Tanya Anne Crosby (6 page)

I
t was impossible to make out anything without a lamp, but Chloe didn’t dare call attention to herself.

During the time she’d been in residence at Glen Abbey Manor, she’d never dared enter the steward’s office. Late in the afternoon following her threatened resignation, she was afforded the perfect opportunity; Edward left in a huff and had yet to return; Lord Lindale, too, had ventured out for the evening. They were both likely to return soon, but she hadn’t been able to slip away until Lady Fiona was fast asleep in her bed. The servants—few that remained—had all retired to their quarters.

Knowing she had precious little time, Chloe hurriedly sifted through papers, bringing one pile, then another, to the window to read them by the moonlight shining through the part in the draperies. Thus far, it was all a worthless jumble—receipts for pay
ments made and purchase orders for the kitchen. She’d already tried the cabinets to no avail. They were sealed tighter than a beggar’s grip about a copper.

A single piece of paper secured beneath a squatting silver elephant caught her attention and she plucked it out from under the paperweight and took it to the window. “Notice of eviction,” she read, scanning the page for a name. “Rusty Broun…for lack of rents paid.”

Rusty had only just lost his youngest child. The callousness over it all made Chloe furious. She wanted to tear the document to shreds and to toss it in Lindale’s face.

“Find something interesting?” a voice said at her back.

Chloe’s heart nearly leaped out of her breast. She spun to find Lindale peering at her from across the room. His face cast in shadows, he’d never looked so menacing. Och, she hadn’t even heard him enter. He strode forward with purpose and Chloe gasped in sudden fright.

Where now was her mettle? she berated herself.

To her dismay, he’d never looked more beautiful—Lucifer looming out of the darkness toward her.

He closed the distance between them in just a few strides and snatched the document out of her hand. He peered at it an instant, his face registering
no emotion. Looking back at her, he asked pointedly, “What are you doing here?”

“I was…” Chloe fumbled for an explanation. “I mean to say…I went to put out the light in your mother’s room…”

He arched a brow at her. “Her room is in the east wing,” he reminded her.

Chloe bit her lower lip, feeling utterly trapped. Good Lord, she was such a terrible liar. “Yes, well…when I was in the hall, you see…I spied someone stealing toward the steward’s office…so then I followed.”

It was evident he didn’t believe her. His eyes clearly registered doubt. “Is that so?”

Chloe nodded.

His face an impenetrable mask, he peered down once more at the document in his hand, then proceeded to fold it while he studied her in turn. He slipped the document into his coat pocket.

Chloe held her tongue under his painful scrutiny. God help her, she wanted to say so much, but something about the look in his eyes kept her silenced.

“You’re a lovely little liar. What is it you were searching for, Chloe?”

She was so close to the truth now, she could feel it. If he realized she suspected him of stealing the deed, he would send her packing. “I…” She averted her gaze, unable to look him straight in the
eyes. She managed an easy tone. “Nothing…truly, my lord.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, his attention diverted by the echo of footfalls approaching from down the hall. Chloe half expected him to drag her out to face the constable; instead he seized her by the arm and quickly pulled her behind the heavy draperies. He placed his hand firmly against her mouth, shushing her. Chloe was utterly confused by his reaction.

The curtains were still swaying slightly when the door opened.

His hand remained at her mouth, but he drew it slightly away, scarce touching her lips. The heat emanating from his skin stilled not merely her tongue but her breath. Her heart beat erratically.

It was Edward who’d nearly stumbled upon them; she could tell by the prudish gait of his footsteps. He lit a lamp and sat down at his desk, Chloe assumed; she heard the chair scrape backward and then the sound of a drawer opening. She heard the scrape of a pen. He hadn’t noticed their presence. Thank God. She prayed the curtain would still completely, lest they be discovered—though why Lord Lindale should fear discovery, Chloe hadn’t the first inkling.

Something wasn’t quite right….

Contemplating the document in his pocket, Merrick listened while Edward fiddled within the
room. It just didn’t make sense; if Ian and Rusty were bedfellows, why would Ian oust the man from his home?

