going down to her knees. It was the same locket which had been stolen from her trunk yesterday. She clasped it to her breast. She was wildly glad to have it back, as if it was terribly meaningful to her, yet she was shocked that it should appear among her things after being stolen. Her gaze flew to the doors of her room, the set which was barred to the corridor, and the set which was barred to the courtyard.

Whoever had stolen it had decided to return it. Whoever had stolen it had been here, in her room, again. Whoever had taken it in the first place had decided that he or she no longer needed it. But why? What could this locket have told someone?

Regina whimpered, opening it. The pretty girl who looked up at her from the daguerreotype was unfamiliar, but her heart leaped at the sight, as if in welcome. She turned the locket over, staring at the initials
RS
. Suddenly a pain lanced through her skull so severely she reeled and was dizzy.

If she closed her eyes and thought, she knew she would know the identity of the young lady in the locket.

Regina jumped to her feet, pacing the room in a frenzy, the locket on the floor. Did the thief know her identity? Was that why the locket had been returned?

The young lady's image returned with a vengeance to her mind. “I am Elizabeth!” she cried again, clapping her hands over her ears and screwing her eyes shut.

She could see a locomotive chugging into a station, the words
Southern Pacific Coast Line
painted boldly in
gold on its sides. She began to pant. Surely she had seen a hundred trains like this pulling into a hundred depots like this. Surely this was not memory, merely imagination!

But a perfectly clear recollection came to her. She was dressed in her beautiful ivory-and-white ensemble, the same suit that she had worn the day she had arrived in Templeton—the day of the robbery. It was not dirty, stained, or wrinkled, but crisply pressed and spanking-clean. She was about to board the train. The depot was crowded and busy. But she was not alone. For a small, older woman stood beside her dressed in navy-blue and white. Mrs. Caroline Schroener.

Regina sobbed.

And another image formed swiftly upon the heels of that one. A splendid stone mansion set in the midst of wet, rolling green lawns with vibrant red roses creeping up its walls. Dragmore, her home.

As clear as day, her parents' faces loomed before her, the Earl and Countess of Dragmore. The countess—the young girl in the locket.

She was not Elizabeth Sinclair. She was Regina Shelton.

She dropped her hands and opened her eyes and listened to the wild beating of her heart. She should be ecstatic. Her memory had returned as suddenly as it had gone. But she sat frozen, shocked. She was not Elizabeth Sinclair after all. Her suspicions had been correct. Dear Lord.

It took a moment to adjust. She began to breathe more normally. She was Regina Shelton. She was no longer mentally crippled. Relief started to flood her. She was Regina Bragg Shelton. Her world was no longer a vacuum of nothingness, a long dark tunnel that she, a blind person, attempted to traverse. She was Regina Shelton. She was not alone in the world. She had parents she loved, parents she trusted, parents whom she could count on. She had two fine brothers and a wonderful sister, the Duchess of Clayborough. And she had many relatives here in America.

Then she recalled how it had all begun, with the train robbery, and she froze. She sat absolutely motionless, remembering how the outlaw had viciously robbed the woman in the pink-and-white dress, tearing her ear-bobs from her ears, ripping her necklace from her throat. She cringed, recalling too vividly how he had struck the young gentleman with his gun. Oh, God.

Just remembering made her head hurt. Remembering made her heart pound with the same wrenching fear. No wonder she had been afraid to remember. No wonder she had bolted and leaped from a speeding train. She did not dare try to imagine what might have happened to her had she not jumped to safety. And that was the last thing she remembered, hurling through the air, time suspended, the ground reaching up for her. She remembered thinking, terrified, that she was going to break her neck. And that was the very last instant she recalled, the split second before impact.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She did both. She sobbed and choked on laughter for a long time. She hadn't broken her neck, she had escaped the vicious outlaw, and she was alive. She had been daringly brave, acting in a manner more suited to her sister, a hoyden, than to herself, the so very proper Regina Shelton. She laughed again, exultant. She was Regina Bragg Shelton—she was not alone in the world anymore.

