Chapter 11
“Ihope you realize how much you owe me,” Rupert said dryly as he settled into the chair across from Adrian.
Then he leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk.
Adrian cocked a warning eyebrow at the feet, and Rupert sighed as he dropped them to the floor.
“Did I not say just now that you owe me?”
“You could save my life, and I would still insist on you leaving your muddy boots off my desk.”
“Muddy? They are perfectly clean; I will have you know.”
“The point remains the same.”
Rupert grinned as Adrian looked at him flatly. No doubt, he had known that Adrian would make such a demand, and he had merely done as he did so that he could coax some sort of reaction from his friend.
He'd better have good news, or an unkind word spoken will be the least of his worries.
“Very well,” Rupert exhaled and slumped in his chair. “Let us get to it.”
“I did not agree to meet you for your conversational prowess.”
Rupert chuckled. “Nor did I ask to see you for the same. In all the years we have been friends, I do not think I can name a single instance to which I might refer to our conversations as being inundated by prowess. At least not on your part.”
Adrian rubbed his eyes with frustration. While he enjoyed Rupert’s company, speaking to the man was like trying to solve a riddle with no answer. It did not require finesse or strategic thinking. Rather, brute force and battery were the only means to get through.
“You found something?” Adrian asked him, leveling a warning stare across the table.
“Would I be here otherwise?”
“Are you going to tell me what?” Adrian said. “Or do I need to beat it out of you?”
Rupert perked up. “Do you think you could?”
“Rupert,” he groaned. “This is not a joke. If you have nothing, tell me and be done with it. But if you have found something, I would appreciate that you get to the point.”
Rupert chuckled. “Yes, yes, very well…”
It was last night when Adrian had received a letter from his friend.
A most welcome one, in fact, as Rupert claimed to have learned all there was to learn about Lady Delacourt, just as he was sure that somewhere in the trove of his discoveries was an answer as to why she had forced Harriet upon Adrian.
“I must warn you before I begin,” Rupert started. “I do not have a direct answer for you. Nothing I found speaks to you, and as far as I can tell, the two of you have never met.”
“Tell me what you know.” Adrian braced himself. “Let me be the judge.”
Rupert nodded once, exhaled and leaned back, and then he began.
“The Countess Delacourt is exactly who your dear wife has said, and from what you told me of her marriage, there is little there that brings into question her claims.”
“She was having an affair?” Adrian asked.
“Nothing confirmed,” Rupert said. “As I came to learn, she married the earl when she was just nineteen, while her dear husband-to-be was thirty-six.” He chuckled.
“The old scoundrel. But also, not so strange or worth thinking ill of. From what I came to learn, the courtship was typical. In fact, those who witnessed it firsthand are certain that the earl was infatuated with her. He pursued, she accepted, and they married within three months.”
“And the affair?” he pressed.
Rupert shrugged. “Mere whispers and rumors. Oh, it almost certainly happened. My guess is that even the earl knew of it, but chose to do nothing. Likely, he wanted to keep his wife happy.” Rupert scoffed.
“A little too happy by my estimation. However, she was with child, and I suppose that was one bridge our dear earl was not willing to traverse.”
“You were unable to find out who she was having an affair with?” Adrian confirmed. “No idea at all?”
“Those who might have known were not forthcoming,” Rupert sighed. “My feeling is that with her death, few wished to speak ill of her. I will keep pushing, keep prying, and so forth. But as for now…” He shrugged again. “The man is a ghost.”
“As he is certainly not me,” Adrian grumbled.
He still could not fathom why Lady Delacourt had asked for Ophelia to deliver Harriet to his door. Was she insane? Did she confuse him with her lover? There had to be a reason!
“Anything else?” Adrian pressed with a hint of desperation.
Rupert clicked his tongue. “As you know, I asked my questions with an eye toward finding out how she might know you. On the surface, there is no discernible link. No mutual acquaintances. No hidden family ties…”
“There must be something.”
“The only link I could find…” He shook his head and laughed bitterly. “And believe me, it as weak as wet bread. But Lady Delacourt was known to holiday often in Bath, a home that belonged to her family. And one that was not so far from your residence…”
“In Bath…” Adrian perked up.
“Maybe you know it,” Rupert said. “You go there, what, once a year? It’s on the same street, doors painted bright red, with an ugly old tree growing out front.” He shuddered. “I asked why it had not been cut down and the neighbor told me –”
“It has sentimental value,” Adrian said in a whisper as it came to him like howling wind across an empty field.
“You know it?” Rupert sat up.
“I do.”
“So, you know her?”
Adrian clenched his jaw, looked ahead with a dead-eyed stare, and slowly, but so very surely, the pieces of what was a most confusing puzzle started to slip into place.
“It would seem as if I do,” he said as his heart raced. “I never knew her name. To me, she was insignificant, hardly worth noting. It is not as if I make a habit of socializing.”
Rupert chuckled. “That is an understatement.”
Adrian continued to look ahead, the memory crashing upon him like a rogue wave. It had been winter… a storm was brewing… and all Adrian had wanted to do was return to his home, sit by the fire, and drink deep into the night. A common occurrence in his life.
That was the first and last time he met Lady Delaware.
“I was walking home,” Adrian began as he pictured the moment so clearly that it was as if it had just happened the day before. “There was a storm coming, the type that saw the streets empty, as they ought to have been. I was walking past that ghastly tree…” He chuckled with mirth. “You saw it?”
“I did.”
“Then you know it is not just an eyesore but a danger. The way the branches were straining in the wind… I heard it before I saw it. The sound of snapping, and I knew one of the branches was sure to come down. Not that I cared. In fact, I was glad, hoping the whole thing might collapse.”
“What does this have to do with –”
“There was a woman standing under it,” he cut Rupert off.
“She was chasing a cat, trying to herd it back inside. Her attention completely on the feline, so she did not realize the danger that she was in.” He sighed and let his shoulders slump.
“Naturally, I called out, but she did not hear me. So, I did the only thing that I could.”
“You saved her?”
“Barely in time,” he said. “A branch fell; I somehow managed to get to her, and I pulled her away just as it crashed right where she had been standing.”
“And you did not get her name?” Rupert asked.
“I did not want it,” Adrian snapped as if it was somehow Rupert’s fault.
“She was grateful, of course. She tried to invite me in for tea to thank me. To dissuade her, I said something to the tune of good deeds do not require thanks. That…” Adrian winced.
“That the act of helping someone in need was thanks enough.”
Rupert laughed. “Are you sure it was you? That does not sound like –”
“I was trying to stop her fawning,” Adrian snapped again. “I thought that the words would be enough to see her leave me alone. I did not realize that…” That was when it hit him.
“What? Realize what?”
Adrian’s face turned pale, and he fell back in his chair as the final piece of the puzzle slipped cleanly into place. “She must have asked about me. No doubt, she thought I was some sort of savior. And considering what I told her…” He trailed off.
Rupert nodded along. “When she was desperate once again, you came to mind.” He laughed gaily, apparently delighted by this turn of events.
“I must say, Adrian, while you surely do not see the humor here, I cannot help but bathe in it as if it is a warm bath. The one time you do something honorable for another…” More laughter. “And this is the thanks you get.”
Adrian stared blankly at his friend. Not angry. Not even annoyed. Rather, he sat in a state of shock.
He had done the right thing by Lady Delacourt, and he would never dream of doing differently. But that a single good deed had led him down this path, he could not help but consider the obvious…
This is why I avoid people. This is why I make them fear me. And this is why it is better to live in anonymity. This is why it is better to be alone…