Jacquie ’Alessandro - Whirlwind Affair

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.

Allie hesitated in the corridor outside the nursery. She knew from Fenton that Elizabeth was in the room. She could only pray Robert was not present as well. Drawing a bracing breath, she stepped into the open doorway.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the settee. Images of her and Robert, limbs entwined, flashed through her mind, leaving sadness and pain in their wake. Forcing her gaze away, she focused her attention on Elizabeth.

Her friend and James sat before a low, wooden table. Elizabeth's tall frame was folded into a child-sized chair, her rose muslin gown floating onto the rug around her. James sat in an identical chair. Both leaned over sketchpads, diligently drawing with charcoals. Such a lovely image… a mother and son together, heads almost touching, sunshine pouring through the windowpanes. Elizabeth raised her head, murmured something to James, making him giggle. He leaned forward and placed a noisy kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, to which Elizabeth laughingly responded in kind.

A lump of longing tightened Allie's throat, and hot tears pushed behind her eyes. She would never have this… a son who gazed at her with innocent adoration. A child to give her love to. A husband and family of her own. She'd wanted it so badly, and for a long time, she'd managed to forget how much. But so many feelings and wants that she'd successfully buried were now once again exposed, like open wounds, every nerve raw and bleeding.

"Allie, how nice to see you. Come in, please."

Elizabeth's voice jerked her back, reminding her why she'd sought out her friend. She tried to offer a smile, but clearly her effort fell flat as Elizabeth's own smile faded into a look of concern. "Did you need to speak with me?"

Not trusting her voice, Allie merely nodded.

Elizabeth immediately rose, crossed to the door, then pulled a bell cord in the corner. She dampened a square of cloth in a ceramic bowl of water set near the hearth, then returned to James. "Mrs. Weston is on her way, darling," she said, cleaning his small hands of the charcoal streaks.

Just then a plump, middle-aged woman with twinkling eyes appeared in the doorway. As soon as James saw her, he grinned. "Biscuits!" he said.

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Weston will bring you to fetch some biscuits." She enfolded him in a quick hug. "Will you save one for me?"

He held out three not-quite-clean fingers. "Save you two!"

Scampering over to the waiting governess, he slipped his small hand into hers, then they left the room, closing the door behind them.

"I did not mean to interrupt your time with James."

Elizabeth pressed her hand to the small of her back and stretched. "Don't be silly. You're not an interruption. I was quite ready to rise from that tiny chair, and you can see how heartbroken James was at the prospect of eating biscuits."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Very well." Her gaze swept over Allie's face. " 'Tis plain you cannot say the same."

"No, I cannot."

"Would you like to sit down?"

God help her, she couldn't even bear to look at the settee. She shook her head. "I prefer to stand." Then, before her courage and resolve deserted her, she said, "I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed being here with you, Elizabeth. Seeing you again, meeting and getting to know your wonderful family… it has meant more to me than I can say."

"I feel the same."

Forcing herself to meet Elizabeth's gaze, she said, "But I must leave here. As soon as possible. I'm sorry…" Her voice trailed off as emotion clogged her throat.

"This has to do with Robert." It was a statement, rather than a question.

Allie pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. The best she could offer was an affirmative nod. Then, to her mortification, a tear dripped down her cheek.

Elizabeth immediately crossed the room. "Oh, Allie." Wrapping her arms around her, she led her to the settee, then gently urged her to sit. Giving up, Allie sank onto the cushion.

"I've been waiting for you to tell me what happened," Elizabeth said, her eyes deeply troubled.

In spite of a voice that shook, and tears silently dampening her cheeks, Allie told her about her last conversation with Robert and their parting of the ways. Elizabeth listened without comment, her eyes filled with understanding and sympathy.

When Allie finished her tale, she looked down at her tightly clasped hands resting in her lap. "As much as I wish it were otherwise, I cannot stay here any longer, Elizabeth."

"Because you love him."

She raised her chin and looked into Elizabeth's kind but troubled eyes and simply could not lie to her. "Yes."

"Yet you think he'll hurt you. The way David did." There was no censure in the softly spoken statement.

"I… I don't know if he would, but I cannot rule out the possibility. They are similar in so many ways."

"But different in many more."

Allie shook her head. "It does not matter. I cannot risk myself, my heart, again."

"The fire happened a long time ago."

"I know. But it still happened. And he did not tell me about it."

"He did not lie when you asked him about it."

"But he would not have told me then had I not asked! Don't you see that is part of the problem? What little he did tell me was with great reluctance. And it is obvious that there is more to the tale than he is willing to tell me."

"I'm not saying this to defend him, but he never discusses it. No one in the family does. What he told you was most likely more than he's ever told anyone."

