Barbara Metzger - Truly Yours

Inspector Dimm and his grandnephew Clarence dragged Brusseau into the room. Clarence left and Dimm went to stand by the window, observing the Royce males, thinking what a rare tale he'd have to tell his own grandsons.

There were so many truth-seers in one place a lie could not have gone unnoticed if it hid under the carpet.

"Wait," Rex told them. "Get Amanda to identify the man as her stepfather's valet first."

"But both of us questioned him before," Daniel complained.

"This has to be a thorough interview, following proper procedure. Don't you agree, Mr. Dimm?"

The Runner scratched his head. He'd never heard of conducting a murder investigation in a swell's bedroom, surrounded by that same nob's relatives, while the gent wore a robe, a bandage with a flower stuck in it, and no shoes. "Seems all right to me."

They sent for Amanda, who nodded. "That is Brusseau," she said. Then they ushered her from the room again.

Brusseau was shaking, looking from one to the other. "My name is Brusseau. I did not kill Monsieur Hawley. I did not throw a brick at Monsieur Rexford."

Damn.

Rex saw blue. His father heard a clear chime. Daniel felt no itch, and Harry tasted his own disappointment.

"Do you know who did?" Harry asked.

"My name is Brusseau. I did not kill Monsieur Hawley. I did not throw a brick at Monsieur Rexford." This time the valet said it in French. It was still true.

Lord Royce asked, "Do you know Sir Nigel Turlowe?"

Brusseau repeated his rote statement.

Daniel flexed his knuckles. Harry cleaned his fingernails with a wicked-looking knife that had been up his sleeve. Dimm cleared his throat until they both stepped away from the prisoner.

Damn.

Dimm suggested they strip him.

There was no need, but they did it anyway. The man had no bites, no bruises, and not a lot to be modest about.

Rex cursed again. "He didn't throw the brick, the dog didn't take a chunk out of him. He's not guilty, as far as I can see."

"But he was trying to escape," Daniel said. "He must be guilty of something."

No one noticed Murchison in the corner until he made a snorting sound in disgust. "His name. Ask him that."

"We know he is Brusseau."

"His first name." Murchison turned his back and started to tidy the room.

Brusseau would not answer that question.

Dimm pulled the man's papers from his own pocket, the ones they'd taken along with knives, pistols, and a sack of coins from Brusseau's trunk. The Bow Street Runner adjusted his spectacles.

"Is your name Claude?"

No answer.

Four voices almost shouted: "Yes or no, damn it." Four angry men advanced on one naked Frenchman.

"Yes."

That was the truth, they all agreed, and Dimm nodded, handing the Frenchman his clothes. That was the name on the papers.

Rex consulted his own notes. "But the valet's name is Jean!"

Murchison wore a smug smile. "Twins." Then he left, taking Amanda's lace garter with him.

Rex and Amanda were taking up where they'd left off, this time with the door locked. And they were in the stuffed chair instead of the bed, making their tryst a sliver more respectable. A thin sliver.

Amanda was trying to understand their conclusions, while Rex was trying to unfasten her gown again.

She batted his hand away. "So the twin took the valet's place, and told the truth when you asked him? That means we are no closer to finding the real killer."

"Much closer." Rex pulled her back against him, much closer. "Claude admitted that he and Jean exchanged identities regularly, so they were familiar with each other's households. Now we have reason to hold him for further questioning."

"But the real valet, Jean, is gone. Claude would not say where?"

"We'll find him."

"Not if he has gone back to France." She touched his cheek. "Rex, let me go."

He took his arms from around her, reluctantly.

"No, I mean let me leave England. Let me flee. You might never find the real valet, never be able to clear my name. They will demand the trial be held sooner or later, no matter how many debts your father calls in, and I cannot prove my innocence. Even if no one can prove my guilt, I cannot stay on with your parents. Have you noticed they are smelling of orange blossoms? They need their privacy after so many years apart. Nor can I go back to live with my stepfamily. Why, to plan Elaine's wedding? There would always be a taint to my name, no matter what."

He held onto her arms. "No!"

"But I need to go. You must see that. You do not need to help or even know the details. In fact you can say I overpowered you. I'll hit you over the head again to make it look real, although that would hurt me, too. Let me go, Rex!"

"I cannot."

"Your honor is satisfied if you are unconscious. And mine is also, for I never gave my word not to go. You have tried your best, I know, and I am grateful. Now do not make me wait for a trial, to become a headline in the scandal sheets again, to be placed on view as an accused murderess. Sir Nigel will not accept the word of a sneaky French valet. Or of you or your cousin. We have no proof!"

"We'll find Jean."

"We might not!" She stared at the window, her lip trembling.

Rex had to concede the possibility. Thibidoux had already left London, for who knew where, before they knew to question him. Dimm's men were looking, Harry's, too, but another servant in a nondescript coach, another guard sitting with the driver, meant there were too many chances for Jean to slip through the web. Rex gently tugged on one of Amanda's curls so she would turn to face him again. "A few more days, my dear, and then we will leave together."

"Together? You would flee England to live elsewhere?"

"I don't think I can live anywhere you are not, my love."

"But what about your honor, your given word?"

"You asked me once which I valued more, my good name or your life. I choose you."

Tears welled in Amanda's eyes as she threw herself back against the viscount's chest. "Oh, Rex. I do love you."

