That Infamous Pearl Read online

  Lady Belmont snatched her hand back as though it had been burned, and seemed to flutter for a moment, her eyes looking everywhere except at Alaric. "Yes indeed," she gasped. "We have met before. Charmed to see you again, Brayleigh. If you will excuse us, Rowena is wanted elsewhere."

  A bored look masked Alaric's face. "Ah yes, Mrs. Sheridan awaits," he said. "What a pity. I hope I'll meet you again soon, Lady Rowena."

  "I am sure you will, if you attend many parties. I'm out a great deal these days." Rowena noted out of the corner of her eye that Lady Belmont made a hasty gesture and then subsided with an audible sigh.

  Alaric grinned at Lady Belmont and then turned to Rowena. "I am not in the habit of attending many social functions, but perhaps I will change my ways. I look forward to our next encounter."

  He bowed low as Lady Belmont, smiling nervously, led Rowena away. She waited only until they were a few feet distant from him, before seizing Rowena's arm and shaking her slightly.

  "Whatever were you thinking of to dance with Brayleigh?" she demanded. "And then going outside with him! Everyone will be talking."

  Rowena gave her aunt a blank look. "He asked me to dance in front of numerous people, and then nearly dragged me onto the floor. I could hardly refuse him without creating a scene. And why should I?"

  "Oh, I do wish he had not come tonight." Lady Belmont clasped her hands together. In her agitation she resembled nothing so much as a bird, fluttering about and attempting to protect her nest from predators. "Everyone said he was certain to be out of town for the rest of the Season due to the Mannering scandal. I hope he doesn't mean to pursue you. It would be so distressing, and so like him to try to cause difficulties." Lady Belmont clutched her fan tightly and took a deep breath. "You must not dance with him again, Rowena."

  "What nonsense is this, Aunt Louisa?" asked Rowena. "I'm aware that Brayleigh's reputation is not unsullied, but I hardly think he could do anything to me in the middle of the Willoughby's ballroom. He is invited to all the best houses and I have never heard of him kidnapping anybody."

  "This is not a laughing matter. He is dangerous," whispered Lady Belmont. "That is enough for you to know."

  Rowena laughed at that, and Alaric, watching from a distance, drew in his breath at the sight. She was transformed from a beautiful woman to a magnificent one, warm and generous. He felt his body tighten with unbidden desire.

  "Aunt, that is hardly enough for me," said Rowena. "When was I ever so docile? I'm not a child to be ordered about. You must give me a good reason to stay away from Lord Brayleigh, or I won't heed you."

  Lady Belmont hesitated. "Not here and now, Rowena. There will be enough talk as it is. If someone should overhear us.... I will tell you tomorrow. In the meantime, please stay away from Lord Brayleigh, for my sake."

  Rowena shrugged. "Very well. But I hope this reason of yours will be worth the wait. I grow more intrigued by the moment."

  Alaric lounged against a marble pillar, openly watching from across the room, as Rowena joined the dance with a new partner, a rather callow looking youth, whose tailor Alaric wrote off as only marginally competent. Charles shouldered his way through the crowd to his cousin's side and stood next to him, also watching the swirling dancers.

  "Alaric, you are a devil," he said feelingly. "I don't know how many people have stopped me in the last five minutes to ask about your intentions toward Lady Rowena."

  "Can I help it if Society is so starved for titillation that it must interest itself in my actions? I merely asked a charming young lady to dance." Alaric bent innocent eyes on his cousin.

  "No, that's coming at it a bit too strong. I know you're up to some mischief. You don't do anything without reason, and no one can remember the last time you danced with an unmarried woman. What are you up to?"

  "Why must I be up to something?" asked Alaric plaintively.

  Charles frowned. "Because you always have an ulterior motive. And when Alaric Montfort dances with Malcolm Arlingby's sister, people are going to ask questions. They say you're planning on ruining the girl, just to show the Arlingbys you can have anything at all that you want."

  "It is a trial to be so sorely misunderstood," said Alaric. "I had thought better of you, Charles."

  "Dash it, Alaric, she's a nice girl," protested Charles. "It won't do for you to try to entangle her in your schemes. What do you mean by this?"

