Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick
“You must hide. You could take a new name. Declare yourself to be a widow.”
“Not without money.” Jessica clutched her reticule very tightly. “I am trapped.”
Lavinia looked at the ring that Jessica wore. “Perhaps there is a way . . .”
“It certainly does not surprise me that you got involved in the affair,” Tobias said dryly. “What did you do?”
“Jessica wore a very unusual ring. It was gold and set with colored stones and tiny, sparkling diamonds in the shape of a flower. I asked her about it. She told me that it had come down through her family and that she had worn it since she had left the schoolroom. It looked at least somewhat valuable.”
Tobias nodded matter-of-factly. “You urged Jessica to use the ring to finance her new life.”
Lavinia shrugged. “It seemed the obvious course of action. The only other solution to her problem that I could see was that she contrive to poison Oscar Pelling. Something told me that she would falter at the notion of murdering her husband.”
Tobias’s mouth edged upward slightly at one corner. “Unlike you?”
“Only as a last resort,” she assured him. “In any event, I thought the ring plan was the best. I knew that if she could get to London with it, she would be able to sell it for a reasonable sum. Not enough to allow her to live in luxury for any length of time, of course, but sufficient to give her a means to survive until she could establish herself in a career.”
“My sweet, you have reinvented yourself so many times that I fear you overlook the fact that not everyone is as resourceful and determined as you are.”
She sighed. “You may be right. I must say that even though I thought my plan was splendid, Jessica looked appalled when I outlined it. She appeared quite daunted by the notion of taking on a new identity and finding a way to support herself. She had always had money, you see. The idea of getting by without her fortune terrified her.”
“Damned unfair, too,” Tobias mused. “After all, the money was hers.”
“Well, yes, of course. I sympathized entirely on that point. But in my opinion, it was either turn her back on her fortune and take a new name or start research on the fine art of preparing poison. As I said, I did not believe that she would be enthusiastic about the latter course of action.”
“Sometimes you send a bit of a chill through me, Lavinia.”
“Nonsense. I’m certain that had you been in my shoes, you would have given her the same advice.”
He shrugged and offered no comment.
She frowned, rethinking her remark. “I take that back. You wouldn’t have advised her to go to the trouble of establishing a new identity. You would have arranged for Pelling to meet with a nasty accident.”
“As I was not in your shoes, there is no point speculating.”
“Sometimes you send a bit of a chill through me, sir.”
He smiled at the echo of his own words, no doubt concluding that she was making a small joke. But she was not joking, she thought. Sometimes he did send a small chill through her. There were some shadowy places deep inside Tobias. Occasionally it struck her quite forcibly that there was still a great deal that she did not know about him.
“What happened to Jessica Pelling?” he asked.
“I never saw her again,” Lavinia whispered. “She committed suicide the following day.”
“How? An overdose of laudanum? Did she drink too much of the milk of the poppy?”
“No. She chose a more dramatic means. She went out riding in the midst of a violent storm and cast herself into the swollen river. Her horse returned without her. Later a maid found a note in Mrs. Pelling’s bedchamber declaring her intention to drown herself.”
“Hmm.”
There was a short silence.
“They never found her body.”
“Hmm.”
“It happened from time to time.” Lavinia clasped her hands very tightly in her lap. The memories of that awful day were so fresh and vivid now that she had to fight to draw air into her lungs. “The river was very deep and treacherous in places. It was not unheard of for some unfortunate soul to fall in when it was in flood and never be seen again.”
“Oscar Pelling blamed you for his wife’s death?”
“Yes. He confronted me in the street immediately after the searchers had abandoned all hope. He was in a state of such rage that I . . . I was almost afraid for my own safety.”
A great stillness came over Tobias. “Did he touch you? Put his hands on you? Hurt you in any way?”
The implacable expression that had appeared in his eyes nearly took her breath away. She swallowed and hurried on with her tale.
“No,” she said quickly. “No, indeed. He would hardly have dared to attack me in front of so many witnesses. But he accused me of driving Jessica to her death with my mesmeric treatments.”
“I see.”
“He made certain that the rumors of my incompetence spread quickly throughout the countryside. Within a very short time Oscar Pelling had utterly destroyed my reputation in the region. I lost all of my clients.” She hesitated. “In truth, I was no longer certain that I wanted to continue in the profession.”
“Because you feared that Pelling was correct. That your therapy had played some role in Jessica’s death.”
“Yes.”
There it was, she thought: Her darkest secret had now been revealed to Tobias. It suddenly dawned on her that this was the real reason she had been so shaken by the sight of Oscar Pelling. Her intuition had told her that it would somehow lead to this terrible moment when Tobias would discover that she had been involved in the death of an innocent woman. She knew all too well how much he distrusted the science of mesmerism and what he thought of those who practiced the art. She braced herself for his reaction, even as a part of her wondered when and how his opinion of her character had become so important. Why did she care so much what he thought of her?