His gut told him that Ian hadn’t the first clue…or, if he did, he hadn’t any control over the situation…which validated his suspicions that their father retained control of the estate.

But he couldn’t think just now…

He drew Chloe gently against him, knowing she wouldn’t dare reveal them. Her back pressing against him, the gentle curves of her body teased him. The scent of her dizzied him, muddled his thoughts. It was all he could do not to sweep aside her lovely hair to brush his lips against the soft curve of her neck. God help him, he didn’t want to scare her into bolting or he’d have done precisely that. This was torment—to be so near her and yet so far. His loins reacted at once, hardening.

What had she been searching for?

At the desk, he heard the sound of a pen scratching over paper and then the jingling of keys. A cabinet opened, then closed. And again the jingling of keys as the cabinet was locked once more. The lamp went out and the door closed.

They were alone again.

“Shh-hh,” he commanded her.

“Why did you not reveal me?” she asked, sounding breathless.

Merrick was having trouble getting air into his lungs, as well. “I had my reasons.”

She pressed him. “I don’t understand. Why should it concern you if Edward were to discover you here? It’s
your
home.”

Merrick suspected otherwise. Who did the steward report to? How much autonomy did he have? He wanted a look at those books.

“Tell me, my lord,” she persisted, “why would you hide?”

“Because…” Merrick inhaled the scent of her sweet skin and tried not to lose track of his thoughts. He gave her as much truth as he dared. “I believe Edward is embezzling. I’m looking for proof. And you, Miss Simon…” He brushed a finger along the soft underside of her chin, caressing. “What are you
really
doing here?”

“I’ve already told you…” Her impudence returned and she shrugged free of him. “You can release me now, my lord. We’re quite alone!”

Merrick did as she asked and she boxed her way out of the draperies. He followed her out.

She faced him, her shoulders squared, her chin upturned defiantly. He could scarce see her face in the shadows, but it was impossible to miss the challenge in her eyes. “If you do not believe me, I can still tender my resignation.”

It was a bluff, Merrick knew, but one he wasn’t about to call. The last thing he wished was to see
her go. He needed her. “That won’t be necessary,” he assured her.

“Very well, then. If that will be all, my lord, I shall retire, at last.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her incredible mettle. Never in his life had anyone dared speak to him so cheekily. “Don’t trip over any intruders on the way,” he taunted.

She’d already turned to go before the last words were out of his mouth. “Do not fret, my lord. Next time, I shall be certain to hand over the keys to the silver, as well!”

Fiona contemplated Edward’s disappearance the previous evening. “The color in your legs is quite good today,” Chloe said, interrupting her reverie. She gave Fiona a questioning glance—or at least, it seemed a question. At times Fiona was certain Chloe must know she was lying. She averted her gaze and Chloe returned to the task of massaging her legs.

Guilt gnawed at her.

Every day the lies seemed to grow in weight. This morning the burden was unbearable. It seemed one lie conceived another and another. Of late, she could scarce even look at her own son. What sort of mother did that make her?

She was utterly torn.

She had the power to change their circum
stances, but if she told Ian the truth, she risked losing him. And there was no guarantee Julian would give him the same treatment he’d given Merrick. After all these years, she just didn’t know Julian anymore.

Nor did she wish to risk Merrick’s inheritance. She knew Julian had gone to great lengths to ensure his bloodline was not questioned.

For the first time Fiona paused to consider the woman Julian had wed in her place. In all these years, she hadn’t dared, because anger had been her ally. God forgive her, she hadn’t wanted to like or feel sorry for Julian’s wife. But what must it feel like to have someone else’s child foisted upon you? To know that he would inherit over your own blood? Had it made her bitter? Sad?

Fiona knew that Julian’s wife had never conceived. Had he married her in name only, keeping her at length? Or was it she who had rebuffed Julian?

Fiona didn’t want to say he deserved it. No matter how much Julian had hurt her, no one deserved to suffer all their lives. She only prayed Merrick had not suffered a scorned woman’s wrath.

Fiona stared at the hands gently working her legs until they blurred through the mist in her eyes. Chloe, too, seemed lost in her own reverie. This morning, Fiona was grateful for the silence.

