Katie MacAlister - The Trouble With Harry

“A description given by a man who saw Mr. de Spenser walking last night with a very agitated woman of Lady Rosse’s coloring, a lady who was wearing a blue-and-gold dress remarkably similar to the one we found in Lady Rosse’s wardrobe.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Plum snorted, nervously aware that if Sir Paul found out she’d left the Darvell’s home early, her goose would really be plucked. “My niece and I were out last evening at a private dinner party at the home of Sir Ben and Lady Darvell. They will tell you we were there.”

“I have already spoken to Lady Darvell,” the police head answered, his eyes filled with a light of speculation that had all hope within her plummeting to her boots. Her goose wasn’t just plucked, it was roasted and carved. “She informs me that you left early, leaving your niece behind. No one seems to have seen you leave. I find that extremely…curious.”

Plum glanced at Harry, unsure of what to say about their assignation.

“My wife was with me after she left the Darvell home,” Harry said quickly. “I can vouch for her whereabouts from nine o’clock on. Your witness is mistaken.”

“No doubt you can vouch for her,” Sir Paul said smoothly. “Alas, sometimes gentlemen are mistaken about such matters as time, especially when it concerns their wives.”

“Dammit, man, are you accusing me of lying?”

Plum got to her feet, holding Harry back as he lunged forward.

Sir Paul also rose to his feet, slowly, as if he was savoring a pleasure. “I would not be so foolish, my lord. I suggest simply that you might be mistaken. And now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my offices…with Lady Rosse. I’m sure you understand that it is with the greatest regret that I must ask her to accompany me, but as you have no explanations for the proofs I have submitted—” He shrugged a delicate shrug.

Plum decided she loathed him, but realized that if she did not agree to be taken into custody, Harry would fight to the death to keep her free. She couldn’t allow that; she couldn’t bring even more trouble onto his head than she’d already caused. She had to go with the odious Sir Paul even though every fiber of her body protested against leaving Harry.

“Your proofs are nothing but cobwebs, insubstantial and unbelievable. I will not tolerate you slandering my wife in this manner. You will take her from this house over my cold, lifeless body!”

“Harry,” she said, turning her back to Sir Paul, facing her husband. She took one of his hands, rubbing his knuckles gently against her cheek, smiling into the fury that darkened his eyes from their normal hazel to almost pure forest green. “It’s all right. We both know I’m innocent, and the innocent have nothing to fear. I will go with Sir Paul now, and you will contact your solicitor and see about having me remanded to your custody.”

“No. It’s unthinkable that my wife should be taken away like a common criminal—”

“I know, my darling. I don’t like it any more than you, but I will not have anyone suffer any more for my folly and Charles’s cruelty. You have the children to protect. Once the scandal about Vyvyan La Blue is made public, they will need to be reassured and comforted.”

“Plum, you can’t do this,” Harry said softly, pulling her to him, his breath brushing her face, his eyes bleak with pain. “You can’t leave me. I need you.”

“And I need you,” she whispered, annoyed that such an intimate scene be witnessed by Sir Paul. She swallowed back the tears that wanted to form, knowing she must put a good light on the situation to keep Harry from forcibly ejecting the head of police from the house. She smiled, and took his hand, placing it on her still flat belly. “We both need you, but you can’t help me if you’re arrested for assault or worse. You have to let me go with him. You have to stay here and protect the children from the scandal. I love you. I need you. But right now I need you at home more than with me.” She softened her words with a kiss, her lips clinging to his as if they hated parting.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he looked over her shoulder. “The least you can do is not say anything to anyone about Plum being Vyvyan La Blue. If that’s made public, it will ruin her reputation.”

“And no doubt yours, my lord,” Sir Paul said with a slight bow of his head that didn’t quite hide the slight smile that left Plum with an even greater loathing of him. “I will of course endeavor to do all that I can for Lady Rosse, but the papers have ways of finding out such dirty little secrets.”

Harry’s fingers tightened around hers. She tugged his hands until he looked at her. “It will be all right, Harry, I promise. We won’t be parted for long. You must stay here. I count on you to…count on you…” She frowned, a sudden thought claiming her attention. She turned to Sir Paul. “How did you know I was Vyvyan La Blue?”

“Eh? Oh, it was mentioned in de Spenser’s letter.”

Harry’s quick intake of breath confirmed her dawning suspicion. “Is it? I don’t remember that he specified which book I had written.”

“That’s because it wasn’t there,” Harry said, stepping in front of her at the same time he shoved her behind him. Plum made a mental note to take issue with him regarding that action at a later date.

“You’re wrong. I distinctly remember de Spenser referring to Lady Rosse as being the author of a book that would cause no little grief should it be made public.”

“A fact that appears to give you great enjoyment,” Harry growled.

Plum moved to his side, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “Where did Charles mention that? It wasn’t in the letter you showed me.”

“Nor the one you showed me. Could it be that the letters are a forgery?”

“Your lady herself confirmed that the handwriting was that of Charles de Spenser,” Sir Paul said, but Plum interrupted him before he could go further.

“I said I thought it was Charles’s writing, but I couldn’t be certain.”

“It doesn’t matter if de Spenser did write the letter,” Harry said softly. Plum was aware that Harry’s muscles were tense, as if he was coiled, ready to spring. “He mentioned nothing about Vyvyan La Blue in the letter. Which brings us back to my wife’s question — how did you know about it?”

Sir Paul’s head came up, his face filled with scorn and condemnation. “Does it matter? The fact is that your wife is a pornographer. That alone would be grounds for her arrest.”

“I think not,” Harry said smoothly. Plum eyed him warily, worried about the lack of emotion on his face. The sense of an animal about ready to spring was heightened by the way Harry moved toward Sir Paul, every movement filled with masculine grace and strength. “Plum? Who are the only people who know the identity of Vyvyan La Blue?”

“You, Thom, my friend Cordelia who would never reveal it, Mr. Belltoad the publisher, and Charles.”

Sir Paul started to protest, but Harry’s voice cut across it like a lash. “And of those five people, who do you imagine to be the most likely to tell Sir Paul who you were?”

She looked at the older man, noticing the line of perspiration across his brow. “I would imagine Charles would be the most likely.”

“That is ridiculous—”

“SILENCE!” Harry roared. His voice dropped to its normal volume, although he still spoke in that controlled manner that warned Plum he was incredibly angry. If he was suspecting the same thing she was, he had every right to be furious. “I concur with your reasoning, Plum. If we follow that idea to its logical conclusion, we must assume that in order to have heard from de Spenser the truth about Vyvyan La Blue, he must also have met Charles. Perhaps he met him last night. In the evening. As de Spenser left our home, driven out by the children, fleeing into the night like the coward he was.”