Truly Yours (34 page)

She stayed in the doorway. “My stepbrother and stepsister have come to London to see you. Will you meet them? Are you well enough?”

“Of course.” He felt almost well enough to boot Ashway down the stairs. Surely he could see what Sir Frederick’s progeny were made of, and whether they intended to do right by their stepsister. They would, by George, if they wanted that gold from the globe without a fight.

They were young, dressed in deep mourning, and nervous. The sister, Miss Elaine Hawley, squeaked in fear at the sight of Verity, who only wished to make friends, not drool on the chit’s skirts, which upset the female worse. She was no beauty, although she was pretty enough in the current fashion, with her blond tresses falling from a topknot to frame a round face, a porcelain complexion, and blue eyes. The girl made a hurried curtsy, then cowered behind Amanda like a frightened fawn, or a seventeen-year-old orphan. Amanda pushed Verity out the door, then pushed Elaine into a chair, the farthest from Rex’s bed. The new baronet, Sir Edwin Hawley, a few years older than his sister, showed some mettle, choosing to stand in his countrified tailoring where Rex could see him. After Rex’s polite offer of condolences, and the pair’s equally stiff inquiries into the state of Rex’s health, Amanda said that her relations had things to tell him. She stared from one to the other. “Don’t you?”

After a silence that lasted too long, Edwin cleared his throat. “I received notice from the London solicitor about the account you established. Thank you for finding the money and placing it in safekeeping. And for rescuing our sister, of course. I mean to restore what we can to her, once I see where we stand with Father’s debts and bills. I know she is not to blame for anything, not the murder.” He looked toward his real sister. “Nor the rumors. Tell him.”

Elaine was mangling a handkerchief. Amanda took her hand and said, “Just tell him the truth. He will not shout or grow angry, at least not at you.” She glared at Rex to make sure he did not frighten the girl more than she already was.

Elaine stammered and turned red, as if she were about to cry. Rex tried to ease the situation by fingering the bandage wrapped around his head. “As you can see, I am rendered harmless. Moreover, I am certain you have done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I have. I . . . I borrowed Amanda’s cape.”

Thunderation, he wished he weren’t a gentleman, or that Amanda weren’t watching. “You . . . you were the one who went out at night to meet a lover?”

“No! That is, yes, I went out, but I met my brother, no one else.”

Edwin stepped forward again, ready to defend his sibling. “I came to Town because Elaine wrote how terrible our father was behaving. I naturally knew he was beggaring his estate—he’d tossed me out when we argued about that—but I had no idea he was not letting Amanda wed, or that he was stealing her dowry and her inheritance.”

“Worst of all,” Elaine piped up, “he was going to arrange a marriage for me, to Lord Thibidoux.”

“Thibidoux? What is his given name?”

“Navarre, but why?”

Because N.T. was on Sir Frederick’s list and the illustrious Aide had missed that name. And because if Monsieur Thibidoux was a conspirator, Nigel Turlowe was not. Damn.

Amanda hurried to say that the marquess was fifty and fat, lest Rex wonder why an arranged match was worse than stealing one’s own stepdaughter’s future.

Elaine obviously thought so. “He is French! He already buried two wives in England, and no one knows how many in France. He spoke of his lands there, and how he would recover them soon. I did not want to live in France!” She looked toward Amanda. “We are still at war with them, aren’t we?”

Rex held up a hand to stop the chit’s babbling. First things first. “You, Sir Edwin, were in Town when your father was shot?”

Edwin spoke as if he knew what was coming. Of course he did. Everyone knew his father had wiped his hands of Edwin, and was determined to squander Edwin’s patrimony. “No, I left three days earlier. I had to consult my own man of business to see what I could do under the conditions of the entail and Amanda’s mother’s marriage settlements. And no, I did not kill him or pay anyone to do so. I might have wished him to the Devil, but he was my father.”

The lad went on to prove his claim, with mention of post chaise schedules, an appointment with his solicitor in Hampshire, a horse fair he visited on his return to the family estate.

