3
VICTOR FOLLOWED ISA and Lady Lochlaw downstairs. Isa had said that she’d thought her husband was Belgian. He’d forgotten that he’d never told her about his parents, ashamed of his father’s madness and his mother’s early life as a tavern wench. She’d seemed so sweet and gentle that he hadn’t wanted to reveal anything of his sordid past, afraid she would recoil.
But he saw nothing of that in her now. This Isa was a stranger. Lady Lochlaw was right: She did walk like a man, and it only made her more attractive. This Isa was bold, fearless, independent. There’d been no panic in her face when she saw him, just contempt. She’d actually acted as if he had been the one to wrong her. It infuriated him.
It shook him.
And that wasn’t the only thing that shook him. In Amsterdam, she’d worn her lush brown hair in a simple braid wound about her head. Now she wore it in a confection of loops and ribbons that gave her an elegance he wasn’t used to.
His Isa had been young and naïve and real. It was one of the things he’d liked about her—that she was so practical. That she hadn’t looked down her nose at him.
This Isa, with her beaded reticule and her ladylike manner and her rigid posture, wouldn’t have given an uncouth young soldier the time of day years ago.
Worse yet, she was even more beautiful than he remembered, if that were possible. Her skin was flawless, her mouth perfect, and the new defiant spark in her eyes . . .
A groan rose in his throat. He’d always remembered them as a melting brown that turned him soft inside. Now they were a mysterious and haunting brown that made him hard—everywhere.
He choked back an oath as he handed her up into the phaeton, all too aware of her attractions. He didn’t know how she’d gained those slightly larger breasts—no doubt some fancy addition to her corset—but he liked them. How the devil was he supposed to interrogate her, when all he wanted was to tear her clothes off and see what else had changed?
Admit it—you let your cock convince you to help your charming wife steal the royal diamonds! his inquisitors had shouted.
And he’d defended her. Because deep down, he’d known that he had let his cock do the thinking.
Never again.
With grim purpose, he leapt into the phaeton and took up the reins. After a curt farewell to her ladyship, he set the horses going. “Where are we headed?” he clipped out before they’d even turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare.
“It doesn’t matter,” Isa said. “I only wanted a chance to talk to you alone. I have to know—what do you want from me, Victor? Why are you here after nearly ten years?”
The way she acted, as if he needed to explain things, made him grit his teeth. “I’m surprised you’re even admitting that you know me, Mrs. Franke, since I’m supposed to be dead. Hard to ignore the husband standing right in front of you, reminding you of the vows you made.” He lowered his voice. “Of the number of times we shared a bed before you deserted me.”
“Deserted you!” she cried. “You were the one to run off to Antwerp without a word.”
“You knew I went to Antwerp?” he asked, stunned. If she’d already fled to Paris, how could she have heard that he’d gone to Antwerp after his life had been ruined?
Her eyes widened. “Oh, was I not supposed to know?” She sat back against the seat with a little huff. “Of course not. You intended to go on with your life, free of the mousy wife you only acquired to get to the royal diamonds. I suppose that’s why you’re sniffing around me again—you’ve spent all the money from selling your share, and you need your mousy wife once more.”
His share? His hands tightened on the reins. So that was her tack: She was going to blame him for the theft of the diamonds. And why the devil did she keep harping on being a “mousy wife”?
“First of all,” he growled, “I never considered you a ‘mousy’ anything. You came up with that all on your own. And I certainly never ‘acquired’ you to get to the royal diamonds.” His temper must have conveyed itself to the horses, because they were dragging on the reins, wanting to be sprung. “I could claim the same thing about you: You married me to get access to that strongbox.”
“You know I had nothing to do with that.” She clutched the reticule she’d been mangling ever since his arrival. “I did nothing wrong!”
“Really? Is that why you’re here in Scotland, living under an assumed name? Is that why you’ve run from me for years?”
