Capturing Sir Dunnicliffe (The Star Elite Series) (22 page)

He stayed with Harriett only long enough to make sure she had everything she needed. He was pleased that he had already ordered the room to be prepared for Harriett’s arrival. At least now the bed was made, and the room cleaned and highly polished.

Harriett glanced around at the opulent room and was slightly shocked. She had only seen the Manor from outside and wasn’t prepared for the richness of the furnishings that was luxurious, yet quietly understated. It appeared that Simon had maintained the house well, but had not spent unnecessary money lavishly furnishing and decorating the Tudor property, instead allowing the decorative ceilings and wonderfully carved panelling to speak for themselves.

It was simply beautiful.

Her room was
wood panelled, with a highly decorated ceiling. Painted white, the ceiling appeared in stark contrast to the darker wood covering the walls. The four-poster bed in the centre of the room looked as old as the house, and was just as ornately carved. The high mattress was plush, furnished with a huge mound of pillows and blankets, and was encased by thick, brocade bed curtains.

“It’s beautiful,” Harriett whispered, a wave of exhaustion creeping over her. She was so tired, so confused and upset that she just wanted to climb into bed, pull the covers up to her ears and forget the world.

“Make yourself at home, Harriett,” Simon murmured, a wealth of meaning in his voice. “I am just in the room next door. If you need anything, come to me. I’m going to secure the house when everyone has gone to bed, and then I will retire for the night. I don’t know about you, but I am ready for a good night’s sleep.”

Harriett nodded and watched him leave, slumping on the edge of the bed as soon as she was alone. She hadn’t wanted to raise the issue with her father, but had seen the quick, worried look he had thrown her when the noise from the front of the house and reached them. She had heard Hugo’s husky laughter, until then not realising that she had only heard him laugh once, and that had been at Jemima and Eliza’s wedding. Around her, he had been nothing but solemn, watchful almost, to the point of being forbidding.

Tears stung her eyes. Swiping them away angrily, she shrugged out of her cloak and toed off her shoes. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, she knew she couldn’t sleep. Fear still teased her senses, refusing to allow her to relax enough to consider giving herself over to sleep again just yet, leaving her to lie down on the bed and stare sightlessly up at the ceiling to contemplate the events of the past day.

Later, when she thought about it, she would not be able to understand what had driven her to leave the safety of the bedroom and follow the noise. They weren’t being overtly loud, but in the quiet of the rest of the house, the joviality was easy to follow. The hushed tones made it difficult to hear what was being said, but it was enough to put Romilla into gales of tittering laughter, accompanied by Hugo’s husky laugh. Each burst of jocularity pierced Harriett’s heart until she didn’t think she could bear any more.

But like a rabbit staring down the barrel of the hunter’s gun, she knew that she couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t move and had to wait for fate to deal the final blow. She just had to see with her own eyes; if what her ears were telling her was the truth.

She stood in the shadows outside the door to the brightly lit sitti
ng room. She heard Hugo’s voice drop several notches in warning, but couldn’t hear what was being said. Silence had settled; the laughter had stopped. Her heart hammered in her ears, and she wondered if they were about to leave the room.

Moving instinctively to one side, she immediately saw the occupants of the room but nothing could have prepared her for the sight that met her eyes.

Romilla was perched on the edge of a small table, her legs on either side of Hugo’s hips as he stood before her. One hand was resting on the desk at Romilla’s hips - she couldn’t see where his other hand was. Her stomach roiled at the sight of Romilla’s moist, and parted lips, whispering to Hugo while her arms wrapped around his neck.

Harriett had seen enough. Turning away, the betrayal burned through her
and scarred her very soul. She knew she would never forget the sight she had just witnessed. Her flight was halted by Simon who was standing directly behind her. His eyes were sympathetic as he stood back to allow her to run up the main staircase to return to her bedroom.

By the time she reached her room, sobs trembled through her, demanding escape.
Locking the door behind her, she climbed beneath the thick covers of the bed, still fully dressed, and gave in to the heartbreak that overwhelmed her.

The couple in the room were the recipient’s of Simon’s fury. Romilla was left in no doubt as to
the inappropriateness of her wanton behaviour, and was instructed to pack immediately. Although it was the middle of the night, Simon wasn’t prepared to allow such a doxy to remain in his house a moment longer. Rousing his butler, he sent word for the groom to get the carriage ready to take her to Launceston where she could await a post chaise to take her to Hades, as far as he was concerned.

