Free Aurora by Joan Smith

don’t mean to pry, Ken,” Marnie went on, “but that sounds a somewhat inadequate reason.”
    “I left under a little cloud, as you may have heard. I was curious to discover whether it had dissipated, as I hoped, or grown into something more serious. Besides, my hair was too long and I hadn’t the proper wardrobe. I was curious about the gypsies, too. Anyway, I did it.”
    This sounded like humbug to Aurora. It sounded like spying. Meeting servants in the woods and asking prying questions, making his grand dramatic entrance at Clare’s party—really, that was extremely malicious, and she gave a hint that she thought so.
    “It was not at all nice,” he agreed readily. “Spite, in fact. It was you, Miss Falkner, who gave me the idea to dash to London and discover how things stood legally when you told me Clare had taken control of the estate. But she has got a nisi decree only, so there is no problem there. By the time I returned, the party was only a day away, and it seemed so opportune a time to make my return, at a coming-out party for myself, that I couldn’t resist it. My whole time, you see, was not spent spying out things I already knew very well, which is no doubt what I shall be accused of. It was ill-considered of me to have done it. I realize that now, now that it’s too late.”
    “What is the next step in staking your claim?” Marnie asked, satisfied with his explanation.
    “I’ve filed in London. Lord Wiggins is the one who handed down the nisi decree, and he will be trying the case. The next step is up to her. There will be some sort of investigation. I will be required to present witnesses who recognize me, perhaps be posed questions in front of a judge—much the sort of thing we have been through here today, but more formally, and with a variety of questioners, I imagine. Some family members, some old schoolmates or masters. There is no way she can prove I am not me. It is all nonsense, her making such a to-do about it, and unwise of her. If I know Clare, she will be requiring some augmentation of her widow’s income. She always spent like a nabob, and her jointure cannot be so very large.”
    Rorie heard this with suspicion. Was there a veiled hint here that he would be generous to those who supported his claim?
    “You’re lucky you got back before she spent up your capital.” Malone warned him. “A drunken sailor is what the woman spends like.”
    “But there is enough to go around,” Kenelm said with a sardonic smile, “even for two baronesses and a baron. We will do something about fixing this place up for you, Marnie,” he promised. And if this was not a bribe, it came close enough to it to thrill one of the ladies, and heighten the suspicions of the other to a new pitch.
    “It does seem rather dingy after Raiker Hall,” Marnie said at once. She was never one to let a reward slip through her fingers. Much as she loved her sister, Rorie acknowledged this self-interest openly. Her support of this man would be stronger with some hope of material reward. Carrot and stick—he was using both very effectively. Charming flirtation and rewards on the one hand, an implied threat of withholding his protection if she did not fall into line. But Marnie was falling into line nicely. No problem there.
    “I heard some mention at Dougall’s last night that Rutley has disappeared,” Kenelm said. He was called Kenelm by the others, and for lack of any other name, Rorie called him so mentally.
    “That happened ages ago,” Marnie told him.
    “He was never heard of since?”
    “Not to my knowledge. The Rutleys may have heard of him, may know where he is.”
    “I should go and call on them,” he said.
    “Why would you do that?” Marnie asked, and her sister too listened to hear his reason.
    “Father always took an interest in him, but more important, there have been insinuations made that I am my half brother, and if I could produce him, or at least discover where he is—America was