“It wasn’t you I ran from; it was my cursed family. Why else do you think I chose your mother’s maiden name as an alias? My family didn’t know it. And it would enable you to track me from Paris, since you knew where I was staying there.” Her tone turned sarcastic. “It should have been easy enough. You used to be a soldier—didn’t you ever do reconnaissance, or whatever you soldiers call it?”
He was still reeling from the idea that she’d somehow expected him to know where to find her when she added, “Of course, I never dreamed that you would wait ten years, until you needed something from me. And what do you need from me? Or will you keep pretending that you actually care about me?”
And let her know how deeply she’d dug herself under his skin, even after all this time? Not a chance in hell. “I need to know the truth.”
“About what?” she cried. When people hurrying down the crowded street looked up, she dropped her voice. “Is this because you want a divorce? I’ll gladly give you whatever you need.”
For some reason, her eagerness to be free of him really pricked his temper. “Why, so you can marry your precious baron?” God, he sounded jealous. Which he wasn’t. Not a bit.
She snorted. “Don’t be absurd. I have no desire to marry Rupert, even if I could.”
Yet she called the baron “Rupert.” The intimacy that implied made him burn from the inside out. “I see. You’re just content to be his mistress.”
“Verdomme,” she muttered, surprising him with her use of the Dutch word for “damn it.” “I don’t know what you’ve been doing all these years, but I upheld those marital vows you referred to so glibly. Rupert is only a friend.”
That took him entirely off guard. Especially with her pressed up against him, reminding him of how it had felt to have her beside him . . . beneath him. It made him yearn for what he could no longer have.
Which was probably exactly what she intended. “That’s not what his mother says,” Victor snapped.
“And you would listen to her, of course, since she’s blond and pretty and rich.”
The note of jealousy in her voice oddly cheered him. At least he wasn’t the only one falling prey to that dangerous emotion. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “Are you really Lady Lochlaw’s cousin, or is that just some connection you’re claiming so you can get close enough to her to . . . to . . .”
“To what?”
As he made a sharp turn into a quieter street, she grabbed the side of the phaeton. “Perhaps you’re the one looking to marry. You didn’t deny that you wanted a divorce.”
“If I’d wanted that, I could have had it long before now. Dutch law allows me to divorce my wife for malicious desertion, and given the circumstances—”
“For the last time,” she bit out, “I did not desert you! And if you try to claim that in a court, I will happily refute it. But given your part in stealing those diamonds, I’d think you’d want to avoid going anywhere near a court.”
The audacity of the woman! She was threatening him. Bad enough that she and her scurrilous family really had apparently stolen the jewels, making sure he got the blame for it. But now she meant to drag him through it all again?
He growled, “You know damned well that I had no part in it. And if you even attempt to imply that I did to the authorities, I swear to God I’ll—”
“Mrs. Franke!” called a voice from a passing curricle. “I was just coming to meet you!” It was a man’s voice. And a very expensive-looking curricle.
Isa grabbed his arm. “It’s Rupert. You have to stop!”
“Why, so you can introduce him to your husband?” he said snidely.
“His feelings will be hurt if you don’t. And he won’t understand.”
“I don’t give a damn,” he ground out. But he reined in. He wanted to know what sort of man had caught her eye. What sort of man needed to have investigators hired to protect him from women.
The baron turned his curricle around and pulled up behind them, then handed his reins to his groom and leapt out to approach them on foot. Victor turned his head to get a good look at the man and got quite a start.
Lochlaw looked nothing like his mother. Dark-haired and spare, he wore wrinkled trousers and a coat with small holes in one sleeve. He had the rawboned features of a youth just coming into his own. But there was no denying how his eyes lit up as he came abreast of the phaeton . . . and Isa.
It chafed Victor keenly.
“I’m glad I ran into you, Mrs. Franke,” the baron said in a rush. “I went to your cottage to borrow Dalton’s book, but your maid told me you’d gone to Mother’s. So I figured you might need rescuing. I know how she can be.” His gaze flicked to Victor, but though curiosity shone in his eyes, he was apparently too well bred to ask who Isa’s companion was.
