Whirlwind Affair

Chapter 10

Moving to catch the swatch of fading sunlight pouring through the window, Allie frowned at the yellowed paper tucked into the broken piece. Could this be something that belonged to David? Determined to find out, she carefully pried out the paper, then gently unfolded it. She could make out some writing, but it appeared badly faded. Holding the paper up to the light, she squinted at it, trying to make out the words. It seemed to be written in a foreign language-one she did not recognize. While she was not a linguist, it didn't appear to be French, Spanish, or Latin.

She peered at the note again. Could the words possibly be Gaelic? David had been familiar with the language, she knew. Many times, during moments of passion, he'd whispered to her in the dark-enchanting, romantic- sounding words she hadn't understood. They were Gaelic, he'd said. Phrases he'd learned during his numerous trips to Dublin, sailing across the Irish Sea from his native Liverpool.

A sense of dismay that had nothing to do with breaking the box washed through her. If this note had anything to do with David, she might not yet be able to put the past behind her. The temptation to refold the note and stuff it back into the box, or better yet, to destroy it-simply toss it into the fire-nearly overwhelmed her. No one would know.

The words reverberated through her mind, irresistibly coaxing her. No one would know. What did it matter if the note concerned David? He was dead. She owed him nothing. Destroy it. No one would know.

Yet something held her back. No one would know-except her. As much as she wished it otherwise, her conscience, not to mention her curiosity, would plague her if she did not at least attempt to discover the contents of the note. And perhaps it did not concern David at all. Perhaps it belonged to Lord Shelbourne-after all, the ring and box belonged to him. And if this note were the earl's property, she could not destroy it. She would have to return it to him.

But the fact that David knew Gaelic, coupled with everything else she knew about him… no, she could not dismiss the very real and disturbing probability that the note in some way involved her late husband.

She drew in a shaky breath. Discovering the contents… that meant the need to face the possibility that this note might very well yield information about more people he'd cheated. And if she were successful in deciphering the words, and it indeed listed more of David's victims, she would have to-

No! The word roared through her mind, and she pressed her fingertips to her temple. God help her, she wouldn't, couldn't, spend any more time righting any more of his wrongs-yet how could she not? But the mere thought of enduring more financial hardships and personal humiliations such as she'd endured for the past three years-especially when the end had seemed so close-nearly suffocated her. Don't think about it now. It might not even be an issue. And if it is… you 11 decide then.

She couldn't destroy the note. Not until she knew. Nor could she return it to the box. She couldn't risk Lord Shelbourne finding the note-of potentially damaging information falling into his or anyone else's hands. Heaving a weary sigh, she carefully refolded the note, then secreted it in a small pouch in the lining of her reticule, all the while damning the fact that she'd found it. Freedom had been so close. But at least she'd be rid of the box. Settling herself on the edge of her bed, she set about fitting the two pieces back together.

*********

Geoffrey leaned against the marble mantel in his drawing room, watching a footman serve his guests an aperitif. It was nearly impossible to maintain his air of detached outer calm. She'd handed the box to him a quarter hour ago, when she'd first entered the room. He'd given it a quick glance, then laughed. 'Not a particularly handsome piece, is it?' After thanking her, he'd casually slipped it into his pocket, where it now all but scorched a hole through the material.

Finally, unable to stand the suspense one second longer, he said, 'If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must have a word with Willis.' Maintaining a slow, even stride, he left the room, then entered his private study where he locked the door behind him.

He crossed to his desk, slowly withdrawing the box from his pocket, biting back the overwhelming urge to pounce upon it like a mongrel on a bone. With his heart slamming against his ribs, he pulled the box apart and stared in the bottom.

The empty bottom.

Panic seized him and he ran shaking, frantic fingers all over the rusted metal surface. Was there another opening? But after several minutes of desperate searching, he was forced to admit the nightmarish truth. The paper was missing.

A barrage of obscenities exploded from his lips, and he hurled the useless box across the room. Fisting his hands in his hair, he paced furiously around the room, his breath expelling from his lungs in painful gasps.

Where the bloody hell was it? She must have it. Must have found it. Or at least must know its whereabouts.

He had to find out. Had to. Had to. Now. He halted and squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it, his head felt about to explode. Have to pull myself together. Must find out what she knows. Then get rid of her. He hadn't worried about Redfern finding the letter, as the man did not know how to read-a fact that Geoffrey had been careful to ascertain before hiring him. It wouldn't do to have Redfern find the note by chance and be able to extort money from him as David Brown had done. Although Redfern's greed would keep him from showing the letter to anyone to read and risk having to share his blunt. But Mrs. Brown… he suspected she was neither illiterate nor stupid. And she was no doubt as greedy as her husband had been.

Drawing deep breaths until he steadied, he then walked slowly to the mirror and smoothed his hair back into place. He jerked his lapels back into perfect alignment, then made a minute adjustment to his cravat. Satisfied that his appearance was once again flawless, he quit the room to return to his guests.

Alberta Brown clearly thought herself clever. A mistake, my dear. A fatal mistake.

*************

Allie immediately sensed something odd in the earl's demeanor when he reentered the drawing room. From her seat facing the doorway, she watched him pause on the threshold, his gaze riveted on her. A chill of apprehension slithered down her spine at his glacial expression.

'Everything all right?' Lord Robert asked, looking at their host with a puzzled frown. Clearly he also sensed all was not well.

'Of course.' The earl waved his hand in a dismissive manner. 'A tiny miscalculation in the kitchen apparently, but Willis assures me all is well. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?'

Allie accepted his proffered elbow, praying her reluctance did not show. Perhaps she was imagining his disquiet.

But by the second dinner course of delicately poached turbot, Allie knew she was not imagining things. The way he kept staring at her, as if he were attempting to see into her mind… yes, something was definitely amiss. Was he ill? She dismissed the notion as quickly as it occurred to her. No, it seemed as if repressed anger bubbled just below the surface of his flawless manners.

Could he possibly know about the note? Know it was missing and that she had it? She instantly discarded that theory as well. How could he know about the note when he had not even known that the ring or the box existed until she came to England?

No answers presented themselves, yet his manner disturbed her in a way she could not put her finger on. Some instinct, however, cautioned her that it might behoove her to find out more about this man. And surely the best way to do that was not to remain silent.