  "You are far too inquisitive, Charles. I mean nothing at all." Alaric brushed an invisible piece of dust from his sleeve. "I find that this subject grows tedious. Shall we repair to Watier's for the remainder of the evening?"

  "Alaric, you can't simply come to this ball, dance with one girl, and then leave to play Macau at Watier's. People will talk."

  "I can do anything I please, and people talk anyway, no matter how I behave," observed Alaric wearily. "There's nothing I can do to stop them. Nor has Lady Rowena's reputation suffered any damage; indeed, people will be positively agog to meet the young lady who caught my eye. I'm known as something of a connoisseur of feminine beauty, after all."

  Charles shrugged with ill grace. "If you care no more for your good name than that, I suppose I will accompany you."

  "Thank you, Charles. You comfort me."

  Chapter 3

  "Aunt Louisa, you must come to the point," said Lady Rowena firmly. "You scolded me for dancing with Brayleigh last night and ordered me not to do so again. I believe you should at least tell me why."

  Louisa Belmont stirred nervously and peered at her niece over the rim of her teacup. She was a thin lady of rather indeterminate age who wore a look of perpetual worry on her face. This look had not eased any since she had taken charge of Rowena, who she found to be sweet and loving, but regrettably headstrong.

  "I told you, he is not a suitable partner for a young lady such as yourself," she answered, as firmly as she could.

  "Nonsense." Rowena buttered a piece of toast and then looked up, a martial glint in her eyes. "I haven't encountered Brayleigh before, but I know that his family is ancient and his wealth is staggering. He is invited to all the best houses. There is no reason why I shouldn't be polite to him."

  Louisa's hand shook as she placed her teacup back on its saucer. "It simply won't do. Brayleigh is a man about town. He shows no interest in marriageable young women. If you are seen with him it will cause unpleasant talk, and as for his dancing with no one else last night--well, the sort of speculation that will give rise to would be most disagreeable."

  "I thought it was rather an honor to have him show such partiality," countered Rowena. "I had the distinct impression that many ladies present were jealous."

  "That is as may be, but you would hardly want to draw such undesirable attention to yourself. You are here to find a respectable husband, not entangle yourself with a disreputable rake." Louisa looked down the long, highly polished table at her husband, who was attending to his breakfast with deep concentration. "Jonathan, do tell her that she must mind me."

  Lord Belmont looked up from his eggs and fixed Rowena with a watery blue eye. "Listen to your aunt, Rowena," he muttered.

  Rowena laughed. "I'll listen if you'll give me some sort of reasonable explanation, Aunt Louisa. Indeed, I don't mean to be disobliging, but I sense a mystery here. Lady Jersey approached me last night and made a number of comments about Brayleigh that left me totally at sea."

  Lady Belmont gasped and clasped her hands in front of her thin bosom. "What did she say? Goodness, we are ruined. I told you that man would stop at nothing, didn't I, Jonathan?"

  Rowena blinked at this response. "I knew there was more going on than you had told me. Whatever is it about Brayleigh that so alarms you?"

  "What did Lady Jersey say?" repeated Lady Belmont anxiously.

  "She said that it was not at all odd that I seemed to have captured the attention of Lord Brayleigh, as he doubtless wished to add more Arlingby belongings to his collection." Rowena took a bite of her toast. "I had no idea at all how to respond. I felt a c
omplete fool."

  "Oh, my heart," announced Lady Louisa, clutching her handkerchief between bloodless fingers. "Whatever shall we do? All the ton will be speaking of this now. I had hoped it was decently buried."

  "So there is an intrigue," said Rowena cheerfully. "You must tell me all about it, Aunt Louisa, or I shall positively encourage Brayleigh the next time I see him."

  Louisa moaned. "Rowena, please be sensible. The man is thirty-five and very experienced in the ways of the world. He has had a long string of mistresses and his manner of amassing his collection is infamous. Nothing is safe if he wants it. Surely you cannot wish to associate yourself with such a man."

  "But even Brayleigh must marry sometime," observed Rowena airily. "Perhaps I will see if I can catch him. He is both wealthy and fascinating, and I would be the envy of all the ladies if I succeeded." She smiled at her aunt teasingly, but her head was full of the very masculine attractions of Lord Brayleigh. Her waist still seemed to tingle where he had touched it the night before.

