The Heart That Lies Page 7

  “You don’t have to do anything with me after that, just let me leave.”

  Ignoring her comment, he scratched absently at the court plaster on his left cheek. Noticing her glance he said, “Despite your trip, you still managed to hit me.”

  “But not kill you.” She could not hide her bitterness at that failure.

  “No. You really must tell me why you want me dead.” He sounded as interested as if he were politely asking a visitor whether it were wet outside.

  “You cheated.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He was firm and not in the least defensive. They both knew that she was the liar here. “You’re very good, though. I’ve worked out how you did it, of course, and why I noticed nothing.” His tone was still one of polite disinterest.

  Now Anna did turn away from him.

  “When I am recovered, you will allow Jonas Smith to return to his lodgings.”

  She could not put it more plainly than that. She doubted she could bear to live in his house until she was well, but she had always healed quickly and he would soon tire of sitting by her bed. One day she would just walk down the stairs and out into the street; he would not be able to bear the scandal of keeping her prisoner.

  “Jonas Smith has already returned to his lodgings, paid his bills and returned to Lincolnshire,” said Meldon, not unkindly. “Whatever happens next, you will not leave this house to go and live alone and unprotected.”

  “How...?” she started to ask, but she barely knew what question to ask.

  “Finch. It was his idea and I don’t know how he pulled it off. He came in this afternoon to see you, but you were asleep.”

  Anna was barely listening. In spite of everything she had enjoyed the freedom she had known in the last three months. Men’s lives were even more interesting than she had imagined. Jonas Smith might have been poor, but when he had expressed Anna’s opinions, men had listened to them and not dismissed them as a woman’s fancy. They had discussed Jonas Smith’s opinions politely, rather than tell him he could not have them. She could not let Meldon rob her of that as well.

  “I must apologise to you,” said Meldon.

  “For what?”

  “For injuring you.”

  “In the duel? Isn’t the object of a duel to kill your opponent?” That was certainly the spirit with which she had gone into the duel.

  “I’ve always felt the object is to survive.” He smiled slightly, although it was clear he saw no humour in the subject. “I did not expect to survive,” he admitted. “I’m a terrible shot. I’d have preferred swords.”

  “Mr Finch said you were the best shot he knows.”

  She was uncertain.

  “He lied. He was trying to scare you off. You’d have been safer if I had tried to hit you.” He looked embarrassed.

  “What were you trying to do, then?”

  “I was going to fire wide, but you tripped and...well, I went to help you, forgetting I had a pistol in my hand. When it went off, it was pointing at you.”

  Was he lying or was he such a bad shot that he had killed James accidentally? No, that had been a fencing duel. It had worried her since she had met Meldon, that a lame man had been able to best such a competent swordsman as James had been. It was impossible, after Meldon’s behaviour at their duel, to believe that he had cheated somehow as she had originally thought. The fight must have been fair.

  “Do you think you could eat something?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “A drink, then?”

  Anna was thirsty, but did not wish Meldon to touch her again.

  “No.”

  “Perhaps when you wake again.”

  Her last thought as she drifted off into sleep again was to wonder how Meldon knew that she would do so.

  The bedroom was flooded with bright daylight the next time Anna woke. Although it hurt her eyes at first, the late September sun cheered her a little.

  There was a woman sitting by her bed. She was thin, tall and elegantly dressed. Her likeness to Meldon was so striking that Anna knew this must be his sister, Lady Caroline. Older than her brother, she sat calmly pushing her needle in and out of some embroidery.

  Unnoticed, Anna watched for a while, matching the woman’s physical characteristics to those of her brother. Since their first meeting she had admired Meldon’s hands with their long, thin fingers. Even when he was doing no more than holding his cards his fingers seemed posed. Despite being acutely aware himself of their elegance, he did not seem to notice that others found them equally elegant. His sister moved her own long fingers as deftly as her brother moved his. Her nose was straighter than Meldon’s and Anna realised that the bend that marred his looks so much must result from a break. The woman glanced at her and it was like looking into Meldon’s eyes. They held the same unspoken challenge and the same certainty of self. Her mouth alone was not superior to his. It was only when she smiled that Anna knew that Meldon’s generous lips were the most perfect things about his face. Where Meldon was plain, however, his sister was beautiful. She had heard it said that there had not been enough good looks left for Meldon after his sister’s birth and it seemed that this was true.

  “Good morning, Miss Smith. I’m Lady Caroline Warren, Meldon’s sister.”

  “Lady Caroline, I’m sorry that you have been put to the trouble of coming here on my account.”

  “Not at all. I hardly ever see my brother when he’s in town.”

  “You’re not seeing him now,” Anna pointed out.

  “He only left a few minutes ago. We talked for a while. Now, I am commanded to make sure that you eat something.” She walked to the bell pull and rang for a servant.

  “George told me very little about you.”

  “George?”

  “My brother, Meldon.”

