Page 4

Chapter Four

Elsa sat quietly, studying Daniel’s profile in the dark confines of his carriage. She wore a soft wool dress in sapphire blue and matching pelisse, both modest and practical for the journey ahead. Yet whenever her husband looked at her, she felt naked.

While she had spent months hating him, he’d been driven by the need to protect her. They wouldn’t be in this predicament if he’d shared his troubles. She would be the wife, lover and ally he needed. Instead, he lived with the vision of her in bed with a dead man, forever wondering what intimacies they had shared.

The trust between them was gone.

She would always resent him for leaving her. He would always rue the day Magnus dragged him into this wretched mess. While she’d stood in the quiet church near Edenberry, her heart full of hope and ready to burst, believing Daniel had fought hard for her hand, he was honouring an oath he’d made with her brother.

No wonder he failed to consummate their union. The blood on her thighs might be hers, not Mr Carver’s. The devil might have stolen her virtue before falling prey to the blackmailer, though it was all supposition.

Elsa wrapped her arms around her abdomen and hugged herself, wishing she could remember, but that night was an empty black void.

“This isn’t the way to Chippenham,” Clara said, peering out the window at the row of townhouses shrouded in a filmy fog. “You always take the Great West Road.”

“We’re not going to Chippenham tonight.” Daniel’s dark eyes shifted to Elsa, fixing her to the seat and warning her not to protest. “We need rest, and I must make certain arrangements before we leave town.”

Distrust was an ever-present emotion now. She tried to dissect his last remark and understand his intention. “Business arrangements?”

“I plan to invite Viscount Rutland to come to Chippenham. I can’t search for the book, anticipate the villain’s next move and protect us all from danger.”

Although Daniel had mentioned the viscount many times, Elsa had never met him at Thorncroft. Clara had because she gasped like someone had pricked her with a hat pin.

“There’s no need to pester the viscount,” Clara said, a little panicked. “We’ll be no trouble and will abide by whatever rules you put in place.”

Elsa frowned. “We will?”

After hearing the truth, she needed answers.

Even if that meant disobeying her husband’s instructions.

Clara faced her and wiggled her unmarred eyebrow. “Tell him, Elsa. We don’t need the viscount’s help. I fear he’ll be more of a hindrance.”

Daniel’s mocking chuckle said he disagreed. “A hindrance? Rutland is the most logical man I know. I don’t see the problem. You were always on friendly terms when he visited Thorncroft.”

Clara hung her head. “That was a lifetime ago.”

If Elsa made wagers, she would bet Lord Rutland was a handsome man without a single flaw. A young woman without the proper pedigree would feel lacking in his presence, let alone one with a facial disfigurement.

“I’m sure the viscount will be glad to see you.” Elsa prayed Clara didn’t retreat into her shell. It would be easy to help her hide from harsh realities, but Clara was better when she embraced her confidence. “When you smile, Clara, you light up the world.”

Realising the cause of his sister’s reticence, Daniel said, “You seem happier than you have in a long time. Our friends will welcome this change in you, too. Rutland often asks why I don’t bring you to town.”

Clara gasped. “You told the viscount about my accident?”

“Of course not. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Clara’s sigh of relief fogged the window. “I’m not ready to face the world. It’s why I stayed at home tonight when I would have loved waltzing at a ball.”

“Did you bring your assortment of eye patches?” Elsa asked, touching Clara’s forearm. “The green feathered one would match your travelling cloak perfectly.”

With a gentle smile, Clara drew the patch from her reticule. “I am never without one now. They act as a crutch in social situations.”

“Do you remember the countess’ motto?”

Clara nodded. “Confidence isn’t about being perfect; it’s about shining through your imperfections.”

“Precisely. You must repeat it to yourself whenever you’re overcome with self-doubt.” Satisfied, Elsa relaxed back in the seat, only to find Daniel watching her with quiet pride and a tenderness she had once clung to as if it were her lifeline.

Heat infused her body as it did long ago.

His dark brown eyes dipped to her mouth. “Seeing you and Clara together eases the guilt I’ve felt these last six months.”