“Pay close attention to me, Lavinia.” Tobias reached out and covered her tightly knit fingers with his own large, powerful hand. “You bear no guilt in the matter. You only tried to help her. It was a desperate situation and it called for desperate measures. Your plan for Jessica to use her ring to pay for her new life under a new name was an excellent scheme. It is not your fault that she lacked the nerve and the will to carry it out.”
At first she thought she had not heard him aright. Tobias was not blaming her. The world seemed to brighten a bit, the air becoming clearer and more fragrant. She allowed herself to breathe again.
“But perhaps by encouraging her to take such a risk, I forced her to confront her own helplessness and cast her into the depths of despair.” Lavinia squeezed her fingers into her palms. “Perhaps I made her feel that it was all hopeless and that the only way out was suicide.”
“You showed her a possible escape route. It was up to Jessica to use it.” Tobias pulled her snugly against his side and wrapped his arm around her. “You did all that you could.”
It was odd how pleasant it was to nestle against him, she thought. He was an exceedingly difficult man, but on occasion, Tobias’s solid, unwavering strength had a decidedly soothing effect on her senses.
He did not blame her for what had happened.
“I should not have let that brief glimpse of Pelling upset me so today,” she said after a while. “It is perfectly reasonable that a gentleman of his wealth and position would come to Town occasionally to shop and to tend to his business affairs.”
“Very true.”
“And it is not at all strange that I chanced to see him in Pall Mall. After all, London is a small world in many ways, especially when it comes to shopping.”
“It was not the surprise of seeing a familiar face in Pall Mall that unsettled your nerves,” Tobias said. “It was that spotting Pelling brought back memories of the incident that destroyed your career as a mesmerist.”
“In part.” But mostly it was because I sensed that I would have to confess it all to you,
But it was done. The truth had come out and Tobias did not hold it against her. Indeed, he painted her as something of a heroine in the drama. Astonishing.
“You have a new career now, Lavinia,” he said bracingly. “What happened in the past no longer matters.”
She relaxed a little more, savoring the heat of his body.
After a while he cradled her head in the crook of his arm and lowered his mouth to hers.
“It is a little chilly out here for this sort of thing,” she mumbled against his lips.
“I will warm you,” he promised.
Four
THE SMALL GROUP OF EAGER YOUNG GALLANTS that had encircled Emeline on the front steps of the institute made Anthony uneasy. They all professed a great interest in discussing the lecture they had just attended, but he suspected most of them had ulterior motives. Emeline, however, appeared unaware of that possibility. She was busily holding forth with her opinion of the talk.
“I fear that Mr. Lexington has not spent much time, if any, in Italy,” Emeline declared. “He gave a very poor description of Roman monuments and fountains. As it happens, my aunt and I had an opportunity to spend some time in that city recently, and I—”
“That no doubt accounts for your brilliant sense of fashion,” one gentleman declared fervently. “I vow, that gown you are wearing is a most exquisite shade of amber gold. The color of the sky at sunset. It is surpassed only by the brilliant glow of your eyes, Miss Emeline.”
There were several murmurs of agreement.
Emeline never faltered. “Thank you, sir. Now, as I was saying, my aunt and I were fortunate enough to be able to stay for some months in Rome, and I can assure you, Mr. Lexington did not do justice to his subject. He failed to convey the true elegance of the standing monuments. As it happens, while in Italy, I was able to make several sketches and some drawings—”
“I would very much enjoy viewing your sketches, Miss Emeline,” said a voice at the edge of the crowd.
“As would I, Miss Emeline.”
“No monument, no matter how spectacular, could compare to your own elegance, Miss Emeline,” someone else vouchsafed.
He’d had quite enough, Anthony thought. He made a show of removing his watch from his pocket. “I’m afraid I must interrupt, Miss Emeline. The hour grows late. I promised your aunt that you would be home by five o’clock. We will have to hurry.”
“Yes, of course.” Emeline bestowed a charming smile on the small group. “Mr. Sinclair is quite correct. We must be off. But I have very much enjoyed our conversation. It is quite amazing, really. I had no notion that so many of you were interested in Roman fountains and monuments.”
“Fascinated, Miss Emeline.” A gentleman dressed in a coat that was cut so snugly Anthony wondered how he could move his arms swept her a deep bow. “I assure you, I am absolutely entranced by the subject and by your remarks on it.”
“Transfixed,” another assured her.
That started a heated competition in which every man in the group sought to convince Emeline that his own intellectual interests were more elevated than those of anyone else in the crowd.
It was all Anthony could do to avoid baring his teeth. He tucked Emeline’s arm in his and drew her swiftly down the steps. A chorus of farewells drifted after them.
“I did not realize that we were so pressed for time,” Emeline murmured.
“Have no fear,” Anthony said. “We will be home before your aunt begins to fret.”
“What did you think of Mr. Lexington’s lecture?” she asked.
He hesitated and then shrugged. “To be perfectly blunt, I found it quite dull.”
She gave her warm laugh. “We are in agreement on that point. Nevertheless, I very much enjoyed the afternoon.”
“As did I.”
