That Infamous Pearl (19 page)

Rowena waited,
playing idly with her fan and hoping no one would approach her. The
confrontation with Lady Bingham had upset her more than she wished to admit,
and she had no desire to exchange idle chitchat with the others at the ball. It
was now necessary for her to stay and show a good face to the assembled crowd,
but she longed only to go home and crawl into bed. Perhaps she should have
listened to Alaric. It had been ridiculous to think she could take on the
gossip mill without him at her side.

"Lady Brayleigh?"

Rowena started and
looked up to find Lord Voxley standing in front of her. She stepped sideways a
pace, a guarded look on her face.

"What do you
want?" she asked crossly. She was in no mood to bandy words with Lady
Bingham's cicisbeo.

Lord Voxley bowed
politely. "I regret to inform you that your aunt has had an attack. Mrs.
Allenton is with her and begged me to fetch you."

Rowena regarded him
suspiciously. She had good reason to distrust anything Lord Voxley might tell
her, and this could be another attempt to cause mischief. But if Lady Belmont
had witnessed her exchange with Lady Bingham, she might very well have had one
of her famous spasms.

"Why did Mrs.
Allenton send you?"

"I was the only
person nearby," answered Lord Voxley promptly. "She has taken your
aunt onto the terrace for some fresh air. Mrs. Allenton is concerned that she
might need to go home. She begs that you come immediately."

Rowena paused. "Very
well. I will go to her." She moved towards the large French doors leading
out into the garden, and stopped abruptly when Lord Voxley walked with her. "I
will go alone. I have no need of your escort, sir."

With an unrepentant
grin Lord Voxley bowed again and allowed her to proceed without him. She
hurried towards the doors, hoping this would be a good excuse to leave the ball
early. Lady Belmont's attacks were usually annoying, happening as they did at
awkward moments, but Rowena thought that tonight she would be grateful for her
aunt's weak nerves.

Rowena pushed the
tall glass doors open and stepped out onto the terrace, looking about her for
her aunt and Mrs. Allenton. The terrace stretched out on either side of her for
a considerable distance. She could see no sign of Lady Belmont, and she stepped
out into the moonlight, looking about anxiously. She shivered as the night air
played over her shoulders and moved to her right, thinking that they might be
sitting on one of the benches nearby. The moon was new, a tiny silver sliver in
the midnight sky, so it was very dark, and long shadows were cast by the
sculptures ornamenting the walkway. Rowena shook herself impatiently, fighting
off a sense of uneasiness. What could happen so near to a crowded ballroom?

Suddenly she felt
herself being grabbed from behind, a strong arm wrapping about her waist and a
large hand covering her mouth tightly. Her eyes widened in surprise and then
she began to struggle, kicking with all her strength at the solid body that
clutched her. She felt one foot make contact with a leg and she heard a muffled
oath.

"Wildcat!"
said a masculine voice. "Damn it, stop fighting."

The words only made
Rowena angrier, and she raised her hands, struggling to reach behind her and
scratch her captor's face. One hand came into contact with his hair, and she
gave a sharp tug.

"Hell! Rowena,
stop it. I mean you no harm. I have to talk to you."

The voice was faintly
familiar to Rowena, as though she had heard it long ago, and she paused for a
moment, seeking to capture the memory. The man seized this opportunity to
release her waist and grab her hands in one of his instead, putting her on her
feet and turning her so she faced him. He kept his other hand firmly over her
mouth. Rowena found herself looking up at a very tall figure, broad shouldered,
long-limbed, and slender. His face was hidden in the shadows, but she could see
that his hair was dark blonde and his skin very fair. His was not dressed for a
ballroom, but rather in travelling garb that looked somewhat foreign to Rowena's
eyes. But when he spoke his voice was clearly that of an Englishman.

"If I let go of
your mouth do you promise not to scream?" he asked. His voice was of
medium timbre, agitated now by his activity, but seeming to hold more amusement
than threat. Once again it caused something to stir in Rowena's memory and she
peered up curiously, hoping to pierce the shadows. She nodded slowly.

"Good girl."

The hand was slowly
lifted away from her mouth, but it continued to hover nearby in case she didn't
keep her promise. Her wrists were still caught in his hand, but he eased the
pressure slightly so that his grip was no longer painful.

"What do you
want?" she asked in a fierce whisper. "If my husband, Lord Brayleigh,
hears of this, he will be furious. You had best let me go right away."

