A Love Laid Bare (38 page)

Halcombe’s command to the servant who came forward to
greet him was exceptionally blunt. “Tell your mistress Lord
Halcombe is here to see her.” The earl’s sharp voice effortlessly
penetrated the peripheral noise of the laden footmen passing in and
out. The obviously harried butler automatically took Halcombe’s hat
and gloves.

“I don’t believe Lady Merton is receiving, my
lord.”

“She will see me,” Halcombe said with a careless
indifference more intimidating than a roar, “or I will go to
her.”

The man scurried off with the earl’s hat and gloves
still in hand. Halcombe hoped the fellow didn’t mislay them
somewhere in all this confusion. But the butler had them clutched
to his chest when he returned. Halcombe gently pried them loose,
pocketed the gloves and laid his hat on a table.

“Lady Merton is in the morning room, my lord. If you
will be so good as to follow me?” He proceeded up the stairs,
hurried along a short corridor, and then held open a door. “Lord
Halcombe, madam.”

Victoria stood in the middle of the room, glaring at
him defiantly. “I should have known you would come to harangue me
over that wife of yours. How a grown woman could fall off a slug
like that one, I can’t imagine.” She touched her hands to her mouth
for an instant. “Oh, but how forgetful I am! She
is
but a
child.”

The venom in her words chilled him. He moved forward
a few steps. “Are you going somewhere, Victoria? I thought to
suggest that very thing and here you have anticipated me.”
Halcombe’s voice was honed steel and he saw her tremble.

Victoria’s glare intensified. “I don’t need your
threats to know when to cut my losses. The game is ended and I am
the loser, it seems.”

Colour flared on her pale face but she stood her
ground—he would give her that—although he saw the fear behind her
livid façade. “You were never in the running, madam.”

“I
was
!” Her voice rose to a near-shout. “We
were lovers once and you were more than eager to share my bed!”

“We were, yes, and that is the one reason I will bury
this incident instead of making you a scandalous harpy in the eyes
of the entire world.” He stood close now and watched the wild beat
of the pulse in her throat. Her beautiful face was marred by rage
and a lifetime of avarice. Halcombe felt something near to pity for
her and suddenly he understood his wife’s peculiar compassion for
this bitter woman.

“You are too, too, generous, my lord,” she spat
out.

“
I
think so,” Halcombe said. He stepped back
and pulled on his gloves. “I don’t know what arrangements you have
with George’s heir, but I suggest you ask for an allowance that
will permit you the opportunity to live permanently…elsewhere.”

She did not mistake the menace in his soft-spoken
words. Her fists clenched and her knuckles gleamed white in the
lamplight.

“Get out. Get
out
!”

“Gladly.” Gratified to have the last word, Halcombe
closed the door behind him, a weight he had not acknowledged
rolling from his shoulders. He made his way through the house,
paused briefly to retrieve his hat, and bounded down the front
steps into the welcoming shadows of the gathering dusk.

He tossed a coin to the groom holding Zeus and was
soon mounted and headed toward home, where his wife and
daughter—his family—waited for him.

“Richard, has anyone in the family ever mentioned a
priest’s hole or secret room to you?”

Frances breezed into his study not five minutes after
Summerton’s arrival, one arm in a sling and several rolls of house
plans wedged under the other. A multicolored smudge of bruises half
encircled her right eye. Injuries aside, she looked
adorable—smudged cheek, disheveled hair and all.

“You have been poking around in the old part of the
house again,” he said with a frown. “There
is
a reason those
rooms haven’t been in use for years. The terms dirt, damp and decay
come to mind.”

“Yes, well, not all of them are in such sad shape,”
she protested, laughing. “Sometimes I discover the most interesting
things!”

“Like the boy’s suit of armour you thought so
wonderful? The one that crumpled into a pile of rusty metal when
someone slammed the door?” Halcombe came around his desk and wiped
the grime from her face with his handkerchief.

A voice drifted to them from the corner of the room.
“The soot adds a rather nice balance to the black eye, don’t you
think? Better to leave it.”

