The Sinister Spinster Read online

  "And so it is," the duchess agreed, her lips tightening in outrage. "A malicious schoolboy trick that not only put you in danger but the earl as well. His career in the government would be ruined if it ever became known that his half-witted son was helping himself to the contents of his dispatch box. Indeed, I daresay there is nothing Derring wouldn't do to keep that bit of gossip quiet. How interesting."

  Elizabeth was about to ask what her grace found of such interest when Lady Derring reentered the room. Her employer's return put an end to Elizabeth's freedom, and after murmuring her apologies to Lady Barrington, she made her way to the countess's side.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening biting her tongue and catering to the older woman's increasingly peevish demands. Her ladyship seemed determined to make her lose her temper, and by night's end Elizabeth was more than of a mind to oblige her. Adam and the others had best solve the mystery of the missing papers and Mr. Colburt's death soon, she thought with an irritated scowl. If they did not, she'd likely end in the docket for strangling her irksome employer.

  Her duties kept Elizabeth working through dinner, and it was approaching midnight before she was done. Usually the guests would be up and indulging themselves, but the funeral and dreary weather had cast a decided pall over the household and everyone retired early. Elizabeth never thought to miss their noise, but as she lit her candle and began making her way toward the front of the house, she couldn't help but find the oppressive silence disconcerting.

  The darkened hallway seemed full of shadows and shades, the meager light cast by her flickering candle scarce piercing the stygian blackness. When she drew even with the door leading to the earl's study the long clock in the hall began tolling out the hour, and she almost dropped her candle as she gave a start of fright She was mentally cursing herself for her foolishness when an arm snaked out of the darkness and a hand clamped over her mouth.

  "It's me," a familiar voice whispered in her ear, and then she was free. She whirled around, the flame of her candle dancing as she glared up at Adam.

  "Adam!" she gasped, clutching her candle even tighter. "You frightened me half to death! What are you doing skulking about at this hour?"

  "What am I doing skulking about?" he demanded incredulously. "What about you? Why aren't you in bed? And set that candle down before you drop it. You'll set your skirts aflame." And the candle was plucked from her fingers and placed on the hall table.

  With her hand free she doubled up her fist and struck him on the arm as hard as she could. "If I had dropped it, it would be all your fault, you wretch!" she hissed, her heart hammering with fear and rising temper. "And you haven't answered my question. What are you doing creeping about like a housebreaker?"

  For a moment she didn't think he would answer her. He looked coldly furious, and there was a grimness about his eyes that she'd seen the day of Colburt's death. She was wondering if she should repeat her demand or take her leave when he suddenly reached out to take her hand in his.

  "It's just as well you're here," he said, turning her toward the study. "You're a sensible sort, and I am in need of help."

  Elizabeth had to hurry to keep up with his longer stride. "What sort of help?" she asked, aware of the tension shimmering about him like a halo. "Adam, what is going on?"

  "I was to meet Carling," he said, pushing open the door to the study. "He was going to tell me who took the papers and killed Colburt. Unfortunately there has been a complication."

  "What sort of complication?" she asked, and then gave a horrified gasp at the sight of Mr. Carling sprawled face-down on the floor of the study, blood seeping from his head.

  "This sort," Adam said calmly. "Ring for the footman, would you, and ask him to ride for the doctor? We seem to be in need of his services."

  "He will live," the doctor pronounced, wiping his hands as he rose to his feet. "He'll need to be watched but, God willing, he should make a full recovery."

  The earl sagged at the news and his wife began sobbing piteously into her kerchief. Adam paid them no heed, his concentration fixed on the still figure lying against the pillows.

  "When will he regain consciousness?" he asked, staring at Carling as if by the sheer force of his will he could make the younger man open his eyes and begin speaking.

  "Oh, not until morning, perhaps even later than that," the doctor replied with a wave of his hand. "Wounds to the head can be quite serious, don't you know, and there is no predicting how the patient may respond. 'Tis best to wait and allow the brain to recover in its own good time."

