The Scarlet Bride (17 page)

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a harsh whisper and turned the lock. Simon was sitting on her bed, leaning casually against the wall, one leg bent, supporting his crossed arms. The other leg was stretched out on the coverlet. “Get out.”

He frowned. “Imagine my surprise to discover that you had not run off to Gretna Green with your mysterious suitor as you claimed in your letter. But that wasn’t the worst of your deception.” He pulled a stack of newspapers out from behind him and held up the one on top for her to see. “I have discovered that the courtesan I rescued is a murderess.”

Laura’s knees buckled and she fell back against the door. Her blood pooled at her feet. “I am no murderess.”

“Oh?” He held up the papers one at a time. The lamplight illuminated each horrible headline. “The murder happened the same night that I rescued you. Coincidence? I suspect not.”

Bile burned in her throat. He thought her a killer. Why then had he not brought the Bow Street Runners?

Laura stumbled over to the small wooden stool next to the writing table and sat. She drew in deep breaths to keep from being ill and to collect her rioting thoughts.

If she fumbled over her explanation and he took it as confirmation of her guilt, these next few moments could be her last of freedom.

“I know this looks suspicious. But I assure you that I did not kill him.” She dropped her hands and clenched them in her lap. “The last time I saw him, he was, unfortunately, very much alive.”

His hooded gaze offered no clue as to his thoughts. She grimaced. “After all the time we’ve spent together, you should know me incapable of this crime.”

“They found an ear bob beside the body,” he pressed. His voice was cold and flat.

“That is not difficult to explain,” she admitted, shuddering beneath his suspicion. She had to make him believe her! “I was in the house for over a year. My things are everywhere. One lost ear bob does not make me guilty.”

Simon met her eyes. Mistrust and anger played on his face. “How long have you known about Westwick’s death?”

“Since the week I sent you the letter. I knew that until the real killer is caught, I will be in danger of arrest. The Runners have spies all over London. Any time I venture outside, I may be spotted.” Her shoulders slumped. “If you are caught with me, you’ll be subjected to scrutiny, too. I thought it best if you forgot you ever knew me.”

His mouth twisted downward. He flipped through the stack of papers until he found what he was looking for. He
sighed and turned it toward her. Sketched on the page was a likeness of…her.

Laura whimpered. The temperature in the room dropped. Though the sketch was only vaguely accurate and somewhat cartoonish, it was close enough. The earl had insisted she paint her face and add a beauty mark for the men. He thought it made her look more like a courtesan.

The likeness on the sketch had neither. It had to be a servant who had provided information about the unadorned Sabine to the Runners.

“I will be hanged for a crime I had no part of.” She closed her eyes tightly and trembled. “I’ll never be free of him. I’ll go to my death knowing that somewhere in hell he is laughing.”

Simon caught her up against him, moving so swiftly that she didn’t hear him coming. He helped her to the bed and brought her down with him, snuggling her against his long body.

“I will not allow that to happen,” he said softly.

Laura twisted her fingertips into his shirt. It was comforting to be held in his arms. “A moment ago, you thought I was guilty. Why would you help me now?”

Simon tipped up her chin with a fingertip. “I never thought you were guilty. I was angry that you’d kept this secret from me. I wanted to see you deny this while facing me, to assure myself that I wasn’t wrong about you.”

She locked on to his gaze. “You were not wrong. Though I wanted to kill him, dreamed every night of killing him, in the end, another person did what I could not do. And I am not sorry he’s dead.”

Simon snorted. “Then it’s just I who’s regretful. I wanted to beat him bloody. The bastard went too easily. He should have suffered a long and painful death.”

The venom in his voice made her thankful that Simon wouldn’t have the chance to confront the earl. “For a gently born man, there is a streak of darkness in you.”

He shrugged. “Lady Jeanette once called me an ill-tempered brute.”

“She knows you well,” Laura said dryly.

“She thinks she does.” Simon shifted so that they were lying side by side on the bed, her back to him, his body molded against hers. “How well can anyone know another person?”

He had a point. Everyone had secrets.

Fatigue finally overwhelmed her, and she dozed for a bit. It was nearing midnight when a shout from the street awakened her. She listened for signs of trouble, but there was no repeat of the sound.

She liked the feel of Simon’s arm around her waist and his body warm against hers. He hadn’t tried to take advantage of the situation or attempt a seduction, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Making love to Simon under this roof would betray everything the house stood for. The fact that he’d somehow slipped inside undetected, likely sometime during the party, was enough to get them both banned from the household. To repeat their night in the manor while the courtesans slept nearby was, well, unforgivable.

“I should go,” Simon whispered, nuzzling her ear.

Laura shivered and turned her head to look into his eyes. “I thought you were sleeping.”

He smiled. “Sleep is difficult with you pressed up against me.” He moved slightly, and she felt his erection.

“We cannot do that here,” Laura said.

“I know.” He kissed her forehead and pushed up on the bed. Laura sat up and took a place beside him. “That is why I should go.”

Simon stood and quickly righted his clothing. There was little he could do about the creases in his coat. He finally gave up with a sigh.

“My valet will not be pleased. It is the second coat I’ve ruined this week.” He gave her a sidelong glance as he tugged his cuffs into place. When he’d finished, he crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “Meet me in the alley behind this house at two o’clock this afternoon. I need to know more about your Lord Westwick.”

“He was not
my
Lord Westwick,” she protested, then
frowned. “Why do you want to discuss him? The man is dead.”

If she never heard the name Westwick again, she’d be content. When he died, her past died. There wasn’t any reason she could think of to revisit those months with him. “I have no intention of speaking his name ever again. He is better left buried.”