  “Oh.” Anna wondered what Meldon had told his sister. How had he explained a strange, short-haired woman with a shot wound in his house? “He knows very little about me.”

  This was non-committal enough.

  “The streets are shockingly dangerous at night. You were fortunate that he found you.”

  It was clear that she believed neither of these things.

  “Yes.”

  Agreeing seemed the most sensible course of action; she was not sure how she would stand up to questions from someone as obviously used to getting her own way as Lady Caroline. Even had Anna had her full strength, it would have been difficult to deny her whatever she wanted.

  The servant entered and saved her from further questions. Lady Caroline told her what was required and sent her away again.

  “He says that your wound was serious, but there is little hope of finding the culprits.”

  Anna realised that Meldon was protecting her more than himself. Duelling was illegal, but he had been happy enough to admit to the duel with James. It would cause all kinds of problems if he admitted that he had fought a duel with a woman, even if the woman had been disguised as a man and had instigated the duel. She doubted Lady Caroline would believe her if she told her the truth, which she wasn’t prepared to do.

  “No, I don’t believe the culprit will ever be found,” she confirmed.

  “What he could not answer to my satisfaction, however, was what a young gentlewoman was doing alone in that part of London and why there is no one to look after you but him. You are surely not alone in London. I do not tell you this in the expectation that you will furnish me with the satisfaction of an answer, but to make you aware that I know my brother has lied to me.”

  “Thank you for not prying,” said Anna. “Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to enlighten you later.”

  Lady Caroline smiled. “George is the curious one in the family, not me. I don’t have to know. He tells me that you need my help. That’s enough.”

  Anna saw that this was true. Where her brother was devious and apparently unconcerned by the lies he told, Lady Caroline was utterly straightforward and, it seemed, trusted her brother completely, even though she was
aware of his lies. It was a strange world in which she found herself.

  “You’re very kind.”

  Lady Caroline smiled.

  “I think today we will make sure that you eat and rest and tomorrow we can talk.”

  Anna eased herself back into her pillows thinking that she would do very well with Lady Caroline.

  Later that evening Meldon came to see her. The servants had removed the remains of the light meal that she had eaten. Her untouched glass of port stood on a table next to the bed and Lady Caroline had resumed her embroidery. As promised, Lady Caroline had spoken little and Anna had drifted in and out of sleep throughout the day.

  Meldon knocked at the door and entered when invited to do so by his sister. Anna thought he chafed at the idea of waiting for permission to enter a room in his own house, for she could think of no other reason to explain his obvious impatience as he entered the room.

  “How are you this evening, Miss Smith?”

  Once again his voice was very quiet, as if he feared to break her just by talking loudly.

  “Sleepy.”

  “Good. You have eaten well, I trust.”

  “I have eaten as much as I could.”

  Meldon nodded and turned to his sister.

  “The carriage is ready, Caro.”

  Lady Caroline stood.

  “Good evening, Miss Smith. I shall see you again tomorrow.”

  Anna’s surprise must have shown in her face for Lady Caroline added, “George will sit with you now, but you, I think, will sleep most of the night.”

  She patted her brother affectionately on the arm and left them alone.

  “I prefer not to disturb the servants’ routine by having one of them sit with you during the night,” said Meldon when they were alone, “so I am come to watch over you tonight.”

  “But you disturb your own routine.”

  “In many ways I am the least important person in this house. And the servants cannot take their rest when they wish, as I can.” The thought of his lack of importance did not seem to disturb him.

  He glanced at the glass of port and frowned slightly.

  “Was the port not to your liking?”

  “I am not used to it.”

  Although port was considered a patriotic drink, James had never liked it, so it had not been served at meals in his house.

  “Perkins said it would help.”

  Anna wished she had drunk it while Lady Caroline was here. Now she would have to suffer Meldon’s touch.

  “Very well.”

  Meldon placed the book he was carrying on the chair his sister had vacated and eased Anna up so that she could drink. The port was good and she quickly finished the small amount in the glass.

  “I hope you found Caro good company,” said Meldon as he helped her down again.

  “She said little and asked no questions.”

  “Then I shall try to follow her example.”

  He extinguished all the candles in the room, save the one beside the chair where he sat and opened his book.

  Anna fell asleep with the taste of the port in her mouth and the sound of pages being turned in her ears.

  After a while Meldon put the book down and looked at her. Thoughts of her had distracted him from all his tasks today and even kept him from the sleep that he had needed so badly. For three days and nights he had sat in this chair watching her, listening to her breathe, praying that she would not die. Now it seemed she would live and he had not killed her. It was little enough consolation, considering what he had done.

