The Convenient Bride (24 page)

"You
wouldn't dare!"

He
rolled back on his heels. "You think your sister drowned accidentally in
the Thames, do you?"

Briana
felt the color leave her cheeks.

"That's
right, my dear. I killed her."

Briana
stiffened under his glare.
Clarice, oh, Clarice, what agony you must have
suffered.
"So, my innocent sister was an obstacle?" she asked
hotly.

"Indeed,
my dear." With a regretful sigh, he cast a glance over her person.
"It is a pity you are even a bigger obstacle, are you not?"

Clayton
stared at Agatha. Agatha stared at Clayton. They were standing alone in the
yard outside the posting inn on their way to Bath. "What are you doing
here?" they said in unison.

"I
thought you would be returning to London," Agatha snapped impatiently.

Clayton
raised a brow. The lady looked a bit pale. "Why the deuce would I be doing
that?"

"To
show off your new bride," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"My
wife has no need of me, madam. I am off to see my brother Marcus, who has
inherited a house in Bath." He peered at the posting inn, then back to
Agatha. "Briana is not with you?"

Agatha
scowled. "Of course not, you ninny. You left that poor child by herself? I
thought you still with her."

"I
believe she has a friend in Violet. I have left my wife the name of my
solicitor and banker. What else does she need?"

Agatha's
hands gripped her reticule and she seemed to sway. "You nincompoop!"

His jaw
tensed. He should be thankful she had no parasol. "Depend upon it, Miss Appleby.
I believe my wife is in agreement with you. She has no need of me at all."

"And
whom do you think she needs? Kingsdale?"

His hand
tightened on his riding whip. "I made certain the man had left, madam. I
am not as stupid as you may think."

"Well,
you are stupid," she said disgustedly. "Upon my departure I saw Lord
Kingsdale lounging in the drawing room, playing chess with Mr. Wells. And it
didn't seem the man was in a hurry to leave."

Clayton
swung his gaze toward the road. "I was distinctly told he had left."

"Who
told you, my lord?"

He
looked at her and frowned. "I believe it was Grimstoke's daughter."

"Well,
the chit lied."

"Why
the deuce would the girl offer me such information?"

"Perhaps
she is in love with Kingsdale. I don't know."

Clayton
began pacing the grounds. "But why lie to me? I don't give a fig about her
love life. Or Kingsdale's."

"But
you never liked the man, and perhaps she knew that. Perhaps she thought she was
protecting him in some way."

"It
doesn't make sense." A frown flitted across his face when suddenly he
looked up. "I mentioned Briana would be staying by herself while I had
business away."

"And
the lady mentioned Kingsdale?"

Clayton
reddened. "I asked her about the man."

"Because
you were jealous, no doubt." Without warning, Agatha smacked him with her
reticule and stumbled back.

He
winced. King George, that reticule was harder than her deuced parasol!
"Bodily harm will not move my heart, Miss Appleby."

A horse
and rider came galloping toward them. Clayton noticed it was the footman who
had dropped the coffee on Sir Gerald.

Agatha
narrowed her gaze. "What is it, Augustus?"

Clayton's
brows went up. Augustus?

The man
handed a sealed letter to Agatha and she ripped it open. Her face turned white
and Clayton caught her before she fell to the ground. Agatha's lids fluttered
open. "My head. Must lie down. The blow was worse than I let on."

She
returned the paper to the rider, and in no time Clayton had her in a chamber
upstairs in the inn. Clayton was torn between staying with Miss Appleby and
returning to his wife.

"What
in the blazes is going on?" he asked Augustus.

The man
looked positively morbid. "Can't say, my lord. It's Miss Appleby's
business."

"My
lord," Agatha whispered from the bed.

Clayton
walked over to the woman. "The doctor will be here within in a few
minutes, madam. Now, what have you to say to me?"

"Briana
is in danger."

"What
exactly do you mean by that? The mission is over."

Agatha
nodded to Augustus to hand the letter to Clayton.

Clayton
opened it and shot her a questioning stare. "Hell's bells!" It was
from Grimstoke. The man was part of the plan against the prince and had decided
to confess.

"And
Lady Grimstoke was Whitehall's secret source," he replied, reading the
words before him.

Agatha
nodded. "It's all there in the letter. We didn't know who it was. But it's
quite clear Lady Grimstoke finally divulged her dealings with Whitehall to her
husband and now the man is confessing all to us. Revenge is quite nasty, you
know. It seems the lady discovered Grimstoke was being unfaithful."

