The Worldly Widow (55 page)

There was slight softening in the Earl. "I allow that you had some justification for ridding the world of Majo
r Crawford. By your lights…
"

"By anyone
'
s lights! Would you have tamely accepted what I
'
ve had to endure all these years? My body is never free of pain. It
'
s been one damn operation after another, and more to come. And for what? For one man
'
s bid for glory. He never cared anything for the men under his command. We were just pawns in a game to him!
"

The Earl answered steadily and without heat. "Monique Dupres is beyond pain, poor girl. And that Prussian officer, I forget his name.
"

"She was a mercenary bitch! She was blackmailing me—she and that Prussian whoremonger of hers! Can you imagine, they thought I
'
d let them ride roughshod over me without a whimper? Well, I taught them that they had very much mistaken their man!
"

"Incredible!
"

"They never had any intention of sticking to their part of the bargain! They sold the diaries from under my nose. Yes, and laughed in my face when they told me!
"

"And Mrs. Snow?
"

"That was a mistake! I thought she was
…
"
He stopped dead in mid-sentence.

"Annabelle,
"
supplied the Earl. "Are you ready? Would you care for a glass of brandy first or
…
?
"

"Now who
'
s being kind!
"
A bitter smile twisted Temple
'
s lips. "Thank you, no! Just satisfy my curiosity, if you will. How did you come to put two and two together?
"

"It was in the diaries,
"
said the Earl. "I recognized the soubriquet, you see.
"

"Poultron?
But no one knew me by that name. It was an obscenity invented by Monique Dupres.
"

"She must have mentioned it to me, sometime or other.
"
Dalmar shrugged carelessly. "Forgive me, but from the moment I first saw you, I put you down as a milksop. I could never rid myself of that word in connection with you, even when I came to see that it was a misnomer. Once the significance of the girl
'
s description of the events in the Rue Ste. Catharine was pointed out to me, everything fell into place.
"

It seemed that everything had been said. Lord Temple dragged himself to his feet and faced the taller man. "Are you to be my executioner?
"
he asked.

"It won
'
t come to that, I hope. You were once a very brave soldier, so I
'
ve been given to understand. You served your country well. I think you know how best to protect your family and friends.
"

"Annabelle, you mean. You wouldn
'
t do as much for anyone else.
"

"Very true,
"
said the Earl.

The two men exchanged a long, level look.

"Thank you,
"
said Temple. "I think I know my duty.
"

Dalmar inclined his head gravely. "If you wish to leave
a note or some such thing…
"

"I think not. You may spread the word, if you like, that Lord Temple lost rather heavily at the gaming tables. That, at least, is no lie.
"

As Dalmar turned aside. Temple said, "I was just wondering what they will make of the scorched drapes when they find my body?
"

"I expect they shall think you went a little mad,
"
was the quiet rejoinder.

"Yes. Perhaps you
'
re right. I did go a little mad, didn
'
t I?
"

Without answering, the Earl placed the pistol on a table just beyond Temple
'
s reach. "Don
'
t botch it,
"
he said. "I can
'
t give you the coup de grace. I
'
ll be just outside the door.
"
He exited the room.

Annabelle heard the report of the pistol shot as they took the last turn in the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-one

I
t was a very subdued group which made the return trip from the Palais Royal along the Rue de Rivoli to the Hotel Breteuil. Annabelle had finally succumbed to the effects of the laudanum with which Temple had liberally laced her drink, and she slept the sleep of the just. Now and again, as the coach lurched, she moaned her distress, but otherwise she seemed quite content and lay passively curled up in John Falconer
'
s arms.

"What do you think Temple would have done with her?
"
asked Falconer. He still could not credit that a man with whom he was on the friendliest terms could sink to such depths.

"A knife in the throat in the Bois de Boulogne, I shouldn
'
t wonder,
"
answered Ransome. "It
'
s close at hand, and decent folks stay away from it at night. I make no doubt that the only thing that saved her from her fate at the Palais was the awkwardness for Temple of avoiding so many of our chaps who were on patrol duty.
"

"I can scarcely believe that he would have gone through with it, though.
"

"You may be sure that he would.
"

"You sound very sure of yourself.
"

"My dear Falconer, a man who has murdered once doesn
'
t cavil at another.
"

"I suppose so
…
only
…
I wish
…"
The rest of what he had to say was swallowed up in a sigh.

