Whirlwind Affair

Chapter 20

Robert sat in the darkened billiards room watching the last of the glowing embers in the grate die out, counting the mantel clock chimes strike midnight. The windows rattled with gusts of wind, but at least the relentless rain had finally stopped. He'd wryly wondered if perhaps he and Austin and Miles should organize an effort to build an ark. For the past four days, sheets of water had fallen from the gray sky-a sky that perfectly matched his mood.

Four days. Four days since that last encounter with Allie in her bedchamber. Four days of trying his damnedest to avoid her in a tremendous house that suddenly seemed no bigger than a crofter's cottage. Four endless, sleepless nights, lying in his bed, trying without success to think of something, anything, other than her.

The rest of the household had retired more than an hour ago, as had he, but he'd finally left his bedchamber, unable to face another sleepless night in his empty bed. Alone. He gazed at the brandy snifter cupped in his hand. Besides, he'd emptied the decanter in his bedchamber.

He and Allie had managed to avoid each other during the days, although he wasn't certain if that was more a case of him avoiding her or her avoiding him. He'd spent most of his time in Austin's private study, helping his brother with the estate accounts, throwing himself into the task with an enthusiasm that clearly baffled Austin. But he wanted, needed, to keep his mind and hands occupied so he wouldn't think of her. Wouldn't search her out and find some excuse to touch her.

When he wasn't helping Austin with the accounts, he kept to himself, reading in the library, playing billiards with Austin and Miles, spending time with James and Emily in the nursery, although it was pure torture to even look at the sofa in that room. He knew from Caroline that Allie had spent most of the last four days with Caroline and his mother, talking, doing needlework, playing card games. And according to Austin, she also visited with Elizabeth each afternoon.

He'd longed to escape from the house, where he kept catching elusive whiffs of her fragrance in the corridors, and take a long, bruising ride. The rain, however, prevented such outdoor activities.

Yet it was not as if he'd bumped into her around every corner. Indeed, the only times he'd seen her at all the past four days had been during dinner when the entire family had gathered in the formal dining room. And those four occasions had been nothing short of hell.

She'd sat across from him, wearing her damn black gowns, looking increasingly pale and drawn each night, partaking in conversation, but her efforts were clearly forced. And while his eyes were drawn to her again and again, she never looked at him-except for that one instant when their gazes had met, clearly accidentally on her part, this evening.

The effect of connecting with her golden-brown gaze had been like a blow to the heart. Everything faded away except her. For a breathless moment, he'd waited, hoping, praying, to see a spark in her eyes, some indication that she missed him. Wanted him. Loved him.

Instead, she'd lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes, and had applied her attention to her dinner, her utter rejection simply another blow to his already battered heart.

With each passing day it grew increasingly more impossible for him to pretend that everything was all right. Not when everything was so very wrong. He'd spent a good deal of the last four years managing to put on a happy, smiling front when inside he was torn up with guilt, but now, laughter felt simply beyond him. For his family's sake, he tried, but he knew everyone was aware something was amiss, knew his family was concerned. He could see it in their eyes, hear it in Mother's and Caroline's voices when they'd hesitantly asked him if he was all right. He'd tried his best to reassure them, but he suspected he'd failed. Just as he'd failed at everything that mattered lately.

A noise near the doorway caught his attention, and he turned his head.

"May I join you?" came Austin's voice from the darkness.

Robert swallowed a sigh. He did not want company. Did not want to make conversation. Unfortunately, thanks to his freedom with the brandy, he also felt most disinclined to rise from his chair.

"Of course," he said, hoping Austin was not in a talking mood.

"Would you care for a brandy?"

Robert tossed back the swallow remaining in his snifter. "Absolutely. Bring the decanter."

He heard Austin cross the room. The clink of crystal, followed by the quiet splash of brandy pouring into the sniffer. Then Austin joined him by the fire, refilling his glass with a generous hand. He settled himself in the wing chair opposite Robert.

Robert nodded his thanks and swallowed a hefty gulp, relishing the fiery burn in his throat. The embers glowing in the grate were starting to merge together in his vision. Good. Maybe soon he'd find the oblivion he sought.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Austin asked quietly.

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Not particularly."

Nearly a minute of blessed silence passed. Then Austin asked, "Would you care to hear my observations?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Only if you leave the room. And judging by your slouched posture and slurred speech, that isn't likely to happen."

Robert waved his hand in a rolling motion. "By all means. Observe away."

"All right. Both you and Mrs. Brown are utterly, abysmally miserable. Your comments?"

"I cannot speak for her. But in my case, you are correct. I am utterly, abysmally miserable. And not nearly drunk enough to forget it." He poured another swallow of brandy down his throat.

"And you are miserable because…?"

A long sigh escaped Robert, and he let his head fall back against the back of the chair, and closed his eyes. "Did I not, at some point in this bloody conversation, say that I did not want to talk about it?"

