Stroke of Midnight (32 page)

Instead, Haversham had come here.

Her heart beat faster. She had promised Alex not to go alone to visit the marquess. If indeed the man was guilty of killing her father, she would be taking too great a risk. She had agreed only reluctantly to placate her husband.

But surely she was safe here in her own home. There could be no danger in this meeting when a footman was stationed within earshot. Besides, if she waited for Alex’s return, this long-anticipated opportunity would be lost.

“Shall I show him upstairs to the drawing room?” the footman asked.

“No, I’ll see him here. Pray remain nearby until he departs.”

As the servant returned to his station, Laura stepped into the library and partially closed the door, leaving it open a crack in case she needed to call for help. The midday sunshine filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the masculine decor of brown and cream. The scent of leather bindings perfumed the air. She had come to love this spacious room with its shelves of books and the scattering of cushiony chairs. On rare evenings when they had no events to attend, she and Alex would cuddle together on the chaise and read by lamplight.

Those fond memories faded away under the pressing urgency of the moment.

The Marquess of Haversham stood in front of a bookshelf, paging through a thick volume. His back was to her, giving her a rear view of his balding pate with its monkish fringe of graying brown hair. Upon hearing her footsteps, he turned to face her. His narrow, snobbish features wore a look of faint irritation as he scanned her up and down.

He inclined his head. “Lady Copley.”

Laura knew she was presentable in dark blue silk, yet his critical stare made her uncomfortable. She set the basket of roses on a table and then dipped a graceful curtsy. “What an unexpected pleasure, my lord. I hope your journey back to London was uneventful.”

Clapping the book shut, he replaced it on the shelf. “Never mind my journey. I’d like to know why you keep coming to my house. You’re the one who tried to corner me at Witherspoon’s ball, too.” His lip curled. “Evelyn says you’re Martin Falkner’s daughter.”

“Yes, I am.” Laura refused to be intimidated by his abrupt manner. She waved a gracious hand at a pair of chairs by the fireplace. “Would you care to sit, my lord?”

He gave an impatient shake of his head. “I’d as soon you just explain what you mean by telling my daughter this havy-cavy business about my name being mentioned in a letter.”

Unwilling to be at a disadvantage, Laura remained standing, too. She wanted to peer straight at his face as he answered her questions. In order to observe every nuance of his expression, she strolled to the window so that he would be gazing into the light.

Lacing her fingers at her waist, she murmured, “I did indeed say there was a letter among my father’s effects. I’ll tell you about it in a moment. But first, I believe you and my father were once rivals for my mother’s affections. Is that true?”

Haversham scowled. “What matter is it? That was thirty years ago!”

“Yet the feud between the two of you lingered for a long time. I remember you exhibiting a distinct coldness toward Papa at the time of my debut a decade ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If your delicate sensibilities have been injured, Lady Copley, then pray accept my apologies!”

Was his derisive manner simply a part of his callous nature? Or did it indicate that his deep-seated hatred of Martin Falkner also extended to her?

She gazed steadily at him. “I’m sure you recall the incident that befell my father at that time. A set of earrings belonging to the Duchess of Knowles were found in the desk in his study.”

“Indeed.” His icy gray eyes looked her up and down. “Though I would hardly say the incident
befell
him. Falkner stole Her Grace’s jewels. Pardon my frankness, but it is a travesty of justice that he never went to prison for his crime.”

Laura studied his face for any sign that he was playacting. She could see nothing but a cold mask of antipathy. Had Papa confronted this man all those weeks ago? Had Haversham then ordered him killed to prevent him from revealing the truth?

“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “my father was innocent of all charges. Perhaps he never stole those jewels.”

“Never stole them—? Poppycock. They were found in his possession. Then he viciously attacked Copley and fled the country. That is hardly the act of an innocent man.”

She didn’t correct his misapprehension as to who had slashed Alex’s face. “Papa feared he would be sentenced to death for a crime he hadn’t committed.”