After an earthshaking, chair-rocking kiss, Rex told her, "There can be no more lies between us. I love you. And who knows how much good our sons can do in the world, even if not in England?"

"Our sons? You intend to have children?"

"I intend to make love to my wife, constantly and with great enthusiasm. Children are the usual result."

"You would marry me?"

"We sure as Hades do not need any more bastards on the Royce family tree."

"But all of your oaths, all of your vows to remain unwed and-"

He silenced her with another kiss while he tugged down her bodice. "One more week. If we cannot find the valet in a week, we'll leave. But we will find him, or information about him. We think we know where to look. Only one man outside the family could have briefed the valet to speak the truth and nothing else."

"I do not understand."

"And you will not, not ever. No one can, not even us." He took a deep breath. "The Royce men, and Daniel, through his mother somehow, can tell truth from lies."

"No, that is impossible."

"And that was a red falsehood, my dear. Try again."

Her brows knit in concentration as she tried to comprehend what he was saying, while ignoring what his hands were doing. "I love you."

He smiled. "True-blue. Try again."

"Very well, I do not love you."

"That would break my heart if it were true. Luckily for me, it is a lie, a cherry-red falsehood. And do not even try to say you do not like my lovemaking, for your own body tells the truth. Here." He bent his head to kiss her taut nipple, already pressing toward him. "And here." He put his hand between her thighs, where she was wet and warm with wanting him.

"This does not lie, either," she said, wrapping her hand around the hard length of him.

"Aah. Never. Try again."

"You are the best lover in the world?"

"Hm. That one is a rainbow, which means you hope it's true, and that's all that matters. Of course I intend to be your only lover."

"Of course," she echoed, then asked, "You really can tell truth from falsehood? And your father and your half brother, and Daniel?"

"All of us. Our sons will be able to also, in varied forms, with all the trouble it can cause. Daniel gets rashes, which is why he is not welcome at Almack's. All the lies people tell have him scratching furiously until people think he has lice or something."

Amanda laughed. "The dowagers and doyennes of polite society do not lie."

"No?" Rex raised his voice in a chirping falsetto. " 'I am so happy you came tonight, my dear.' That is a lie. The matron wishes you to perdition because you are prettier than her own daughter. 'You are looking lovely.' A lie. This patroness thinks your gown is too revealing." He smiled. "I myself adore it."

Amanda was giggling at his imitation of the ton's affectations. "Stop. I can see where poor Daniel would be uncomfortable."

"My father used to work with the courts, for justice. Harry, well, Harry helps at the War Office. I suppose he helped Daniel and me develop our evil reputations, instead of letting the family affliction become known. We pretended to be ruthless interrogators, rather than have people believe we were sorcerers or some such. I have been helping Inspector Dimm, telling him which alibi is honest, which claim of innocence is a falsehood. It never fails. Now that you know the truth, will you still have me?"

"True love never fails, either."

Then he explained about his parents, about his father's jealousies, his mother's fears.

"I could never be afraid of you."

Which deserved another kiss, and another explanation of how the family gift tore apart the family, and why the unearthly trait had to be hidden.

"But your parents always loved each other, didn't they? They are so joyous in their reunion that they forget to chaperon us altogether."

"Excellent parents, don't you think?"

She agreed by wriggling on his lap until he groaned.

"I… I don't know where I'd be without them."

"You would not be half as special, or half as dear to me."

Amanda was packing. She wondered who could help sell some of her jewelry without becoming implicated in her escape.

Rex was pacing, going over lists of every place searched, every suspect questioned.

Harry and Dimm and Daniel were pursuing every lead or hint or purchased bit of information.

Lord and Lady Royce were planning their futures, together.

One day went by. Two.

Rex was feeling better, enough that he set himself up as a target in the park at dusk. No one bothered him, except Daniel, who was forced to stay behind, since such a large man did not skulk well. Harry did, of course, disguised as the old man again.

Three.

Amanda was in a panic. Would Rex really go with her? How would she live alone, without him?

Rex was in a quandary. How could he leave England, never to return, giving up his new work with Dimm, his family, his estate? He did care about the earldom after all, it seemed, now that he might lose it. And where could he go to keep Amanda safe?

His parents were in the conservatory, with the door locked.

Four days.

Rex decided to take Amanda to the theater, with her relations, Sir Edwin and his sister. Daniel refused the invitation, as did the Hawleys' aunt Hermione. The earl and the countess attend as chaperons, and simply their presence together diverted some of the attention from Amanda, but not much, not with the way she was dressed. She did wear a gray gown, the color of which was suitable for mourning, but in watered silk that shimmered-what there was of it. She decided to wear her mother's diamonds, proper or not, to fill in part of the low décolletage. She no longer cared what anyone in the audience thought, and she might have to sell the glittering necklace and matching bracelet tomorrow. Besides, the matching sparkle in Rex's eyes was worth the raised brows and clucking tongues.

Her stepsister wore severe black, with no jewelry. She complained throughout the first act of looking like a crow, especially next to Amanda. Then her beau Martin arrived at the intermission. He thought she looked beautiful.

"He really does, you know. He's not simply being polite," Rex whispered in Amanda's ear, ruffling the black feather that curled down her cheek from a black velvet headband, tickling her skin. Or was that his warm breath that had her tingling, or simply his nearness? Amanda touched the necklace and turned away, knowing both the diamonds and her happiness were to be sacrificed soon.