The Secrets of Mia Danvers (13 page)

If she was right and not simply being paranoid, then the killer had been in her cottage. Had the man known that she’d witnessed his crime? But surely he hadn’t seen her during the murder. If he had, he merely would have disposed of her at the time or shortly thereafter. No, he must have recently learned that Mia was a witness. The list of people who knew was short indeed: Mia, Rachel, himself, Simon and Drew.

Drew had been angry when he left. Obviously in his anger, he’d been foolish enough to spread word of Mia’s involvement. Either that or the killer had seen her that night and was toying with her.

Alex had only told Drew in an effort to get his brother involved, get him to care about something other than ruining his life.

Then again, Alex hadn’t actually told him for certain that Mia was the witness, only that there was, in fact, a witness. Drew himself had simply guessed she was the one. Still Alex had been reckless and hadn’t taken precautions to protect her. He would protect her now. Move her to his house until this bastard was caught. Alex already had the death of the maid from his staff on his hands. He wouldn’t allow Mia to be hurt.

Alex’s men entered the cottage ahead of them. Alex waited a few moments before he and Mia stepped inside. “Stay close to me,” he told her. He reached behind him and moved her body so she stood behind him mirroring his position. “Is there another entrance to the cottage?” Alex asked.

“No, only this front door,” Mia said.

Alex called to his men and they stepped into the hall from the bedchambers in the back.

“The house is empty,” one said. “We found no sign of intrusion.”

“They wouldn’t know what to look for,” Mia said.

She had a point there. Alex dismissed the men and he and Mia stayed behind so she could determine whether or not anything had been removed.

“I know he was here,” she said softly. “Do you believe me?”

Alex reached his hand out to touch hers, but stopped and clenched it into a fist instead. He could not give into this desperate need he had to comfort her, she was not his to care for in that way. “Why are you so certain?”

“I can feel him. Smell him, he was here. He sat here in this very room.” She tilted her head and looked up at him, her sightless eyes staring into him with a haunting gaze he couldn’t shake.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he began, trying carefully to select his words. She had been through a great ordeal and no doubt she was still terrified. He himself couldn’t smell the tobacco, but she was quite incensed. “It could have been the workmen that have been repairing things in the cottage.”

“They only come when Rachel and I are here to give them entrance,” she said.

“I didn’t say that was the answer, I’m just presenting it as an option. I suspect if the killer knew you witnessed his crime, he would not have allowed you to get away that night.” But was that the truth, or was he merely trying to relieve himself of guilt for sharing with his brother that there had been a witness?

“I wish I knew if anything was missing,” she said.

“I wish I could help. I’m certain Miss Webster would know, but I don’t believe she’ll be up moving around for a couple of days. For now it is safe for you to walk around and explore for yourself.”

She stepped away from the settee, and at once, as if seeing it for the first time, Alex realized that it had formerly resided in Danbridge Hall. Mia first walked into the small kitchen area, where her hands traced the cabinetry, the cupboards, everything she came in contact with. “This room is as we left it.”

From there she moved back to the sitting area and again went through the room feeling the furniture. She stopped when she got to a small table. “This is out of place. It belongs there,” she pointed behind him, “next to that chair.”

“You’re certain?” Alex asked, then realized how futile the question was. Of course she would know where everything in her cottage was placed.

“I never move any of the furniture,” she said. “It enables me to move freely around the cottage alone without running into anything. I don’t want to have to rely on Rachel or anyone else.”

That made perfect sense and he felt the fool for not considering that himself. Mia was an amazing woman. Most blind people lived in special schools or were secluded from general society. But here she lived nearly on her own and managed her life quite well. Better than most women her age, let alone women in her specific predicament.

Satisfied once he’d moved the small table, she walked down the hallway to her bedchamber. “Is the bed made?” she asked as she stepped toward it.

When he’d been in the cottage before to inspect the condition of the small house, he hadn’t given much thought to the bedchambers and hadn’t looked in on them. But now, he could immediately tell that this was her room simply by the dress draped over a chair. The same drab gray wool she wore every day.

Her bed was modest, a simple wood headboard and footboard, no ornate carvings or canopy. It seemed vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place it. He stepped over to it and ran his hand over the worn wood. Then he recognized it. That had been his bed when he’d been a boy. The first big bed, as he’d called it, he’d slept in. It had been removed sometime during his childhood and replaced with something more expensive. One of the distinct markers he remembered of when the Carringtons had refilled their coffers.