"That is exactly
what I want to talk to you about," answered the man. "Your husband."

"Brayleigh? If
you want to know something about him, you must ask him yourself," said
Rowena tartly. "We have only been married a short time."

"I know. I
regret that. If I had known earlier that you meant to marry him I would have
found a way to stop the wedding. By the time I heard, it was too late."

Rowena was startled
by the depth of anger reflected in the man's voice. She shifted her position,
trying to see his face.

"What do you
mean? I married him willingly."

The man gave an
annoyed grunt, and Rowena tapped her toe impatiently. "Who are you? And
what right do you have to interfere in my marriage? For that matter, what right
do you have to seize me in this manner? Brayleigh will be very angry."

"If he cared
about you he would be here to protect you!" The man's voice shook with
anger. "That is another thing I will punish him for."

"My husband's
absence or presence is a matter between him and me. I fail to see what business
it is of yours, especially since I have no idea at all who you are." Rowena's
fear was fading, as the man evidently did not mean to harm her, but her
impatience was rising. He seemed to bear a grudge against Alaric, but was
unwilling to divulge its cause.

"Don't you,
Rowena? Are you sure you don't know me?"

She peered up at him,
perplexed. "Your voice seems somewhat familiar, sir, but I do not recall
when I might have heard it. And I cannot see your face, as you are perfectly
aware. I am certain you are intentionally hiding yourself in the shadows."

The man laughed. "You
always were pert, Rowena. Very well, tell me if you recognize me now."

Still clasping her
wrists in one of his large hands, the man moved out of the shadows of the
building and out onto the terrace, where the thin moonlight could shine down on
his features. His blonde hair was unfashionably long and framed a face that,
although marked somewhat by dissipation, was remarkably handsome. He had high
cheekbones, a straight nose, and generous lips that curled now into a
questioning smile. His eyes were very blue, and as Rowena looked up into them
she felt a sudden shock of recognition.

"Well?"

"You...you look
a little like my father. You have his eyes."

The man laughed. "And
your eyes are like your mother's."

Rowena drew in her
breath. There was something so familiar about this man that it frightened her. "Who
are you?" she demanded.

"Come now,
Rowena. Surely you must recognize your own brother. Twelve years isn't that
long a time."

It seemed to Rowena
that the entire terrace swam before her eyes, and she felt her knees begin to
buckle. She fought to regain her balance. It was Malcolm! This stranger who was
somehow so familiar was her brother.

"I'm sorry."
Malcolm's voice was solicitous and he hastily released her wrists so he could
circle her waist with his arm. He steadied her as she swayed slightly, trying
to absorb the news. "I shouldn't have surprised you that way."

"You're Malcolm?"
she whispered, scrutinizing his face. But she knew as she asked it that the
question was redundant. Now she could see the very strong resemblance to their
father in his strong nose and brilliant blue eyes, and his cheekbones were the
mirror of her own. His coloring was a few shades darker, but he was,
unmistakably, her brother.

Malcolm gave her a
little shake. "You're not going to faint on me, are you? I always thought
you were a spirited little thing. The years haven't turned you into a shrinking
violet, I hope."

Rowena drew herself
together. Not for anything would she have her newly discovered brother think
her a coward. "Certainly not. I was merely surprised."

"I suppose it
must be a shock. The black sheep of the family appearing in the middle of one
of the Season's most anticipated entertainments." Malcolm gave her an
engaging smile. "Lord, it's good to see you, Rowena. I've been away too
long."

Rowena drew in her
breath. Her elation at seeing her brother had given way to a native sense of
caution. "I don't mean to sound as though I am unhappy to see you, but why
are you here, Malcolm? You must know that you will be arrested if the
authorities find out you are in England. This is far too dangerous."

Malcolm frowned down
at Rowena. "Let's sit down," he suggested. He led her down some steps
into the garden, and over to a bench that was partially shaded by a towering
shrub. Rowena seated herself, looking up at him expectantly.

Malcolm placed one
booted foot on the bench and gazed over her shoulder at the dark garden. "I've
been thinking for some time about returning," he began. "It was all
very well for a few years, living by my wits, earning my keep at the gambling
tables, tasting the delights of Paris and Rome, travelling wherever I pleased. But
twelve years is a long time, Rowena. A long time to pay for something I didn't
do. When I heard father died last year I realized I was the new Earl of
Wroxton. I remembered that I had a sister in England, and that I had once had a
life and friends there. I wanted to come home."

