The Stranger She Married (38 page)

While Cole thrashed, water splashed over the edge and drenched everyone. By the time Cole's skin cooled, they were exhausted and soaked. By tacit agreement, no one spoke of Cole's delirium.

Jared's wet clothing stuck to his tall, muscular form so like Cole's. He met her gaze with a frank stare of his own, his eyes betraying his concern. His expression softened. “Go change into something dry. We'll get him out of his wet clothes."

Alicia nodded. She took a change of clothes with her and went into the room in which she'd slept but she had to ring for Monique to help her out of her gown and stays. After she changed, Alicia stood by the window. The sun shone and few puffy clouds graced the sky. Her eyes absently followed the garden pathways. Gloom settled over her. If Cole died, she didn't know what she'd do.

Monique moved about the room quietly, setting things in order, and then left her alone with her thoughts.

Nicholas came to her, leaning so heavily on the cane that Alicia wondered if his leg pained him more than normal.

She managed a tired smile. “I thought you were sleeping."

Nicholas shook his cowled head. “I can't sleep."

"Perhaps we should still send for a doctor."

"Trust me when I say Cole thinks they are all incompetent. He'd have my head if I let one near him.” He sounded oddly hoarse.

Alicia went to Nicholas and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hesitated. Then his arms encircled her. She leaned against him, but he stood stiffly, his arms barely holding her.

She pulled away and looked up into the mask. “Are you fearful for Cole?"

Nicholas took his time answering. “We must prepare ourselves for the worst."

She pushed away. “No. He'll recover. You can't lose hope."

Stephens poked his head in through the open doorway. “My lady, I—” when he saw Nicholas, he frowned. His eyes darted between Alicia and Nicholas. “Forgive me for interrupting. I'm out of herbs. I must go to the apothecary. I will return as quickly as I am able."

Alicia nodded. “Of course."

Nicholas sank into the nearest chair. He hunched over and pressed his hands into his eye sockets. “What am I to do without him?"

Tears sprang to her eyes. She'd known her husband and Cole were close, but his stark loss tore at her heart.

And she shared the sentiment, for entirely different reasons.

"Sleep, Nicholas,” she said. “I'll notify you of any new developments."

Nicholas nodded but made no move. She took him by the hand, pulled him to his feet, and guided him toward the bed. As he dropped across the bed, still fully clothed, she closed the door quietly and went back into Cole's room.

He lay so utterly still that a bolt of alarm shot through her. She put her hand on his back and felt it rise and fall as he breathed.

She sat back in relief. Fatigued, she curled up in the chair next to Cole and closed her eyes to rest them for a moment.

She woke to Cole thrashing. She sprang to his side and touched his face. His fever had returned. Outside, dusk gathered.

Nicholas entered. “How is he?"

"If Stephens is back, you'd better get him."

Nicholas came nearer, took off a glove and touched Cole's forehead. He swore under his breath and strode from the room. In the hallway, he called for Stephens in a loud voice.

Odd. Nicholas had walked quickly, without even carrying his cane. And the timbre of his voice sounded different. He must be concerned, indeed.

Cole moaned.

She stroked his hair, leaned in and kissed his cheek, deeply inhaling his familiar scent. A scent so like Nicholas's.

How could that be? Unless....

Her focus moved to his back, to the terrible scars that marred its sculpted muscles on one side. With a barely conceived suspicion, she traced the burn scars that were every bit as severe as Nicholas's. She'd been shy about touching much of Nicholas's skin at night, partly out of fear of what she'd find, and partly out of respect for his privacy, since he clearly wanted to hide his deformities. She'd always assumed Nicholas had been burned all over his face and body, but since she'd never seen him without his mask or clothing, she did not know for sure. But she had touched his back.

Now, as she ran her hands along the rippled scars resembling melted flesh, she was sure. Cole's scars were exactly like Nicholas's.

The burns were the same.

Her heart gave a lurch. The men who bore them must be the same, as well.

Nicholas was Cole.

She leaped to her feet and curled her hands into fists. She wanted to weep, scream, rail against the world. She nearly laughed with relief that she no longer loved two men. She was tempted to slap him soundly for deceiving her.