Suddenly Regina straightened. Dear Lord! How everyone must be worried about her. She had been on her way to the hotel in Paso Robles to visit with her Uncle Brett and Aunt Storm, to enjoy the baths, before going on to San Francisco with them. But she had never arrived. Not only had she never arrived, she had just disappeared.

Oh, God! And Mrs. Schroener was dead!
She
was alive, but that sweet old woman was dead! Regina's heart broke. She remembered being told that Mrs. Schroener had tried to interfere with the bandit chasing her. Fresh tears spilled. Mrs. Schroener had tried because she had tried to protect her.

When Regina had calmed somewhat over the kind chaperone's death, she began to worry about her family. By now her parents would have arrived back in England, only to receive word of their daughter's disappearance. Her grandparents would also have been informed. They must all be hysterical, and as had happened when Lucy had been abducted in '87, a massive search for her had undoubtedly begun. She would have to inform her grandparents and aunt and uncle of her whereabouts immediately. She was certain her parents had boarded the first steamer bound for America, and even now were on their way back across the Atlantic. She thought of how frightened they must be. As soon as her parents stepped upon American shores, they would be informed as well, but until then they would be suffering over her disappearance needlessly.

She swallowed. She would have to inform Slade and his family that she was not Elizabeth Sinclair, too.

Regina became still. The ramifications of the truth hit her. Trembling, she covered her face with her hands, all the jubilation gone. She was not Elizabeth Sinclair, she was not George Sinclair's daughter, she was not the girl Rick loved as if she were his own daughter. He was going to be very surprised when he realized that he had mistaken her for Elizabeth after not seeing her for five years. But Regina did not care about Rick. James no longer stood between her and Slade, but she could not be glad. The truth stood between her and Slade now.

It hit her hard. She was not going to marry Slade. The wedding would be called off. For undoubtedly the real Elizabeth Sinclair would be found. Perhaps she was already on her way to Miramar. And Elizabeth would be persuaded to marry Slade once she had been informed of James's death. No woman could be indifferent to Slade, and she was expecting to marry into the Delanza family, had been expecting that for five long years.

Her stomach lurched. She felt cold and clammy. She would tell everyone that she was Regina Shelton and
she would go on her way. She would in fact be handing Slade over to the real Elizabeth Sinclair.

She clenched her fists. She did not want Slade to marry the real Elizabeth Sinclair. She did not want him to marry another woman. She could not bear the thought. She wanted to be his wife.

For a moment she tried to think calmly about what would happen if she told the Delanzas that she was Regina Shelton. She was also an heiress. Could she persuade them to allow her to marry Slade instead of Elizabeth?

She didn't know. Rick had been so adamant about how he felt about George and Elizabeth. She was afraid. If she took the chance and failed, she would lose Slade to the other woman. And what if her father demanded she wait until he could approve of Slade himself? What if he disapproved of Slade?

The risks were too great. She could not give Slade up to another woman. She could not.

Hot color flooded her cheeks. What she was thinking of doing was wrong, terribly wrong. Did she dare? Did she dare to not tell everyone the truth? Did she dare to continue this deception? Did she dare to pretend to be Elizabeth Sinclair? And marry Slade on Sunday as planned?

Regina covered her mouth with her hands, aghast. Oh, God! She wanted to marry Slade! She loved him! She could not give him up to another woman, she could not! She had no other choice!

She would have to keep her identity a secret. She would have to lie. Knowing herself now, again, she knew she was not a liar. She had never been a liar. She had always been docile and obedient, even when she had mistakenly thought herself to be in love with Lord Hortense. Of course, now she knew she had never been in love before. How glad she was that her father had rejected Hortense! She had respected his decision. She had always been the ideal of a proper lady. Since she had come to Miramar, there had been little that was proper or ideal about her thoughts. And now she was
about to do the unthinkable, something no proper young lady would ever do. She was about to violate the code of conduct every gentlewoman lived by.

She got to her feet. She had a monumental decision to make. To tell the truth and go on her way, or to continue this charade and marry Slade Delanza.