Rowena hesitated. "Cousin
Felix is the new Earl. Everyone presumes you are dead. I thought you were until
a few months ago."

Malcolm laughed
derisively. "That is easy enough to reverse. I have the papers to prove I
am indeed Malcolm Arlingby. Besides, no one looking at me would think me
anything but my parent's child. And Wroxton is mine, Rowena. Why should I let
someone else have it?"

"But you didn't
come back then," said Rowena softly. "Why did you wait until now?"

"I had no way to
prove myself innocent of killing Alfred Ingram. So many people believed me to
be guilty. They would have hung me, Rowena. But I swear to you, I didn't murder
him!"

"I believe you."
Rowena reached out slowly and touched his hand, which was clenched into a fist
on his knee. "I know you didn't kill anybody."

Malcolm's stiff
figure relaxed slightly. "I didn't think they could have turned you against
me. The Arlingbys always defend one another."

"And I will
defend you," said Rowena eagerly. "I have been trying to find Ingram's
killer ever since I learned you were still alive. It's a slow process, but I'm
sure that eventually the mystery will be solved. You must return to France and
I'll send you word when all is well."

Malcolm shook his
head. "I'm never leaving England again. Once I came back here I knew this
was where I belonged. No, the entire difficulty can be handled easily. When
Marguerite wrote and told me what had happened to you, then I knew that I had
to return, not just to regain my inheritance, but to save you as well."

Rowena felt rather as
though a bucket of cold water had been dashed over her. She should have known
that Marguerite was behind this. Who else had known where Malcolm was? And it
was Lord Voxley who had summoned her to the garden under the pretext that her
aunt was ill. Marguerite must have planned Malcolm's return in order to cause
more problems in Rowena's marriage. As happy as she was to see her brother, she
realized with a sinking sensation that his presence would make her husband very
angry.

"Lady Bingham
told you?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course. Marguerite
is a great friend of mine. Oh, I'll admit that she's selfish, but she takes
care of others if it doesn't hurt her in any way. She was sure I would want to
know what Brayleigh had done to you. Believe me, Rowena, I will punish him. I
only regret I was unable to prevent him from forcing this marriage onto you. I
never thought he would seek such an awful revenge."

Rowena looked into
his glittering eyes and was frightened by the anger she saw there. Malcolm's
hatred for Alaric had apparently not been dimmed by the intervening years. It
was imperative that she convince him that Alaric meant her no harm. She gave a
tentative laugh, hoping to cajole him into a less lethal mood.

"This is not a
very flattering picture you paint of me, brother. Is it impossible that
Brayleigh might have some affection for me?"

Malcolm turned leaned
towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Of course not. You are
far more beautiful than I had imagined you might be, Rowena. There is no man on
earth who would not be touched by your beauty. But Brayleigh is no ordinary man.
He would stop at nothing, nothing at all to hurt me. He has no affection to
give you because he has no heart. I am sorry you were dragged into this
terrible feud."

Rowena sighed. She
would have to try to reason with Malcolm, and it didn't seem as though he was
in a particularly receptive mood. "Alaric has been very kind to me,"
she said tentatively. "He is my husband, Malcolm, and I owe him my
loyalty."

Malcolm looked at her
as though she had suddenly gone insane. "Loyalty? To Brayleigh? The man
has no human emotions at all. He is as cold and unfeeling as one of those Greek
statues he values so highly. He cast the blame for Ingram's murder on me
because I stood in his way. He forced me to flee because of a murder he
committed, and now he seeks to take even my family from me. I will not permit
it!" His voice rose as he spoke, thickening with passion.

Rowena thought of how
gentle, yet commanding and passionate, Alaric was when he made love to her, of
the open and honest look on his face when he slept. She knew that she had to
convince Malcolm to drop this deadly argument. "Alaric did not murder
Ingram either, Malcolm. You are both innocent. It is someone else who is the
true killer. Someone who used the two of you to gain the Pearl of Sirsi."

Malcolm gave a harsh
shout of humorless laughter. "Poor, naïve Rowena. He has taken you in,
hasn't he? He has actually convinced you that he is innocent. How he must be
laughing at the two of us. My own sister sides with my greatest enemy against
me. His revenge is complete!" He buried his head in his hands and stared
blankly at the ground.

