For the Love of a Soldier (27 page)

Good Lord, what had she done?

This was not good. Well, it had been good, better than good, but they couldn’t finish it. She was not this type of woman. She did not…She froze.

There was someone at the door.

Panic-stricken, Alex sprung into action, moving as if the hounds of hell were biting at her heels. She shoved Garrett from her, scrambled to sit up and yanked the two sides of her torn gown together. One handed, she struggled to pull her robe on, keeping her head lowered to hide her mortification.

“My lord? Sir? Lord Warren has arrived with your sister. They are—”

“Just a minute,” Garrett barked. He blew out a breath and sat up, dragging his hand through his tousled hair.

With shaking fingers, she belted her robe closed.

“Are they downstairs?” Garrett called out.

“Yes, my lord.”

Her eyes widened. It must be far later than she thought. They had been up very late last night, reading that blasted book. Flushing, she eased from the bed, swatting at Garrett’s hand when his fingers curled over her wrist. “No,” she hissed, frantically shaking her head. She needed to escape.

Havers’s voice said something else, but she didn’t hear it. She dashed across the carpet and escaped to her room.

G
ARRETT FROWNED AT
the closed door and slammed his fist into his pillow, cursing Havers’s untimely arrival and Alexandra’s more untimely departure. His desire ebbed from him and he collapsed back into his bed, a mixture of pain and sexual frustration warring within his body.

“Sir, Lord Warren said to tell you, and I quote—”

Another voice cut Havers off and the door flung open.

“I know you’re a good-for-nothing wastrel, but company has arrived, so you need to get your scrawny arse out of bed before I come in there and haul it out.” Brandon stood scowling in the door. “Do you know what time it is? It’s nearly past dinner and I’m hungry.” His eyes narrowed on him. “Damn it, man, are you sober?”

Resigned, Garrett sat up, wiped his hands down his face, and addressed his brother-in-law in a near growl. “First of all, my arse is not scrawny. Secondly, obnoxious family relations do not constitute company. Thirdly, not that it is any of your bloody business, I
am
sober but waking to your ugly mug makes one crave a drink. Perhaps you should leave.”

Brandon raised a brow. “You look like hell.” He paused and his voice lowered. “Are you all right?”

Worry darkened his friend’s eyes. Garrett sighed. “I’m fine. Or was until your arrival. What the hell are you doing here? This is midweek. You weren’t due until the end of it.”

Brandon strolled into the room, closed the door behind him, and lowered himself into the easy chair across the room. “What
do you think happened? Kit happened. She discovered you were traveling here with a young woman, unchaperoned. You calculate the rest. As far as she’s concerned, you’ve had more than enough time to enter into a bacchanalian orgy of ruination. I held her off as long as I could. But”—he blew out a breath—“one can’t stem a tidal wave once it starts rolling.”

Damn Kit for being an all-knowing busybody. And a correct one. He
was
on the road to ruination. What was he doing tangling the sheets with Alexandra? She deserved better than him. But he wanted her like he wanted no other woman. And her body’s passionate response told him that she wanted him, too, whole or not. The knowledge of this revived his spirits, and he flung off his covers and came to his feet. “Where is Kit? Downstairs pacing a hole in the carpet?”

“Of course.” Brandon paused, before adding in a more serious tone. “She was worried when you weren’t awake. She sent me up here to check on you.”

He paused in the midst of yanking on his trousers to glance over at Brandon, who shrugged apologetically. Well, he deserved that. His past behavior had not been exemplary. He clenched his jaw as he turned to the commode and scooped a handful of water over his face, scrubbing hard. Straightening, he grabbed a towel and eyed Brandon. “And the boys?” he asked as he dried his face and then crossed to his wardrobe and selected a crisp white linen shirt.

“They’re in the stables. Your tomcat has found a mate, and she had a litter of kittens. I couldn’t drag them away. I’ll collect them after I retrieve you. I am under direct order to bring you downstairs, willingly or not.”

