The man Linette denounced on her death bed, thought Rosalie with a shudder. The man who was most likely responsible for the destruction of Helen’s house. Why was he here, with Eyepatch? Somehow she summoned up the last of her strength and lifted her head to blaze resistance. ‘How dare you interfere like this? Give me the child!’
Stephen smirked. ‘Well, well, Alec. Think you’ve really overstepped the mark this time.’
Alec, ignoring him, said curtly to Rosalie, ‘Did you let this man buy you a drink?’
‘Yes! But it was only lemonade!’
‘Only lemonade. You surely don’t intend, considering the state you’re in, to let him take you and your child to his house?’ Alec knew Stephen’s acquaintances. Their ways of passing the night-time hours made the Temple of Beauty look like a haven of respectability.
She was gazing fiercely up at him, but her face was white as a sheet. ‘I—I had no alternative.’
‘You could have made him take you to your home!’
‘I couldn’t!’ She clenched her hands. ‘The house where I stay has been burned to the ground!’
He was stunned. ‘Burned to the ground … Deliberately?’
But she’d bent over to be sick again. Alec held Katy tight—’Mama?’ the child was saying uncertainly. Dear God, this woman’s home had just been burned down. And now she was going to Stephen’s house, with her child—when Stephen had as good as poisoned her!
He couldn’t stand seeing her there, so wretched. So damned foolish as to trust his brother. Alec swung round, Katy still in his arms, to fix Stephen with a steady, burning gaze of contempt. ‘That’s it, Stephen. Take your fancy carriage and leave—now.’
Stephen glanced angrily at Rosalie. ‘You forget. Rosalie and her child are under my protection. Give me the infant—’ He reached for Katy, who began to scream and clung to Alec even tighter.
‘Your protection! That’s a joke,’ breathed Alec. ‘Do you value your inheritance, Stephen? Do you value your life? If so, then you’d best get the devil out of here!’
Stephen paled. Then he squared his shoulders and turned to a trembling Rosalie, murmuring, ‘My dear, you’ll observe that the matter is out of my hands. But I suggest you think carefully about believing anything this man says, especially if it relates to me. I’ll see you again soon, I hope. And as for you, Alec—I hope to see you in hell.’
With that Stephen barked orders to his driver, climbed back into his carriage and it rattled away down the street.
Rosalie moved quickly. Snatching Katy from Alec, she began to march off in the rain, her mudsoaked clothes clinging coldly to her legs. She didn’t know where she was or where she was heading. She felt sick and desperate. Katy was crying again.
Alec charged after her while Eyepatch, face set, held the two horses. ‘Stop, Rosalie. Where are you going?’
‘I don’t care! Anywhere!’ she cried. The rain was pouring down; they were all wet through.
‘Rosalie.’ Urgently he caught her by the shoulder and swung her round. ‘You surely didn’t believe that Lord Maybury intended to help you!’
‘I think he’d have found us better accommodation than his basement!’ She tilted her chin defiantly. ‘Why do you hate him so? What is he to you?’
It was a timely reminder for Alec that she didn’t even know Stephen was his brother. And now was perhaps not the moment to tell her. ‘Sorry,’ he grated, ‘sorry, there was I forgetting that you had an appointment with him, back in Piccadilly.’
‘I did not have an appointment with him!’
‘So you believe he was at the same place as you by chance, do you?’
‘Of course! Why else?’
‘He bought your drinks. And now you’re sick as a dog … Yet you were going back with him, in his carriage?’
She clutched Katy tighter, her face blazing defiance again. ‘I had nowhere else to go! And you, of all people, should know why, since you are responsible!’
Alec drew a deep breath. Light was just beginning to dawn. ‘I take it you’re talking about that fire again.’
‘Yes, and don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know! My friend Helen’s home was burnt to the ground tonight, because you took exception to my comments about your way of life, that day at Two Crows Castle! And I know you also set your men two weeks ago to destroy my friend’s printing press—her livelihood!’
Oh, devil take it. The smashed press, the fire. She thought it was him. He clenched his jaw. ‘Certainly I did not like the garbage you spouted that day you came to my home, chiefly because it in no way resembled the truth. But to think I would take such squalid and petty revenge …’ Alec took a deep breath. ‘Listen to me. I was not responsible for the damage done to your friend’s printing press. I did not set fire to your friend’s home tonight.’
She lifted her chin, in defiance and disbelief. ‘You have plenty of men to do your dirty work, though, haven’t you?’
‘You are insulting them,’ he snapped. ‘I thought you as Ro Rowland pretended to be on the side of former soldiers. Now you’re assuming, as so many others do, that they’re all common criminals. Well, don’t. And your friend with her printing press has no doubt made countless enemies if she regularly publishes vitriol-filled, inaccurate pieces like the one you were starting to write about Two Crows Castle that day you came to visit.’
She swallowed hard. Either he was an extremely good liar, or he was telling the truth. Impossible. But …
He was reaching into his pocket, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. ‘Here,’ he said tiredly. ‘You dropped this.’
It was the letter Biddy had brought to her, from Helen. She had forgotten all about it. Still clutching Katy, she unwrapped it with fingers that were numb with cold.
Dear Rosalie, we are all safe, though the house is a burned-out shell. I am sending Katy to you with Biddy, because the child was inconsolable and wanted you badly. As Biddy will tell you, you must make haste, both of you, to Mr Wheeldon’s house.
I have more idea now, Rosalie, who our enemy is. Because shortly before the fire another note was delivered, just like the first—on the same notepaper, in the same handwriting—saying, ‘If you write one more word about Lady A., then you and those close to you will be the target next, not just the house.’ I fear I have made a vicious enemy, Rosalie. But Mr Wheeldon and his sister and their servants here make me feel most secure …
Rosalie felt the world tilt around her. An enemy Helen had made, then, not her. So the finger of blame was no longer pointing at Alec Stewart … Oh, Lord. She tried to shove the letter back into her pocket, impeded because Katy, upset, was fighting to get free.
‘Hush, sweetheart,’ Alec was saying softly to the little girl. He’d picked up the tattered rag doll she’d dropped and gave it to her.
Katy gazed up at him, her crying hiccupping to a stop. ‘Polly-doll,’ she said.