Agatha
sighed. "And somehow Grimstoke knew I was part of all this. However, I
don't think he knows about Briana."

Clayton's
stomach knotted. His wife could be in more trouble than she would ever know.
How could he have left her in such danger? "Then your mission is not
without merit?"

"Correct"
Agatha cringed and held her head. "We knew Grimstoke was a good friend of
the Regent, and because of the unknown source, we thought the lord was planning
something against Prinny. We had no idea who Grimstoke's contact was, and I
believe Grimstoke still doesn't know."

Agatha
bit back the pain. "That is why the drop-off point was so important.
Grimstoke never knew if the person was a servant or even a nobleman. Yet somehow
Lady Grimstoke intercepted information of her husband's dealings. She knew the
drop-off point was near his desk in the library. Only someone close to
Grimstoke would be able to gather that information."

"And
Grimstoke would have been happy as long as he received his money," Clayton
said dryly. "But since Grimstoke is a friend of the Regent's, any
information that was passed along could be useful. Times, dates, meetings. All
that prized information could readily lead to an assassination attempt."

"Yes,"
Agatha said, frowning.

Clayton
gritted his teeth in frustration. "And Briana is there, alone, with
nothing to do but look for evidence, even though you told her the mission was
canceled?"

"I
told her Whitehall was sending me to Bath." Agatha's hand shook as she
reached out to him. "I fear she is in grave danger."

"You
know the adversary, then?"

"No.
I went over the list, but after what you said about Violet mentioning that
Kingsdale had left, it makes me wonder."

The
disturbing thought that Kingsdale was involved in the assassination attempt
sent Clayton's apprehension soaring. "If Violet is in love with the
man—"

"Oh
my," Agatha cried. "Do you think it could be so?"

The
threat was left unsaid. "I should never have left her alone." His
thoughts were going a hundred directions. If Briana died because of his
departure ...

He
looked at Agatha. "I'll have need of a pistol."

Agatha
nodded toward her reticule. "In there."

Clayton
gave a grim chuckle. "Was it loaded when you whacked me with it?"

Agatha
tried to smile. "Indeed, it was, my lord."

Chapter
Nineteen

W
hy didn't you tell me you were
working for Whitehall?"

Violet
stood inside the library door, staring in horror at Briana sitting on the sofa.
Briana was just as shocked to discover that Violet had fallen in love with
Kingsdale. Violet had mentioned her attraction to the man, but the girl was
always speaking her thoughts out loud. It never occurred to Briana that Violet
would fall into Kingsdale's trap.

"You
might not understand now, Bree," Violet went on, "but you will see
that Lord Kingsdale wants to help England. Only he cannot help the country with
the Regent being the way he is. Prinny must learn a lesson. He needs to stop
all that spending and give to the poor."

Briana
almost felt sorry for her friend. Almost. How could the girl be so gullible?

"She
could not very well tell you she was working for the government, my love."
Lord Kingsdale positioned himself on a chair opposite Briana, the pistol
weighing in her direction.

Violet's
eyes softened as she turned her attention toward her beloved. "You are so
very smart, my lord. I admit I was surprised when I unlocked the door and saw
you here with Bree. I thought—well, never mind that."

Briana
wanted to shake Violet senseless. What was wrong with the girl? Kingsdale's
smile was as false as his heart.

"You
should never worry, my love," Kingsdale drawled.

Chuckling,
he returned his attention to Briana. "Worry does nothing but produce
worry. We all know that life is a game of chance, is it not, my dear?"

Briana
looked away, knowing she would have to work on Violet's emotions. If she were
to die, at least she would die fighting. Kingsdale had said he loved her, but
the next minute he said he would kill her. Would he kill Violet, too?

"You
remember my sister, Violet?"

Violet
shook her head, wringing her hands on her gown. "You'd best not talk to
me, Bree. It won't work."

"Not
another word," Kingsdale growled. "I don't want to make it hard for
you."

Briana
realized the man still had feelings for her. Taking a chance, she rose from her
seat and started toward the desk.

"Sit
down," Kingsdale said harshly.

Briana
peered over her shoulder, her insides shaking. "Why should I sit down if
you are going to shoot me? Why should I even listen to you?"

Violet
hurried across the room. "Oh, please, sit down, Bree. He won't hurt you if
you help us."

"You
don't know him like I do, Violet. He intends to hurt the Regent. In fact, he
intends to kill him."