Rowena looked at him
in alarm. Malcolm was clearly overwrought. She could not allow him to believe
she had turned against him.

"I believe you
are both innocent," she said stoutly. "I have been hoping to find the
true murderer these last few weeks. Alaric even helped me."

"He helped you
in order to draw you into his web," said Malcolm harshly. "Since your
marriage has there been word of helping you?"

Rowena looked down at
her toes, unwilling to admit that she had abandoned her quest for fear of
harming her husband. She felt guilty for having deserted her brother when he
obviously needed her help.

Malcolm slammed his
fist into this thigh. "I thought not! You see what good his promises are? Rowena,
you must help me to restore my good name. Brayleigh must be revealed as the
monster he is."

"Malcolm, I want
to help you. But I cannot believe that Alaric is guilty either. Surely you must
see that there is another culprit." Rowena looked up at him earnestly,
willing him to listen to her pleading.

"I will prove it
to you," said Malcolm fiercely. "Only you can get me the proof that I
need, and once we have it we can show it to the whole world. Tell me that you
will help me, Rowena."

"Of course I
will do anything that I can. But I still don't believe Alaric is the murderer. What
is this proof that you speak of?" Rowena tried to keep her voice level,
but her hands were shaking and she looked nervously at the doors leading to the
ballroom. At any time someone could decide to get a breath of fresh air, and
Malcolm's very life would be threatened.

"The Pearl of
Sirsi," breathed Malcolm. "Whoever has it is the killer."

"I have thought
of that before. But how can I possibly find it? I have no idea where it is."

"Brayleigh has
it. He would never part with it, knowing how valuable it is. His nature would
not allow him to destroy it, even though it could destroy him. He will have it
hidden away somewhere."

"I've seen the
most valuable pieces in Alaric's collection," said Rowena practically. "There
was no pearl of unusual size."

"He wouldn't put
it on display! It would be locked up somewhere. You must know where he keeps
his most precious possessions. Tell me, Rowena, and I will show you he is the
killer." Malcolm leaned towards her, his face eager.

Rowena swallowed,
remembering the safe behind the portrait in Alaric's gallery. "There is a
safe," she said cautiously. "But it has a unique and complex lock,
and I don't know precisely how to open it. I'm sure there is nothing in there
but some jewels and such things." She laid her hand protectively over the
rubies that glowed against her skin, thinking of the warmth of Alaric's hands
when he had clasped them around her neck.

"A safe!" Malcolm
stood up and began to pace in front of her. His face glowed with pleasure. "That's
where it will be. You must take me to this safe, Rowena, and I will break into
it. Then I will show you the kind of man your husband is."

"I can't take
you to the safe!" objected Rowena. "How do you expect me to sneak you
into Alaric's London mansion and his private gallery? If he didn't see us, most
certainly the servants would. It's impossible."

"We could do it
at night," said Malcolm. "Leave a light in your window tonight and I
will climb up to it. Then you can take me to the safe."

"We would wake
Alaric up," Rowena pointed out. "I don't think he would care for
that."

"He sleeps with
you every night?" Malcolm gave her a look of surprise. "Marguerite
led me to believe that you two were not close, that Brayleigh had married you
solely for revenge."

"Lady Bingham
knows far less than she thinks she does," said Rowena tartly. "Believe
me, Alaric would notice if I were to start bringing strange men through my
bedroom window."

"Then we shall
have to think of another way." Malcolm took a few more turns up and down
the patch of grass in front of the bench and then swung towards her, a smile
lighting his face. "I have it! You can search the safe for me. You have
many opportunities during the course of a day to be alone. Brayleigh cannot
possibly watch you all the time."

Rowena gaped at him. "I
have no idea of how to open the safe, nor how to break into a one," she
said firmly. "This is pointless, Malcolm."

"No, but I'm
sure you could find a way to make Brayleigh tell you how to open it. If he
sleeps with you every night he must feel something for you. I refuse to believe
the man has any true emotions, but apparently you appeal to his male instincts.
This is marvelous."

Rowena folded her
arms across her chest and frowned at her brother. She thought that he might be
a nice person if he were not so obsessed with proving her husband to be a
murderer.

"I see,"
she said. "You wish me to use my feminine wiles to worm the combination to
the safe out of my husband. Then you would like me to break into the safe
without his permission, discover incriminating evidence, and turn it over to
you."