How could she have not noticed sooner? They had the same masculine scent. They kissed with the same gentleness and passion. They'd both been burned in a fire while serving in the Navy. What other clues had she missed?

She almost smacked her own forehead. Nicholas Amesbury. Cole Amesbury.

But wait, that wasn't possible. She'd seen Cole and Nicholas side by side many times. A moment ago, for example, and many other times since Cole had been shot. In London, she saw them together in the park. Surely there were other times.

Alicia froze. A moment ago, Nicholas walked steadily without a cane and his voice sounded different. Earlier that day, he'd limped strangely and he'd held her differently. He was different.

With growing certainty, she knew that the man in the mask was not the man she'd grown to love. Someone else wore Nicholas's mask just now. Cole's mask. But why? Who? Jared? Grant?

All three brothers had the same build. They could have all been trading places, taking turns wearing the Nicholas disguise.

Surely not Grant. He seemed incapable of any of Nicholas's gentleness. But Jared? Possibly. She'd only spoken with him for a few moments, so it was difficult to judge, but he had shown instances of gentleness that had surprised her.

She pressed her hand over her eyes. It was too awful to contemplate. Had they been switching places only since Cole had been shot, or had it happened several times?

Another horrifying thought occurred to her. Had it been Cole she'd loved at night, or Jared? Or both?

No. Somehow, trading places in her bed seemed too unbelievable. It had been Cole each night. Hadn't it?

Nicholas was Cole. How could she have been so blind? How could she not have noticed?

He'd deceived her.

Had he laughed at her all those times she had shrank from his frightening form as Nicholas? Had he mocked her when he tried, as Cole, to seduce her?

He'd lied to her.

All those times they had spoken, what had been truth? What had been fabrication to further his masquerade? What had possessed him to do it?

He'd frightened her.

She had been so terrified marrying a stranger, a man in a mask which supposedly concealed a scarred, disfigured face and body. She recalled her crippling fear each time she thought of being intimate with the masked baron. All of that had been for naught. A ruse.

Was their marriage a ruse, too? Was it even legal?

Cole's laughing blue eyes and self-deprecating grin settled before her face. He had told her that he felt a responsibility toward her. Had he married her to save her from marriage to Colonel Westin? Had he married her because he wanted her? Or because he felt he owed Armand?

Duty or love?

She sank down in the chair and hugged herself. Whatever his original motivation, he loved her now. Of that she had no doubt. Nor did she doubt that she loved him, both as the confident, roguish Cole, and as the thoughtful, gentle philosopher Nicholas.

But could she forgive him? Could she trust him to not break her heart? Or lie to her? He'd worn a mask. She wondered in what other ways he had deceived her. What else about him did she not know?

Through the window, she saw a rider gallop to the house. Alicia recognized Stephens on horseback. She squared her shoulders. Cole needed her now.

Stephens took command with confidence. Jeffries, Nicholas’ valet, assisted.

Nicholas's valet. She wanted to scream.

Stephens cleaned out the infection and poured distilled spirits over it. Cole moaned and beads of sweat formed on his skin. Tears stung Alicia's eyes. Through her anger and confusion, seeing him suffer caused her pain. Stephens applied a sweet-smelling poultice of several herbs, and bandaged the wounds with clean bandages.

Alicia sat back and looked him in the eye. “I hope this helps my husband."

The men froze. Jeffries ducked his head.

Stephens sighed wearily and nodded. “I knew you'd figure it out before he was ready to tell you."

"What's his real name?"

"Nicholas Richard Amesbury the Third. He has been called Cole since he was a child. I suspect few outside of his family even know that's not his Christian name."

Alicia was silent. She should have figured that one out. “And the titles? The baron is one of his father's secondary titles?"

He nodded. “I believe there are seven or eight family titles. This one's not common knowledge, I suppose."

"If he survives this, I'm going to make him miserable."

The corner of the valet's mouth lifted in ghost of a smile. “I hope that means you're planning on staying with him."

She turned to Jeffries. “Who were you before you became his valet?"

He managed a sick-looking smile. “A footman. When he said he needed two valets, I thought he was mad. Then when he swore me to secrecy and told me his plan, I knew he was."