“You mean sober or not,” he muttered, shrugging into his shirt.

“You still don’t have a valet?” Brandon frowned.

“Unlike you, I’m quite capable of getting myself dressed or undressed as the case may be.” He moved to the mirror to tie his cravat.

“The truth is that Havers is the only man who’d put up with you.”

“Havers is a smart man. One of a kind. Except for Poole, whose misplaced loyalty is to be commended.”

Brandon smiled. “He always saw right through your antics.”

“Yes, and my not-so-scrawny arse has the scars to prove it.”

Brandon laughed. “Yet you still turned out to be a wastrel.”

“Kept bad company.” He turned from the mirror to grin at his friend. “But since I’m stuck with you, let’s hope you’ve been useful. What about this Viscount Langdon?”

“I thought Alexandra’s name is Daniels.”

“You thought wrong, but continue to address her as Miss Daniels. Did you learn anything?”

“A Viscount Phillip Langdon owns a modest estate in Essex. He has three young daughters, none of whom have come out yet. He is new to the title, being the younger son and having inherited it upon the death of his elder brother. The elder Langdon and his wife died of the influenza two years ago while traveling in Italy.”

Garrett leaned against his bureau, folding his arms over his chest. “What do you know of the elder Langdon?”

Brandon sat back, stretched his legs out before him and crossed them at the ankles. “Paul Langdon was a notorious philanderer and gambler. He had a reputation for investing in disreputable business ventures, often authoring many of his own schemes while finagling others to finance them. He ran through fortunes as frequently as he did his mistresses, stripping his estate and selling it piecemeal to stay out of debtor’s gaol.”

Garrett frowned as he recalled Alexandra’s story about her father’s plans to sell her abysmal singing voice to neighbors to scare off potential houseguests.
My father was always in need of a fortune
. Her words sent a cold chill through him. “Anything else?”

“He had a child, a daughter,” Brandon said.

He waited for Brandon to continue, refusing to shift under his knowing gaze.

“Your Alexandra had one Season and made quite a splash, garnering a dozen or so offers for her hand. She refused them all.”

Garrett frowned at the thought of a bevy of fops salivating over his Alex. “What else?”

He shrugged. “She disappeared. Dropped out of school to take a grand tour. No one’s heard from her since. That is with
the exception of you, if I’m to understand she is
your
Miss Daniels?”

Garrett ignored the query. “What about the estate? Is it debt ridden or solvent?”

“A year before the elder brother’s death, the estate turned around. Word is the late viscount had hired a new manager who took a firmer hand on his finances. He put him on a strict budget, reined in all excess expenditures, while working more closely with the tenants to turn a neat profit.”

My father owned some property, and I used to review the reports with the estate manager.

“I’ll just bet she did,” he muttered, his lips curving.

He’d gamble his last pence there had been no grand tour with her parents. Alexandra had returned home to salvage her father’s floundering estate. Probably was withdrawn from school when her father couldn’t foot her tuition. Christ, what a way to live.

It was little wonder she had agreed to his financial proposal.

“And the new viscount?” Garrett asked. Though he feared he already knew the answer. “The younger brother? How is the estate managing under him?”

“I don’t know. He stays in the country and doesn’t venture to town much, but he has to finance three dowries, which won’t come cheap.”

“No, it won’t.” Another thought struck him. There was money to be had in a lucrative marital agreement. But Alexandra had refused all proposals. He’d place another bet that her uncle didn’t admire her independence as much as he did.

These provided more answers to the puzzle that comprised Alex. When he put all the pieces together, the finished picture of her life wasn’t pretty. The only remaining question was whether or not Alex had fled of her own accord or her uncle had forced her out.

Alex’s history only furthered his admiration of her. By God, it had taken a great deal of courage to salvage her father’s estate and forge her own path.

Some risks are worth taking,
she’d said.

He knew she was different. Had known it from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. Admittedly, he hadn’t known
she was a woman then, but the discovery only enhanced her appeal. And his desire. She was magnificent.