  "You'd best tell her," growled Lord Belmont suddenly. "If she doesn't hear it from a gossip, she'll nose it out herself. The chit's too curious for her own good."

  "Precisely." Rowena smiled dazzlingly at her uncle. "You see, Aunt Louisa, you have no choice."

  Lady Belmont heaved a sigh, and then frowned at Rowena. "If I tell you, will you promise to stay away from Brayleigh?"

  Rowena considered the question. She wrinkled her nose. "I cannot promise that before you tell me," she said thoughtfully. "But if I think your reasons are good, of course I will stay away from him. I'm not a fool, Aunt Louisa."

  "Your father allowed you to become far too impertinent," pronounced Lady Belmont. "It will be the undoing of you yet, Rowena. He should have allowed me to bring you out when you were eighteen and gotten you decently married instead of keeping you locked up at Wroxton with him until he died. He could have ruined your chances of finding a suitable husband, addling your head with all those books that he was forever studying."

  "The story, Aunt Louisa?" prodded Rowena, refusing to be diverted.

  "Very well." Louisa wiped her mouth and dropped her napkin on the table. "It has to do with your brother."

  Rowena put down her toast and looked at Lady Belmont, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Malcolm? But Malcolm has been dead for twelve years."

  Lady Belmont squirmed in her seat. She gave her husband an anguished glance, but he kept his head down, ignoring both his wife and his niece.

  "Malcolm isn't dead, Rowena. I believe he is alive and living on the Continent."

  The delicate pink in Rowena's cheeks faded. "Alive? Why has no one told me?"

  "We all thought it best to let you believe he died," said Lady Belmont. "After all, he can never come home, and it is best if he is not discussed. It was such a terrible scandal."

  "Does all of Society know he is alive?" asked Rowena. "What an idiot I must look."

  "Oh, it is often presumed he is dead," said Lady Belmont reassuringly. "Though there are stories that he is occasionally seen in Venice or Rome. But he can never return to England. That is why when your papa died your cousin Felix became the next Earl of Wroxton. Malcolm is the rightful heir, of course, but the world has a short memory, until someone like Brayleigh insists on dredging up the past."

  Rowena gave her aunt a puzzled look. "Forgive me, Aunt, but you aren't shedding any light on the issue. Why was I told Malcolm is dead, and what does Brayleigh have to do with it? Did they fight a duel?"

  "Nothing so ordinary, child. Why, a duel would have quickly been forgotten. No, it's much worse." Lady Belmont's voice sank to a whisper.

  "Then you must tell me, Aunt," said Rowena tartly. "I will try not to faint."

  "This is not something to make light of," complained Lady Belmont. "Sometimes I think you have no sensibility at all, Rowena. The whole difficulty came about because of a pearl."

  "A pearl?"

  "Precisely. A very valuable pearl from India or some such outlandish place. It is the size of a walnut, and has been in your father's family for generations. It even has a name; the Pearl of - well, I cannot remember, as it is all just nonsense. The legend is that a distant ancestor cut it from the crown of a French king in the Hundred Year's War. Your grandfather willed it to Malcolm. It never looked like much to me, but I gather it was quite ancient and very valuable. And so of course Brayleigh had to have it." Lady Belmont shook her head.

  "For his collection," said Rowena.

  "Precisely." Lady Belmont waved her hands in the air. "That man is mad about rare objects. I sometimes think it is quite unnatural. What does he do with all of it, after all? How many musty old paintings and statues can one actually use?"

  "I suppose that depends on how large one's house is," murmured Rowena.

  "Well, Brayleigh Park is a huge pile of stone, to be sure," mused Lady Belmont. "And yet, a masterpiece in every room? One would think something a bit more modern might alleviate some of the gloom."

  "Aunt Louisa, you are straying from the point. Did Lord Brayleigh buy the pearl from Malcolm?"

  "Oh, Malcolm absolutely refused to sell it," Lady Belmont assured her. "He was fond of your grandfather, and the pearl had belonged to the family for generations. He took to carrying it about with him in a small box he had specially made for it, just to taunt Brayleigh. It made him furious. And then one night, when Malcolm was playing in one of those terrible gaming houses, he lost it to Alfred Ingram."

  "Malcolm gambled?" asked Rowena.