"You might have mentioned it. However, as you're incapable of rising from that chair, and I'm not leaving until you answer me, you might as well tell me."

"Bloody hell. All right. If you must know, she turned down my proposal."

"What, precisely, did you propose?"

Robert turned his head to glare at him, and instantly regretted the decision. Three Austins swam before him. Slamming his eyes shut again, he muttered, "Marriage."

"And she refused you?"

"I must say, Austin, that note of confused disbelief in your voice is very kind and indeed a balm to my shattered ego. Yes, she refused me. Completely, irrevocably, and really, most emphatically. In fact, the lady wants nothing more to do with me in any fashion at all."

"Did she give you a reason?"

A humorless laugh tumbled from his lips. "A reason? No, she did not offer a reason. She gave me closer to a half-dozen."

"Perhaps given time-"

"No. She made it quite clear that she wants no part of marriage again. To anyone. But most particularly not to me." He tipped the snifter to his lips and drained it. "She's already been married to one criminal, thank you very much."

"You are not a criminal."

"I do not like to think so. However, it has come to my attention, albeit a bit too late, that committing a crime does indeed make one a criminal. Even if it happened years ago and reparations have been made. Quite the slap on the arse, that realization, I assure you."

He felt Austin's hand grasp his shoulder. Prying his eyes open, he saw Austin leaning forward in his chair, his face unmistakably serious in the shadows.

"I'm sorry, Robert. I know how much it hurts when you believe the woman you love does not return your feelings."

"I appreciate the sentiment, brother. But you have no bloody idea. Elizabeth adores you."

"I did not always know that."

"That is because you are slow-witted."

"Then it clearly is a family trait, because you suffer from it as well. Indeed, you are more severely afflicted than I."

Robert shot him the most frigid glare he could manage. "No need to look so bloody happy about it. And what does that mean anyway?"

"It means that Mrs. Brown is obviously miserable and distraught. If she did not harbor feelings for you-strong feelings-then why would she be so upset? If she felt nothing for you, she would have refused you, then simply put the matter out of her head."

"I never said she felt nothing for me. Unfortunately her feelings run the gamut from disappointment to disgust." He leaned toward Austin and nearly toppled from the chair. "Bitter letdown, as I'd been hoping for love and devotion."

Austin shook Robert's shoulder with a vehemence that rattled his teeth and set up an unholy pounding in his temples. "Listen to me, you daft sot," Austin said. "I'm telling you that I believe there's a chance she might care for you. As you care for her. It is the only logical explanation for her distress."

"She is distressed because I was not truthful with her. She is distressed by my criminal past."

"Because she cares for you."

"Because I remind her of her dead husband." He frowned. "Before he was dead, of course. And that, I'm afraid, is a very, very bad thing. And not going to vanish like that." He tried to snap his fingers and failed.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you're wrong."

"As do I. But you know how I am always right. Always rather enjoyed that, up 'til now."

Austin stood and held out his hands. "Come on. I'll help you up the stairs."

Grumbling, Robert allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, then flung one arm around Austin's shoulders as the floor shifted. "Bloody hell, who's moving the house?"

Austin wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. Bloody good thing, as his knees felt decidedly wobbly. "You're going to have one hell of a head tomorrow, Robbie my boy."

Robert winced. "Stop yelling."

"I didn't yell." They made their way slowly across the room. "You're most likely not going to remember any of this conversation in the morning."

" 'Course I'll remember. My mind is like a…"

"Sieve?" Austin suggested.

"Exactly!"

"Yes. Well, that being the case, I've two things to tell you."

"Whassat?"

"You're a bloody pain in the arse."

"Why, thank you."

"And I love you."

Robert tried to grin, but his lips seemed to have fallen off. But in the tiny part of his heart that remained intact, for beating purposes only, Austin's words warmed him as nothing else in the past four miserable days had.

Michael walked quickly up the gangplank of the merchant brig docked in Dublin, and ran through his litany of calming mantras, bludgeoning back the panic clawing at him. It didn't matter that it was one a.m. and both the sea and the sky would be black. It didn't matter that the brisk wind would bring rough water. It would also bring greater speed. That was all that mattered. Because time was of the essence. He had to reach England as quickly as possible. Then make his way from Liverpool to Bradford Hall-a fifteen-hour journey on horseback, if he was lucky. But he had to get the information he'd learned to Robert. And Mrs. Brown.

He could only pray he wouldn't be too late.

Not bothering to cover her night rail with her robe, Allie shuffled across the carpet in her bedchamber toward the window. Pulling back the thick green velvet drapery, she blinked her gritty eyes against the unexpected morning sunlight. Finally the rain had stopped. Finally she would be able to escape this house. Breathe some fresh air that did not contain lingering whiffs of his woodsy scent.

The days following her confrontation with Robert had been the most empty and miserable of her life. And indeed, the most difficult. More so than when David had died and she'd discovered his betrayal. For at least then she had not had to pretend to be happy.