“We’ve been a great support to each other.” Her relationship with Clara was a gift—a light in dark times. “Our friendship has never been stronger.”

Unlike the bonds of their marriage, which were held together by fraying threads. One more lie and the bindings would snap.

“I can see that,” he said with a tinge of sorrow.

“Things have changed during our estrangement.”

“Some things. Not everything.”

There was no time to ask what he meant because the carriage stopped outside a grand townhouse in Bruton Street. Its white stucco facade gleamed beneath the gas lamps. The black lacquered door and lion-head knocker were a silent testament to the owner’s wealth and gentility.

The glow of candlelight in a downstairs window drew a sigh of relief from Daniel. “It appears Rutland is at home. Raise the hoods on your cloaks. Just as a precaution.”

They did as he asked, with Clara wearing her pretty green eye patch and shrinking into the depths of her oversized shroud.

Lord Rutland’s butler had retired for the night and was flattening fine wisps of grey hair over his pate when he eventually opened the front door.

“Mr Dalton. Good evening. ”

“Good evening, Hockton. I believe his lordship is at home.”

The butler shifted uncomfortably. “The hour is late, sir, too late for visitors. His lordship was quite insistent.”

On cue, a faint feminine giggle reached their ears.

Viscount Rutland was already entertaining a guest.

“Can you not just leave a message?” Clara tugged Daniel’s coat sleeve. “I doubt Lord Rutland will welcome a disturbance. He must focus all his efforts on being amusing.”

But Daniel would not be deterred.

“May we come in, Hockton? We’ll be discreet. Trust me. His lordship would rather hear my plea firsthand than via a note. I wouldn’t call if it weren’t urgent.”

Hockton considered the request before stepping aside. “Kindly wait in the study, sir, and I shall see if his lordship is happy to receive you.”

They stepped into the hall, their footsteps light against the polished marble. The amber glow of an oil lamp flickered over the grand clock, gilt-framed portraits, and intricately carved wainscoting, each detail speaking of old wealth and aristocratic heritage.

Hockton lit the lamps in the study and motioned for them to wait while he consulted his master. The clip of his shoes on the floor preceded a gentle knock on the drawing room door.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Clara complained.

“Rutland and I are like brothers,” Daniel reassured her, helping himself to port from a crystal decanter on the walnut table. “I could arrive stark naked, and he wouldn’t give a damn.”

Elsa’s traitorous mind conjured an image of her husband’s broad chest, bronzed skin, and toned muscles. When clothed, a masterful energy radiated from him. Without them, he would be a force too powerful to resist.

“Perhaps I should wait in the carriage,” Clara said.

But it was too late.

A handsome man with tousled brown hair burst into the study, his shirt open, his cravat hanging rakishly around his neck. He smelled of expensive cologne and flowery perfume.

“Dalton! I hear I missed the drama tonight. Trust me to choose the worst moment to fetch refreshments.” The lord’s grin faltered as his gaze moved past Daniel to settle on her and Clara. “Perhaps I misheard, and you were accosted by a pair of mysterious monks, not a woman claiming to be your wife.”

Daniel motioned for Elsa to lower her hood. “Allow me to present my wife, Mrs Dalton. We were married in Chippenham six months ago.”

Elsa did as requested and curtsied to the dashing lord. “Daniel has mentioned you many times over the years, my lord. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The viscount bowed gracefully. “Forgive my relaxed attire. I shall give Dalton a good thrashing for not giving me prior warning. You were his neighbour in Chippenham, I believe.”

“Yes. We’ve known each other for many years.”

The lord regarded her with mild curiosity. “Odd he wasn’t shouting his good fortune from the rooftops. Odd he kept his friends in the dark.” He turned to Clara, waiting for her to reveal herself, but she stood in frozen paralysis.

“You remember my sister Clara,” Daniel said.

“Of course.” The lord stared at the hooded figure, his demeanour softening as a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “The last time we met, she tried to set fire to my coat. ”

Clara huffed. “What do you expect when you linger in dark corridors? You cannot blame a lady for dropping her candle.”

“It shot out of the holder like a fiery arrow,” he replied, his tone more playful than accusatory. “Are you in mourning, Miss Dalton? Or is there another reason for your shroud?”