  Adam's lips thinned in annoyance, but he accepted the doctor's diagnosis. Carling had roused slightly while they were carrying him to his rooms, but his slurred mutterings made little sense. However ill it pleased Adam, there was nothing to be done but wait until morning and hope to heaven Carling would still retain what few brains he possessed when he next opened his eyes.

  The Derrings lingered at their son's bedside until the doctor gently but firmly ordered them from the room. The countess paused on her way out to whisper something to Elizabeth, and Adam's eyes narrowed in speculation. His suspicions were proven correct when she walked over and sat on the chair beside Carling's bed. A quick glance at the physician showed the older man to be deep in his discussion with Carling's valet, and Adam wasted tittle time in hurrying to Elizabeth's side.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered, taking care to keep his voice pitched low despite his fury.

  She glanced up at him, her expression making it plain she considered him hopelessly dull-witted. "Sitting with Mr. Carling," she said, using the tone usually reserved for the very young or the very old. "Her ladyship wants me to sit with Mr. Carling and—"

  "To the devil with what her ladyship wants!" Adam interrupted angrily, and then lowered his voice when both the doctor and the valet glanced avidly in their direction.

  "To the devil with her ladyship," he repeated, his jaw clenching in determination, "you're not sitting up with Carling, and that's the end of it. Not only is it improper, but it's dangerous as well. There's a killer at work in this household, and I won't leave you unprotected. What does she think you'll do if he comes back to finish what he has started?"

  Elizabeth blanched, her aquamarine eyes going wide with horror. "Just so," he said, giving a grim nod. "I'll speak with the countess tomorrow and explain things, and in the meanwhile I'll set my own man to watch over Carling. He'll be fine, I promise you. Now go to bed, Elizabeth. You're exhausted."

  "Very well," she said at last, rising gracefully to her feet. "But first I believe I'll look in on Lady Barrington. She seemed quite upset."

  Adam grimaced, thinking upset was as good a word as any to describe her grace's performance. She'd appeared with the rest of the guests when they'd come dashing out of their rooms, summoned by the countess's screams, and her own shrieks rivaled Lady Derring's in shrillness and volume. She'd been dressed in a diaphanous peignoir in violet silk, and he was fairly certain he wasn't the only man present to note the lush feminine breasts visible through the sheer silk. Certainly Lord Stoughton seemed to appreciate the sight, and he heroically carried the duchess back to her room after she collapsed in a graceful swoon. He hadn't been seen since, and Adam could well imagine the reason for his absence.

  "You needn't bother yourself with her grace," he said, imagining the scene that would follow if Elizabeth caught the trysting couple in flagrante delicto. "I'm sure she'll survive without your ministrations. And in any case, I am surprised to find her behaving so squeamishly," he added ingenuously. "I shouldn't have thought her the missish sort."

  "Any lady is certain to be missish when two men are attacked so viciously in under a week," Elizabeth said, defending the other woman spiritedly. "Besides, I'm not certain she has recovered from Mr. Colburt's death. She spoke of seeing him lying facedown in his own blood, and you could tell it upset her."

  Adam stopped, his hand resting lightly on Elizabeth's back. An image of how he first saw Colb
urt lying on the stone floor of the conservatory flashed in his mind.

  "She said he was lying facedown?" he said, taking care to hide his acute interest.

  "Just like we found Mr. Carling, I should imagine," Elizabeth agreed, patting back a yawn as he guided her from the room.

  Adam said nothing, although his mind was racing with speculation. He couldn't remember whether the duchess had been one of the many people crowded into the conservatory that day, but if she had been, wouldn't she have seen Colburt lying face up? It made for an interesting theory, and he tucked the information away for further consideration.

  The hallway was deserted when he and Elizabeth emerged from Carling's chambers. The door to the upper sitting room was standing open, and it occurred to him that he'd been granted the perfect opportunity to steal a few private moments with Elizabeth. Casting a quick glance about to make certain they were alone, he pulled her into the room and closed the door behind them. Leaving her only long enough to light a candle, he returned to her side and began kissing her with long-suppressed passion.