"Perhaps. But it does not change anything between us." She blew out a long breath. "Elizabeth. Try to understand. Pretend your husband drank to excess, gambled the family into debt, then died. Would you not be extremely reluctant to involve yourself in any way with another man-especially one who drank to excess?"

Elizabeth frowned, then nodded slowly. "Yes. I see your point. But I know Robert is a good, decent man."

"I believe he is, too. But he is not the man for me. And although he believes otherwise, I am not the right woman for him. It is better for both of us if I leave. I've no desire to hurt either of us any further."

"Your leaving will hurt him."

"My staying will only hurt him more. I cannot give him what he wants." Fatigue, both physical and emotional, swamped her, and her shoulders slumped. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd like to rest for a while. I haven't slept well the past few nights, I'm afraid."

"When do you plan to leave for London?"

"I would like to leave tomorrow, if that can be arranged," Allie whispered. Tomorrow. It seemed like a lifetime away. It seemed like only seconds away.

"I will see to it that you have a carriage at your disposal. But I will pray that you change your mind."

"I won't." Leaning forward, she kissed Elizabeth's cheek. "Thank you for everything. Most especially for the precious gift of your friendship." She then rose and quit the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Elizabeth remained seated, staring down at her hands. Hands that looked normal in every way, but that so many times had enabled her to see too much. See things she wasn't meant to see. Leaving her with the moral dilemma of what to do with the information.

She sat for several more minutes, weighing her decision. Then she rose and quickly made her way to her private sitting room. Crossing to her escritoire, she withdrew a piece of ivory vellum from the drawer and dipped her pen into the inkwell.

And prayed she was doing the right thing.

********

Drained after her talk with Elizabeth, Allie was about to enter her bedchamber, when Caroline turned down the corridor.

"Allie, you are just the person I was looking for."

The concern evident in Caroline's eyes prompted Allie to ask, "Is something amiss?"

"No. But I was hoping to interest you in a walk outside so we could talk. The weather has cleared, and I'm anxious to go outdoors after so many days inside because of the rain."

Allie hesitated. Based on Caroline's expression, Allie suspected her invitation might well involve a desire to discuss Robert. As much as she'd prefer to avoid the subject, she did need to tell Caroline of her decision to leave. And the opportunity to escape the confines of the house for a short period was tempting indeed.

"Come with me," Caroline urged. "It would do you good to get some fresh air."

Again she hesitated, as Elizabeth's warning not to wander off alone flashed in her mind, but she shrugged off the admonition. She would not be alone.

"I'd love to walk with you, thank you."

A very proper butler swung open the door for Michael. The servant sniffed with obvious distaste at his bedraggled appearance, but Michael didn't give a good damn. He'd suffered worse looks from uppity servants before.

"May I help you… sir?"

"I need to see Lord Robert. Immediately."

The butler raised his brows. "If you'll give me your card, I'll see if-"

The haughty words were cut off when Michael picked up the man by his perfectly pressed lapels, then stalked into the foyer with him. Kicking the door shut with his boot, he brought the wide-eyed man nose to nose with him.

"I don't have a bloody card," he said in a deadly soft voice. "My name's Michael Evers. He is expecting me, and let me assure you, it will be your head that he'll have if you don't get him for me now. Do you understand?"

The man jerked his head in a nod. As Michael lowered him to his feet, he asked, "Where is Mrs. Brown? Is she safe?"

The man swallowed, his eyes filled with a combination of fear and confusion. "Safe? Yes. Mrs. Brown is upstairs with the duchess, in the nursery."

"You're positive?"

The servant took several hasty steps backward the instant his feet hit the polished marble floor. "Yes. I directed her there myself."

A breath of relief escaped him. "Excellent. Now go get-"

"Michael?"

He turned toward Robert's questioning voice coming from the corridor. Before he could say a word, the butler blurted out, "Lord Robert, this… person who claims to know you burst in the doorway, and-"

"It's all right, Fenton," Robert said, waving aside the words. "I've been expecting him." His gaze locked on Michael's. "You have news?"

"I do. We need to talk. Now. Privately."

"Follow me," Robert said, and started swiftly down the corridor.

Michael pinned a glare on the butler, and said in a low voice, "Make certain Mrs. Brown remains in the house. The others as well. Don't allow anyone out. Or anyone else in. Do you understand?"

The man nodded.

Satisfied, Michael strode down the hall after Robert.

Fenton watched the stranger's broad back disappear around the corner. Removing his handkerchief, he mopped his brow, while indignation filled him. Uncouth, unkempt ruffian! Fenton looked down at his clothing and gasped. Good heavens, his jacket was wrinkled, his shirt askew… why, he was completely undone. He did not know who this Michael Evers was, but he was clearly not proper company to be entertained at Bradford Hall. Who on earth did that brute think he was, pushing his way into the foyer, manhandling him, then giving him orders?