"I don
'
t blame your brother,
"
said Ransome.

"And you think I do? I assure you, I do not.
"

"Well then?
"

"I
'
m thinking of Annabelle. She will never understand what drives a man like David.
"

"No. And he knows it.
"

Once the hotel was reached, the sleeping girl was given into the charge of Nancy, her maid. Annabelle was scarcely under the covers when Dalmar arrived upon the scene. Without looking to left nor right, nor asking anyone
'
s permission, he barged into her chamber.

Nancy, who had been setting the room to rights, straightened and turned to face the Earl. Though she recognized him at once, she did not let his exalted position or title weigh with her. It would have surprised Annabelle to know the magnitude of her sharp-tongued, stiff-as-starch maid
'
s devotion to what she conceived was her mistress
'
s best interests.

Dalmar advanced into the room, and Nancy went to meet him.

"Your Lordship,
"
she began. But the scathing words which trembled on the tip of her tongue died unspoken. There was something in his expression, something in his eyes, or perhaps in the way he carried himself, as she later explained it to cook, which made her forget herself. She turned aside and hovered covertly in the background.

Not a word was spoken. The Earl merely stationed himself at the side of the bed and gazed steadfastly at the softly breathing girl. As if aware of that intense scrutiny, Annabelle stirred, and one inert hand drooped over the side of the bed. Dalmar covered it with one of his own and brought it to his lips. But before Nancy could begin to think of remonstrating with him, he had tucked Annabelle
'
s hand beneath the covers and he quit the room.

Downstairs, in the hotel lobby, Dalmar consulted with Ransome and Falconer. The story they concocted was simple and to the point. Annabelle, wandering away and becoming lost in the vast corridors of the Palais Royal, had been set upon by pickpockets. Falconer had found her and taken her straight on to the hotel, where he had met up with the two other men by chance. Respecting Lord Temple, they were to plead ignorance, though the Earl briefly related how the affair had ended.

"It
'
s for the best,
"
said Ransome, and Falconer readily concurred.

"I leave her in your hands then,
"
said Dalmar, addressing his brother.

"What? Aren
'
t you going to hang on for a bit?
"

"Somerset is still in the dark. Someone has to put him in the picture. I
'
ll cadge a bed at the Embassy for the night and see you when you get back to town. See that you give Annabelle an accounting of how Temple met his end. At least he died with honor.
"

They had idled their way to the front steps.

"You
'
re not leaving so soon? You
'
ve only just got here,
"
protested Falconer.

"You forget, Ransome and I have other business to attend to. The matter of Temple
'
s manservant. He should be off our hands in a few hours.
"

"I wish you would stay on for a bit,
"
said Falconer desperately.

"There
'
s nothing to keep me here,
"
was the clipped rejoinder.

Falconer could think of a score of reasons why his brother should linger in Paris. But before he could articulate a single one of them, his hand was firmly shaken and he found himself saying his
adieux
to the two older men.

He turned back into the hotel and found a quiet nook where he could keep an eye on the front entrance and be on hand to greet the rest of his party when they should return from the Palais Royal. He settled himself to read one of the British papers the hotel stocked for its English patrons, but his mind was restless and refused to absorb the printed word.

It was not the events of that night which occupied his thoughts but another, more distant occasion and one of far more personal significance for himself. He remembered another woman who had been rescued from the clutches of a tyrant and who had turned on her rescuer, damning him for his sins. It seemed his brother was fated to be repudiated by the significant women in his life. And after tonight, he knew that
no woman would ever get close to him again. The injustice of it all made him want to shake his fists at an indifferent deity who seemed to have turned his back on his creation.

N
ovember slipped into December. Temperatures dropped. The days grew short, darkness descending well before the dinner hour. Many of the grand houses around Mayfair were practically shut up for the Christmas festival as lords and ladies repaired to their country estates for the innumerable house parties which had been arranged.

For the lower orders it was business as usual.
The most they could hope for was an early end to their labors on the eve of the holy day itself. For what man earning his bread by the sweat of his brow could afford the luxury of more than the few statutory holy days which were scattered throughout the year?

Bailey
'
s had never been busier, a circumstance for which its proprietor and managing editor was heartily thankful. Leisure was something Annabelle assiduously avoided, for when time hung heavily on her hands, her thoughts invariably turned to Dalmar, and the Earl was one subject she refused to think about.