  "Well, he was very young, and all young men are occasionally foolish. He was drunk and had lost all his money, and he pledged the pearl," said Lady Belmont. "Not that I am excusing him, of course. Still, he meant to redeem it, and went the next day to do so. But Ingram refused to give it up. He claimed that Malcolm had pledged the pearl itself, not its value."

  "What a terrible man," said Rowena calmly. "I trust Malcolm did not allow Ingram to get away with this?"

  "He was distraught," continued Lady Belmont. "And then he discovered that Ingram had kept the pearl because Brayleigh had offered to buy it from him at a value far above its worth. Malcolm was furious. He remonstrated with Brayleigh, but Brayleigh would not give way. He was set on having the pearl."

  "What a fuss over a bit of jewelry," murmured Rowena. "The matter seems to have been blown out of all proportion."

  "There was always a rivalry between Malcolm and Brayleigh," admitted Lady Belmont. "Malcolm was a year younger than the Earl, and eager to show that he was as dashing and bold. I fear that your brother was sadly hot-headed."

  "Do you mean that he provoked Brayleigh?" asked Rowena.

  "Of course not," answered Lady Belmont, shocked. "Malcolm was simply over-eager, my dear. And Brayleigh was as cold as an alpine icicle even then. He made Malcolm sadly frustrated."

  "But how would Brayleigh buying the pearl from Ingram make Malcolm leave the country? I don't understand."

  "Well, that is because there is much more to it." Lady Belmont lowered her voice. Now that she was telling the story she was enjoying the drama of it. "Malcolm decided to offer Ingram any sum of money he wanted for the pearl. He was quite determined that Brayleigh should not have it no matter what the cost. He drove out to Ingram's house in Merton, and when he arrived, the butler told him Ingram was walking in the orchard. Malcolm went in search of him, and found him dead, shot through the head, a pistol on the ground next to him." Lady Belmont paused for effect.

  "Why would Ingram commit suicide when he had so much money coming to him?" asked Rowena curiously.

  "He didn't kill himself, he was murdered! And of course, as poor Malcolm stood there, the servants came running up, having heard the shot. They immediately assumed that Malcolm had fired the weapon, and it looked very bad for him indeed. The magistrate meant to charge him immediately, and it was all the family could do to get him out of the country or he would surely have been hung."

  "And the pearl?" asked Rowena.

  "Gone! Abs
olutely gone. Malcolm swore he didn't have it, and it wasn't among Ingram's possessions. Whoever has it is the murderer, of course. And Malcolm believed that Brayleigh killed Ingram for it, maddened by the thought that Ingram might return it to Malcolm."

  "But why would Brayleigh kill a man to own something that he could never admit to having?" asked Rowena. "It makes no sense at all. Malcolm may not have killed Ingram, but I cannot believe Brayleigh would be so foolish."

  "But he is a collector, child," pointed out Lady Belmont. "It is the ownership that matters, not the ability to show it. He most likely has it locked away somewhere, and looks at it only by himself, in the dead of night. The man has a black heart. Now do you see why you must stay away from him?"

  "But there is no proof that Brayleigh killed Ingram," protested Rowena. "The man I met last night was arrogant perhaps, but hardly sinister. Malcolm might have disliked him, but that isn't evidence that he killed anybody."

  "But there could have been no motive for the murder except to obtain the pearl," argued Lady Belmont. "Nothing else was taken. And no one wanted it except Malcolm and Brayleigh. Unless you prefer to think your brother a murderer, you must believe it to be Brayleigh."

  "Did Brayleigh accuse Malcolm of the murder?"

  "Not at all." Lady Belmont grew quite animated as she spoke, color rising to her cheeks. "Indeed, he urged Malcolm to remain in England and stand trial."

  "Then he believed in Malcolm's innocence," said Rowena. "If he was guilty, he would surely have been overjoyed to let my brother take the blame."

  Lady Belmont shook her head. "You are entirely too trusting, Rowena. If Malcolm has stood trial he surely would have been hanged. And then there would have been not a bit of suspicion cast on Brayleigh. But with Malcolm fleeing, at least the matter hasn't been settled. Even now many suspect that Brayleigh is the true murderer."

  Rowena considered her aunt's words. "I see no evidence that either of them is guilty," she announced judiciously. "It all seems to be a muddle of misunderstandings and masculine pride to me."