An Affair with Mr. Kennedy (28 page)

Venus rose from the sea.

He would never grow tired of looking at her. A water droplet traced the slope of her breast before it fell onto the slight curve of her belly. Hesitant to cover her up, he finally held up a cotton sheet and wrapped it around her. She reached for his hand and he helped her step out of the tub.

Cassie drew another towel from a chest and rubbed her long tresses in the rough toweling.

“Dressing gown?” he asked, and she pointed to the dresser. He removed a pale pink gown with little girl ruffles. Plain. Virginal. Cassandra needed rest. He needed rest. A good choice.

He tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, and returned to the window seat, where he picked up a book lying facedown on the floor. A victim, he supposed, of the intruder’s hurried exit.

“Shall I read us both to sleep, then?” As Zeno cracked open the book he heard a deep sigh. It would not be long before she headed off to the land of Nod.

He cleared his throat.

“‘Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and having nothing to do: once or
twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what use is a book without pictures and conversation?”…’”

ZENO JERKED AWAKE. The novel must have slipped from his hand. Curiously, he caught the rustle of a skirt as the door closed softly. Olivia Erskine?

The young lady lay in bed. A sleepy eye opened and smiled at him. A hand crept out from under the covers and beckoned him to join.

Gladly, he rose from the window seat and collapsed on top of the bedspread. Cassie swept an arm around his chest and hugged him close, spooning against him. He closed his eyes.

SHE FELT HERSELF again.

A long nap and a spot of tea had revived the household. Zeno, ever the Yard man, summoned a late afternoon meeting in Rob’s workshop. A re-imparting, he called it.

Brows knitted, she paced the floor. “I wonder how on earth our intruders could have known the exact location of my room?”

“An unsuspecting servant or repairman has one too many pints at the local pub. Tongues loosen.” Zeno ran a
hand through recently shampooed hair—glossy with a bit of wave to it. “Town servants are schooled to beware of such tactics. Out here in the country …?”

Cassie grimaced softly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Zeno moved on to Rob. “Anything unusual happen recently? Strangers about asking odd questions?”

Cassie’s eyes grew wide. “Gerald came to see me. Tried to warn me off you, Mr. Kennedy.”

Zeno frowned. “And you are just now telling me this?”

“I thought to mention it earlier this weekend but got distracted.” Cassie sniffed. “By you.” She trembled as Gerald’s words of warning came back to her.

Zeno softened his tone. “Please continue, Cassie.”

“As I readied to leave for the station, Gerald showed up at my door making wild claims and the most alarming statements.

“First, he insisted I stop seeing you.” Her gaze flew across the roadster to where Zeno stood. “Minutes later he blamed his own cohorts. He confessed these unnamed friends of his might try to use me to—”

His gaze moved to meet hers. “To get to me?”

She nodded and crossed her hands over her chest to rub her arms. The workshop could be a chilly place in the evening hours. “As much as I distrust him, I do believe he meant well.”

Zeno removed his jacket, walked over, and wrapped it around her shoulders. He secured a button. “Generally, I am not at liberty to discuss ongoing investigations or operations, but in this case …”

Cassie and her sibling leaned in.

His gaze moved between them. “In this case I will make a rare exception. I placed Lord Delamere under surveillance weeks ago. I suspect it is he who is behind the failure of the Irish Home Rule vote. He may also be the financier of a radical group of Fenians bent on a complete break from English governance.”

Rob scratched his head. “Delamere is an Irish as well as a British peer—why would he wish the vote to fail?”

Zeno pressed his lips together in a straight, grim line. “If someone prefers revolution over devolution, might he not work to keep sentiments stirred up against a lawful Irish independence? A man of great ambition wouldn’t be interested in the limited autonomy of the Home Rule Act. Not when he might foment a bloody revolt and proclaim himself king. Or, on a lesser scale, president of a new Irish republic.”

