That Infamous Pearl Page 5

  "Certainly. I see no reason why I should be expected to simply believe everything I am told. However, my lord, I also find that you are guilty of encouraging the opinion Society holds of you." Rowena looked at him accusingly.

  Alaric's brows came together in a considering look. "Whatever do you mean, Lady Rowena?"

  "I mean that, despite my best attempts, no one can relate anything truly dreadful you have ever done, my lord, but you seem to delight in and encourage your generally devilish reputation."

  "I took Mannering's entire fortune from him at the gambling table only two weeks ago, only so I might obtain a particular sculpture he owned," said Alaric, perversely prompted by Rowena's words to prove himself a villain. "Do you not find that cruel of me?"

  "He was stupid to play with you, particularly when it became obvious that his luck was out," answered Rowena. "I have no patience with those who have no self-control."

  Alaric looked at her, his eyes hooded. "You do not consider murder to be truly dreadful, Lady Rowena?"

  Rowena gave him a scornful glance. "I found no evidence, outside of malicious gossip, that you murdered Alfred Ingram, my lord. As I mentioned before, I prefer to make my own decisions."

  "So you believe your brother is a murderer?" asked Alaric, surprise written on his face.

  "Really, you try my patience," said Rowena. "Why is it necessary that I believe either you or Malcolm to be a killer? I see no reason why any number of other people could not be the murderer. Alfred Ingram was not a popular man, and that pearl was worth a fortune. Anyone might have desired it."

  "But only I had proclaimed my intention of owning it," interposed Alaric. "Surely that counts for something."

  "And I am told Malcolm just as loudly proclaimed his determination to do anything to prevent you from having it. The two of you created a public situation that any clever person might have taken advantage of."

  Alaric smiled gently. "It just so happens that you are right on this occasion, Lady Rowena, at least partially. I did not murder Alfred Ingram."

  Rowena looked up at the moon, which shed a gentle light into the garden. Despite her earlier brave words, she felt a sudden rush of relief.

  "I thought not," she said eagerly. "We must immediately proceed to solve this mystery, so that Malcolm can come home."

  Alaric paused. "What mystery?"

  "Why, the mystery of who actually killed Ingram. Whoever it is must have the Pearl of Sirsi in his possession. It shouldn't be difficult to discover the culprit."

  "Not be difficult?" Alaric stared at her. "I cannot imagine why you think it would be easy to locate a pearl only two inches around, and missing for a dozen years, somewhere in the country of England, nor why you feel it is necessary to pursue this topic. If I did not kill Ingram, then it is immediately obvious who did."

  Rowena swung towards him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Who?" she demanded.

  "Why, Malcolm Arlingby, of course." Alaric shook his head. "Lady Rowena, you did not know your brother well. He was truly a hotheaded young man. As much as I dislike saying this to you, it is almost certain that he murdered Alfred Ingram in order to regain the pearl."

  Rowena froze, and a look of disdain came over her face. "Lord Brayleigh, I had thought you more intelligent than that. It appears I was mistaken."

  Alaric fought down a rising feeling of frustration. The moonlight, shining gently down into the garden, gave Rowena's skin a silken glow that was almost irresistible. He had arranged this meeting in order to be alone with her, and now he found himself arguing with the lady, rather than wooing her.

  "Lady Rowena, I assure you, I do not hold your brother's actions against you. But you must understand that it is not possible to clear his name. He fled the country. If I doubted before that he was the killer, that certainly convinced me. An innocent man would have faced the charges."

  Rowena smiled at that. "You see, you did have your doubts. Aunt Louisa told me that you urged him to stand trial. At the time you must have thought him innocent."

  Alaric hesitated. "I admit, that, at the time, I thought it was unlikely that Malcolm would resort to murder. But his subsequent actions changed my mind. I no longer doubt that he is guilty."

  "But it was the family that hurried him out of the country," Rowena pointed out. "He did not wish to go."

  "But he went," said Alaric darkly. "There is no way to argue the point."

  Rowena frowned. "I thought you would help me. That's why I came out here tonight. It seemed that you would want to set matters straight."