All of that was unnecessary, of course. Rex believed him from the first “No.” The youth seemed sincere and decent. The sister appeared to be a peagoose. “What about you, Miss Hawley? You wrote for help, and yet you sneaked out of your home, wearing Amanda, Miss Carville’s, cloak?”

“My father would be furious if he saw Edwin in the house.”

“Yes, I understand why you felt you had to meet elsewhere, but you must have had a cape of your own.”

“But Amanda’s was warmer.”

And far more noticeable. “You did not wish to be recognized as making assignations after dark, I think.”

She had the grace to blush and stare at her shoes, the handkerchief in shreds. “I could not let my reputation be ruined. I hoped to marry Martin, you see, then have Amanda come live with us. Martin’s parents would not have approved.”

“Ah, you were thinking of your stepsister all along?”

Elaine nodded eagerly, missing the sarcasm in his question. “That’s right, I was.”

Which statement was as red as the girl’s cheeks. “What of Amanda’s chances for a good marriage?”

The silly twit started weeping.

Exasperated, Rex turned to Amanda. “And you did not protest?”

She handed Elaine a fresh handkerchief before saying, “I thought she was meeting the young man she was enamored of. He returned her affection, but Sir Frederick would never permit them to wed because he was a mere second son.”

“But Martin loves me. We were going to elope, if Edwin was willing to help.”

Rex held onto his temper by a thread. “And none of you thought the rejected suitor might have been the killer? You did not tell me, Amanda, in order to protect some fool not brave enough to face the girl’s father or intelligent enough to plan his own elopement?”

Elaine squealed and hid her face in her hands.

Amanda looked at Rex crossly, as if to blame him for the ninny’s tears. “He did not kill Sir Frederick. He was still at Almack’s when I left that night, waiting for his one dance with Elaine. There was no need to bring his name, or Elaine’s, into this.”

Edwin put his arm around his sister to muffle her sobs. “Elaine knows she was wrong. I told her then, but it was too late when I realized the blue cape was not her own. We mean to make it up to Amanda. We’ll take her home with us today.”

Or carry her to Gretna Green with the young lovers and hide her in Scotland, or put her on a ship somewhere out of reach of Rex. That is, he amended in his own mind, out of reach of British justice. “No, she is bonded into my care. She stays here.”

Edwin puffed out his chest, trying to look older, larger, stronger. He looked like a ruffled cockerel instead. “Amanda is my sister. I am head of the household now and I do not think it at all proper for her to be living elsewhere.”

“But you thought it seemly for your real sister, who is far younger, to meet you in secret?”

The young man was stymied at that. “But you . . . that is, your reputation . . .”

“Have you heard a single rumor about my mother? Did no one tell you that she is the Countess of Royce, held to be one of the most upstanding ladies in society? She is in residence, as is my father, the earl. Do you actually think either of them would permit anything untoward under their roof? Or that I, as a gentleman, would betray your stepsister’s trust in me?”

Elaine must have kicked him, for Edwin bowed. “No offense intended on your esteemed parents, sir, or your honor. But Amanda belongs with us.”

“It is too dangerous.” Rex touched the bandage on his head. “There are people who do not wish to see her exonerated. They will go to desperate lengths to see your father’s murder become a closed case.”

“So she said. I cannot like it.”

Rex glared at the halfling who wanted to take Amanda away. “Do you think I enjoy having bricks tossed at me? Your sister is safe here, and respectably chaperoned.”

Edwin knew he’d been outgunned. He bowed again. “If you send me a reckoning, I shall pay her way, of course.”

“Do not be more of a fool than you have been. Your sister lacks nothing her own godmother cannot supply. You cannot take umbrage at that, can you?”

Edwin swallowed, his pride as well. “Very well, I shall speak to the solicitor about transferring what funds I can to her account, with your permission. My sister’s dowry is intact, but she will not be needing it this year while we are in mourning.”

Amanda stepped forward, outraged. “I will not take Elaine’s dowry!”

Edwin stood firm. “She is too young to wed, and our father stole yours.”

Rex respected the young man, although the sister was a twit, and still crying. For the loss of her dowry or the postponement of her elopement, Rex neither knew nor cared. He was only happy the chit was not his responsibility. “I will be happy to sign whatever documents are required to release the funds. I know you will do your best with them.”