“Lord Summerton! Do excuse me. I did not realize you
were here.” Frances looked askance at Halcombe. “Why didn’t you
tell me, sir?”

“You hardly gave me the chance.” One corner of his
mouth tipped up. “You can pretend not to have seen him and come
back later for a proper welcome.”

“Now you are being nonsensical.” Frances dropped the
drawings on a table and wiped her palms on Halcombe’s handkerchief.
She extended a hand to the viscount, who had lazily risen from one
of the study’s deep leather chairs. “I am sure Lord Summerton will
think me an absolute ninnyhammer should I do such a thing.”

Summerton shook her hand. “That is one thing I would
never think you.” He smiled. “How are you, Frances? You look very
well.”

“Richard says I look like a hoyden half the time. I
daresay he is right.” Frances wrinkled her forehead in mock dismay.
“I prefer not to imagine what other things you might think me, my
lord. It may be that a ninnyhammer is not so bad after all.”

“Colin, please.” He tucked her free arm under his and
led her back to the cozy arrangement of oversized armchairs. “Come,
join us and tell me more about these hidden rooms.” He looked at
Halcombe and grinned. “I had no idea you were harbouring such
delightful secrets.”

“Don’t encourage her, Colin. Frances will have you
crawling around dank and grubby passageways in no time.”

“I neglected to bring my treasure-hunting clothes
with me, so will have to pass on that adventure. Priests’ holes
sound a less hazardous quest.” He looked over at Halcombe.
“
Is
there a secret chamber here at the Manor?”

“There has not been a Catholic in the family since
Henry the Eighth forced the better part of the country into
becoming dutiful Protestants, so I should be very surprised to find
one.” Richard looked over at his wife. “Frances, many of the walls
are a foot thick. What makes you think there may be a hidden room
somewhere?”

“You know I’ve been collecting all of the house plans
and studying them.” She glanced at Summerton. “I’ve found multiple
sets of various areas. It seems every time an alteration took
place, someone made a new drawing. I am far from being an expert,”
she said with a wave of her hand, “but rooms and walls and ceilings
don’t always appear in the same place. So I began wondering about
the possibility of a hidden room.”

Frances looked at both men with expectant attention,
obviously waiting for a response from them. At a loss as to how he
should respond—and judging from the expression on Summerton’s face
Colin was in no better case, Halcombe remained silent. He did not
have the heart to extinguish his wife’s enthusiasm with his own
doubts, so the sudden chime of the mantel clock was a welcome
interruption.
Saved by the bell.
The phrase popped into his
head and he smiled inwardly.

Frances jumped to her feet. “Gracious, I had no idea
of the time. I must go. Flora will be waiting for me and I don’t
like to disrupt her schedule. If you are to meet our little scamp
later, Colin, I want to be sure she has a nap.”

Halcombe stopped his wife mid-room. “Flora’s mother
plans to retire as well, I trust.” He had agreed to allow her out
of bed only if she promised to rest in the afternoons. But her idea
of rest differed from his, and it never hurt to remind her of
it.

Frances’ mouth curved down. “Yes, I know.” She let
out an exaggerated sigh and then pushed up on her toes to whisper
in his ear.

“Then it would not be a nap,” he said with a grin. He
steered her toward the door and gave her a little push. “Go.”

She laughed and hurried out.

“I take it relations have improved since I saw you
last?” Summerton asked.

Halcombe held up a hand to pause the conversation and
went to the door to send for some beer. He glanced at his guest.
“Have you eaten?”

“No, Jim and I came straight through.”

The earl added some meat and cheese to his order,
then took a seat in Frances’ just-vacated chair. He slouched down
and crossed his outstretched legs. “We are…relating…much better,”
he said with a smug smile.

“How nice for you,” Summerton drawled with a roguish
lift of his brows. His laughter echoed Halcombe’s. “Seriously, it
is good to hear you and Frances have settled things between you.
You both deserve some happiness.”

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of
refreshments. A laden tray was placed on the table and beer served
to both men. The viscount speared a length of sausage with his
knife and, in between bites, questioned his host about the reported
stranger.