  "That is why you came to meet me?" Alaric was astounded. "That isn't very flattering, Rowena." He noted that she did not object to his use of her first name.

  "Why did you think I came?" she asked, her violet eyes wide. She turned towards him, and gave a tiny gasp at the expression on his face. He took a step towards her, and she retreated until she felt the vine-covered garden wall behind her.

  "I thought perhaps you wanted my company," murmured Alaric. He placed his hands on either side of Rowena's head, so she was trapped between his arms.

  "Of course I find your conversation very interesting, my lord," said Rowena, refusing to appear startled. Her heart began to beat more quickly, and her knees felt weak. "But I believe we should return to the topic of clearing my brother's name."

  "I find Malcolm's sister of far more interest than his guilt or innocence," answered Alaric. He gazed down at her, his green eyes glittering. He was sure that beneath her calm exterior he would find fire.

  "My lord, I must go back inside. If someone were to see us..."

  "No one will see us," answered Alaric. He could no longer resist. Slowly leaning forward, he brought his lips to Rowena's, covering her tender mouth with a quick, fierce demand. She gave a gasp of surprise, and he seized the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, softly plundering the warm interior of her mouth. One hand moved from the wall to cup her cheek, urging her face upward towards his.

  Rowena froze in his arms, startled by his kiss, and uncertain what to do. But before she could make a coherent decision, she trembled in reaction, growing breathless and strangely weak. She gave a tiny sigh and leaned into him, raising her lips up to his for more. After a moment, however, her commonsense returned to her, and she flinched and moved fretfully in his arms. With a start, Alaric was recalled to reality and released her, looking down anxiously into her eyes.

  "Is something wrong?" he asked.

  Rowena fought for possession of her faculties. "Nothing at all, my lord, except that you are kissing me. This is not why I came to meet you tonight."

  Alaric raised his hand and stroked her hair. All he wished to do was kiss her again.

  "Isn't it, Rowena?" he asked.

  "Definitely not," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I wished to speak with you about Malcolm, of course."

  "We spoke of Malcolm. I believe that topic has been thoroughly covered. Now we have other things to talk of."

  "Such as?" Rowena moved away from him quickly, putting distance between her treacherous body and his.

  "Such as you and me." Alaric stood still, watching the graceful movement of her hips under the drapery of her dress. It was all he could do not to close the distance between them with a quick stride and gather her into his arms again.

  Rowena paused. Alaric could see a slight tremor pass through her body, and his senses quickened in response.

  "There is nothing to discuss, Lord Brayleigh. As long as the situation stands as it does with my brother and yourself, there can be nothing between the two of us."

  Alaric's eyes narrowed. "And if I found a way to clear your brother?"

  Rowena hesitated. She could feel her heart still hammering under her ribcage. "I will be honest with you, my lord. I have heard much discussion of you in the past days. Many people feel you are pursuing me from a sense of pique, to punish my family for insisting on your guilt in the matter of the Pearl of Sirsi. Others think that you feel I would be an unusual and w
orthy addition to your collection. No one seems to think that you might be in love with me."

  "Love is a difficult and dangerous emotion," answered Alaric. "I find that I do better without it."

  "Then why do you pursue me?" Rowena turned and regarded him gravely. She did not care to admit it, but she had felt a sense of desolation at his response. "I suppose it would be more flattering to be considered collectible than to be an instrument for revenge, but I cannot say I find either prospect precisely enticing."

  Alaric frowned. "I do not intend to use you for either purpose, Rowena."

  "Then I repeat my question. What is your interest in me?"

  Alaric moved towards her, stopping only when he was so close to her that they almost touched. "Do I need a reason, Rowena? Didn't that kiss say enough to you?"

  Rowena's eyes dropped from his. "It was very interesting, my lord," she admitted. "But I hardly think that a shared enjoyment of kissing is enough to bring us together."

  Alaric laughed softly, a sensuous, dark sound. "You might be surprised, Rowena." He raised one hand and stroked her cheek. He marveled at the softness of her skin, like rose petals. Another fierce spark of desire shot through him. His thumb grazed her full lower lip, and Rowena struggled to hide her tremor of response from him.