Haversham gave a decisive shake of his head. “It is quite obvious that Falkner absconded with the Blue Moon diamond. He no doubt sold it for a king’s ransom.” Taking a step toward her, he eyed her with lordly distaste. “I understand
you
vanished with him. Perhaps
you
know what happened to the diamond. If you’ve an ounce of decency, you would tell the duchess so the stone might be recovered!”

Laura’s muscles tensed. His insulting verbal attack had to be designed to conceal his own guilt by putting her on the defensive. The zealousness of his tone hinted that he had a personal stake in the case.

“My father did not steal the diamond. I am prepared to swear to that fact in a court of law. When would he have ever had the opportunity, anyway?” She dipped her chin in an attempt to appear less confrontational. The last thing she needed was for him to attack her. “No, I’m thinking the real culprit must have been someone who had direct access to Her Grace’s bedchamber, where she kept her jewels.”

During this speech, skepticism flitted over his face, followed by a narrowing of his eyes. That secretive, hooded look seemed to indicate he was hiding something. So did his lack of an immediate response. The marquess appeared to be waiting for her to finish.

Driven by the anticipation of discovery, Laura hoped he would believe the deceit she was about to voice. “This brings us to the document that I discovered among my father’s effects. Although I called it a letter, it’s really more of a diary entry. In it, Papa recorded everything he could remember about the time of the robbery. And that’s when I saw your name.”

“
My
name? What the devil did that rascal say about me?”

She gave him a guileless look. “He made a very interesting observation, my lord. Pray pardon me for bringing up something so indiscreet, but Papa wrote … that
you
had had an affair with Her Grace.”

Haversham stared blankly at Laura.

Then his face twisted. He slammed his fist down on the nearest table, making a dictionary rattle on its stand and causing her to jump. “Good God!” he exploded. “That is a bald-faced lie! I can’t imagine why he would write such a falsehood. Especially since…” He bit off his words, his gaze piercing her before he spun away to pace the carpet in obvious agitation.

“Especially since … what?” Laura prompted.

The marquess turned to face her. But his angry eyes focused beyond her shoulder as if to peer into the past. “I see his diabolical plot now. Falkner was attempting to pin the blame on me. He wanted people to think that
I
had been in the duchess’s bedchamber—that
I
stole the Blue Moon and then somehow planted those earrings in his desk. What a colossal deception. I’d never even set foot in his house!”

“Evelyn came to call the day prior to the discovery,” Laura murmured. “I was upstairs in my chambers, and she was alone downstairs—”

“Enough! You will
not
sully my daughter’s name, too.” He shook his forefinger as if Laura were a wicked child. “This is slander. I demand that you burn that paper at once!”

A quiver of unease gripped Laura. Haversham stood between her and the door. He looked so wrathful that she regretted taking this position by the window.

She edged toward the fireplace, where the poker would be a handy weapon if he attempted to do her harm. At the same time, she wouldn’t let herself back down now, not when she felt so close to discovering what had really happened.

“I’m truly sorry for upsetting you, my lord,” she said with feigned calmness. “But surely you can see why this paper is so important. As I said, my father is innocent. And I feel compelled to pursue this issue in the name of justice for him.”

“Justice! I’ll give you justice,” Haversham thundered with another jab of his finger in her direction. “If you must know, it wasn’t me who had the affair with the duchess. It was your father, that’s who.
Your father!
It wasn’t enough for him to steal Aileen from under my nose, he had to steal the duchess, too.”

Laura’s jaw dropped. Her father—and the Duchess of Knowles? Her father—and that patronizing, beak-nosed snob?

No
. A thousand times, no.

But if it was true … and if Alex had known … it would explain why he’d begun courting her in earnest directly after the jewel heist …

A wave of dizziness struck Laura, making Haversham’s image waver and then split in two. Black dots swam before her eyes. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she groped for the back of a chair to steady herself. A small moan escaped her lips.

The marquess was at her side in an instant. When he grasped her arm, she flinched and tried to push him away, but the action only worsened her vertigo.

He urged her forward. “Blast it all, girl, you shouldn’t have made me tell you that,” he said gruffly. “Now sit down before you swoon.”