Although he couldn’t stand the woman, Hugo couldn’t allow Simon to cast Romilla out in the middle of the night. The risks to her were too great
, and Simon would be held accountable if she was raped or murdered on the way to Launceston.

“Then I suggest you escort your doxy to Launcester, because I am not having her in my house.” Simon wanted to shout and throw things, but was aware of the noise carrying to the heartbroken woman upstairs who had already heard, and seen, more than enough for one night.

“She isn’t my doxy,” Hugo replied patiently, casting a sobbing Romilla a dour look. She would have liked to have been. Indeed in all of his four and thirty years, Hugo had never been propositioned so blatantly before and felt tainted by the overpowering scent of her perfume still clinging to his shirt.

“No wonder you insisted on coming here to conduct your investigation,” Simon spat, making no attempt to hide his contempt for the other man.
“Going well, is it?”

Hugo sighed. He could understand the man’s anger. The situation they had been found in had indeed been most compromising. He could only be grateful Simon wasn’t out to protect his s
tepdaughter’s best interests, or Hugo could have been facing a lifetime of being married to the awful woman.

“We have the investigation in hand, yes.” Hugo replied, glad that Romilla had left for her room. The sweet, cloying perfume she wore had made him start to feel queasy. Although she was pretty to look at from a distance, up close
her eyes were hard and calculating. When accompanied by the thin lips and heavily rouged face, you were left with the distinct feeling that you had only met one of the Romillas on offer, and that the real Romilla, the cold and calculating one, would only come out and strike when there was something in it for her.

“So wh
y are you here easing your libido with my stepdaughter rather than being out there, protecting King and country, and more importantly Harriett?” Simon demanded, snuffing out several of the candles around the room.

“I am not
easing my libido with her,” Hugo sighed, wondering how to appease the man’s anger. “I have got a fair amount of information out of her.” He stopped when Simon glared at him.

“I’ll just bet you have,” Simon snorted. “Now that she has gone, there is nothing keeping you up now
, is there? First thing in the morning Hugo, I expect you and Romilla to leave my house. If you want to escort your lover to Launceston, then that is up to you, but don’t return here. I am more capable of protecting Harriett, than you,” he snapped.

“Harriett is well protected,” Hugo began only to stop at Simon’s disbelieving snort.

“Do you think so?” Simon snarled contemptuously. “First thing in the morning Hugo, I want you and your investigation out of my house,” he said, slamming the door behind him before climbing the stairs to his room.

He could hear drawers and doors slamming from within Romilla’s room as he passed, but made no attempt to approach her. Instead he ma
de a mental note to be up extra-early in the morning to order Cook to prepare the woman a breakfast she could eat on the move.

Hugo watched the man leave,
and cursed fluidly. He stood before the hearth, staring down at the flames for several moments as he contemplated the night’s events. Romilla was undoubtedly experienced and knew how to push a man’s buttons to get him to want her, but he had no idea what her motive was for propositioning him as blatantly as she did.

He had no doubt s
he had had several lovers. She was far too experienced in the art of seduction. He also knew that Romilla could put on quite a sexual performance when she wanted to, especially if it was in an attempt to get something out of her lover. Now that she was out of the room, he was able to consider the evening with fresh eyes and knew he had been played for a fool by an experienced mistress. She had teased him, laughed with him, trying to draw him in with her attempt at coquettishness. Despite the cool calculation behind the feigned mirth, he had been unable to break off her ridiculous attempts to convince him of her innocence, and had felt driven to see where she was going to take it. What did she want from him? Besides sex he felt sure she really didn’t want. He had been struggling to pull away from her too clingy arms, and grasping legs when they had been interrupted by a cold, furious Simon.

Being molested by her was a small price to pay for the valuable information he had gleaned from her throughout the evening.
He had also learned that the woman had a deep vein of malice toward her stepsister that was born out of jealousy of the deep feelings Simon had for his daughter. Romilla didn’t like to be bested by another woman, and preferred to be the centre of every man’s attention. But did that make her a cold blooded killer? She was certainly determined enough, but Hugo felt she had a lover tucked away somewhere. Romilla was sneaking out of the house at all hours of the day and night, heading off to see her lover. But who? Although Archie had followed her all the way to St Issey, he had lost her twice in the narrow, winding streets and had been so far unable to identify which house she was going to.

