A Kiss in the Dark (15 page)

Cressida considered the offer but finally declined it. “Thank you, but we have been enough trouble already. With a couple of footmen to keep guard, we shall be safe here. Beau felt the man was not really vicious. He did not bang his head as hard on the floor as he might have.”

Dauntry stared. “Very civil of him, I’m sure. More important, did he touch you?”

“No, my charms proved no temptation at all. It was very dark,” she added when his lips moved uncertainly. “He ran like a rabbit when I screamed. He seemed to know his way about the house. It was pitch-black in the corridor, but he ran straight for the backstairs and out the kitchen door.”

“Some local fellow, seeing what he could pick up. Someone who served here as footman or groom in the past, likely, and did not realize the house had been let.”

“It is odd a local would not know it. Any doings at the castle must be discussed in the neighborhood. We have been to Beachy Head, too.”

“That is true. Yet a passing ken smasher would not know his way about the house. In fact, very few people would.”

“Melbury would,” she said.

Dauntry shook his head. “No, I do not believe it was Melbury.”

“The intruder was the size of the fellow who came here calling himself Brewster.”

“I’ll have a word with Brewster.”

“Why not have a word with Tory? She would know if the man was Melbury. The man who first called, I mean.”

“A good point.”

Cressida rang for her. She came to the door, looking as if she were confronting a pair of lions. “What can I do for you, milady?” she asked.

“You can tell us who Lady deCourcy’s mysterious caller was, Tory,” Dauntry said. “The one you pretended was Melbury.”

“It was Melbury, milord,” she said with a guilty look.

“You know perfectly well he is in Bath.”

“Well, he looked like Melbury. They do say we all have a double of ourselves on the earth,” she added lamely.

Dauntry turned to Cressida in disgust. “This is pointless. I’ll speak to Brewster. He might have some idea who it could be.”

Tory turned tail and fled from the room.

“Can’t you make her tell you?” Cressida said.

“She is protecting someone. She wouldn’t tell if you yanked every tooth from her head one by one.”

Cressida winced at this brutal speech. “Who would she lie to protect?”

“Any of my family. She is faithful to a fault. She means no harm, you know. You can at least console yourself that your caller had no evil intentions, or Tory would be the first one after him with a poker. And now, most reluctantly, I shall leave you.”

He seized her hand and raised it to his lips. Cressida felt a warm weakness invade her.

“What were you trying to tell me about Amarylla, Dauntry?” she asked in a breathless voice.

He lifted his eyes and gave a wicked smile. “I had toyed with the notion of moving her into the cottage to keep you away. And to make you jealous,” he added.

“I see. And are you no longer eager to make me jealous?”

“Surely we have gone beyond that stage, you and I.”

“Speak for yourself. I was jealous as a green cow when Beau thought you had opened up a harem at the cottage.”

Dauntry paused over that statement. “I hardly know whether to be flattered, or find Beau and give his head another tap on the floor. Harem indeed!” She smiled indulgently. “Does he think I am made of gold? It would cost a fortune.”

“Dauntry!”

“I can scarcely handle one lady, let alone a whole harem. I shall be back this afternoon. Don’t let any more strange men into your boudoir.”

They were interrupted by a bustle at the doorway as Miss Wantage came in. “Thank God you have come!” she exclaimed, rushing up to Dauntry. “I see Cressida has been telling you about the assault. What are you going to do about it? A lock on the door is useless when anyone with a club can break down the windows and ravage us.”

Cressida said, “Dauntry is sending down two footmen, Miss Wantage, and speaking to the constable.”

“The constable,” she said with a dismissing sniff. “If he is anything like the men in Bath, it is a waste of time. Some villain stole the door knocker right off Cousin Margaret’s door in broad daylight. I gave the constable a perfect description of him, for I caught a glimpse of him as he hightailed it around the corner. A man in a fustian coat with a face like a thief—and they refused to find him. Two footmen, you say? Surely we require at least three. There are three doors.”

“Three footmen,” Dauntry agreed.

“What about all the windows?”

“The footmen would hear if the glass was broken,” he said, reining in his temper.

“You may be sure they will be sawing logs within an hour of their posting.”