"Exactly!" Malcolm
beamed at her. "It is wonderful that you grew up to be so clever, Rowena. I'm
very proud of you."

"I have no
intention of doing any such thing!" snapped Rowena. "Not only do I
refuse to believe that Alaric murdered Alfred Ingram, but I will not betray his
trust in me. I will ask him to show me the safe, if you would like, but that is
as far as I will go."

Malcolm stared at
her. "Are you mad? He would only hide the pearl until after he had shown
you the contents. The man is not above deceit. Don't try to tell me you
intended to marry him, Rowena. I know he tricked you into it."

Rowena flushed. He
had pricked a sore spot in her heart, as it rankled that Alaric had not always
dealt with her honestly. But he had sworn he would not deceive her again.

"We have
discussed that matter. Alaric has promised to be truthful with me from now on."

"And you
believed him? How many times must I tell you that Brayleigh cannot be trusted?"
Malcolm gestured wildly. "Do you know what he did to Marguerite?"

"I have a great
many reasons to believe that Lady Bingham is not entirely trustworthy herself,"
said Rowena. "You cannot expect me to take her word over my husband's."

"Marguerite's
not so bad," said Malcolm. "She may be malicious, but her heart's not
black, like Brayleigh's."

"Then why does
she want to destroy him, and me? I believe she sent for you simply so she could
use you to ruin my marriage. She certainly has been trying every other possible
tactic!"

Malcolm started to
laugh. "Is she still trying to get revenge on Brayleigh? Well, perhaps she
is using me, but I am using her as well. She brought me here, and she's footing
the bill. But that doesn't matter. There is nothing more she can do for me
right now. Rowena, you are the one who can help me. You are the only person I
can trust, and you are in a position to save me. Can you turn your back on your
own brother?"

Rowena swallowed. Malcolm
was gazing at her pleadingly, and she could see the loneliness and uncertainty
in his eyes. She couldn't turn him away without trying to help him.

"If I search the
safe and find that the pearl is not there, will you believe me?" she asked
slowly. "Will you take my word that Alaric is not guilty, and help me to
search for the true killer?"

Malcolm gave a little
crow of laughter and grabbed Rowena up into his arms, giving her a fierce hug. "Of
course I'll believe you, little sister. Because you will find the pearl,
Rowena. I have no doubt that it is there, and that when you see it you will
realize you have been trusting in a lie. Then Brayleigh will pay for everything
he has done to our family!"

Rowena sighed. She
told herself that she was absolutely certain that Alaric did not have the Pearl
of Sirsi, but Malcolm's deep conviction had shaken her. She could see by the
look in his eyes that he believed every word he said. It was absolutely
necessary to prove him wrong and kill the niggling doubts that had crept into
the back of her mind. She had to open the safe in order to prove not only to
Malcolm but also to herself that Alaric was the man she believed him to be.

"When can you do
it?" asked Malcolm excitedly. "Tonight?"

"I doubt it,"
answered Rowena. "I don't know. It might be some time. Alaric doesn't go
out much."

"It must be
soon. I can't hide forever. Voxley knows I'm here, and he has a loose tongue. I
live in daily fear that he'll let the cat out of the bag."

"I certainly don't
think he can be trusted," answered Rowena. It pained her to see her
brother relying on people who had tried to harm her. He must feel the same way
about her loyalty towards Alaric, she realized. She touched his hand with
gentle fingers.

"We must meet
somewhere," she said. "You must tell me a place that is safe."

Malcolm shrugged. "I'll
send you a note. We'll meet the day after tomorrow. Do you think you can do it
by then?"

"I'll try."
Rowena felt oddly empty now that she had promised Malcolm to search for the
pearl, as though she had betrayed Alaric. But Malcolm was her brother, and it
was necessary to help him. This was the only way she could steer him away from
his determination to wreak vengeance on her husband. She sighed once more.

"Good girl."
Malcolm put his arm around her shoulders and gave her another quick hug. "I
knew I could count on you. You're my only hope."

Rowena hugged him
back and felt her heart swell. A month ago she had felt so alone, her parents
and brother dead, only her aunt to care for her. Now she had both a brother and
a husband she loved. The only problem was that they were intent on destroying
one another. She would have to work very hard to keep this from turning into a
disaster.

"Rowena!"