  "And the circumstances also make it quite impossible," continued Rowena, attempting to ignore the intimate touch. "Even were I so foolish as to wish for you to ruin me, my aunt will never allow me to be a friend of yours so long as Malcolm is blamed for the death of Alfred Ingram."

  "I had not thought you so easily cowed by your family, Rowena." Alaric spoke absently, fascinated by the glimmer of the moonlight on her eyes.

  "I am not," said Rowena defensively. "But I will not allow people to believe you are using me as a sort of revenge against my family. It will only make me appear foolish, and you more devilish."

  "But you do not personally object to knowing me better," said Alaric.

  Rowena frowned. "That depends on what you mean by knowing you better. I would be glad to be your friend, provided the matter of Malcolm's innocence is settled."

  "Friends? Friends do not kiss each other as we have, Rowena."

  "Then we shall not kiss anymore," said Rowena crossly. She tried to step back from him, but he grabbed her wrists and held them lightly in his hands, gazing down at her with a brooding expression.

  "If I try to clear Malcolm's name, you will be my friend?" he asked slowly. Alaric had no doubts that Malcolm Arlingby was guilty of murder, but he was willing to humor Rowena if it meant he could spend more time in her company.

  A brilliant smile broke out on Rowena's face. "I would be so grateful, my lord," she said eagerly. "Indeed, I would like to help you in the attempt. We could work together to discover the true killer."

  Alaric's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Hunting murderers is hardly work for young ladies."

  "But I would be of inestimable value," urged Rowena. "I have access to my family's information and it would not be at all unusual if I were to ask questions about Malcolm, whereas anything you might say would immediately be suspect. And I helped my father with his scholarly work, so I have a trained, analytical mind. Please say that I may work with you."

  Alaric pondered her suggestion. He had no hopes of clearing Malcolm's name, and he doubted Rowena's abilities as an investigator, but if she were involved in this it would give him an excuse to have more meetings with her. And soon enough, he was sure, he would be able to convince her not only of the futility of attempting to clear her brother, but also of his own desirability. He had felt in her kiss that she was not immune to him; it would not take long for him to build that flame into a bonfire.

  "Very well," he said. "I will let you help me. But you must obey my instructions. I will not have you endangering yourself."

  Rowena nodded eagerly. "When shall we begin, my lord?"

  Alaric bit his lip. Convinced of Malcolm's guilt, he had no idea of how to begin a sham investigation.

  "I will make some preliminary contacts and I will report to you again tomorrow at this time. Will you be here?"

  "Certainly." She gave him a grateful look. "You will see, my lord, how successful this endeavor will be."

  "Far more than you know," murmured Alaric. "And now, Rowena, I suggest we seal this agreement with a kiss."

  Before she could speak he had lifted her chin with his forefinger and brushed his lips gently against hers. This was not the hard, demanding kiss of earlier, but she still felt it deeply, a gentle tingling from her head down to her toes. She closed her eyes briefly and swayed towards him. Alaric smiled.

  "Until tomorrow then, Rowena," he murmured.

  Rowena opened her eyes and blinked at him, dazed. She nodded as he smiled down at her, and followed him obediently when he led her to the kitchen door and opened it, urging her in.

  "Good night, Rowena," he said softly. "Pleasant dreams."

  "Good night, my lord." She stood, her shawl hugged tightly about her as he disappeared into the shadows. A lingering excitement tingled in her veins and she raised one hand to her lips.

  "Nonsense," she said aloud. "I am only doing this to help my brother."

  The kitchen cat, surprised by her voice, mewed in annoyance. Rowena started. "It is the truth," she told the animal fiercely. She spun on her heel and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

  Chapter 7

  Alaric glared across his desk at the white-haired lawyer. Bright afternoon sunlight slanted across the library, glinting off the highly polished furniture and illuminating the priceless works of art that decorated the walls. The Donatello, forgotten in the Earl's newest interest, had disappeared behind a sheaf of papers. Alaric tapped his fingers impatiently on the desktop.