"No,"
Violet cried. "You have it all wrong. He wouldn't do that!"

Briana
looked toward the fireplace. If only she could gain control of that loose brick
...

"Don't
even think about it, my dear." Kingsdale was beside her in a flash.
"A brick through a window or even to my head won't suit at all."

Briana
turned and gave him her sweetest smile. "I wasn't thinking of anything
like that, Gregory. I was thinking of us."

Passion
lit his eyes the second his name crossed her lips. Instantly, he lowered the
pistol. "Perhaps we could come to some agreement, my dear. I don't totally
trust you—"

"But
you love me!" Violet protested, stepping toward them. "You don't love
her! You love me! You said so!"

Kingsdale's
mouth thinned as he turned toward the screaming woman. Briana used the moment
to her advantage. She spun around and grabbed the writing box, slamming it
against the back of Kingsdale's head. The man groaned and crumpled to the
ground.

"You've
killed him!" Violet cried. "You've killed him!"

Briana
highly doubted that. Knowing the door was locked, she ran toward the window and
fumbled with the sash.

"Don't
move!"

Briana
froze at the sound of Kingsdale's command. She saw his reflection in the
window. The gun was raised in her direction and he was stumbling to his feet.

"I
don't think you want to kill me, Gregory."

"Oh,
Bree," Violet wailed. "Why did you have to run? He would not have
hurt you. I would have seen to that."

Briana
glanced over her shoulder. Kingsdale was coming toward her.

"I
loved you," he whispered harshly, the next second pressing the gun into
her ribs. "You were the only woman I ever loved. I never wanted to hurt
you."

Briana's
heart sped. "Then let me go, Gregory. You don't want to do this."

He put a
hand around her waist. "I can't do that. Now open the window." He
lowered his head and whispered into her ear. "You are despondent over your
husband's return to Town."

Her head
snapped around so fast her nose touched his. "And I kill myself. Is that
it?"

He
frowned. "It didn't have to be this way. I didn't want it to be this way.
But you married the man."

"What
are you saying?" Violet whined from the other side of the room. "I
can't hear what you're saying."

"Open
it, my dear. It's not locked. The catch is unlatched."

Panic welled
in Briana's throat as she followed his instructions. A cool breeze swept across
her face while the window was being raised.
Forgive me, Clayton. Forgive me
for not trusting you.

"Now,
my dear—"

The door
burst open, halting Kingsdale's speech.

"Clayton!"
Briana cried.

Her
husband stood on the threshold with pistol raised. His eyes never left
Kingsdale's face. "Drop it, Gregory. I don't want to shoot."

Kingsdale
swung Briana around, making her a human shield. "So, you've come for your
bride after all. How very sweet. And I see you have Miss Appleby's attendant.
Had a suspicion about him, but, well, one never knows."

Briana
was surprised to see the footman who had spilled the hot coffee on Sir Gerald
standing beside Clayton.

"Please,
Gregory," she begged, feeling his grip tightening. "If you ever loved
me, don't do this."

The hold
on her loosened. "God help me," Kingsdale whispered gruffly, almost
like a prayer. "I cannot kill you. Never thought I could. You are the only
woman—" He stopped, glanced at Clayton, then pressed his mouth beneath her
ear. "But if you jumped with me..."

He left
the sentence unsaid and pushed her aside. "We could have been good
together, my little bluestocking." The next moment he swung the gun toward
Clayton. "Good-bye, my friend."

Two
shots were fired as Kingsdale leapt from the window. Violet screamed. Clayton's
pistol was smoking. Briana turned away, too horrified to take in what had
happened. Clayton and Augustus hurried toward the window.

"Dead
as a splattered cat, my lord," Augustus announced. "Don't know if
your shot hit him or not. Didn't matter, though. Died from the fall."

Violet
let out a gasp and fainted.

Clayton
turned to Briana. "Are you hurt?" "No," she said weakly.
Hold
me, she wanted to say. Love me. Don't ever leave me again.

He
tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, paused and walked toward
Violet, sparing a glance at the writing box apart on the floor. A small grin
worked its way to his lips. "I suppose those secret compartments helped
after all."

Tears of
frustration filled Briana's eyes, and she leaned against the desk for support.
"Yes, they helped. He has the papers from Grimstoke in his pocket."

"I'll
get them," Clayton said coolly, glancing at Augustus. "Keep an eye on
my wife and the lady."