“Yes, the bed is made,” Alex said. “You know, it used to belong to me.” Once the words had left his mouth, he wondered why he’d said it.

“I suspected most of the furniture came from Danbridge Hall,” she said, seemingly unmoved by his admission.

He’d never assumed such a thing, never given it much thought when they’d replaced one piece of furniture with a new one. Evidently his mother had sent all of their rejected items here.

Though the fabrics of the bedding weren’t as nice as his own, he actually preferred the color she’d chosen for her bed coverlet, though he wondered if she knew what color it was. Perhaps she’d simply purchased it because of the way it felt. But now he couldn’t look at that bed and not think about the fact that they’d both slept in it. Separately, of course, but still their bodies had warmed the same mattress. Something about that felt incredibly intimate to him.

Again she maneuvered her way through the small room. She came to one side of the bed and walked straight into another table. Alex was immediately at her side.

“I take it this doesn’t belong here, either?” he asked.

“No.” Her hands traced the lines of the table. “It belongs just there,” she pointed to the corner of the room. Her hands continued to move across the wooden tabletop.

“Where is the bust?” she asked, her pitch higher than usual.

Alex glanced around the room, but found no sculptures anywhere. “There isn’t a bust. Is it in another room, perhaps?” He returned the table to the area she indicated and they went back out to the main part of the cottage, passing by Rachel’s room on the way. “The only bust I see is the one on the table outside, the one you’ve been working on—is that the one you mean?”

“No. It was a completed bust. One of myself, actually, or at least, how I imagine I must look.” She tilted her head up defiantly as if defending the sculpture. And in that moment he longed to see that bust, to see how she envisioned herself. But it was gone.

Obviously, whoever had been in the cottage had taken it. Alex needed to get Mia hidden safely away. For tonight she’d be safe at Danbridge, but that wasn’t a permanent solution. He knew what needed to be done, though he suspected Mia would not approve of his pending actions. But it was long past time for her family to welcome her back into the fold.

Chapter Thirteen

Mia and Alex had returned to Danbridge nearly a half hour earlier and he had left her in his study while he had gone to see about “her room” as he’d called it. She wanted to argue that they could continue to stay at the cottage, but she knew he was right. With Rachel’s injury, she’d need to stay here. And they’d be safer here and she couldn’t deny that that made her feel better already.

There was one concern, though, about staying in this house. If Alex’s brother was the killer, then she’d be more at his disposal here in his own home.

Footsteps fell outside the room, then the door opened. “My apologies, Mia, for how long that took. I wanted to ensure you had an appropriate room and that Rachel was looked after. She’s resting now in a room right next to yours,” Alex said.

“Thank you again. It’s very kind of you. And generous,” she added. She wasn’t used to being careful with how she spoke to people. It had been so long since she’d had meaningful conversations with anyone other than Rachel. She briefly considered how she should approach the subject, but decided directly had always suited her best. “I’m concerned about staying here,” she said, “and being in such close proximity—”

“I can assure you that I will keep my hands to myself. I’ve put your room in another corridor,” he said.

She smiled. She hadn’t been thinking about being close to Alex, near enough for him to kiss her again. The thought brought a shiver down her body. “I actually was referring to your brother. I fear that if he is the killer, I shall be in more danger here in his home.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Alex said. He cleared his throat and the floor creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight. “Drew doesn’t live here. He did. But a few months ago he moved out into his own townhome. He still has some belongings here and pops in every now and again, but not with any consistency. I still do not believe him to be the killer, but rest assured I will keep your residency here a secret from him.”

She felt herself relax. He didn’t live here. Alex could keep her safe.

“Let me take you to your room,” he said. “I know you’ve had a trying evening.”

“You were going out. Simply point me in the right direction, I’ll find it. Or perhaps Hodges could show me,” she said. She didn’t want to keep him from his outing, especially if he was seeing the woman he’d been courting. Merely the thought of it was unsettling, so she shoved the idea aside.

“That can wait,” he said. “Come this way.” He talked the entire time they walked, up the staircase, down the corridor. He explained every thing they passed, each side table, how many stairs they’d climbed, the width of the corridor. “The door next to yours on the right is Rachel’s room,” he continued. “And this is your room.”

The room was warm already and she could hear the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Warmer, in fact, than her cottage ever was. She stepped further inside and after the initial wood floor, she found a plush rug, much like the ones in the rooms downstairs.

“I hope you’ll find this room suitable,” he said.

“Alex, honestly, you do not need to go to so much trouble. I merely need a bed,” she said.