“I wish I had more to tell you,” Halcombe said, after
he had related what Blount had told him. “I had planned to ride
over to Clifftop myself, but Frances took a tumble while
riding—thus the black eye!—and I was loath to leave her.” He smiled
and shook his head at Summerton’s look of curiosity. “It was
nothing a few quiet days could not mend.” He set his mug on the
tray and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I believe I was
slower to recover from the shock than Frances was.

“The incident followed on several rather
intense…confrontations, I suppose one might say, between us.
Emotional scenes are not commonly part of my life. That Victoria
was the cause of the mishap abraded further.”

Having polished off the meats, Summerton moved on to
the cheese. “Ahh, the ever-so-charming Lady Merton.” He chewed
thoughtfully for a moment. “A lovely troublemaker, that woman. Your
mother speaks favourably of her, which right there warns a man to
be very cautious in any involvement with the fair lady.” He looked
pointedly at Halcombe. “I pray you have none, my friend. She is not
to be trusted.”

Halcombe refuted it with a flick of his fingers. “So
I learned years ago, and I have had as little to do with her as
possible. Unfortunately the lady was a neighbor and, as such, it
was difficult to avoid her entirely.”

Summerton’s cheese-laden knife halted halfway to his
mouth. “
Was
a neighbor? Has she moved then? I’d heard
Merton’s heir gave her leave to use Merton House indefinitely.” He
grinned. “A generous gesture! The man’s no fool and obviously
wanted her out of his hair.”

“Lady Merton has decided to travel for her health,”
Halcombe said dryly. “She felt the neighborhood disagreed with her
constitution.”

Summerton’s brows climbed. “Did she indeed? Do I see
your hand in this?”

Halcombe’s smile faded. “I had no choice, Colin. She
was insanely determined on a liaison with me and her behavior
toward Frances was absolutely unacceptable.” He straightened,
leaned forward, and picked up his beer. “My wife believed Victoria
was my mistress during the early part of our marriage,” he said
after several fortifying gulps, avoiding Summerton’s eyes.

“You will never make me believe such a thing,” the
viscount said mildly, dropping his knife on the empty plate. He
narrowed his eyes. “This is why Frances stayed in Portugal without
contacting you?”

“There were other reasons but, mainly, yes.”

Summerton finished his beer and leaned back. “You
said, when last we spoke, that Frances’ failure to contact you for
so long was what disturbed you the most. Now all appears to be
resolved. What has changed?” His mouth twisted in a rueful smile.
“Forgive me! I know this is none of my affair. You should tell me
to go to the devil—and take my insatiable curiosity along with
me.”

Halcombe snorted. “You are worse than a cat, with
your penchant for nosing in corners better left dark. In this case,
however, an objective ear is welcome. Especially concerning the
business my wife has established.” He smiled at Colin’s startled
expression. “On, yes, Frances has restarted—or continued, one might
say—her father’s rare book trade. I don’t mind telling you that it
has been a rather difficult pill to swallow, but I am becoming
accustomed to the idea—which is good, since Frances is loath to
give it up.” He gave Colin some of the background on the book
trading. Then, selecting his words with care, for some of what had
passed between he and Frances was very private, he told him of the
overheard conversation and the misconception that resulted from
it.

“In all honesty, I may never totally understand
Frances’ feelings or believe it adequate justification for her
actions.” An irritable grunt escaped him. “Hell and damnation,
Colin. How can any man fathom a woman’s
feelings
? But I know
what I want, and since it includes my wife, the past had to become
just that.”

“It is not always possible to bury some hurts, but it
seems you have put this one behind you. And why not? Life is too
uncertain to dwell on might-have-beens,” Summerton commented. His
expression went from concerned to curious. “My inquisitive nose is
quivering again. You claimed in your letter to have the answer to
one of my so-called mysteries.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much—just that I have the name of
your anonymous informer,” Halcombe said with a casual shrug. While
Frances planned to provide the viscount with all the details later,
she had agreed to give Richard the satisfaction of confounding his
friend in the interim.

“
What
?” Summerton straightened abruptly and
leaned closer, his hands gripping the ends of the armrests. “Who?
How?”