In his place, Victor wouldn’t only have asked; he would have demanded an answer. But then, Isa was his wife, no matter how much she wanted to escape the connection.
“Rupert,” Isa said hastily, “I’ve just been making the acquaintance of a cousin of yours.” She shot Victor a taunting glance. “Mr. Victor Cale.”
Lochlaw blinked. “My cousin?”
“Your distant cousin,” Victor gritted out.
“Yes,” Isa said. “Your mother introduced us. Apparently, he’s here visiting your family. I suppose you haven’t had the chance to meet him yet.”
The young man looked intrigued. “I didn’t know I had a cousin named Victor Cale. Though the name does sound familiar.”
Thank God Manton had made Victor study the Debrett’s entries for the Lochlaw family before he left London. “My mother was a Rosedale,” he lied, “so our connection is very remote. I believe she was your third cousin, once removed. Or was it second cousin, thrice—”
“I shall look it up,” the baron said brightly.
“No need to go to that trouble,” Isa put in. Was she trying to protect her husband? Or herself?
“But it’s no trouble at all,” Lochlaw protested. “I enjoy looking things up. Almost as much as I enjoy experiments.”
“Experiments?” Victor couldn’t help asking.
“Rupert is a chemist,” Isa explained. “A very good one.”
The man colored to the tips of his ears. “Well, only an amateur chemist and not very good yet. But I hope to be.” He cast her a worshipful glance that set Victor’s teeth on edge. “Mrs. Franke inspires me.”
To do chemistry? What did Isa know about chemistry? And why the devil was she “inspiring” this stripling to do it?
Lochlaw studied Victor. “I wonder why Mother never told me you were coming to visit. That’s odd indeed.”
Damn Lady Lochlaw for insisting that her son would never question her subterfuge. “It was a sudden thing. I had some business in Edinburgh, so I paid a call on her. Family courtesy, you know. Your mother and I actually only met for the first time today. She was kind enough to overlook the fact that my mother married beneath her and was cut off from your family.”
That was sort of true, though in reverse. Victor’s mother had married far above her station, and his father had been the one cut off from his family. Or rather, he’d cut himself off with his own unthinkable act.
Lochlaw was gaping at him now. “My mother overlooked that?” He eyed Victor more closely. “Are you sure you met my mother? Because that doesn’t sound like her. She’d be more likely to give you the cut direct. Mother can be . . . well . . .”
“Unpredictable,” Isa supplied, as if she performed such a service often.
“I was going to say rude,” Lochlaw retorted, “but I suppose one shouldn’t call one’s mother rude. Even if she is.”
Victor couldn’t begin to know how to respond to that. The baron was proving even less what he’d expected than the dowager baroness.
“So how long do you mean to stay in town?” Lochlaw asked with seemingly genuine interest. “I’d be delighted to introduce you about, show you some of the sights, bring you to visit the Royal Society of Edinburgh. You could witness some experiments.”
“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Cale has no time for that,” Isa put in, a panicky note in her voice. “If he’s here on business, he’s probably going to be busy.”
“Nonsense,” Victor said, determined to be the fly in her ointment until he found out what he needed to know. “I can mix a little pleasure with my business.” And he was supposed to be finding out more about Rupert’s relationship with Isa.
“Wonderful!” Lochlaw said. “It’s not often I have a cousin in town. They tend to avoid Mother, especially the male ones.”
Victor actually found himself sympathizing with the man. “They’re probably just intimidated by such a beautiful and elegant lady.”
“No, I think they hate that she keeps touching them,” Lochlaw said matter-of-factly. “They seem to find it uncomfortable.”
“Rupert!” Isa chided.
He blinked. “Too direct?” He glanced at Victor. “I have a bad habit of saying what I mean, and not what I should. It gets me into trouble.” He smiled shyly at Isa. “Mrs. Franke helps me with that, too.”
