Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(71)
Alec produced a convincing blush. “Oh, ah. Her ladyship, Lady Flora, has found me well-paying pupils, and I do have a small inheritance from my father. Enough to keep Mrs. Finn in fresh linen and decent wine, don’t you know.”
“Finn. Sounds Irish.”
“My father has a small landholding in that country. Very small. Nothing to what your father has. No, no.” Alec gave a breathy laugh, his expression holding just the right amount of humility.
Edward peered again beneath Alec’s hat brim, and this time, his eyes widened. “But you—”
He stood staring at Alec, mouth open, while Celia held her breath. Mrs. Reynolds had her hand in her muff, where Celia knew she kept a pistol. Alec had tensed, his hand edging to the top of his boot.
Then Edward shook himself. “No, no. Forgive my bad manners, Mr. Finn. I understand now why you didn’t continue to the house, Celia. Best to stay apart, let Mother and Father grow used to the idea—am I guessing correctly that they did not condone this marriage? That you eloped?”
Celia dropped her gaze, pretending shame, which was what Edward would expect. “We did. Mama was going to push me into yet another unfortunate match, and I’m afraid I ran away. I had already developed an attachment to Mr. Finn, and he had the kindness to help me.”
Every word true, except Alec’s name.
Edward kept his reproving expression but at last gave Celia a nod. “I understand. But you, sir, if you cause my sister any unhappiness, you will have to discover which end of the sword to hold and answer to me.”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” Alec bowed nervously. “Of course, your lordship. I am quite aware of the honor, Lady Celia has bestowed upon me, quite aware—”
“Enough.” Edward took on his bluff, superior tones. “Good day, Celia. Mr. Finn. Mrs. Reynolds. I hope we all may meet again in happier times.”
Edward tipped his hat then swung around and strode again for the gate, the tails of his red coat stirring.
Celia let out a long breath. Mrs. Reynolds moved swiftly into the inn, requesting rooms for them, and Celia followed. Alec hung back to confer with the coachman, who’d also watched the conversation with great uneasiness. Celia realized that all three of them—Mrs. Reynolds, Alec, and the coachman—had been prepared to kill or at least incapacitate Edward if he’d guessed who Alec was.
The knowledge shook her. She had married Alec, and she was falling in love with him, but Edward was her brother. Would it come to making a choice between them?
She prayed not. She also sent up a brief thanks to the Deity that no other soldiers were in the halls of the inn, or the taproom—she glanced inside as she passed. Edward had been alone.
And then that fact bothered her—Edward was always accompanied by his batman or some servant, and usually a friend or two. So what was he truly doing here, alone in this inn, instead of riding straight for Hungerford Park? She mulled this over as she followed the landlady to her rooms above to wait for Alec.
Celia was washing her hands and face in the basin when Alec came in. Celia turned to him, her face dripping, and reached for the linen towel that hung at the washstand.
Alec closed the door quietly and tossed his hat to a hook, but his face held grim tightness, and his eyes sparkled with fury.
“It’s here,” Alec said as Celia dried her face and came to him. “Will is in that house, Celia. I feel it in my bones. And your brother knows all about it.”
Celia’s distress reached Alec as they ate the meal he barely tasted and on into the darkening night, but Alec couldn’t concentrate enough to reassure her. He knew in his heart Will was in that old manor house, and it was all he could do not to ride off immediately and rescue him.
At a certain time in his life, Alec would have torn off at once, damn the consequences. Only experience and what he’d learned from Will himself stayed his hand.
If he charged through the woods, no matter how stealthily, the guards who were certain to be posted would stumble upon him, and if he wasn’t shot outright, he’d end up inside the prison, keeping Will company.
He needed a cool head, and a plan.
Alec stared out the window, though he couldn’t see much but the corner of the yard. He half expected Edward to return, bringing a contingent of soldiers with him. He was certain Edward had realized Alec was a Highlander, and had thought one of the prisoners had escaped.
Celia remained on the stool at the fire, staring into the flames, an untouched cup of coffee on the table.
Alec pried himself from the window and went to sit with her. “I’m sorry, love.”
Celia looked up at him, and Alec was startled to find her eyes full of anger. “Not your fault if Edward has a part in locking men into secret prisons. Oh, Alec, if he has done this, what am I to do?”
“I wish I could tell you.” Alec rested his hand on her cold one. “My only worry at the moment is to decide how I rush in and take my brother out. I won’t have the wherewithal to ponder the grand implications of it all until later. That’s why I’m sorry.”
Celia let out a breath. “I’ve always admired my brother. So proud when he decided to become an officer instead of idle away his time like so many first sons do, waiting to inherit. We were so fond of each other as children. He was angry at me, yes, when I wouldn’t marry Lord Harrenton, but I held out hope that we’d reconcile.” She shivered. “But I couldn’t forgive this.”