“What do you suggest, Miss Wantage?” Dauntry asked.

When she looked at his forbidding expression, she hadn’t the fortitude to suggest bars on the windows.

“A dog,” Dauntry said for her. “I shall send down an insomniac hound, fed with strong coffee, to guard the house.”

Miss Wantage considered this and found it satisfactory. “There now,” she said triumphantly to Cressida. “I told you Lord Dauntry would handle it, when you said it was pointless to ask him.”

Dauntry turned a kindling eye on Cressida, who stood with her mouth open in astonishment.

“We’ll catch the bounder tonight when he comes back after me,” Miss Wantage continued. “I must go and ask Muffet to pay Crump before he leaves. You can settle up with Muffet later, Cressida.”

She sailed out of the saloon, actually wearing a smile.

Dauntry just shook his head. “I shall return, Saint Cressida. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for not accepting my injudicious offer to remove your household to the castle. And by the bye, what was that remark she let slip about it being pointless to ask Dauntry for help?”

“Pray do not harass me, Dauntry. One impossible friend at a time is enough.”

“At least you call me friend. That will have to do—for now. Though how you can find it in your heart to call that shrew one is beyond me.”

He looked to the doorway to see they were alone, stole a quick kiss, and left.

Cressida’s spirits were much improved after Dauntry’s visit. She was still concerned about the man who had broken into the house, and about the missing letter, but her romance with Dauntry was a great consolation. Was it possible she had finally found a man she could love, and who could love her, with all her faults? She went out to ask Muffet if Beau had returned. He had not, which suggested he had gone for a ride without her.

“By the bye,” she asked, “how much do I owe you for Miss Wantage’s lock?”

When he told her the price, she said, “That is rather dear. I hope it is a good, stout lock.”

“That is for both locks,” Muffet replied.

“Both of them? Oh, she had one put on my door as well, though I told her not to.”

“I believe ‘twas Mrs. Armstrong who asked for the other lock, missy.”

“I see.”

Mrs. Armstrong ought to have spoken to her first, but Cressida was not a hard mistress. She thought no more of it, but went to change into her riding habit. Beau would likely return soon, and they could ride out together. As she passed the attic door en route to her chamber, she noticed a shiny new padlock on the door. Miss Wantage came poking her head out to see why Cressida had come upstairs. One of the lady’s most annoying features was her rampant curiosity.

“Why did Tory have the attic padlocked?” Cressida asked.

“Why, I assumed you had asked her to do so, my dear. You never mean she took it upon herself to do it without speaking to you? Encroaching creature! Mind you, I thought it an excellent idea, considering the wailing that went on up there the night we arrived. Who is to say the villain has not been up there all along?”

“Did Tory give you the key?”

“No, I made sure she would give it to Muffet.”

“Muffet said nothing to me.”

Cressida returned below stairs at once and summoned Mrs. Armstrong.

“I would like to know why you had a new lock installed on the attic door without consulting me, Tory,” she said.

“Why, for your own protection, milady, to be sure. Miss Wantage seemed mighty taken with the idea.”

“I am the mistress of this household,” she reminded her headstrong housekeeper. “If you will just give me the key.” She held out her hand in a peremptory manner.

“You’ll never believe what that Crump went and did, milady. I blame myself entirely, for I ought to have checked before he left. Didn’t the gudgeon walk off and leave the wrong set of keys with me. They don’t open the door.”

“Mrs. Armstrong, give me the keys at once, or I shall take an ax and batter the door down.”

“They don’t work,” Tory said, and took out two keys held together on a tin ring. She began to remove one key.

“I’ll take them both,” Cressida said.

Tory handed over the two keys. Cressida marched up to the attic while Tory tagged along, offering excuses and explanations.

Cressida ignored her. She inserted one of the keys in the lock. It turned smoothly with a quiet click.

“Well now,” Tory said in simulated astonishment. “The oil I asked the backhouse boy to put in the lock has done a world of good. Did you ever see the likes? It must have been rusted.”

As Cressida flung the attic door open, Tory hastily leapt to the stairs in front of her and began speaking in a loud tone, pitching her voice up the staircase.

“You will not find anything you shouldn’t, milady. There is nothing up here but bat droppings and lumber.”

