Emily Hendrickson (23 page)

Before long Lady Montmorcy gave the signal for the ladies to withdraw. Elizabeth gratefully left the table, aware that a speculative gaze followed her all the way to the door.

Rather than join the other women in the drawing room, she went directly to the rooms Aunt Bel had ordered prepared for dancing. The musicians were tuning up, the chairs in place, flowers arranged perfectly, and all in readiness.

How would she manage to survive the evening? Just seeing the dratted man tied her insides in double knots.

“Elizabeth? Here you are. Somehow I suspected you would sneak away from the others.”

“David! That is. Lord Leighton. What may I do for you?”

He pulled her along with him until they were safely concealed from any chance view. Then he kissed her with all the expertise at his command.

All those exhilarating sensations charged through her like bolts of lightning in a summer storm. Elizabeth forgot to push him away, much to her disgust when he at last released her. She desperately tried her “serene” look that she had practiced so diligently. “That was not well done of you, my lord.” The set-down proved difficult when he still clasped her in his arms, clinging to her as though she were a haven in a storm.

“You will never know how much I needed you.” At her raised and skeptical brows, he went on. “I just learned the accident was deliberate. The coach had been tampered with before we left.”

“Then someone does wish you ill!” she cried softly. “I suspected it was but a matter of time. After all, if a madman plans to murder your father, would he not also want to do away with you?”

“Dear god,” he whispered. “I cannot risk you coming back to the house, even if I could manage to convince Egbert to leave. Yet I want you there.”

“So you agree with me that he is the more likely one!”

“Although he is not precisely penniless, for his father does well enough, Egbert has exceedingly expensive tastes, else he could manage nicely on the allowance he receives. He may well wish to step into my shoes,” David concluded with a grim twist of his mouth.

People began filtering into the rooms, and Elizabeth saw David and she must end their earnest discussion. Placing her gloved hand most properly on his arm, her earlier resolutions evaporated, she guided him from the room and down the hall. With the strains of music in the background, she turned to him for further talk.

“It is a good thing we are officially betrothed. Otherwise I should put paid to a respectable marriage. As it is, I most likely will have to take myself off to a far corner of the country where they have never heard of me before. I wonder if I have a relative there.”

“Elizabeth, cease this nonsense at once,” he muttered in her hair.

“It is all very well for you, my lord, but I have a life after this, I should hope. And you as well. Think of London.” She had sought to tease him, but he ignored her efforts.

“It might not be Egbert. He may be taking advantage of the situation to be his nasty self.”

“Surely you do not hark back to poor Jeremy Vane,” Elizabeth scoffed.

“Promise me that you will not listen to the evil words from either of them, or my uncle, for that matter. Just return to the house. I do need you, Elizabeth.”

What was a girl to do when the most handsome man she had ever known, or seen in her life, pleaded with her to help him? Begged her to join him? Implored her to lend her intelligence to solve his mystery, looking at her with those melting hazel eyes? Violate propriety and invite possible kisses ... or worse?

“Of course. I shall come tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirteen

It was a great pity that Elizabeth had so much time to think. Upon reflection, she could find more holes in David’s highly persuasive talk than in a yard of lace netting.

For one thing, why had he refused to kiss her when she had asked him—most foolishly, she admitted—and then when he wished to turn her up sweet, kissed her, and most thoroughly? Devious creature. If she didn’t love the dratted man so dearly, she would most assuredly plot some cunning means of revenge.

It must be the nature of men, she decided. They—at least the handsome, charming ones—used their attractiveness as a means of securing what they wanted. She ignored the basic truth that women had been doing the same thing for centuries.

“You will be careful, will you not?” Aunt Bel quietly demanded. “I have an odd notion that things are not what they seem at Penhurst Place in spite of your reassurances. I suspect you have been less than forthcoming with me, my dear niece.” Her eyes held a hint of speculation.

“Oh, I think it positively thrilling that you are going to Penhurst Place to help Lord Leighton,” Chloe cried, clasping her hands before her.