Victor was flummoxed. The baron sometimes seemed more like a schoolboy than a man, but he was definitely infatuated with Isa.
Her feelings weren’t quite as clear, though she and the baron were obviously close. And that irritated Victor more than he liked.
“It appears that Mrs. Franke helps you with quite a few things,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Indeed she does,” Lochlaw answered. “She’s teaching me Dutch, so I can read Dutch articles about chemistry. There aren’t many, but I hate to miss anything. I already know German and French, so Dutch isn’t too difficult.”
“Rupert is writing his own article,” Isa explained. “He knows a great deal about something called atomic theory.”
“Speaking of that,” Lochlaw said to her, “I need Dalton’s book. I plan to read it this evening and start work on my article tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to the theater?” Isa said.
“The theater!” Rupert slammed his palm against his forehead. “I forgot all about it. Is it Saturday already?”
“I’m afraid so. But if you would rather not go—”
“We have to,” Rupert said firmly. “Mother insisted that I invite you. If we don’t show up, she will be very vexed. I shall just have to read the book tomorrow. Can you loan it to me?”
“Certainly,” Isa said, determinedly ignoring Victor. “It’s best if you take me home anyway. I’m sure Mr. Cale has things to do.”
“Nothing more important than squiring you about, Mrs. Franke,” Victor said as he watched his quarry slipping between his fingers. “You can bring the book tonight, so as not to inconvenience his lordship.”
“It’s no inconvenience at all, cousin,” Lochlaw said heartily. “I’m a regular visitor at Mrs. Franke’s.”
Victor clamped down on a hot retort.
Isa stood and nearly overset the phaeton. “Then it’s settled.” She held her reticule against her chest like a shield as she stared pointedly down at Victor, obviously waiting for him to let her out. “I don’t wish to keep you, sir.”
And it dawned on him why she was suddenly so eager to escape him. She didn’t want him to know where she lived.
Unless she had another reason. Was she thinking of fleeing Edinburgh now that he’d shown up? His gut clenched at that possibility.
But no. She was too entrenched in Edinburgh society to just run off, and she was clearly up to something with young Lochlaw. He doubted she would give that up.
There was also the fact that she seemed to think she could once again make him out to be the one in the wrong. He would have to disabuse her of that notion.
Reluctantly, he descended and helped her down. Lochlaw was already heading back to his curricle, so Victor took his chance to have a word alone with her. When she tried to slip away, he caught her waist in his hands.
“Know this, Isa.” He fixed her with a hard gaze. “If you attempt to leave town, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. I’m not letting you off so easily this time.”
Temper flared in her pretty brown eyes. “Nor I you,” she surprised him by saying. “I don’t know what it is you’re up to, but I won’t rest until I find out.”
She thought he was up to something? The very idea made him want to shake her.
Or take her, over and over. Because now he was only too aware of her painfully familiar scent—violets and honey—and of the softness of her flesh beneath his fingers. Of the way her breath was quickening, as if she felt what he did—the echoes of their past reverberating around them.
“Mrs. Franke!” Lochlaw cried. “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” she said lightly. “Right away.”
Pushing free of Victor’s hold, she said in a low voice, “One more thing. Do as you want with Lady Lochlaw. But if you hurt Rupert in any way, you will have to answer to me.”
And with that peculiar statement hanging in the air, she left.
The hell Rupert was merely a “friend.” She was protective of the man; clearly, she had deep feelings for him.
Victor had to restrain himself to keep from following them. But there was no reason to rouse the baron’s suspicions; surely he could find out where she lived from someone in town. It was time to start doing what he’d been paid to do—investigating.
Now that she had as much as admitted her culpability in the theft, he meant to learn everything he could about what she’d done with the diamonds. There were a few hours before he must dress for the theater, and he would use them to study Mrs. Franke’s life in Edinburgh. The next time he saw his wife, he would be better armed for the encounter.