Simon pulled her off the bed and faced her. “I barely knew the earl, as he kept more salacious company than I.” He fingered her stray curl and continued, “You didn’t kill him; someone else did. But you are the only suspect in the murder, and the Runners won’t rest until you’re caught and hanged. Killing a peer is a hanging offense.”

“I know.” She touched her neck and winced, imagining her last moments on earth as the life was choked out of her. “I should flee to Scotland or America, where they can never find me. It would simplify things for all of us.”

He took her hands. “If you run, then you will never be free.” He squeezed her fingers. “That is why I need to know every detail about Westwick. The more I know, the better prepared I will be to implement my plan.”

“And that is?” Laura didn’t like the intense look in his eyes. Her stomach tightened painfully.

“To find and capture Westwick’s killer.”

L
aura paced at the garden gate, her gray skirt and petticoats swishing around her legs. The hours since midnight had been dreadfully long. All night, she’d had the uneasy sensation of being watched and made several trips to the window to peer out. As expected, there were no eyes staring back from the darkness.

Still, the feeling—and Simon’s desire to hunt the killer—melded together to leave her restless. She hadn’t slept a wink after he left, and even the delicious food served at breakfast had tasted unappealing on her tongue.

Worried, that’s what she was. The killer had had no qualms about murdering a peer. He wouldn’t think twice about murdering Simon to keep his secret.

A hackney rolled slowly down the alley. Laura stepped through the gate, and the driver pulled to a stop.

Simon alighted and helped her inside, his expression grim.

“I thought a man of your stature would travel in grander style. I was hoping for gilt trim and velvet squabs,” she quipped, trying to overcome the knot lingering in her
stomach. The jest fell flat. The second the door to the hackney thudded closed behind her, she rushed ahead: “You cannot risk your life to save mine. I’ll not allow it!”

Simon smiled cynically. “You have little faith in my abilities, love. I’m disappointed.”

The coach jerked into motion. Laura scowled. “I know you can rescue damsels and fight footmen with great skill. My issue is with a killer who would just as willingly kill you as brush lint off his coat.”

His face turned stony. “I’ve fought men for both sport and entertainment. I can handle a cowardly killer who would stab a man in the back.”

Why were men so stubborn? “You mistake my argument. I know you are strong and manly and capable of vast strength,” she snapped. “My worry is that you may not see him coming. He managed to enter the earl’s town house, kill him, and exit without capture. As you said, he is cowardly, like a tiny dog that nips your heels and darts away before you see his intention.”

Simon watched her through narrow slits. “Who said he snuck into the town house? Have you considered that the killer was an invited guest?”

This took her aback. She slumped against the squabs. Had the culprit been staying under the roof with her? Did she know him? Was he one of the many faces that had come to bid for her?

Another notion came to mind. It was hard to fathom that Westwick hadn’t been killed over his own evil deeds but for another unrelated reason. It was something she hadn’t thought about until now.

Laura pressed a hand to her forehead. “Could this murder be about me?”

“I’ve considered it. Perhaps the man became obsessed with you and knew he hadn’t the means to play Westwick’s game. He decided to forgo the auction, kill Westwick, and kidnap you, saving himself from the chance of losing you to a higher bidder.”

Bile burned up her throat. “Is that possible?” She closed
her eyes. “I’m a simple country girl, not the sort to inspire men to kill to possess me.”

Simon stared. “Men have gone to war over women,” he said. “You are beautiful, Laura. To those men, you were a mystery, an unattainable prize. I’m sure Westwick kept you sequestered before the auction to entice them further. There were likely several men frenzied enough to kill to have you.”

A headache pulsed in her temples. “Westwick
had
only allowed the men a glimpse or two of me, from a distance and in shadow. At the time, I’d thought he was protecting his prize until the bidding concluded.”

“Westwick wasn’t a stupid man. He knew the minds of men.”

“I was terribly naïve,” she said softly. “I should have known.”

He leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “You were an innocent. He stole you from your sheltered life and forced his will on you. When he tired of your spirit, he decided to sell you. How could you know the depths he would go to break you?”

The earl
had
tried to break her, with fists and words, many times. She was less attractive, less intelligent, and less seductive than any woman he’d ever met. And when she’d remarked that he was welcome to find comfort elsewhere, she’d been backhanded for her impertinence.

“He was evil,” Laura said. “The earl’s handsome face hid a black soul. His companions hated him as much as they were drawn to him. The staff feared him, scattering like sheep from a wolf whenever he ranted about even the smallest mistake.”

“He took advantage of your naïveté,” Simon pressed again. “Your father should have sent him away.”

“My father was ill,” Laura countered protectively. “But it wouldn’t have mattered even had his wits been sharp. He wouldn’t have seen the darkness in Westwick. He thought the best in all people. He was nearly giddy to have snagged a peer for his daughter.”

Simon touched her hand. “I know you met Westwick through your cousin. Tell me how it happened exactly.”

She saw where the questioning was going. He wanted to learn all she knew about the man to help with his investigation and wouldn’t be dissuaded from his course.

“You will use my memories to hunt the killer.”

“I will hunt him with or without your help,” Simon assured her. “The more I know, the more I can be prepared for any eventuality.”

Laura sighed. “There is nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“Nothing.” He grinned wryly. “I have a need to dust off my chain mail and ride my magnificent steed into battle for you. Surely you will not keep me from my knightly course?”

She wanted to argue that she could take care of herself. However, Simon wasn’t the sort of man to stand in the background when a woman was in trouble. Their history proved it. So she steeled herself to relive her nightmare and looked down at her cupped hands.