He would have enjoyed it far more, he thought, had he not been obliged to wade through the herd of dandies gathered inside the lecture hall. He was quite certain they had not been drawn there by an interest in Roman monuments and fountains. Emeline was the lure. She had come into a mild sort of fashion lately after a number of successful appearances in some of the most important ballrooms of the ton.
He was well aware that Emeline’s lack of an inheritance and family connections would not allow her to swim in exalted social circles for long, in spite of Lavinia’s machinations. Furthermore, prudent matchmaking mamas would work hard to ensure that their sons did not look too seriously in Emeline’s direction.
Unfortunately, that did not prevent many of the young bloods of Society from being intrigued by a lovely and unusual Original. Nor would it stop heartless rakes and debauchers from attempting to seduce her as a form of perverted sport.
He had appointed himself Emeline’s guardian, and he considered it his duty to protect her from unwanted attentions. But what worried him the most these days was that she might decide to sample some of those attentions.
It would all be so much simpler if he was in a position to declare his affections and make an offer for her hand. But the long and the short of it was that he could not afford to keep her in the style to which she deserved to become accustomed.
He had spent a great deal of time lately pondering his problems and concocting various possible solutions. It all came down to one key point: He had to find a way to make a decent living and he had to do so quickly, before one of the men hanging around Emeline defied his parents and convinced her to run off with him.
The walk home to the little house in Claremont Lane was a brisk one, due not only to the fact that the afternoon was coming to a close but because the threat of rain dampened the air.
“Is something wrong?” Emeline asked when they reached the little park and turned the corner. “Are you ill?”
That startled him out of his reverie. It annoyed him that she thought him sickly. “No, I am not ill. I am thinking.”
“Oh. I thought, perhaps, from your expression that the ice cream we had earlier did not sit well.”
“I assure you, I am in excellent health, Emeline.”
“I was merely concerned.”
“Emeline, your aunt has made it clear that she wishes you to enjoy another Season before you even think of accepting an offer of marriage.”
“What on earth does marriage have to do with this?”
He braced himself. “It is quite likely that at any moment one of those . . . those gentlemen who accosted you after the lecture today might decide to offer for your hand.”
“Oh, I doubt that. None of their mamas or papas would approve. They can all look a good deal higher for wives and I’m sure they will do precisely that when the time comes.”
“It is not unheard of for a reckless man to . . . to elope with someone whom his parents might not deem suitable,” Anthony said darkly.
“As gentlemen are forever doing in those books of poetry that Aunt Lavinia loves to read?” Emeline chuckled. “How very romantic. But I very much doubt that I am the type to inspire a runaway marriage.”
“You are precisely the type.” Anthony came to a sudden halt and turned to face her. “You must be on your guard, Emeline. There is no telling when some rake may show up at your bedroom window in the middle of the night and beg you to join him in the carriage he has waiting in the street.” Just as he had envisioned himself doing in certain fevered fantasies, he thought.
“A Gretna Green marriage?” Emeline’s eyes widened. “Nonsense. I cannot imagine any of those gentlemen having the spirit to do anything so thrilling.”
Anthony felt his stomach clench. “You mean that you would consider it exciting to run off with one of those empty-headed dandies?”
“Yes, indeed.”
His blood ran cold.
And then she smiled. “Quite impossible, of course.”
“Impossible.” He seized on that. “Yes, of course. Absolutely impossible.”
“Indeed.”
But it was not impossible and well he knew it. It had happened on at least one occasion last Season that he was aware of, and it would no doubt happen again this Season. Sooner or later, a young couple who had been forbidden to wed would run off to Gretna Green in the middle of the night. If their frantic papas did not catch up with them before the deed was done, the pair would return as newlyweds. Their parents would be forced to accept the fait accompli. And Society would have yet another tidbit of gossip to savor over tea.
If he had an ounce of common sense he would keep silent, Anthony thought. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“Uh, why precisely do you say it would be impossible to make a runaway marriage with one of those gentlemen?” he asked carefully.
“Because I am not in love with any of them, of course.” She glanced at the tiny watch pinned to the front of her pelisse. “Come along, Anthony, we must hurry. We do not want to get caught in the rain. Aunt Lavinia will have an attack of the vapors if I ruin this new gown.”
She was not in love with any of them.
It did not follow, he reminded himself, that she loved him, but at least she had not developed a tendre for anyone else.
His spirits revived miraculously. He grinned. “Calm yourself, Emeline. Any lady who can take Tobias on as a business partner is hardly likely to faint dead away at the notion of a ruined gown.”
Emeline laughed. “You do not know how much stock Aunt Lavinia places in Madam Francesca’s gowns. She considers them investments.”
Unfortunately, he knew precisely why Lavinia was investing heavily in gowns from the exclusive dressmaker these days, he thought. She still entertained visions of marrying Emeline off into the ton.
Halfway along Claremont Lane, he saw Tobias and Lavinia going up the front steps of Number 7.
“It looks as though we are not the only ones who are late arriving home today,” Emeline said cheerfully. “Lavinia and Mr. March must have gone out for some exercise.”