“D
o you, Elizabeth Sinclair, take this man, Slade Delanza, to love and to honor until death do you part?”

The judge had repeated the question.

Regina stood beside Slade in the den. Behind them stood the family; in front of them was Judge Ben Steiner. There were no guests, no organ, no minister, and there were only two small floral arrangements in the room. She was being married on a simple ranch in California, not in a soaring cathedral in London. Her parents weren't there, her brothers weren't there, her sister and her husband weren't there. None of her family was there.

She wore a simple white dress with a high lace-edged collar and leg-o'-mutton sleeves. It was pretty enough. But it wasn't the fantastic creation she had always envisioned. She carried a bouquet of orange roses picked from the bushes in the courtyard outside, but she had no veil. Nothing was the way she had always dreamed her wedding would be.

And now was not the time to notice the difference, or to regret it, or to worry about what she was doing.

Slade hadn't looked at her since she had first entered the room. He stood stiffly by her side, like a soldier at attention. But when she had first appeared on Rick's arm, he had done more than look. He had stared, his
eyes visibly brightening. Regina had been overwrought with nerves, and his open appreciation of the pretty picture she made had soothed her instantly. But only temporarily. When Judge Steiner started the ceremony, nervousness beset her, along with guilt.

Slade finally turned his head. His eyes were wide, incredulous. Regina met his gaze and knew that if she didn't get the words out, if she humiliated him now, he would never forgive her.

Could she really do it? Could she really continue this deception? What she was doing was wrong, so terribly wrong.

Judge Steiner looked at her. From behind them, Rick coughed. Victoria's pink dress rustled. Josephine sniffed. She had been crying all day. A floorboard creaked as Edward shifted his weight. And beside her, Slade had turned to stare straight ahead, rigid and stolid, like a martyr accepting his fate.

“I do,” she whispered.

The judge sighed with relief.

Regina regarded Slade. Tears blurred her vision. She had done it, she had done the unthinkable, she had deceived the man she loved. He refused to meet her gaze, staring at the wall behind the judge.

“Then I pronounce you man and wife,” Judge Steiner said. He smiled at Slade. “You can kiss the bride.”

Slade didn't move. A muscle in his jaw flexed. Regina was perspiring profusely, more now than before. Dear God, she had done it! But her hesitation had upset her husband immensely. How could she explain her behavior to him? Worse, how would she explain her deception to him later?

Abruptly Slade shifted and leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. It was the barest brushing of their lips and it was over before it had begun. For an instant he looked at her. Regina managed a fragile smile in return, a tear slipping down her cheek. His expression tensed. Their gazes remained locked for another heartbeat. And then, to her utter surprise, he wiped the tear away with the blunt tip of his forefinger.
He turned from her just as they were swamped by the family.

Judge Steiner sighed again.

Regina swallowed hard. She quickly found her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Any regret or worry she might have had was gone. She was now Slade's wife. At least, she thought that she was. She fervently hoped that she was. She had married him under an alias, but it had been she, Regina, standing beside him making her vows, it had been she, Regina, not Elizabeth Sinclair, who had received his ring, which she now wore. She was the one who had pledged to love and honor him for the rest of their lifetimes, until death separated them. She trembled, and watched Edward congratulating Slade. Edward was smiling, but Slade was not.

Over Edward's shoulder their glances met again, for a longer moment. Regina's breath caught. She could not decipher his expression, just as she had not been able to comprehend what his tender gesture had meant an instant ago. She prayed he was coming to care for her. Why else would he wipe away her tear?

Regardless of what his well-hidden feelings might be, there was no escaping the fact that she was married to him now, that she was his wife. He was the most complicated, and the most sensitive, man that she knew. He was an enigma, but she loved him. She gazed openly at him, studying his extraordinary profile, relishing the sight he made. She was certain he would always take her breath away. Her heart twisted. Anticipation and excitement fluttered wildly to life inside her.

If she had to do it all over again, she would.

Rick had come forward. He hugged her with real enthusiasm, almost crushing in her his embrace. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” Regina managed.