  Had his enemies really used her to try to kill him, he wondered. They would have done better to have had her lure him into her bed and use the resulting scandal against him, for, now he knew that she was a woman, he could admit the attraction that had made him so uneasy before. His usual resistance would not have lasted long against her. Even her unwomanly short hair could not dispel the attraction. He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like when it reached her shoulders. Would it curl between his fingers or would it be straight like Caro’s? Jonas Smith had been an attractive young man, but he thought that Miss Smith would be a beautiful young woman. When she was rested and had had a few good meals her face would fill out. Surely with the bloom of good health on her face... With a start he realised that he was fantasising about a woman who had tried to kill him. He was even more certain now that this was what had happened. For some reason she had created a life for herself as a man so that she could call him out as a card cheat. That his death had been her object he could not doubt, but he could not fathom her reasons for putting her own life in danger. Perhaps it had not mattered to her which of them survived, or perhaps she had intended that both of them should die. The thought of such depravity sent a shiver of fear through him. That such a young woman could value her own life so little saddened him greatly.

  Some of her colour had returned and Jonas Smith’s familiar face was beginning to appear. The shadows under her eyes were darker and she seemed more fragile, but she looked more like herself, except that she was a woman. It was a wonder to him now that he had not guessed her true identity earlier. Had he not been fascinated by Jonas Smith’s long eyelashes? Had her beauty not aroused him, even as he had believed her to be a man? He should have known that no man could inspire the feelings that Smith had provoked in him.

  He wondered how much Caro guessed. Miss Smith’s short hair must give her some cause for doubting his story about a woman waylaid by robbers while she walked alone through London at night. Caro would never ask and her lack of curiosity was not feigned, but her sense of justice would be outraged so that she would have to know more, so that the guilty could be pursued. He would have to ensure that the blame fell somewhere where it could be supported.

  His lips curved up into a gentle smile as he watched her sleep. Although he was relieved to discover that his attraction to Jonas Smith had not betrayed him, for some part of him at least must have recognised the woman, he now had to face the knowledge that the woman to whom he was attracted hated him enough to want to kill him. Most of his distraction today had been trying to work out why. He didn’t really believe she was an agent for the French, but, apart from his activities for General Warren, his life was so dull that he could not imagine what he might have done to instil such hatred that a woman would turn herself into a man simply in order to fight a duel with him. It occurred to him that she might have been living as a man for other reasons. Some of those reasons disturbed him and, although he tried not to dwell on them, it was while he was thinking about them that he finally slept.

  The next evening, after Lady Caroline had left and Anna was once more alone with Lord Meldon, he asked her again whether there was anyone who should be told where she was.

  “I am alone.” She was exasperated; why could he not accept that no one cared whether she lived or died?

  Meldon frowned. “Then please consider yourself under my protection.”

  “How dare you!” She would have slapped him if she could and had made an attempt to sit up in order to do so before the pain in her shoulder caused her to bite her lip and sink back into the pillows.

  “No. I didn’t...” Meldon coloured and she understood now what he had meant. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “I had no intention of implying anything other than that I would look after you and your interests.”

  Then he paled and started to get out of the chair.

  “Why?” she asked, before he could start fussing about the pain she had caused herself by trying to move. “I called you out to a duel.”

  Meldon sank back down into the chair as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I trust that whatever debt of honour I owed you has now been settled.”

  Anna thought about this for a moment. Her knowledge of duels did not extend to what happened if both participants survived. She would never be able to call him out again and killing him in cold blood was out of the question.

  Was it really settled, though? Did th
at mean James was not avenged? Would he forgive her for accepting the protection of his killer, even if she had no choice?

  As if he understood her dilemma, Meldon said, “It is generally accepted that, whatever the outcome of a duel, the quarrel is over, if not forgotten or forgiven.”

  Anna nodded. “It is settled.” There was some relief in admitting it.

  “Then perhaps we may finally get to know one another properly.”

  Anna thought about all that she had learned about Meldon over the last few months, even before she had met him.

  “Do you mean that I will get to know you better because I’m a woman?”

  Meldon smiled.

  Now Anna was confused; he had always shown a preference for the company of men when he had had the choice.

  “You don’t like women?”

  It had been obvious to her that Meldon had been attracted to her when he had believed her to be a man, but she had thought he would see through her disguise at any moment and expose her.

  “Yes,” he said calmly, “I do like women. Some women.”

  “Yet you have not married.”

  Anna had heard the rumours about his injury, but was surprised that he had not married before he had gone to war. Although he had been young, he had not been too young to marry under such circumstances.

  “No. I have never found the woman prepared to share my life. I’m only a dull farmer.”

  “You are a rich, dull farmer.”

  “The dull farmer doesn’t want to buy a wife. I would rather...” he eased his finger between his cravat and neck, then undid it and threw it to the floor. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually I will have to buy a wife.”

  “What do you read there?”

  Anna was becoming almost as uncomfortable as he in talking about this subject.

  “Some of Mr Wordsworth's poems. My sister insists that I keep up with modern tastes and your own recommendation was... influential. Would you like me to read some aloud?”

  Anna nodded. He had a pleasant voice, so listening would not trouble her and they would be able to avoid talking to one another.