Clara’s inner turmoil was palpable, but she found the strength to lower her hood. “I have every reason to hide, my lord.”

The viscount breathed deeply. Perhaps he was startled to see Clara’s thick, ebony hair hanging in lustrous waves about her shoulders. Maybe it was the forest-green eye patch he found mesmerising.

“You always seek to surprise me, Miss Dalton. Tonight, you appear like a forest sprite out to cause mischief.”

“Yet I’m not the one misbehaving.” Clara motioned to his dishabille but did not allude to the woman waiting in the drawing room. “How long until you announce your betrothal to Miss Woodall? I’m told the ton are awaiting the news with bated breath.”

The viscount firmed his jaw. “Thirty days.”

“And then you will lose your bachelor status.”

“Not necessarily. I might die before then.”

Clara’s bottom lip quivered. “Miss Woodall must be busy thinking about her trousseau.”

“Or mixing a poison so she might escape this ill-fated marriage, too,” he said, the bitterness in his tone stirring memories of how narrowly Elsa had avoided marrying Lord Denby. “As to you, Miss Dalton, have you come from a woodland masquerade?”

Keen to change the subject, Daniel cleared his throat, but Clara stepped forward and raised her feathered eye patch. “No, I merely wish to avoid gawpers.”

Lord Rutland stared at Clara’s scar and milky eye, his face turning as pale as a corpse in the moonlight. His Adam’s apple bobbed tirelessly. “What in God’s name happened?” He shot Daniel a questioning look, one filled with horror and disbelief. “It appears you’ve kept many things from your closest friends.”

“I had an accident while riding,” Clara revealed.

“When?” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Clara covered her eye with the patch. “Two years ago.”

“Two years? Forgive me. I didn’t know.”

Daniel knocked back the drink he had poured himself. “Clara made me promise not to mention it, and I honoured her request.”

“You mustn’t pity me, my lord. I must deal with the hand life dealt me. There are much worse hardships.”

No one spoke.

The air in the room thickened.

Daniel broke the silence, mentioning the reason for their visit. “I’m here because I desperately need your help. I need you to come with us to Chippenham. I’ve sent word to Rothley and am confident he’ll meet us there.”

“Chippenham? Tonight?” Lord Rutland glanced at the study door and groaned. “Could you not have given me prior warning?”

“I would have but my wife caught me unawares.”

“Have you summoned Gentry?”

“No, the man deserves some peace after his recent ordeal, and he leaves for the Cotswolds in the morning. I’ll explain everything when he returns.”

“Am I to pack for a day, a week, a fortnight? ”

“A week should suffice. We’ll stay here for a few hours and head to Chippenham together just before dawn. The journey will take most of the day, and I would prefer to arrive at Thorncroft under cover of darkness.”

The viscount’s gaze flicked to Clara. “All of us?”

“Yes.”

Lord Rutland nodded. “Make yourselves comfortable while I cancel my previous engagement. I’ll have Hockton light the fire and fetch refreshments.” A knowing look passed between the men. “Should you hear a commotion, I insist you keep the study door closed.”

The viscount left and the butler entered, along with a sleepy-eyed footman. While the latter lit the fire, Hockton went to fetch tea.

They heard raised voices, a woman’s angry demand and the crack of shattering glass. The quarrel spilled into the hall, the conversation as clear as the peel of a church bell at night.

“Will you push me aside when you’re married?”

The viscount groaned. “We agreed this was a casual arrangement. As I’ve said many times, I intend to be faithful to my wife.”

His mistress scoffed. “We’ll be discreet. God knows you’ll be desperate for affection if you marry Miss Woodall.”

“I am marrying Miss Woodall.”

“Then you’ll need someone to warm your bed.”

“That task will fall to my wife.”

A mocking laugh echoed in the hall. “Are you giving me my congé, Bentley? Will you present a diamond parure as a parting gift and wish me well?”

“I wouldn’t insult your intelligence.”

“Does Miss Woodall know I’m here? Is her father waiting in the study? Perhaps that’s the reason for this little charade. ”

“Goodnight, Maria. Hockton has alerted your coachman. I’ll wait with you until he arrives.”