"Very
good, my lord."

Briana's
heart stuck in her throat as her husband departed from the room. Clayton!

She
dropped her lashes to hide the pain. No kiss, no hug, not even a word of love.
She had lost him. She knew that now. Deep down she wondered if she had ever had
him at all.

Later
that evening, Briana cupped her hands around the warm tea as she sat in the
drawing room of Grimstoke Hall. The authorities had already taken Lord
Grimstoke and Violet away for questioning. Kingsdale's body had been removed as
well.

Clayton
had told Briana that Grimstoke's family would have to face the consequences of
their actions, even though their host had sent the letter to Agatha, and that
his wife was the unknown source, feeding Whitehall valuable information.

"The
man may get off," Clayton said, sinking into the nearby wing chair. He
blew out a tired breath. "I just don't know. His wife was the informant
against him. It won't be easy. It's a devil of a coil."

Briana
was still shaken from the ordeal. She had told Clayton about Clarice, and he
seemed genuinely angry over Kingsdale's despicable actions. But more than
anything she wanted her husband to hold her, tell her he loved her, tell her he
never planned to marry her because of his uncle's will.

"Did
you plan to marry me for the castle, my lord?"

His eyes
searched hers, but he wasn't asking for sympathy. "I cannot lie to you,
Briana. It had crossed my mind."

She
dropped her gaze to her cup. "I see."

"Do
you?"

A lump
formed in her throat, and she found it hard to speak.

"I
love you, Briana. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Of
course it meant something. But not everything. He said he loved her, but it
wasn't enough. Not anymore. She didn't want to go to him. She shouldn't have
to. He was the one who had left, not her. Tears slipped silently down her
cheeks, but she said nothing.

Hold
me, Clayton. Show me you love me.

But the
chill between them was like an icy abyss, growing each second.

"I
am giving you the castle and the money."

Her
heart ached with disappointment. "I don't want it."

The
lines about his face tensed as he rose. "Too bad. I'm giving it to you for
your women's shelter. As your husband, I do have the upper hand, whether you
like it or not, madam."

"And
what of your future?'

He
shoved his hand in his pocket and walked toward the door. "I will have my
solicitor call upon you at your convenience. Agatha will be here in an hour or
so. She needed to rest. That blow to her head was more than she let on. You can
return with her to London when she feels better."

The knowledge
that he was leaving again seared her heart like a red-hot iron. But pride would
not let her go to him.

Her
spirits lifted as his violet-blue eyes bored into hers and he strode forward.
He bent down and lifted her hand, kissing it. "Good-bye, my Fairy
Lady."

A dark
shadow crossed her heart, and before she knew it, he had let her fingers fall
from his, and he strode from the room.

Briana
spread her shaking hands against her gown and swallowed a sob. She sat there
for at least fifteen minutes, not knowing what to do. She had been too proud.
Too arrogant. When would she learn?

"So,
you think to rid yourself of me that quickly, do you?'

Her head
jerked toward the drawing room's entryway. Clayton was leaning against the
dooijamb, his arms crossed over his chest his eyes searching hers.

"I
thought you had left," she said.

His
eyebrows rose. "Did you now?"

What was
the matter with him? She wrung her hands on her gown and stood, intending to
leave. She wasn't going to beg.

He took
a step into the room and closed the doors, then turned to look at her again.
"I think we have a few more matters to discuss."

Her chin
lifted, the lump in her throat growing. "You can have your castle. I
already said I don't want it."

In a few
quick strides he was beside her. "Is that so?"

Her body
stiffened and she spun around, giving him her back. "Yes. And if you have
any sense—"

"If
I have any sense?" he said softly, gripping her shoulders and leaning into
her.

She
swallowed. His lips were near her neck, making it difficult to think. "I,
um, if you had any sense, you would ...um..."

He
wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her against him. "Go on," he
whispered huskily.

Her
knees began to buckle. "I...you're confusing me."

His
finger trailed along her neckline. "That's good."

She
turned toward him, regaining her senses, or at least part of them. "No,
that isn't good! I thought you were leaving!"

"Well,
hell's bells, sweetheart, I changed my mind." His hand brushed the back of
her neck, sending a warm shiver through her. "I should have told you about
the castle. You have no reason to trust me again and I understand—"

It was
her turn to press a finger against his lips. "Shhhh. You seem to change
your mind a great deal lately." Oh, he was a charmer. But she was not
going to let him go this time.