“Swoon? I’ve never…”

Her legs gave out and Laura collapsed onto the soft cushions of a chair. Leaning forward, she dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes in an effort to rid herself of the awful whirling faintness. She had to regain her equilibrium. Haversham could strangle her right now and she wouldn’t have the strength to ward him off.

Dimly she grew aware from the sound of his retreating footsteps that he’d left her side. He was at the doorway, calling out to the footman. Male voices echoed in the entrance hall. Laura heard shouting, though she couldn’t discern any of the words.

Heavy masculine footsteps hastened toward her. Bracing herself to fight off the marquess, she cracked open her eyelids. To her vast relief, the wooziness had faded completely. Everything appeared normal again, from the tall rows of books to the basket of roses she’d left on a table.

Her gaze focused on the tall man approaching her at a fast clip. She knew his muscular form as well as her own body. “Alex, you’re back!”

He tore off his riding gloves and flung them onto a chair. His face grave, he sank onto one knee beside her chair. He caught hold of her hands and gripped them, his dark eyes searching her face. “What happened? Are you ill?”

She struggled to smile. An elusive thought hovered at the edge of her mind, a dreadful suspicion that she didn’t want to acknowledge just yet. “It was a slight dizzy spell—perhaps I was out in the sun too long this morning. I’m better now.”

Alex didn’t look convinced as he studied her face. “I’m taking you upstairs at once. You should be seen by a physician.”

He sprang to his feet and made a move to pick her up, but she waved him away. “No, Alex! I’m perfectly fine. Really, I am. I won’t go, not when I haven’t finished interviewing Lord Haversham.”

Glancing past Alex, she saw the marquess standing just behind her husband. Haversham’s bristly brows were drawn together in a scowl and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other.

He cleared his throat. “There’s nothing more to be said, Lady Copley. In fact, too much has been said already. I’ll bid you good day.”

As he turned to go, she snapped, “You will wait, sir!”

He turned back, his glower expressing indignation at being addressed in such an impertinent manner. But Laura didn’t care about his injured pride. She wanted only to unlock the truth—and he had to be the key.

She returned her anxious gaze to her husband. “Lord Haversham claims that my father … had an affair with the Duchess of Knowles. But Papa never breathed a word of that to me. Did the duchess confide in
you
, Alex? Did she ever mention such a relationship?”

Alex stared down at her, his expression austere, his eyes dark mirrors that hid his thoughts. He glanced at Haversham, and Laura had the impression of an intense wordless exchange between the two men.

Only then did Alex speak. “This speculation about my godmother’s private life is sordid and unacceptable. Haversham, I’m surprised at your lack of discretion.”

“I won’t tolerate lies being spread about me,” the marquess growled. “As for you, Lady Copley, just ask the duchess if you doubt me—though don’t expect her to be very pleased by your questions. She values her privacy even more than her collection of jewels.”

“That’s enough,” Alex snapped. “You’ll leave my house at once.”

Haversham nodded grimly. “Just do me a favor and destroy that document your wife found. I won’t have Martin Falkner defaming me from the grave!”

Turning on his heel, he strode from the library. The rapid click of his footsteps echoed in the entrance hall, followed by the slamming of the front door.

“Document?” Alex turned a quizzical look down at Laura. “What document? What did you find?”

“Nothing. It was a complete fabrication.” Collecting her thoughts, she took a deep breath. “I told him that my father had written out an accusation saying that Haversham had had an affair with the duchess, giving him access to her bedchamber where she kept her jewels. I’d hoped to prod him into making a confession. That’s when he claimed that it was
Papa
who’d had the affair with her…”

Laura’s words trailed off as the terrible thought she’d been avoiding sprang into her mind. Suppose … just suppose Haversham was telling the truth, that her father really
had
engaged in a liaison with the duchess. Had Alex known about it? Was that why he’d evaded her question a few moments ago?

“You’re overwrought, darling,” he said, reaching down to brush his hand over her cheek. “You must put this unpleasantness out of your mind. Now, are you able to walk? Perhaps you’re light-headed from hunger. I’ll order a luncheon tray for you in your bedchamber.”