A gruff cough made him jerk his attention back to Brandon, and he realized he stood grinning like a demented fool. He felt a warm flush steal up his neck and straightened. “Yes, well, that explains—” He got no further.

“Bloody hell.” Brandon jerked up. “You slept with her.”

“What?” he sputtered. “Why—”

“Don’t deny it, man.” Brandon shot to his feet. “Kit is going to kill us both, and I am not deflecting any hits for you because you deserve every shot she aims.” He stormed to the door. “Miss Daniels seemed like such an intelligent young woman when I met her. What the hell do you do to these women?” He shook his head. “I thought you had changed since your return.”

“I have,” he protested, hearing the disgust and disappointment in Brandon’s voice. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have given a damn if Brandon thought he had slid back into his old philandering ways. But today he did. Things were different today, and he liked those differences. “There have been no women. No other women. It’s not like that.”

At Brandon’s dubious look, he raised his voice. “I didn’t sleep with her!” he barked. When Brandon merely cocked a brow, he hissed, “All right, I did, but it’s not what you think.”

“I’m not thinking about it. And don’t put visuals in my mind.” He held up his hands. “Please. Spare me the details.”

“Shut up, for Christ’s sake. She was in here last night, but not tangling the sheets with me.” They performed that dance this morning, but he refrained from clarifying this discrepancy. Splitting hairs and all that. “She helped me.”

Brandon paused, waiting for him to continue.

“There was a storm, and I had…I had—”

“I understand,” Brandon rescued him. “Miss Daniels, she helped you through it?”

He exhaled. “She did. It’s the only reason she stayed with me last night. And the reason I was late to rise.”

Brandon studied him for a moment, before his hard expression softened. “Perhaps I wasn’t mistaken about her.” He waited for Garrett to add something more, but when he didn’t, he
continued. “However, there is still the lesser charge of the two of you being here alone and unchaperoned. I’ll collect the boys and meet you downstairs with them in tow. Kit wouldn’t dare kill you before the children.”

“You’re too kind,” Garrett said dryly.

“I got your information for you, didn’t I? And I spoke to Hammond, and he will send out the invitations as soon as we confirm a date. By the way, what have you done with mine? Any progress?”

“Yours?” Garrett paused in collecting his waistcoat from the wardrobe and glanced over at Brandon.

“Hammond’s guest list that I passed on to you?” His eyes narrowed at Garrett’s obvious blank look. “You were to review it to see if any names raised a red flag? Cut it down to a handful of would-be potential killers? We were going to have the police investigate the names you’ve flagged.” When he didn’t respond, Brandon frowned. “I know the list of men wanting your head on a platter, preferably with a roasted apple stuffed in your mouth, is extensive, but I had hoped you might have succeeded in slicing it down to a manageable group. It appears you had other matters more important than finding your would-be murderer. My mistake.”

Garrett held up his hands. “Point taken. I understand.”

“Do you?
Do you really?
” Brandon’s eyes were once again hard and leveled on him. “I’d hate to think you forgot why you are here. If so, forgive me for reminding you of those pesky facts. Someone wants you dead. Has made two attempts on your life. You’d be wise to remember that.” He turned to go, speaking over his shoulder. “You need to go downstairs. Your sister is worried about you. God knows why when you can’t be bothered to do the same.”

The door opened and slammed closed with a finality that shamed Garrett. He sagged back against his bureau and blew out a breath. Christ.

The morning had started off so well. He didn’t know how it had spiraled south so quickly. He had managed to anger both his sister and Brandon, and Alexandra was none too pleased with him, either. He might not have reviewed Hammond’s damn list yet, but he did have a plan. And he knew damn well
why he was here. A man didn’t forget that he was a walking target. Christ. He cursed the fact that he had forsaken drink because he was in dire need of a shot. Hell, forget the shot, he could swallow the whole decanter. He raked his hands through his hair and swore. It was going to be a hell of a long day.