“The bed is over on this wall.” He led her forward. He cleared his throat. He rattled off the other pieces of furniture in the room: an armoire, a dressing table, a changing screen and a chair near the window that overlooked the garden. “The walls and bedding are in muted tones of pink and yellow.”

Mia chuckled at his description. It was charming, really, the way he was trying to give her a picture of the room. “You don’t need to—that is to say, Rachel can tell me about the room later. Though I do appreciate you giving me the layout of the furniture so that I do not break my leg moving around.”

“I want you to feel at home,” he said. “Comfortable.”

“I can assure you I shall be more than comfortable,” she said.

The room filled with awkward silence and she listened intently to hear where Alex stood. But she didn’t even hear so much as a breath. And then his boot scuffed against the floor near the door.

“I know you’re tired and I should probably make an appearance at that ball I was heading to.” Alex took a long, slow breath. “Good night, Mia, and welcome to Danbridge.”

“Thank you, Alex,” she said, but he had already left the room and closed the door behind him.

***

The following day, Alex took the opportunity to notify Mia’s sisters of his upcoming visit that afternoon, though he chose not to mention it to Mia. She was safe at his house for the time being, but ultimately she belonged with her family. It was past time that they start caring for her welfare. Not to mention paying for her to have a more suitable living situation.

She should live somewhere she could have servants to assist her with her baths and prepare meals for her. She was raised for that sort of life and she deserved to have it regardless of how they felt about it. And frankly he was concerned about having her so close to him. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to be near her and keep his thoughts and hands off her body.

He knew Mia’s mother had died a few years ago so it was too late for her to make amends to her daughter. But it was not too late for Mia’s sisters and their husbands to welcome her back into the family. Normally he did not take his title into consideration when he paid visits. The aristocracy was full of blue-blooded families and he didn’t believe his blood was any more important than the man on the street selling hair ribbons from a cart. But today it would matter. Today he would capitalize on the fact that he was a duke. His title came with a certain amount of influence in Society, he should have a certain amount of sway with other families, especially ones of an earl and viscount.

He slammed the knocker onto the black door of Viscount Wilmington’s London townhome; it was the home of the eldest Danvers sister. He’d sent notice instructing the middle sister to make arrangements to be at the Wilmington home at precisely three o’clock for this meeting. A moment later the butler opened the door and took Alex’s calling card.

He allowed him entrance into the foyer. “This way, Your Grace,” the man said with supreme formality, then led Alex to a parlor down the hall to the right. The butler announced him as he stepped into the bright yellow room. There were so many shades of gold, from the carpets to the drapes to the furniture it looked as if the room had been hosed down with melted butter.

Both of the women rose from their seats. They were dressed in their finery, complete with baubles and white gloves.

The butler left the room. Alex eyed the women standing opposite him. Immediately he could see a slight resemblance in the women to Mia, though neither was nearly as pretty. The eldest, he suspected, drank often, too often, from her husband’s decanters. She had reddened cheeks and nose that bespoke of her indulgence in alcohol, though Alex could tell that she had probably once been quite pretty. Now, though, her features were too tight. The middle sister had similar features to Mia, but was fairer in complexion and coloring. Those same blue eyes were not nearly as striking on a woman with golden hair.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Alex said. “I have most important matters to discuss with you.”

The sisters exchanged curious glances then looked back at him.

“Your Grace, it is certainly my pleasure to host you in my home. I do wish we had known of your intention to visit earlier so that my husband could have joined us. But I’m afraid the Viscount has taken himself off for a weekend hunt in the country.”

“I have no business with your husband,” Alex said. He took a seat in one of the butter-colored high-backed chairs. He motioned for them to return to their seats, which they both did. “I came here to discuss your sister.”

“Me, Your Grace?” the other Danvers sister placed her hand over her chest with surprise. “Whatever for? I don’t even believe we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“No, not you, Lady Glenridge. The other sister, the forgotten Danvers sister.” It was rather astounding they could feign ignorance for this long. Certainly they knew this was the property where their sister had resided over the last nine years. But he chose not to call them on it just yet so he could see what game they played. He would not tolerate this charade for much longer, though.

The middle sister took a shaky breath and again the sisters exchanged glances. But it was the eldest sister who spoke: “We don’t speak of Mia. We lost her so long ago and the pain is still . . . ,” she paused as if searching for the right word, “devastating,” she finally said.