  When he lifted his head Elizabeth was gazing up at him, her expression languorous. "Finding wounded men would seem to have an odd affect upon you, my lord," she teased, winding her arms about his neck. "How shocking."

  Her boldness delighted him. "Imp," he replied, placing another kiss on her soft lips. "It's you who has the affect upon me, and there's nothing in the least shocking about it."

  "As you say," she agreed, smiling with shy pleasure. "And as it happens, you have the very same affect upon me."

  The lure of her was more than he could resist, and he gave in to the need to taste her again. Their kisses grew ever more heated, and it was with greatest reluctance that he forced himself to call a halt.

  "Elizabeth," he said, reaching down to tenderly brush back a wisp of blond hair from her cheek, "I want you to listen to me. Things are rapidly coming to a head, and that means it is certain to become quite dangerous. I'd send you away if I could, but since I cannot, I want you to exercise the greatest care. Trust no one, and make certain never to be alone with anyone other than Elinore or me. Promise me."

  The lambent glow in her eyes died and her expression grew somber. "Very well," she said, laying her hand against his cheek and gazing up at him in concern. "But what about you? Won't you be in danger as well?"

  "Perhaps," he conceded, smiling down at her, "but I'm more able to protect myself than you."

  "Why?" That chin he adored came up a notch. "Because you are a man? Both Mr. Colburt and Mr. Carling are men, if I may remind you, and it didn't do either of them a whit of good."

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Adam felt his lips twitching. Trust his Elizabeth to argue to the very end, he thought, and silently opened his jacket, revealing the pair of pistols tucked in the waistband of his trousers.

  "There, you see?" he said, smiling as he rebuttoned his jacket. "I'll be fine, I promise you."

  Her scowl lessened, but she still looked far from convinced. "But what about—"

  Adam silenced her the quickest way he could think of, taking her mouth in another kiss. When he next raised his head, his breath was coming in heavy rasps. He wanted Elizabeth more than he'd wanted anything in his life, but there simply wasn't time.

  "Go to bed, Elizabeth," he ordered, frustrated desire making his voice sharp as a blade. "And mind you do what you're told. I won't have you risking your life out of sheer stubbornness."

  "And I won't have you risking yours out of sheer masculine bravado," she shot back, fiery as always. "Although heaven knows why I should worry; your head is so thick, there is no denting it!"

  Again Adam was aware of the urge to smile, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. "Just remember what I said," he ordered. "Trust no one, and whatever you do, don't be alone with any of the guests. Is that understood?"

  Her reply was a haughty sniff, but to his relief she offered no further argument. Instead she turned and walked toward the door, her shoulders stiff with temper. Her fingers closed about the handle and she pushed the door open, but instead of walking out, she hesitated and then turned back to face him. Adam braced himself for more angry words and was stunned when he saw tears shining in her eyes.

  "Elizabeth"—he took an impulsive step toward her—"what—"

  "Be careful," she interrupted, her voice soft and husky with tears. "Please be careful. I could not bear it if something were to happen to you." And with that she was gone, slipping from the room before he could find the words to stop her.

  Elizabeth rose from her bed the following morning, wooly-headed and exhausted. The thought of Adam in danger had filled her with such terror she'd been unable to sleep, and had spent the better part of the night staring up at the ceiling and trying desperately to solve the ever-deepening mystery swirling about them. She'd been on the verge of dropping off when a sudden thought occurred to her; a thought so extraordinary it had her popping up in bed, her exhaustion vanishing as if it had never been.

  She passed the rest of the night developing the thought into a theory and marshaling arguments sufficient enough to convince Adam that she had the right of it. But as dawn was creeping over the horizon she had a change of heart and decided to discuss the matter first with Lady Elinore. The duke's daughter was as cool as they came, and Elizabeth knew she could rely upon her for sage advice and counseling. She also knew she could count upon her discretion; on the outside chance she was mistaken, the fewer who knew of her outlandish theory, the better.