But Rick had already turned and was pumping the judge's hand. Out of the corner of her eye, as Victoria approached, she watched Josephine embrace Slade. He favored her with a rueful smile. Regina strained
her ears. Slade said, “Bet you thought you'd never see the day.”

“I been prayin' fo' yeahs to see this heah day,” Josephine returned. “You gonna be fine now, sweetie, trust ol' Jojo.”

Regina wished she could hear Slade's rejoinder, but she had no choice and she turned her attention to Victoria. To her surprise, Edward's mother was smiling. “Congratulations, dear,” Victoria said, kissing Regina's cheek. “Welcome to the family,
Elizabeth
.”

Regina could not move. Victoria's eyes glittered with mirth and utter comprehension. There was no mistaking the tone she had used when speaking the name which Regina was using. She knew that Regina was an imposter.

“Elizabeth?” she asked. “Is something wrong? Are you feeling ill? Can I get you something, Elizabeth?”

Regina regarded her wide-eyed. Edward's mother knew about her charade.
She knew
. And Victoria disliked her, she had from the start. Victoria did not want her in the family. Regina would not put it past the other woman to do something awful, such as expose her now, in front of the judge, moments after being wed. She shuddered. She could not imagine what Slade's reaction would be if he were told in such a way instead of being told by Regina herself.

Victoria laughed. “Don't worry, dear, you can count on me.” With that enigmatic threat—and it was a threat—she swept away.

Regina closed her eyes for an instant. She was sweating again. Dear Lord, what had she done? She should have anticipated someone finding out about her deception and been prepared to handle it. But she hadn't. What was Victoria going to do? Regina was afraid; she expected the worst.

She would have to tell Slade soon. Very soon.

But the truth was that she was afraid to tell him. She had yet to think of a good way to do so. She wanted time, time to have him fall in love with her, so that he would be forgiving when he did learn the truth. More
importantly, once he loved her, she would be able to tell him all of the truth—that it was her love for him which had propelled her into keeping such a secret in the first place.

Edward paused by her, smiling broadly. Regina had a moment of severe doubt. She liked Edward very much, but she was still unsure whether he knew the truth about her. In the past few days, since he had helped her find the dress, she had begun to think her suspicions were rooted in her own anxiety and guilt and were therefore baseless. Now she could not help regarding him distrustfully. It would be very easy to conclude that he had known about her and had shared his knowledge with his mother. She stared at him. There was nothing but cheer in his sparkling gaze. Any other thoughts he might be having were obscured by his obvious pleasure in today's event.

“How's the beautiful bride?” he asked, grinning.

Regina wet her lips. “Fine.” She did not want to think that Edward had, in a way, betrayed her. She liked him. She did not know what to think.

“What's wrong?”

She bit her lip, her glance darting past him, looking for Slade. He stood on the other side of the room, with his father and Judge Steiner, watching them like a hawk. She managed to smile at Edward, wishing Slade would come to her. He did not. “I'm just a little faint.”

Edward took her arm. “No wonder. I would be more than a little faint if it were me who just said those vows. Are you having second thoughts, Elizabeth?”

She regarded him carefully. “Not as far as Slade is concerned.”

He studied her. When his smile came, it was as dashing and disarming as before. But she saw a shadow in his eyes. He had understood her innuendo. Gentleman that he was, he chose to ignore it. “Good. The two of you are perfect together.” Then his smile disappeared and he was uncharacteristically serious. “Trust me.”

Regina smothered a gasp. He had not ignored her double meaning after all; he was sending her one of his own. She could not respond.

He bent and brushed his warm mouth on her cheek. “There is no one I care for more than my brother,” he told her, the smile back, graced with dimples. “And now you are his wife.”

Regina watched him walk away. So Edward also knew. She was certain he had just implied that, regardless of her real identity, as Slade's wife he would be loyal to her. Dear Lord, was there anyone other than Slade who was not a partner to her masquerade? Unwillingly, her gaze slipped to her father-in-law. Rick had been watching her, as was Slade, who was still beside his father, his face inscrutable. Beaming, Rick raised a fluted glass. “To the bride,” he cried. Then he cast a warm glance at his son. “And the groom. To the newlyweds. To the future.”