She reached the landing two seconds before her mistress and looked all about, drew an audible sigh of relief, and smiled at Cressida. “There, you see, it is just as I said. Not a soul up here.”

As she spoke, she attempted to hustle Cressida back down. Cressida pushed her aside and marched into the second room. She saw the mattress on the floor by the window, the roll of blankets, the pitcher of lemonade, and the plate of biscuits. E’er long, she espied the tip of a head protruding above a dresser.

“Come out of there at once,” Cressida said in her most imperious tone, expecting to see the man who called himself Brewster.

The head rose a few inches higher, revealing a tousle of blond curls, a pair of wide-set blue eyes, and a dainty, retroussé nose.

“Good God! It’s a woman!” Cressida exclaimed.

The young woman sidled out from behind the dresser. Her traveling suit was wrinkled and spotted with stains, but it was an exceedingly fashionable suit of blue worsted.

“You must be Lady deCourcy,” a shy voice said. The woman—girl, really—curtsied.

“Who the devil are you?” Cressida asked.

“I’m Tony,” the girl said, and burst into tears.

“Why, as I live and breathe. If it isn’t Lady Antonia, from the castle!” Tory explained with a wary look.

Cressida stood openmouthed until she had grasped the situation, “But, my dear, you are supposed to be on your honeymoon at the Lake District. What are you doing here, cowering in a musty old attic?”

The tears deepened to sobs that so befogged thegirl’s explanation, there was no making heads nortails of it.

“She left him,” Tory said.

When Cressida conquered her astonishment, she said in a gentle voice, “Come downstairs, my dear. There is no need to hide from me.”

The single word “Dauntry” emerged from a garbled jumble of sounds.

Cressida spoke to Tory. “I am taking Lady Antonia downstairs. Pray bring hot bathwater to the Rose Suite, and a change of clothes. If Lady Antonia has no clothes with her, bring some of mine. They will be too large, but at least they are clean.” The Rose Suite was chosen as being the farthest removed from Miss Wantage.

“I’ll send Jennet to lend her a hand. Her ladyship is a mite shy of strangers,” Tory said, and went below stairs to draw the bathwater.

The sobbing girl turned a grateful eye on her hostess. “Please don’t tell Dauntry,” she said as Cressida opened the door to leave.

In Cressida’s opinion, Dauntry certainly had tobe told, but she did not wish to alarm the shy creature further.

“We shall have a good cose after you have madea toilette,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am. You are not nearly so bad asTory said.”

Cressida went downstairs, where there was a great rushing about of servants bringing water and fresh linen and conferring on this new development. It turned out Lady Harold, for such was now her legal name, had brought one gown with her, which Tory took away to press. While this was going forth, Cressida went to the saloon to collect her wits. It was obviously Lady Harold whom Tory had been harboring in the attic when first they arrived. When Tory realized her new mistress was curious, she had bundled the girl off to the cottage, which accounted for the silver tray and good china being at the back door. She was the blond lady Beau had seen at the window. After she had been spotted there, she had come running back to the dower house. Tory had ordered new keys to keep her mistress out of the attics. Many mysteries were now explained, but a new one was still to be uncovered. Why had Antonia left an unexceptionable husband on her honeymoon? Cressida could not believe Dauntry had handed his young sister over to a villain. It was some foolish lovers’ quarrel.

It was close to an hour later when Tory appeared at the door of the saloon, leading a refreshed Lady Harold behind her. With her golden curls brushed, her face washed, and wearing a pretty green sprigged muslin gown, she looked attractive in spite of her pallor and unhappiness.

“There you go, now, missy,” Tory said, pushing the girl forward. “Her ladyship’s bark is a deal worse than her bite. Just tell her your story and I make no doubt she will know what is best to do. She knows everything,” she added with a gimlet shot from her blue eyes.

“Bring us tea, Tory,” Cressida said.

“I will, but what you’d ought to do is get a glass of wine into her, for the poor soul is trembling like a leaf.”

Tory left, and Lady Harold entered the room uncertainly, staring at Cressida like a frightened doe confronting a hunter.

“I am very sorry for the trouble I have caused you, ma’am.”