The frank conversation continued in the hall while they waited in the study. Elsa couldn’t help but wonder if Daniel had found himself in the same position because it was clear he’d been pressured to marry, too.

Was there a woman in the world who loved him?

Had he given away his heart before they’d wed?

Such questions were a poison in her mind, driving her to despair. It was too late to care. Yes, she had the utmost respect for the sacrifices Daniel had made but there would be no happy ending for them.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to listen to this,” Daniel whispered.

“You mean a rake dismissing his mistress?” Clara spoke like she had acid on her tongue. “Lord Rutland falls into the category of entitled men who use people for their own entertainment.”

“That’s not true, Clara. Rutland is a prisoner of his noble heritage, trapped in a cage of expectations. He doesn’t lie about who he is or what he must do. He’s always been transparent.”

“Stop making excuses for him. Maria clearly feels she was deceived.”

“Lady Mersham is fully aware of the situation. When the time comes for Rutland to marry, he will be a faithful husband.”

Clara sighed but said nothing.

A minute or two passed before they heard the clop of horses’ hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels outside. Lord Rutland entered the study a short time later, looking presentable in an impeccable blue coat and starched white cravat .

“Forgive the delay,” he said, a slight colour touching his cheeks when he looked at Clara. “Now, while my valet packs, you’ll explain what in blazes is going on.”

A maid arrived with refreshments, placing the silver tray on the tea stand. She poured four cups and cut slices of seed cake.

The moment the servant left, they all sat on the leather chairs opposite the lord’s imposing desk while Daniel explained what had occurred since he’d received Magnus’ summons.

The viscount listened intently, shock marring his handsome features, the expression fading to an unreadable emotion when he glanced at Clara’s feathered eye patch.

“So we’re returning to Chippenham to hunt for the journal,” the viscount clarified, “which you believe may be hidden somewhere on the Edenberry estate.”

Daniel took a bite of cake and licked crumbs off his lips. “Yes, but we will stay at Thorncroft. It’s only a short walk through the woods or across fields. We must be vigilant. I have reason to believe hired thugs are watching the house.”

The viscount relaxed in the wingback chair and steepled his fingers. “This may sound like an absurd question, but why didn’t we have this conversation six months ago?”

“Keeping my wife safe was the only thing that mattered. I needed time to investigate her father’s friends and associates.”

“And no one from Carver’s family has come to question his whereabouts? Aren’t they wondering where on earth he is?”

“He has no family. His only brother died at Waterloo.” Daniel returned his china plate to the tray. “From my research, he owned no property and lived modestly at the cottage on the Edenberry estate.”

“He must have had money if he asked your wife to elope.”

“None that I’m aware of. The murderer stole every piece of evidence from the cottage. We found no papers, ledgers or books when we discovered his lifeless body.”

They all stilled.

The gravity of the situation rendered them all mute.

No one could predict the future or their fate. But despite their differences, she would rather know Daniel was alive somewhere in the world than lose him altogether.

The viscount turned to Elsa. “Did you believe Carver was in love with you? Or did you suspect some other motive for his illicit offer?”

Elsa shrugged. She was hardly a good judge when it came to a man’s affections. “Mr Carver was always a gentleman and seemed to think he could save me from a tragic marriage.”

“She speaks of Lord Denby,” Daniel said.

Lord Rutland laughed. “You deserted your bride on your wedding night. I think that qualifies as tragic.”

Daniel bowed his head.

“As my husband said,” Elsa interjected, feeling a need to defend him because none of this was his fault, either, “my safety was uppermost in his mind.” Daniel could have refused to give Magnus his two shillings. Where would that have left her? “All that matters now is finding the journal and ending this nightmare.”

“I suspect the real nightmare is about to begin,” the lord said in an ominous tone. “The villain has already murdered one man to hide his secret. ”

Daniel sat forward. “You raise a valid point. Helping us could mean risking your life. I respect your right to refuse. You’re to announce your betrothal to Miss Woodall in a month.”

The viscount grimaced. “Perhaps fate brought you here tonight.”

“Fate?”

“Death is the only thing that can save me from marrying Miss Woodall.”