"Who's been wearing the mask since Cole was shot? Jared?"

Stephens nodded wearily.

"How many other times have they traded places?"

"Twice, that I'm aware of; in London and now here."

"Stay with Cole, Stephens. Jeffries, please ask Jared to meet me in the parlor. And tell him to leave behind the mask and cane."

Looking supremely uncomfortable, the valets obeyed. Alicia went into the parlor and glared at the fire popping in the grate. She did not have to wait long.

Jared arrived, sleepy-eyed, rumpled and unshaven. If she hadn't been so angry with him, she might have found him adorable. He looked so exhausted that she felt a pang of remorse for having him awakened.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Don't shoot."

"I'm not holding a gun, you scoundrel, but I would like to throw something at you."

"Get in line,” he muttered.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He stared at her as if she'd sprouted a horn. “It isn't my secret to tell."

"What if Cole had died?” her voice rose to a shrill note.

"Then I'd tell you, of course. I certainly wouldn't carry on the charade. Tempting as it is.” A rakish glint entered his eyes and one corner of his mouth lifted in such a perfect imitation of Cole that her heart gave a lurch.

Alicia sat down weakly and ignored his innuendo. “So you donned the disguise the moment you arrived here?"

"Yes.” He threw himself down into a chair and stretched out his legs as she'd seen Cole do on so many occasions.

"And in London, when I saw you together in the park?"

"That was by accident."

She folded her arms over her chest and glared. “You put on a mask by accident?"

He smiled. “No. You saw me by accident. I wear the Nicholas costume to move freely about London. There were certain reasons I could not let my presence in London be known."

"I imagine there's a price on your head, what with being a pirate and all,” she said dryly.

"I have enemies on both sides of the law. I've been using the baron's disguise in London the entire time you and Cole were here. And a few times before."

"Not...” she was fearful to ask. “Not ever with me?"

"No.” Gravely serious, he moved to join her on the settee. “Alicia.” He waited until she made eye contact with him. Anxiously, his blue-green eyes looked into hers. Next to Cole, he was the most handsome man she'd ever beheld.

She sighed, her heart softening. “I'm listening."

"His reasons are his own, but I can tell you he did not do it to hurt you. Or embarrass you."

"He's done both,” she snapped indignantly. Without another word, she left the room. Her traitorous feet took her to Cole's side.

She sat next to him and began stroking his hair. Her thoughts swirled, some forging a coherent line, others spinning off unconnected. All those nights filled with guilt for rejecting her husband. Desiring Cole. The loneliness. The despair. If only he had told her.

But up until a few weeks ago, she would have rejected him, just as she had when he'd asked her to marry him.

She pulled herself together. In spite of the deception, she knew him well enough to draw her own conclusions. He had worn the mask to marry her, to protect her from Colonel Westin and save her family. She pressed her hands to her head. All that time, she'd thought Cole was a callous philanderer, trying to steal his cousin's wife, and that Nicholas wanted to cast her off.

He'd seemed different as Nicholas. It was possible Cole used his charming, practiced unconcern to protect the hurting man underneath. Only when he'd worn the mask, did he feel safe enough to show the man inside.

She smiled wryly. Perhaps he used his handsome face as a mask as much as he used the dark cloth.

Robert brought Alicia a tray of dinner and remained to eat with her. They sat in comfortable silence.

She struggled to swallow her food past her sore and battered throat.

"Did you know, too, Robbie?"

"Know what, Lissie?"

"That my husband, Nicholas, and Cole are the same man."

Robert let out an ungentlemanly expletive. “Are you sure?"

Alicia glanced over at the man lying on his stomach in bed. Despite her earlier hurt and anger, tenderness overcame her. “A woman knows her husband.” She felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “And his valets—both of them—confessed when I confronted them."

Robert shook his head. “But I've seen Nicholas since Cole was shot—Oooh. Someone else in the mask? Grant? No, Jared."

Alicia stabbed her chicken viciously. “Jared."

"Bastard sons trying to eliminate an entire family, murderous housekeepers, rakes disguised as scarred cripples and getting married, brothers switching places, what next?"