  After splashing cold water on her face to revive herself, Elizabeth dressed for the morning and set out in search of her friend. She found her ladyship in the morning room, taking her breakfast in solitary splendor. When Elinore saw her standing in the doorway she gave her a welcoming smile.

  "Ah, Elizabeth, there you are," she said, raising her cup in a toast. "Come join me. I was about to expire from loneliness."

  Elizabeth hurried forward, waving the footman away as she took her seat. When the other woman caught sight of her wan features, her smile quickly faded.

  "Good heavens, my dear, what is wrong with you?" she exclaimed, studying Elizabeth with marked concern. "You'll forgive my bluntness, I am sure, but you look dreadful! Are you ill?"

  Elizabeth shook her head, too weary to prevaricate. "No, no, I am fine," she said, and then turned to the hovering footman, who was also regarding her with a great deal of alarm.

  "Thank you, Henry," she said, relieved to have remembered his name. "You may go now. Lady Elinore and I can serve ourselves. I am certain you must have a great many other chores in need of doing."

  The footman cast Lady Elinore a questioning glance, and at her silent nod he picked up the coffeepot and took his leave. Elizabeth waited until she was certain he was gone before leaning toward her friend.

  "I must speak with you," she continued, taking care to keep her voice low-pitched in case Henry had a propensity for listening at keyholes. "I wish to ask you something, but first you must give me your word you'll not breathe a word of what I am about to say to anyone."

  The brunette's eyebrows lifted in silent query, but that was her only sign of interest. "You have my word," she said quietly. "What is it you wish to say?"

  Elizabeth drew a shaky breath, suddenly uncertain of what she was about to ask. But then she thought of Adam, and the knowledge of what he was risking had her straightening her shoulders in determination.

  "What do you know of Lady Barrington?" she asked at last, deciding it was wisest to be as blunt as possible.

  Elinore's shoulders jerked as if in surprise, but her manner was as impeccably cool as always as she lifted her cup to her lips for a dainty sip. "What do you mean?"

  Again, Elizabeth decided only the blunt truth would serve. "Is she to be trusted?"

  Elinore was quiet a long moment before replying. "No," she said carefully, setting down her cup and meeting Elizabeth's gaze with narrowed eyes. "I would have to say she is not. May I ask how you came to this conclusi
on?"

  The cool question had Elizabeth frowning in confusion. "You don't sound very surprised," she said, thinking her friend remarkably sanguine, considering the fact that they were discussing treason.

  Elinore shrugged and picked up her cup again. "We've known for a long while that her grace has been selling secrets to the French," she replied, settling back in her chair. "It was never anything vital—that is to say, of military or diplomatic importance—and so it was decided to leave her in place and keep watch on her. We were more interested in discovering her contacts than in stopping her. That is, until Lord Knolton."

  "Lord Knolton?" The name wasn't familiar to Elizabeth.

  "You wouldn't know him. It all happened while you were out of the country, and the matter was hushed up as much as such matters could be. Suffice to say the viscount was one of Lady Barrington's many paramours, a member of the Privy Council who slit his own throat last October. At the time it was put out that he'd done so over his debts, but in truth there was another reason."

  "A reason involving Lady Barrington?" Elizabeth asked, going green at the thought of someone so driven by despair he would cut his own throat.

  "Indeed, although we didn't tumble to that until one of our men in France revealed that Napoleon's agents had a draft of a letter to the Americans offering peace," Elinore continued. "The original letter was known to be in Knolton's diplomatic pouch, a pouch that went missing shortly before the viscount took his own life. We decided he realized that his mistress had been helping herself to his dispatches and killed himself to avoid the scandal."

  "And then Lord Derring's papers went missing," Elizabeth said, easily making the connection. "That's why you came, isn't it? Your pretending to be reconsidering Adam's proposal was a sham."

  Elinore gave a delicate sniff. "Indeed, haven't I already said no woman of sense or spirit would have him? But that is neither here nor there," she added, before Elizabeth could protest. "We've no time to be pulling caps over the wretch now. Only tell me how you came to decide her grace was involved. Papa will be arriving at any moment, and he'll be wanting a full report."