 

He didn't come. He wasn't going to come. Regina knew that now.

It was almost midnight. Regina had been waiting for him since supper had ended three hours ago. She wore the thin ivory silk nightgown that he had been so fascinated with the one time he had seen her in it, when he had entered her room to wake her up. High-necked and long-sleeved, the fabric was nevertheless so fine that it skimmed every curve of her body. It was scandalous, but she wore nothing beneath it at all. The silk was unbearably exquisite upon her body.

She had bathed, perfumed herself, and spent an inordinate amount of time on her long, honey-blonde hair. She had carefully arranged herself in the bed, the sheets around her waist, her position enticing, alluring. But he hadn't come and by now she knew that he wasn't coming at all.

She was upset.

He had married her for her money and he had been open about it. Yet Regina had expected him to be a husband to her in every sense of the word. Had she been a fool? She could not help thinking that he hadn't wanted a wife, he had only wanted an heiress. It was she, Regina, who had wanted a husband—who had wanted Slade as her husband.

Regina slid her bare feet to the floor, tears of hurt and anger filling her eyes. Tonight she had left one of her bedroom doors invitingly open and she looked outside. There was no fog. The sky was ink-blue, lit brilliantly by an incandescent full moon. Her gaze lowered. In his room across the courtyard the lights were on.

He was also awake.

In an instant she made a decision, one she dared not dwell on. She hurled herself from the room. A quick glance around showed her that the rest of the house was cloaked in darkness. As she passed the fountain, her steps slowed.

He had both doors fully open, the screens closed. Regina's heart began to pound too fast and too hard. Her chest felt heavy. The night was cool, but she was too warm, even in her thin nightgown. What she was doing was unbelievably daring, unbelievably aggressive. Most ladies would be thankful to be spared their husbands' attentions. Regina almost paused. She had never acted so impulsively before, or so decisively. Yet she could not stop, not even to wonder at herself. Regina moved into the full glow of the room's lights. She gazed through the screen doors.

About to knock, her hand froze. Her heart slammed. Slade was sitting up in his bed wearing only a pair of short summer drawers. There was a glass of brandy on the table by his bedside, the same table that held the small lamp he had left on. He wasn't reading or smoking or doing anything that she could discern. He was just sitting there, awake and alone.

She trembled. As far as she was concerned, he was naked. She should not look, but she could no more look away than will her heart to cease beating so madly. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, despite the cool sea breeze. Although relaxed, he was so sinewed that the muscles in his arms rippled with his slightest movement, as did the tendons in his abdomen. His chest was washboard-hard. His legs were long and hard and sculpted of sinew and muscle and flesh and bone.

A salty breeze teased the hem of her thin nightgown. It caressed her bare legs, her buttocks, her breasts. Her nipples were hard, aching. She folded her arms tightly beneath her bosom. She was not going to go back to her room, where she too would sit in bed, awake and alone.

She swallowed. Despite her determination, she was beset with cowardice. She raised her hand to rap upon the door.

He said clearly, “How long are you gonna stand out there?”

Regina jumped. She had not realized that he had seen her. All of her color drained from her face. She felt like a truant caught in a criminal act.

He stood up and stared at her. His stance was rigid and his eyes blazed. He appeared angry, prepared to do battle.

Regina almost felt like fleeing. Almost. “S-Slade.”

“What are you doing?”

“I…” She was at a loss. “I c-can't s-sleep.”

He took one step toward her and halted. He stood in the middle of the room now, bathed in warm light, while she stood on the other side of the screens. His gaze swept her from head to toe. His expression hardened. “You're not going to fall asleep standing there.”

She could not believe she had come this far and he would not invite her in. In a flash she recalled their wedding supper. He had sat beside her but he had said very little. He had not been rude, but he had been tense and withdrawn. He had not touched the champagne or wine, which was not usual for him. Regina had been too overwhelmed herself to even attempt to understand him then. She dared not understand him now.