Alex managed not to roll his eyes at the woman’s dramatic performance. Did they think she had actually died since they left her? That would certainly prove the old adage of “out of sight, out of mind.” Still he was not finding their performances that believable. They knew she was still alive, they had to. They simply chose to ignore that fact because to acknowledge her meant they’d have to share reasonability to care for her.

They sat stock-still, not even blinking as they waited for him to respond to the previous admission. “It is my understanding that your family decided it was best to tell the world that Mia had perished in her accident instead of simply telling the truth,” Alex said. “She is very much alive, though. As you both well know,” he added, daring them to argue otherwise. They could pretend they didn’t know the truth to other people, but he would not be one of them.

“It was for her own good,” Lady Wilmington said icily. “No one could have possibly understood the choice our mother had to make, the choice Mia forced her to make.”

“It was for her protection,” Lady Glenridge said, though the words came out sounding mechanical as if she’d been told that repeatedly and had burned the words onto her tongue.

He crossed his leg over his knee and steeled his features. He was angry and he well wanted them to know it. “Yes, I’m certain it had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to burden your family name, not to mention your purse strings, with such an unfortunate scandal. Especially since Mia, herself, was not expected to make a good match,” he added.

“Well, mother said that no man would take her,” Lady Wilmington said. “She was damaged, an invalid. Men marry to be cared for by their wives, not the other way around.”

“She seems perfectly healthy to me,” Alex said. “And she is quite mobile, blind, yes, but an invalid, not by any stretch.” Propriety kept him from giving these women the tongue-lashing they deserved, but he was close to telling them precisely what he thought of their ridiculous attitudes.

“You have seen her?” the middle sister asked, shock etched clearly on her pretty features. She eyed her sister warily. “Recently?” Lady Glenridge asked.

“The coy act is becoming tedious. I don’t have time for this manner of antics and I should expect the two of you to know that. I believe you already know that she lives at the edge of my property. Why would it be so ridiculous of me to have seen her recently?”

He wasn’t normally in the practice of being rude to ladies. But here in this sunny yellow room with these two women who’d walked out on their sister, he found it difficult to temper himself. Yes, they’d been but girls at the time their mother left Mia in the cottage, but where had they been the last nine years?

“Your Grace, we are not intending to be coy,” Lady Wilmington said, her voice dripping with cloying sweetness. “Is she causing trouble?” She shook her head and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “She always was so headstrong. It used to drive our poor mama nearly to Bedlam.”

“No,” he swallowed his cruel retort. Though he didn’t think it would be too extreme for him to tell them precisely who should be sent to Bedlam. “She is
not
causing any trouble, but she might very well be in danger. I’ve come to inform you that it is well past time for you to bring her back into your fold, as it were, to protect her,” Alex said.

Lady Wilmington sat up, her back straight as a wooden chair. “But we cannot.” She shook her head as she spoke. “According to everyone we know, she is dead.” She glanced at her younger sister who nodded in return, but had the decency to look contrite. “However would we explain her presence?” she continued.

“However you explain the truth is not my concern,” Alex said. “She is a member of your family.”

“But Your Grace, even our husbands do not know the truth,” the middle sister said.

“What you have or haven’t told your husbands rests on your conscience,” he said. “What matters is that she is your sister and it is long past time for you to take responsibility.”

“Very true, Your Grace, whatever stories we’ve told our husbands is our burden to bear. But there is a burden for the Carrington family as well. I do believe it was your father who agreed to protect our dear sister,” Lady Wilmington countered.

So the woman did have some claws. He suspected as much. “And you believe now that duty falls to me.”

The two sisters looked to the floor simultaneously, as if they had choreographed the movement. But it was the eldest who spoke. “You are now the Duke.”

This was not going to be easy. And their reluctance, their selfishness and blatant refusal to consider Mia at all, none of that inspired him to believe they’d take good care of her if he forced their hands. These women might not protect her at all, especially if they hadn’t told their husbands. There was nothing to indicate these men would be willing to take on another financial responsibility. The ladies clearly did not want the burden of dealing with an imperfect sister. Still Mia was their responsibility, not his.

He was not used to others being defiant with him. As an officer he’d had many other soldiers under his command and other officers had often looked to him for guidance. Now that he was a duke, it seemed everyone went out of their way to bend to his every whim. Everyone but Mia. And apparently her sisters. Though their defiance was completely out of hand.

“We are sorry if she’s giving you any trouble,” Lady Glenridge offered. Her tone was truly apologetic, but he sensed there was more to this sister than she let on. She certainly seemed to look to her older sister a lot before she spoke.