He leaned back against the tool bench. “Right now my hands are tied with Delamere. As a peer of the realm, he is nearly immune to prosecution. I cannot have him arrested until I have incontrovertible evidence against him.”

“Catch him in the act.” Rob’s eyes brightened. “Might our prowlers come clean?”

Zeno nodded. “They’ll talk, all right, but they won’t have a clue who hired them.” Using the edge of his shoe, he scraped a bit of dirt about the floor.

He met her gaze. “Your brother-in-law, Gerald St. Cloud, along with George Upton and the late James Hicks-Beach, are members of a small group of unruly peerage led by Lord Delamere.”

Cassie nodded. “The Bloody Four.”

Zeno’s mouth tightened into a flat line. “With the untimely demise of Mr. Hicks-Beach, I’d say bloody, all right.”

“As the four are now three,” Cassie mused aloud, “Gerald is in grave danger. Why would he get involved with such men?”

“Delamere likely bought his gambling debt for his vote.” Zeno shrugged. “I suspect Hicks-Beach saw or heard something he shouldn’t have. Then, quite suddenly, it was too late.”

Silence.

Cassie stared at the cobbled pavers of the workshop. “Perhaps I should leave for Paris ahead of schedule.”

Zeno spun on his heels. “Paris?”

She tilted her chin. “I have several paintings on display this season at the Durand-Ruel gallery. His spring show of neo-impressionists.”

“My congratulations, I had no idea.” Zeno blinked just before the spark in his eyes grew darker. “And who is your escort?”

“My maid travels with me—”

“And?”

She returned his glare, eyes wider than his. “And?”

“Incredible.” He shook his head.

She straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore his reaction. “Cécile looks forward to a visit with her brother’s family.”

“It’s not safe, Cassie.” Even as he stuck out his chin, his voice softened. “Paris is a hotbed of sympathetic anarchists ready and willing to spread revolution. The Fenians have allies there.”

She drew up taller and folded her arms over her chest. “I am perfectly capable of taking a brief trip to France without Scotland Yard nosing about.”

“I have no desire to clip your wings. But I must insist on a reasonable degree of safety.”

Rob stepped into their little contretemps. “I say, Zak, it might not be such a bad idea to sneak Cassie and her maid out of town.”

Her smile traveled from her brother to her lover. “You must concede he has a point.”

Zeno chewed his bottom lip. “Perhaps.”

“Oh, Mr. Kennedy? Zak, are you down there with my two offspring?”

Zeno tilted his chin up toward the voice.

Cassie stuck her head out the door. “He is, Mother.”

“Well, tell him to meet me in surgery. I mean to unwrap those tapes and have a look.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Z
eno perched himself comfortably on the edge of the examination table as Olivia Erskine removed the last of the bandages from around his ribs.

“Lift up your arms, dear.”

A warm sensation settled his stomach. Her mother had called him dear.

“I would be interested to know how serious your feelings are for my daughter.”

“I am going to marry her one day, Mrs.—Dr. Erskine.”

The roll of old bandages fell out of her hand as she took in his words as well as his determined expression. “And when might that be?”

Zeno retrieved the bandages. “Eventually …”

“Eventually? I don’t like that word
eventually
. Please explain yourself.”

Zeno sighed. “Cassie needs time. She is just out from under the mourning of her husband. If I move too fast, she’ll resist and refuse me.”

Olivia studied him with an elevated brow and the barest hint of a grin. “I will give you this, Zak, you do seem to
know how willful and stubborn my daughter can be.”

She moved to sit down beside him on the edge of the examination bed. “I never warmed much to Thom. Oh, it was a splendid match by superficial standards. But he was not entirely right for her.”

Zeno glanced out the window to the colorful spring flowers that greeted every visitor to the Erskine residence. “Our fates collide in mysterious ways.”

“Young man, you read my mind.” Olivia shifted to study him carefully. “Compliments are not easy for me, but I will say to you that I have never seen Cassie more contented then I have this weekend.”