Elizabeth paused in the act of drawing on her aqua gloves that matched her ensemble, wondering if Lady Chloe could possibly be as naïve as she appeared. Another look, and Elizabeth decided that dear Lady Chloe had a goodly amount of growing up to do before she was ready to cope with the gentlemen of this world. John Harlowe might be good enough for a beginning, but she had better forego Lord Norwood until she had learned a thing or two, and practiced her feminine wiles a bit more. Elizabeth could testify to the need for a great deal of exposure to the flirtations offered by Society gentlemen to be able to tell the genuine from the false.

“Indeed,” she murmured. She turned to check the portmanteaus Rose carried out of the door, to ascertain all she wished was along. Gibbons bustled about, chatting with Rose, admonishing the coachman from Penhurst Place to take good care of Miss Elizabeth.

The door swung shut. Elizabeth found herself once again alone in the entry with her relatives. Odd, how Montmorcy Hall was a mostly female residence, while Penhurst Place remained essentially male—other than a few maids and that utterly dreadful cook, who rarely presented a decent meal. With a well-equipped kitchen, it must be the cook’s face that curdled the puddings. A great deal of food at Penhurst Place was ruined, causing Elizabeth to wonder if perhaps the cook embraced a pagan religion that required burnt offerings three times a day.

“Mind you, send me a message regarding Lord Crompton,” Aunt Bel urged. “I would come myself, only the dratted man would most likely bar me from his room.’’ Her feeling of ill usage was most likely mitigated by the knowledge that she really did not do well at nursing the ill. A woman of her sensibilities left that sort of thing to a servant.

“Remember, before I left, I was banished as well,” Elizabeth said in reply. That was another point that Lord Leighton had failed to address. Why, after caring for his father for days and days, was she suddenly not allowed to enter his room? It seemed to her that something dashed havey-cavey was going on at Penhurst Place. But what?

Aunt Bel checked her locket watch. “You must leave us now. We will keep you in our thoughts, dear girl.” She enfolded Elizabeth in a scented hug, then stepped back to study her face, as though searching for something.

Elizabeth tried to conceal the exhilaration that welled up within her when she considered being close to Lord Leighton. Her aunt had that foxy, I-know-something-you-don’t-know gleam in her eyes again. It would almost be worth the coming separation to puncture that balloon of Aunt’s when Elizabeth rejected the connection with Lord Leighton. For the break most assuredly would happen, the betrothal must be ended. After all, who would countenance a marriage based on a silly Valentine’s Day superstition?

“We shall entertain Lord Norwood, Forsythe, and the others in your absence the best we may.” At a nudge from Lady Chloe, Hyacinth added, “and John Harlowe as well. I
do
wish you were going to be here, for although you are a quiet girl, we always seem to have a far better time when you are around. You always know just the game to play, or the entertainment sure to please.” Hyacinth wore a puzzled expression for a few moments as she reflected on that curious reality. “I only hope that they will take to a game of cranbo when you are not here to lead us. You think of the silliest words to use.” She chuckled, as though remembering a particularly absurd word.

“Well, I feel certain you shall do very nicely. You are both lovely girls and should manage very well, indeed.” Elizabeth gave them a bland smile, then marched out of the door to the coach sent from Penhurst Place. It seemed that Lord Leighton wished to take no chances that she might back out of her promise to him.

The road had not improved in the last few days. The coachman tried to avoid the worst of the ruts. Although it did seem, as they drew closer to Penhurst Place, that his lordship or Jeremy Vane had dispatched a number of men to fill up the deepest holes.

Yet she suffered a jouncing drive. Rose looked likely to cast up her accounts if they did not arrive shortly. When the coach drew to a halt before the Penhurst Place entry, Elizabeth exited the coach with a feeling of profound relief. Even Rose was heard to give a great sigh.

“Sidthorp, how is everyone? Does Lord Crompton improve?” Elizabeth inquired upon entering the house. The entry hall was deserted but for the butler. She heard voices coming from the south wing of the house. Evidently Lord Augustus had induced the others into a game of billiards, for the talk was loud and argumentative.

“His lordship passed a tolerable night, I am told,” Sidthorp replied. He took her warm cloak, then joined Rose to remove Elizabeth’s things to her room.

