The Impostor's Kiss. Tanya Crosby Anne

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      “I am leaving,” she assured him.

      “He’s nothing but a common thief,” Merrick told her. “There is absolutely nothing noble about him. The man robbed me and left me to die where I lay.”

      He thought she rolled her eyes, but they were still covered and he couldn’t quite tell. “You were scarce in danger of bleeding to death,” she assured him, unmoved. “It was merely a scratch.”

      “Really?” His fingers sought his wound for validation. “Scratches don’t require stitching,” he protested. Damn, but was he looking for pity? He didn’t deserve the contempt she was giving him.

      Hawk did.

      “Oh, yes, it should scar quite nicely,” she said, sounding smug as she turned her back to him at last.

      Heartless vixen.

      “And as long as we are discussing the matter so freely,” she added, casting him a glare over her shoulder, “I believe justice was served last night—a lesson to you for running out so rudely on your mother’s birthday celebration. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall go and inform the constable that you are quite eager to see him.”

      His mother’s birthday celebration?

      Her declaration rendered him speechless.

      As though his eyes were drawn to it, he glanced across the room, noticing for the first time the portrait of a woman in her youth. It was the same woman in the portrait his father had guarded so fiercely. She was unmistakable in her elegance. He blinked, glancing back at the fiery angel paused in the doorway, and was struck at once by the truth.

      It was no accident of nature that he and Hawk looked so remarkably alike that no one seemed able to tell them apart.

      Pure emotion barreled through him, the force of it so intense that he was glad he was lying down. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

      She marched from the room, leaving Merrick to stare after her, stunned by his epiphany.

      Hawk was his bloody brother.

      And his mother…she was still alive.

      Ryo had known, damn him to hell. That was why he’d tried to keep Merrick from Glen Abbey Manor. It was also why he’d delayed their arrival as long as he’d dared and then had bolted away at the first opportunity…thinking Merrick was still aboard, no doubt. He was like to be halfway to London by now…with Merrick’s brother in tow.

      When the haze cleared from his thoughts and he looked up again, she was gone.

      Merrick leaped from the bed. “Wait!” he called after her. But he didn’t know her bloody name and she didn’t stop.

       Chapter Four

       H ow dare he look at her as though she’d rent his heart from his breast, Chloe thought as she made her way to the drawing room. She was vexed with herself for feeling remorse where Lord Lindale was concerned. Why should she regret harsh words when he deserved to feel wretched?

      In the drawing room she found Lady Fiona engaged in a heated discussion with Constable Tolly, refusing to give quarter. She smiled softly as she watched the mistress of Glen Abbey Manor at work. She guarded her privacy and her son like a lioness.

      “My son will be most pleased to receive you on the morrow,” she assured the constable. “However, today I shall not allow it.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “Please forgive me if you feel thwarted. That is certainly not my intention.”

      The constable stood with his hat in hand, his face florid with agitation. “My lady,” he pleaded. “How will I capture this brigand if you and the rest of Glen Abbey refuse to cooperate? You above everyone in this town should be most concerned after what he’s done to you.” He was referring to her crippled legs, and straightened uncomfortably, rising to his full height.

      His awkward attempt to cow Fiona failed miserably. She was as unrelenting as the constable was persistent.

      Unable to rise to the occasion, Lady Fiona straightened in her chair, clearly piqued. “It is my full intention to cooperate with your investigation, William. As you recall, I gave you a full report when I encountered the cad myself. But I simply cannot allow you to disturb my son whilst he recovers, and that is that!”

      “But, madame!” the constable protested still. “The time to debrief Lord Lindale is now, while the incident is freshly impressed upon his brain. Not later, when time has eaten away at his memory like tiny maggots.”

      “I beg of you, don’t be so melodramatic!” Lady Fiona charged him. Her usually pale complexion suffused with a furious rose. “And by the by, what incident is it that you are speaking of?” she asked him, tapping her nails firmly against her wheeled chair. “I was told that he fell off his bloody horse!”

      The constable gasped at her blasphemy. Lady Fiona never lost her sense of propriety. Still, he persisted. “Attempted robbery, my lady. We have reason to believe there may have been one.”

      “Really?” Chloe asked, lifting her brows. “Did someone report a robbery?”

      The constable finally noticed her standing in the doorway. For an instant he considered his answer. “Not precisely, Miss Chloe, but last evening there were reports of a strange vehicle in the area—headed toward Glen Abbey Manor. Today the vehicle seems to have utterly vanished. It obviously did not arrive at its destination, nor was it registered at the inn.”

      Chloe chewed her bottom lip, contemplating whether to reveal Lord Lindale’s confession.

      “I rather hoped Lord Lindale might shed some light on the mystery.”

      “What leads you to believe the carriage was bound for the manor?” Chloe asked him.

      “Miss Chloe,” he said a little impatiently, “no one ventures this way anymore unless they are bound for Glen Abbey Manor. It is the only estate left of any consequence.”

      “I see,” Chloe said. It was true. Thanks to Lindale’s avarice, Glen Abbey was, indeed, a withering township. Too far inland to serve as a port town, and nearly inaccessible by land, the town had too few resources, very little industry and a landlord who was intent upon collecting and spending every last farthing from his tenants’s pockets.

      The constable pleaded, “I beg you…the man is the very ‘seed of corruption,’ which has grown like strangling vines about Glen Abbey’s throat.”

      “Please, William,” Lady Fiona said, rolling her eyes, “spare us the theatrics.”

      Chloe tried not to smirk. It was no wonder the constable felt frustrated; his sentiments were hardly shared by the townsfolk. And knowing that the Hawk’s efforts brought food to babes’ mouths, Chloe held her tongue. If Lord Lindale wished to speak out against Hawk, he would need do so himself.

      Lady Fiona stood her ground. “I never said we would not cooperate, Constable. I only appeal to your sense of decency. Come back tomorrow.”

      The constable’s complexion was by now apoplectic. “Very well, you leave me little choice.” He smashed СКАЧАТЬ