Fiona considered the young woman standing before her.

Chloe wasn’t a princess by any means, but if her son could chance to win her heart, it would remain true to him forevermore. That was all Fiona’s father had ever truly wanted for her—a good man to cherish her. That’s what she wanted for her son.

Having lived on both sides of the proverbial fence, Fiona understood the value of love versus money. In the end, money didn’t keep one warm at night, nor did a title put food upon one’s table.

Yes, it was true. Once upon a time Fiona had dreamed of wedding a prince and living in splendor. Now she realized that too often values were misplaced. From the day Ian had come into the world, she’d wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

And he’d been such a happy babe.

As a boy, he’d lost some of his joie de vivre.

As a man, he was hardly ever content.

Her son was, unfortunately, somewhat of a crusader. He seemed to feel it his lot in life to better the lives of others. That in itself wasn’t so troubling; it was more the way he chose to go about it. His secret life was a mother’s nightmare.

She knew precisely what he was up to—and he knew she knew it, as well, but there was little she could do about it. She’d already tried and failed.

What had begun as a simple fib to draw him out
and to ease her suspicions had become a horrible sentence. Not only were her worst fears confirmed, her lies had further imprisoned her. And worse, sitting in that devilish contraption all day long was making her an invalid in truth. Some days, she could scarce feel any sensation left in her legs.

Thank God for Chloe.

“I have been thinking,” Chloe announced as she continued to massage her limbs.

“Yes, dear?”

“There is a treatment I read about in last year’s published lectures—quite experimental, but perhaps worth a thought.”

“What is it?”

“Vital air.”

Fiona furrowed her brow. “Vital air?”

“Yes, there was this man, apparently, who was quite weak. As a matter of treatment, his physician put him on a course of vital air. During the time he respired it, he felt a comfortable heat, which distributed itself through all his limbs. In mere weeks, his strength increased and he was able to take long walks. Now, this man was in the last stages of consumption, but I must wonder. You see, vital air is nothing more than pure oxygen gas. When exposed to it, plants develop at an increased rate. It would make sense that it somehow promotes the growth of healthy tissue within the body, much in the same way increased blood flow will
do. But I cannot say it is a certain cure. I’m merely at an end as to how to treat you, my lady.” Her expression was full of apology. “I just have not been able to find and remedy the cause of your…”

“Lameness,” Fiona finished for her. “You may call it what it is, Chloe. Never mince words with me. Tell me, is this treatment terribly expensive? Does it hurt?”

“I would have to look into the cost, my lady. But it shouldn’t hurt at all. In fact, they say it produces a sensation of agreeable warmth about the region of the chest along with a comfortable sensation throughout the body.”

Fiona sighed. “Let us consider it, then,” she said. “You’re a godsend, Chloe.”

Chloe averted her gaze. “In truth, you might do better to hire yourself a proper physician,” she suggested.

“Rubble! I already have a proper physician!” Fiona replied without pause. “And
she
happens to be quite accomplished. Never suggest such a thing again!”

Fiona understood Chloe must feel inadequate after the loss of Rusty Broun’s child. But Fiona had never met a woman, nor a man, who tried as hard as Chloe. She sighed heavily, wearied as she watched Chloe work in vain.

Poor Chloe, didn’t she realize; there hadn’t really been an accident at all. Fiona had taken the
carriage out alone with a devilish design in mind. Knowing Ian would follow, she’d run her own carriage off the road and then had waited for her son to come after her. Like a bloody fool, she’d claimed that Hawk had driven her off the road and then tried to rob her—to which Ian was supposed to have confessed that such an incident was quite impossible, because, of course,
he
was Hawk.

But he hadn’t done any sort of thing.

Instead the wily boy had insisted they report the robbery to the constable and he’d called in the physician to examine Fiona at once. Chloe’s father.

Unfortunately, Fiona hadn’t learned her lesson and her deceit had only begun. Once her lies had begun, pride had been her downfall. Like a dolt, she’d talked Chloe’s father into covering for her. Fiona might be able to fool Chloe for a time, but her father had been far too seasoned.