It left Elizabeth alone in the entry hall, looking about her while wondering what she was supposed to do.

Jeremy Vane came from the north wing, papers in hand, reminding her of a rabbit on a serious errand. She half expected his nose to twitch. “Good morning, Mr. Vane,” she said, speaking up a trifle to catch his ear. He looked as though he might be hunting Lord Leighton, and if he was, she wanted to make her presence known.

He gave her a startled glance. “Ah, good morning, Miss Elizabeth. I trust you are well?”

His timid remark and obvious desire to be gone amused her. How could David suspect this person of treachery?

“Are you off to find Lord Leighton? Would you be so kind as to tell him I am here?” Her cordial smile became fixed as she observed him. Had she not been watching him carefully, she might have missed that flash of resentment that crossed his face so briefly. She was taken somewhat aback by this reaction, for if he was the steward here, he must be accustomed to carrying a message now and again.

“Of course.” He bowed just enough to be respectful, then hurried off as though Elizabeth carried the plague. Something elusive niggled at the back of her mind.

Sidthorp came down the stairs from supervising the disposal of her belongings, and Rose as well. It seemed that quiet Rose was a favorite among the staff, of both houses, for they all fussed over her. She was one of those rare treasures, a maid who did her job well, never gossiped, and liked everyone, particularly Hadlow.

“When you see him, please inform Lord Leighton that I shall wait for him in the library.” She gave Sidthorp her warm, gracious smile, earning her a look of devotion from the butler.

Then Elizabeth drifted off across the hall and along the corridor to the library.

Across the courtyard, the gentlemen could be glimpsed through the windows as they moved about in the billiards room, for that door was wide open. She stopped, watching as Lord Augustus stood waiting to play, cue in hand.

There was something about his stance, his attitude. He stared at David.

Drat the glass. If it were not for a bit of reflection, she might see more clearly. But it seemed to her that the genial Lord Augustus eyed his nephew with less than cordiality. More like hatred.

She retreated to the shadows of the corridor. It must be a distortion. Why, after all these years, would Lord Augustus turn against his brother? Or his brother’s son? But she knew stranger things had happened.

Pity, that, for she rather liked the old gentleman with his creaking corset and brusque speech. His indulgent attitude toward his son could be excused on the grounds that Egbert was an only son. Yet ... what would Lord Augustus be willing to do to ensure that his heir inherited more than was his rightful lot? More than one man had murdered for money, and this involved far more than that.

Rain began to fall again, obscuring her view of the billiards room, with streaks of water cascading down the panes. The scene became a blur of black and cream, shadow and light.

Realizing that anyone could stumble across her in the corridor, she continued on her way to the library, mulling over the twist in the mystery of who might be behind the poisoning attempt. Lord Augustus joined Jeremy Vane as somewhat plausible suspects. Her money was on Egbert Percy, the cousin who stood to gain the most.

The curious snippet of knowledge that had teased her memory returned, and she eagerly awaited David’s arrival so she might share it with him. He would undoubtedly tell her it was not significant, and she was not all that certain, but it was curious. Most curious.

Then her eyes focused on what she was looking at, and she walked to the fireplace. No fire warmed the hearth or the chilly room. And just above, slightly to the left of where she stood, was a patch of damp plaster above the surround.

“Really.” she muttered, “Mr. Vane is most careless.”

“What are you nattering about, my dear Elizabeth?” David silently entered the library, strolling over to join her. He was dressed for his day at home in his usual impeccable style: fawn pantaloons under a cream waistcoat and corbeau coat. Hadlow must have used champagne in the blacking, for those Hessians had a shine to rival the sun.

David was about to ring for a footman to arrange a fire when Elizabeth stopped him.

“Do you not think this odd, my lord?” She pointed to the suspicious spot inches from the mantel. Then she frowned. “Although I do remember seeing it the other day, come to think of it. It slipped my mind.”

“ ‘Tis this blasted rain. And Vane is not quite the wonderful manager you think him,” David said sourly.

“I confess,” she said slowly, “I begin to believe you. At first when we came, I thought everything so noteworthy. It seemed to me that he did a fine job of it.” She turned to meet David’s gaze with troubled eyes.