She'd spent the long hours visiting with Caroline and the dowager duchess-time that she simultaneously enjoyed, yet which filled her with a poignant ache for her own mother and sister. Caroline, with her playful, teasing manner and tendency toward creative card-playing, very much reminded her of Katherine. And while the regal dowager was very different from Mama, they both adored their children, and Allie appreciated how the older woman treated her as kindly as she did Caroline and Elizabeth.

As the days wore on, however, she couldn't help but feel the weight of Caroline's and the dowager's speculative gazes, and Elizabeth's as well during their afternoon visits. She'd avoided talking about Robert with Elizabeth, changing the subject or answering noncommittally the two times Elizabeth had brought up his name, but she realized she couldn't continue to do so indefinitely. Given Elizabeth's "feelings," she most likely knew what was going on, but she was obviously waiting for Allie to bring up the matter.

But truly, one would not need any special powers of perception to sense the tension between her and Robert during dinner. To Allie, it seemed as if the very air between them at the table were thick enough to slice. Thank God she'd so far only had to face him at dinner. It was near torture, having him sit directly across from her. His presence lodged a lump in her throat, making it nearly impossible to eat. She couldn't look at him, didn't want to see him. For she sensed that to do so would… would what?

Make her want him more? Hardly seemed possible, as she already wanted him with an intensity that made her skin ache. Crumble her resolve to avoid him? Yes, that was a distinct possibility, and one she did not wish to contemplate. Make her reconsider his proposal? No, she couldn't possibly. Nothing had changed between them; they were still wrong for each other.

Force her to accept the fact that she loved him?

Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes, unable to shut out the truth any longer. She loved him. Completely.

How, how had this happened? A half-laugh, half-sob rose in her tight throat. Surely there was no woman alive more foolish than she. She could understand making a mistake-she was human and therefore prone to error. But to make the same mistake twice-and such a huge mistake as falling in love with the absolute wrong man-well, clearly she'd taken leave of her senses. If she was to continue making mistakes, why, oh why could she not make a different mistake? Something more along the lines of using the wrong fork. Or paying a shopkeeper an incorrect amount.

But no, she seemed destined to fall impetuously in love with handsome, charming men who did not feel obligated to be truthful with her. Men whose dashing exteriors concealed dubious, criminal pasts. Perhaps she should consider a visit to the closest jail. Surely that would save her time in choosing the next wrong man to give her heart to.

Yet even as the sarcastic thought entered her mind, she realized with a sense of finality that there would never be another man after Robert. She'd thought she'd loved David with all her heart, but what she felt for Robert made her feelings for David fade to near insignificance. You thought you;d suffered a broken heart before? her inner voice scoffed. Ha! Now you know what it feels like.

Yes, she did. And she could not bear to feel like this anymore. It was time to face her situation straight on and make a decision. She had three choices. She could change her mind and accept Robert's proposal-a choice she discarded for all the same reasons she'd turned him down in the first place. She simply could not give her heart to another David. Robert might own her heart, but she did not have to give it to him.

She could keep to her original plan and remain here for the next five weeks with Elizabeth. A pang of regret raced through her, for she knew she had to discard that choice as well. She loved Elizabeth, loved being with her, but she could not possibly stay here for another month.

That left only one choice, and as much as it pained her, it was the most logical option. She needed to leave here as soon as possible. She would return to London, then sail back to America on the first available ship. Before she made another mistake. Before she gave in to temptation and allowed her unreliable heart to overrule her head.

Lester Redfern approached the horse with a narrow-eyed stare. "If you bite me again, I'll shoot you where you stand, you useless nag."

The mare shook her head and bared yellow teeth. Grumbling, Redfern slipped his boot into the stirrup, then vaulted awkwardly into the saddle as the beast sidestepped away from him. Bloody hell, maybe he'd shoot the beast anyway. But after. After he'd gotten the note and finished off Mrs. Brown.

He squinted up into the bright sunshine. Between the sun and the rising temperature, the road would be passable. A grin eased across his face and he applied his heels to the mare's flanks.

By this time tomorrow, he would be a rich man.

Get ready, Mrs. Brown. Here I come.

Bent low over the gelding's saddle, Michael raced along the dirt road. Teeth clenched, he forced himself to concentrate on each pounding step that brought him closer to Bradford Hall. Forced himself not to think about the incredible, shocking story his mum had told him. Forced himself to push away the ramifications of that tale until later. Right now there was only one thing to focus on: getting to Bradford Hall and Mrs. Brown.

Before Geoffrey Hadmore did.

Geoffrey Hadmore slowed his mount to a walk, chafing at the delay caused by the numerous muddy ruts in the road. He took the opportunity to slip his handkerchief from his waistcoat and mop his overheated brow. In spite of the still less than perfect traveling conditions, the road was drying very nicely. By early afternoon, he would be able to move along at a quicker pace. Which was good. After all, he had a baby gift to deliver.

And at least one murder to commit.