Since that night in the Palais Royal when he
'
d ordered his brother to carry her from Lord Temple
'
s rooms, she
'
d only once set eyes on him, and that was at Bertie
'
s and Ransome
'
s wedding. They hadn
'
t exchanged more than the barest civilities. She had not even thanked him in person for his rescue, since the Earl had quit Paris long before Annabelle had recovered from her drugged stupor.

It was John Falconer who had seen her through those few nightmarish days in Paris, and some kind elderly gentleman at the Embassy, whose name she had forgotten, who had explained the awful chain of events leading up to that harrowing night. And then she
'
d been told, quite severely, to forget the whole thing as if it had never happened.

She
'
d managed to obey the
attaché
'
s
advice tolerably well, for her friends knew nothing of what had transpired and did not subject her to the rash of questions she might have otherwise expected. They were sorry to hear of her brush with
pickpockets and scolded her severely for wandering away, but their conversation was mainly of Lord Temple
'
s surprisingly sudden demise, though some few had known of his fatal predilection to gaming.

In London, Dalmar was conspicuous by his absence. Annabelle learned that he had taken over the management of his vast estates in Hampshire. She deemed it for the best, and set herself to emulate his example. She fell into her former pattern of spending the mornings at Bailey
'
s, the afternoons in company of her young son, and the rest of the interminable hours in her calendar she filled up with as many parties and outings as were offered, even supposing there was a dearth of company in town.

Henrietta stayed on in Greek Street, since nothing could persuade Annabelle to remove to Rosedale. And though Sir Charles wrote to his wife, in no uncertain terms, reminding her of her duty to her sons, she prevaricated. Now that Bertie was married, she wrote to him, Annabelle was quite alone in the house, servants notwithstanding. And the dear girl could pretend as much as she liked that she had not a care in the world, yes, and do a creditable job of pulling the wool over the eyes of the ton, but she, Henrietta Jocelyn, was not deceived. Beneath that false smile and exquisitely made-up face, Annabelle was miserable. And until such time as a suitable companion was found, Henrietta advised Sir Charles that she could not see her way clear to returning to the bosom of her family.

For three weeks or more, a lively correspondence between Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn was kept up. But nothing that Sir Charles committed to paper, and his logic could not be faulted, made the least impression on his wife. No one was more sensible than she of what she owed her family. But such arguments, in her present frame of mind, counted for nothing. If Sir Charles had written one affectionate word things might have been different. He did not, and Henrietta dug in her heels.

It came as no surprise to her, on returning to Greek Street from one of their evening jaunts, to find Sir Charles pacing Annabelle
'
s small drawing room as if he were a caged tiger.

"What brings you to town, Charles?
"
asked Annabelle,
dutifully pecking his cheek.

The question obviously startled him. Under cover of greeting her husband, Henrietta murmured, "It
'
s as I told you. Half the time, she
'
s not all there. Well, you
'
ll soon see how things stand.
"

They did not spend more than ten minutes conversing together, and to every subject that was introduced, Annabelle contributed only monosyllables. Her mind was miles away.

"What
'
s wrong with her?
"
asked Sir Charles when they had retired for the night.

"She
'
s been like this since I first came up to town. I had hoped that the trip to Paris might pull her out of the dismals. But since then, it
'
s only got worse. It
'
s Dalmar, of course. She
'
s pining away for him.
"

"What—Annabelle wearing the willow? That doesn
'
t sound like her!
"

"It won
'
t last forever. One doesn
'
t die of a broken heart. That is, after all, only a figure of speech. And Annabelle is a sensible girl. Given time, she
'
ll get over it.
"

Though her cool, rational words had a visible effect on Sir Charles, Henrietta did not notice it. At that moment, becoming aware that her bedchamber gave every evidence of masculine occupation, she exclaimed, "What can that girl be thinking of! She
'
s moved your things into my room. Oh well, that is easily remedied.
"

Meaning to ring for Nancy, she moved toward the bell-pull. Sir Charles stayed her hand.

"For God
'
s sake, Henrietta, have you taken such a
disgust of me that we cannot spend one night together under the same roof as man and wife?
"

Her eyes widened in surprise at the heat in his words. Obediently she allowed him to lead her to a small bedside chair.

"There is only one bed,
"
she pointed out.