Taking his face in her hands, she swept a lock of hair off his forehead. It brought back faint memories of his mother, long forgotten. Of being a boy, running wild across the heathered bluffs of Skye.

“Mind you marry her just as soon as she is ready. A small ceremony here at Muirfield by Christmas? Or perhaps a great wedding feast in Scotland next year. The doctor would so enjoy a family excursion north.”

There were pleasant echoes of conspiratorial promise in their conversation. Until this moment Zeno had never smiled directly at Olivia Erskine. “I will do my best, ma’am.”

The Erskines were taking great pains to welcome him into the fold. Zeno had not felt this kind of familial kinship in a long time. At supper Dr. Erskine invited him to the opera. “We have purchased a box from Lord Sutherland, just for the debut of
Don Carlo
—you must attend with us, Zak.”

At the mention of the opera, he dropped his spoon into a parfait glass filled with truffle. “I tried for tickets, but it was sold out in hours. I understand it will be conducted by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford. I wouldn’t miss it.”

After supper, he met Rob on the front terrace to shoot rockets off across the expanse of Muirfield parkland.

“I’ve tested and recorded these rockets until I can quite accurately predict their altitude and trajectory.” Rob showed him how to sight and fire a rocket.

“And what are your plans for this research, Rob?”

“I present a paper to the Tunbridge Wells Scientific Society this coming week. Sir Kevin Meade-Waldo will be there. Holds great influence with the British Royal Society. I mean to drive the roadster there, as well.”

Zeno considered the energetic, bright young man as he busily secured the wooden poles that served as rocket launchers. “I should like to introduce you to our lab men one day. We employ several well-recognized scientists, including Archibald Bruce.”

Rob’s brows went up. “Archie Bruce is working for Scotland Yard? He and I did a summer tenure at Edinburgh—advanced courses. Well, well, it makes sense, what with the dynamiters and all. He always did like to blow things up.”

Zeno’s mouth twitched. “I suppose one must first know how to configure bombs before one learns to defuse them.”

Cassie’s youngest brother resettled his attentions on the rocket at hand. “Not long ago, I shot one straight through both open doors of the stable—ricocheted off the hen house—then exploded. The chickens didn’t lay eggs for two days.” Rob chuckled. “Cook chased me around the kitchen over it.”

Zeno grinned. He could not have found a more eccentric family to join up with. He struck a safety match. “May I?”

Rob stepped back. “Ready, aim, fire.”

ZENO CHEERFULLY SAT Cassie on his lap as Rob drove them to the train station in the roadster. He distinctly saw her brother smile listening to them squabble over how much protection he planned to assign to her safety.

“I’ll not have more odd characters following me about,” Cassie grumbled.

“Was that a harrumph? I distinctly heard a harrumph.” Zeno held on to her. “Trust me, you won’t know they are there.”

“In two days’ time, Cécile and I will be off to Paris and I’ll not have either one of you worrying over me. Honestly, Zak, I will be quite safe once on the Continent.” She narrowed her eyes on Rob. “And what are you laughing about?”

“I was just thinking how much you two sound like our parents bickering.”

“We’re not bickering.” Cassie’s frown moved from her brother to Zeno. “We’re not bickering!”

“I dunno.” His arms hugged her tight. “I like a bit of fight in my woman.”

Cassie held on to her hat as the roadster picked up speed on the downhill. “Your woman, is it?”

At Farnham Station Zeno checked both bags with a porter and purchased several papers from boys hawking the news on the station platform.

“I’ll make a bargain with you, Cassie. While you remain in town, you will allow me to assign another man or two to your safety.” He ignored a roll of eyes. “I will also select a bodyguard to meet you in Calais.”

Cassie halted their turn around the platform to fasten a glare on him.

Zeno held up his hands. “Only one man, I promise.”

“More of a demand than a barter, if you ask me.” Her brows moved together as her lips formed a pout. “Despite what you may believe, Zak, I am not a whimpering, skittish sort of female in need of constant cosseting.”