Amanda silently thanked him with her smile. Then she said, “There is more to tell you.”

Damn, Rex was hoping the pair would leave so he could have Amanda to himself again. “Yes?”

The sister stopped acting like a watering pot now that no one was blaming her for anything. “Aunt Hermione went insane after Father’s death. She wanted to tear up the carpets and the molding the night before we left for the country. The surgeon had to come and give her laudanum.”

Rex started to nod until he remembered his sore head. “She was looking for the money. So she knew her bother had stashed it somewhere.”

“But I did not, or I never would have agreed to leave,” the girl said. “Except for all the gossip, you know.”

She knew Amanda was in prison, and the brat was worried about gossip! Rex glared at the female to go on.

“When . . . when we buried my father, Aunt Hermione started raving at his grave. All the neighbors heard her, and the servants. We thought she was grief stricken, but Amanda thinks it might have something to do with the . . . the crime.”

“Continue.”

“She raged at our father for not taking her with him as he’d promised. We thought she meant to the grave, which was queer enough, but then she carried on about how he was going to buy a title and take her to court.”

“He was going to pay off Prinny’s debts in exchange for a barony or some such? His ambition must have known no bounds if his own baronetcy was not good enough.”

“Aunt Hermione said he was going to be a count.”

“A
comte
,” Edwin corrected. “A French noble. We all thought she was turning into a bedlamite, out of shock and sorrow. Father was her only kin, you know.”

“But she was not dicked in the nob, was she? Your father told her they were going to France, with his new son-in-law, I suppose. Deuce take it, my cousin was right all along. Hawley was sending money to Napoleon, from the poor fools who thought they could get rich on sunken pirate’s loot. He never intended to finance any treasure-hunting expedition, only his own advancement on foreign soil.”

Edwin said he thought Rex’s assumption sounded correct. “He also wrung what he could from the estate, and stole more from Amanda’s inheritance. According to Aunt Hermione, Father was going to have Elaine wed next month by special license. Napoleon was going to win the war, he believed, and the emperor was going to build a new court around himself, full of his loyal supporters. Those who contributed the most money, I suppose.”

“We told the neighbors Aunt Hermione was too overwrought to know what she was saying,” Elaine told Rex. “Didn’t the French try to do away with all the aristocracy?”

“Napoleon is restoring some titles,” Rex explained, thinking aloud, “in exchange for loyalty. And money.”

Edwin handed his sister yet another handkerchief. “We are hoping you will not spread this around. I’d rather people think Father died during a robbery or whatever, rather than as a traitor.”

Rex could not promise silence. “Too many people were involved in his scheming. The Frenchman, his investors, whoever pulled the trigger. But I have a . . . connection who can be very discreet. He’ll want to speak with your aunt. Did she come to London with you?”

“Yes, we feared she would do herself harm in the country. Or convince the neighbors that we were all French sympathizers. I do have a servant watching to see if she uncovers more of the missing money.”

The lad had a good head on his shoulders. “Good. Make sure she does not leave your house until I can get men there to follow her. Who knows but she might lead us to more of the plotters. In fact, I’ll need both of you to promise to stay handy until Amanda is cleared, because we might need your testimony.”

“Of course.” Edwin shook Rex’s hand. “On my honor.”

“And your promise, too, Miss Hawley. No elopements. No running off with your young man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Edwin promised I can have a lovely wedding next spring. With flowers and ribbons and—”

Amanda saw Rex’s eyes start to cross so she rescued him by hurrying her relatives out to watch Aunt Hermione.

When she came back into the room after seeing them to the door, Rex was making notes on the papers he kept at his bedside. She stepped in quietly, taking the time to study him. The bandage on his head made him look as exotic as a turbaned sheikh, needing only a ruby or an emerald pinned to the front to complete the image of wealth, power, and pride. His nose was nearly straight now, and the day’s growth of beard lent a shadowy, raffish look to his strong jaw. He looked up at her with those incredible blue eyes just then and Amanda sighed. Had there ever been a more handsome gentlemen?