  "But my lord, I do not see why you care to look into the Arlingby matter," protested the lawyer. "It would only bring forward old questions that are best left unasked."

  "Only if you presume I am guilty of murdering Alfred Ingram," said Alaric coldly. "Do you believe that I killed him, Mackley?"

  "No, no of course not, my lord," stammered Mackley. "But you cannot deny that many do. It will cause a great deal of unnecessary talk if word should get out about this."

  Then we will have to make sure that word does not get out. Personally, I do not care what the world says, but there is a lady involved." Alaric placed the tips of his fingers together and gazed at Mackley over them.

  "A lady?" repeated the lawyer.

  "Precisely." Alaric frowned. "I do not want her name involved in this inquiry."

  Mackley's brow furrowed. "Is the woman in question Lady Bingham?"

  Alaric glowered at his lawyer. "I beg your pardon?"

  Mackley flushed. "I only thought that since her husband's death you might wish to clear your name once and for all in order to marry the lady yourself," he said, his voice trailing off at the look of amazement on Alaric's face.

  "You are my lawyer, Mackley, and are to follow my orders without speculating on them. Do you understand?" Alaric's voice was icy.

  "Yes, my lord," answered Mackley, subdued.

  The anger died out of Alaric's face as he gazed at the lawyer. The man had served his father and himself for many years, and his presumption could be excused on the basis of long familiarity. Alaric realized with a touch of shame that he had overreacted. But Lady Bingham was a topic he found difficult to ignore.

  "I have no intention of having anything to do with Lady Bingham," he said in a much softer voice. "She is in my past and will remain there. The lady I referred to is simply someone I wish to aid. Her name will be kept out of this."

  "Certainly, my lord. I will look into the matter immediately." Mackley stood and began to collect his papers. So the rumors were true, he thought. His lordship was intrigued by Malcolm Arlingby's sister.

  He paused, giving Alaric an uncertain look.

  Alaric sighed. "What is it, Mackley?"

  The lawyer looked uncomfortable. He shifted his feet uneasily on
the floor and then seemed to make up his mind.

  "You should be aware, my lord, that Lady Bingham appears to remain interested in you," he said in a low voice. "It is said that she claims she will be married to you by Christmas."

  Alaric smiled mirthlessly. "Is that so? Where did you have this information from, Mackley?"

  "One of my junior clerks is quite friendly with a clerk in the office of Mr. Bonham, who represents Lady Bingham. I do my best to stay current on matters that involve my clients," he said, somewhat defensively.

  "And I thank you for it," murmured Alaric thoughtfully. "Rest assured, Mackley, that Lady Bingham will not become the Countess of Brayleigh if I have any control over the outcome."

  "Do you have another candidate in mind?" asked the lawyer.

  Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason for your inquiry?"

  "Only that the estate needs an heir," answered Mackley stoutly. "I would be glad to see you married, my lord."

  Alaric grinned. "My cousin Charles would be quite capable of taking my place were I to suddenly disappear, Mackley. But I appreciate your concern. No, I have no one in mind for the position."

  The lawyer bowed politely. "I hope you will change your mind, sir. I look forward to my son acting as lawyer to yours."

  Alaric watched absently as Mackley exited the study. Despite his disclaimer, the lawyer's words had brought a vision to his mind of a life with Rowena at his side, their son the heir to Brayleigh. He shook his head to dispel the image. It was nonsense. She was lovely and charming, and he would like to set her in a frame to preserve her forever, but one could not collect people, at least not on a permanent basis. He knew his longing for her would soon dissipate, as his desires always did. Once an item had been added to his collection, he immediately began to search for something new. He would doubtless grow weary of Rowena soon.

  "What a crush," observed Rowena, gazing about with annoyance. She, along with Lord and Lady Belmont, was attempting to make her way to the Belmont's box at the King's Theatre, and Rowena was finding her patience sorely tried. Usually she enjoyed the opera, less for the music than for the extraordinary display the members of the ton put on, bedecked in their finest fashions, jewels glittering everywhere, but tonight Rowena found herself anxious for the evening to be over. She wondered if Lord Brayleigh had uncovered any information about the murder of Alfred Ingram.