Hugo
couldn’t shake off the lingering feeling that he had come very close to something tonight, and it wasn’t anything nice. He was glad that Simon had ordered her out of the house tomorrow morning because it gave him the perfect opportunity to make sure she was followed. There was no doubt that she wouldn’t leave her uncle’s house, and would instead head straight to her lover. She had sufficient arrogance about her that she would expect her lover to provide for her, whatever the unfortunate man wanted in return. But was her lover a spy smuggler? Or a cold blooded killer out to avenge his lover’s spite?

Hugo wasn’t sure yet, but he knew that
- until he had some definite answers about Romilla’s secret life - he couldn’t cast her out of the investigation just yet. She was equally as dangerous as any assassin. How quickly she could turn things to her own advantage was obvious in the trap she had laid for him, that he had nearly been dragged into.

With a dark frown he was about to leave the room when a soft tapping at the window drew his attention.

The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he frowned for a moment before quietly leaving the room. Moving into the darkened room next door, he crept quietly toward the large bank of windows, peering cautiously out into the night. With a sigh he lifted the window and motioned for Archie to enter.

“What happened?” Archie demanded, a dark scowl on his face.

Hugo paused and looked back at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Harriett.”

“What about her?” Hugo’s heart froze in his chest. H
e had heard about her near-miss from Rupert, but had not had a moment to go and check on her. Instead he had relied heavily on Archie and Jamie’s reports that she was unharmed, and safely tucked away in her cottage.

“She left the cottage when someone tried to break in,” Archie whispered. “She came in here through the back door.”

“Who was it, do you know?”

Hugo frowned, and felt a leaden weight settle in his chest. Was that the reason for Simon’s fury? Was Harriett in the house? God forbid, had she seen him with Romilla? The blood froze in his veins and a small voice inside him warned that this was indeed the case.

“It was a woman.”

“Romilla was here with me all evening,” Hugo replied, shaking his head.

“Then it must be Marion.”

“Anyone following?”

“Rupert.”

“I thought he was at St Issey?” Hugo snapped with a frown, wondering when his men had taken it upon themselves to change their shifts.

“I was watching Harriett, Jamie is in St Issey, and Rupert is following the woman back into Padstow,” Archie reported, eyeing the burning fury in his boss’ gaze warily.

“Padstow?” Hugo’s eyes narrowed at Archie’s nod. Immediately his thoughts turned to Marion, and the empty doctor’s house. Had she returned?

Something warned him that the end of the investigation was drawing close, and for that he could only be grateful. He needed the assassin, the attempted murderer, and Romilla out of the way so he could focus on his future with Harriett. If indeed he now had a future with Harriett. If she had witnessed him with Romilla tonight–

He turned back to Archie with a sigh.

“Get some rest. Let me know what Jamie finds. When Rupert returns, I want to know exactly what he has discovered.”

Archie nodded.

“Keep watch on the Manor. Do they know Harriett is here?” He smiled mirthlessly when Archie shook his head. “Remove anyone who tries to gain entrance.”

“
Remove them?”

Hugo nodded, his eyes cold and hard. It was time to shake up the smugglers and murderers a little. “Make it quiet and make them disappear.”

Hugo’s eyes met and held Archie’s for a moment before other man nodded briskly.

“Yes, s
ir.” With that, he disappeared out of the window and melted into the bushes.

Hugo closed the window and locked it before snuffing out the rest of the candles in the sitting room, and heading off to bed. He paused at the top of the stairs, wondering which room Harriett was in
, before making his way to his own room.

Once in
his room, he paused and frowned at the bed. Although he had learned a lot about Romilla, he still had unanswered questions. Did she know Harriett was in the house? Was she involved in the attempts on Harriett’s life? Until he knew for sure, he couldn’t take any risks. Collecting his few belongings, Hugo slipped out of the room and moved into one of the empty rooms further down the corridor, making sure the door was locked behind him.

Tomorrow, assassins, spiteful hoydens, spy smugglers and the Star Elite aside, he would find Harriett, and confront her once and for all.

It was time for them to sort out their future together, so Harriett understood exactly what she was involved in.

In spite of his determination,
he was still scared that if she had witnessed him being caught unawares by an amorous Romilla, he could have just lost Harriett forever.

The following morning events were taken out of his hands when he was woken by a grave-looking Simon.

“Something has happened,” the older man reported, watching
as Hugo immediately snapped awake, glaring ferociously back at him.

“Harriett? Where–
” Hugo growled, fear beginning to rise at the serious look on Simon’s face.