Jo Beverley (23 page)

He'd sounded truly deranged when he'd asked if her secrets concerned his grandmother.

She'd had to hit him to get free.

She put down her empty cup, wishing the earl had taken his friend's stern advice and told her why he felt so strongly about his grandmother. Perhaps he did have reasons to be irrational and wild, though she couldn't imagine what they could be. Even if the dowager had been a harsh guardian, the earl had grown up healthy, wealthy, and well-educated. His grandmother hadn't done too bad a job.

She would plan to get the earl to tell her the truth if she was sure they were on speaking terms. She sighed. Despite her uneasiness, after just four days of marriage, the idea that her husband might not seek her out, might never again try to seduce her, could break her heart.

She sternly put that aside. They were married. They had a lifetime, and such a breach couldn't go on indefinitely. Then she remembered the Regent and his wife, intractably separated almost from the moment of marriage. That, she told herself, was because it was an ill-considered arranged marriage between two people who could never suit.

And what was different about her case?

She sat back, cradling her empty cup. Despite the many ways in which she and the earl were different, despite his wild behavior and her wariness, she didn't think they were incompatible. Not at all.

She slid into some misty daydreams in which the earl came into her room in his most charming guise, to apologize, to explain, and to seduce.

A tap on the door jerked her out of fantasy.

Meg sat up, heart racing, straightening her dressing gown. “Come!”

It was Laura. Of course. He wouldn't knock.

“Is everything all right?” her sister asked, coming in.

Meg sighed and decided to have as few lies as possible in her life. “Reasonably.”

“I haven't seen the earl today.”

Meg smiled. “Well, I haven't eaten him like a black widow spider, I promise.”

Laura giggled, reassured, and sat in a chair. “What about the
sheelagh
?”

Meg sat bolt upright. “Good heavens, I'd forgotten all about it!”

“But last night . . .”

“I know, I know. I think I'm going mad.”

Laura eyed her. “Do you think the earl . . . ?”

“No! No, of course not. He's . . . eccentric.”

“Well then, perhaps he'll help you get the
sheelagh
back. I'm sure he can handle Sir Arthur.”

Meg was, too, but there were problems. “I'm not supposed to tell anyone except other women of the family about it.”

“I'm sure Mother told Father.”

“So am I. That's doubtless how Sir Arthur found out. Mother would never tell him directly.”

“So you
could
tell the earl,” Laura suggested. Clearly, Saxonhurst had not fallen far from his pedestal in her sister's eyes.

“Tell him what?” Meg asked with a sigh. “ ‘My lord, I am custodian of an ancient, magical statue which Sir
Arthur has stolen. I need your help to get it back.' He'd clap me in Bedlam!”

Meg wondered with sudden alarm whether he'd like an excuse to clap her in Bedlam. It was one way to get rid of an inconvenient wife.

“But when he saw that it was true . . .”

“Laura, even if I went with the earl to Sir Arthur to demand the
sheelagh
back, Sir Arthur would deny all knowledge. I can't prove anything, even that the
sheelagh
existed in the first place.”

“I could say it did.”

“I don't think that would impress the authorities, and as far as I know, no one else ever saw it. Certainly no one could say it is magic, and if they did . . . can you imagine how strange it would all sound? I'm not even sure it's not still illegal to practice magic.”

“Like witchcraft?” Laura exclaimed.

Meg shuddered. She'd never thought of the
sheelagh
in quite that way before, but now she knew that making it public could be disastrous.

“If it's not illegal, they'd think it proof of madness to believe in such a thing. I have to go to Sir Arthur and see what he wants.” Not Laura, Meg prayed. But that, thank God, was now impossible. Mad or sane, Saxonhurst would never permit it.

“I wish you didn't have to,” Laura said. “I don't like Sir Arthur anymore. I hope we never see him again.”

“I wish I didn't have to. Try if you can to discourage the twins from wanting to see him. They'll have treats enough these days to not be easily tempted.”

“What do you think he wants? Money?”

“I hope so. That would be simplest, though how I'm to find it, I don't know. The earl has promised me generous pin money, but I don't have it yet. I have to get the stone back, though. I can't begin to straighten out other things until I do.”

Suddenly, temptingly, came the notion to ask the
sheelagh
to heal things between the earl and his grandmother. Surely, that had to be good. Couldn't carry a sting . . .

She started, realizing Laura was frowning at her. “Things aren't all right, are they?”

Meg smiled wryly. “Not entirely, no. But there's nothing wrong that will affect you. Now, shouldn't you be back with the twins?”

“Peter is helping them with arithmetic. He's much better at it than I am.”

Meg made herself stay silent. She supposed an embezzler would be good with figures. She rose. “I'd better speak to Mr. Chancellor about a proper tutor. Then I'll go and see Sir Arthur.”

“Won't the earl object?”

If he knew, Meg thought. How to sneak out of the house in daylight? But then she stopped that. “Laura, we're not prisoners. You, too, may go out if you wish. Just remember to always take a servant with you.”

“Will you take a servant? To Sir Arthur's?”

Meg hadn't planned on it, but it was the sensible thing to do. “Of course. Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything foolish.”

Laura went away looking relieved, and Meg went into her dressing room where Susie was waiting. “What jewels, milady?” Susie asked when Meg was ready.

“Jewels? I'm afraid I don't have any.” She thought wistfully of her mother's locket and pearls, simple things, but treasured, and sold to support them all.

“The earl sent the jewel box, milady. Not the grand ones, of course. Mr. Chancellor has care of those. I think they're in the bank vault.” She unlocked an inlaid wooden box that sat on a small table.

The maid lifted out a series of trays, each containing different items—rings, pins, brooches, chains, necklaces, aigrets. . . .

“Good gracious.” Like a child with a box of toys, Meg couldn't resist. As Susie had implied, nothing here was fabulously valuable, but it was all a great deal more than she'd ever had before. Holding a pretty necklace of pearls and some pale blue stone set in silver, she realized that her estranged husband must have sent this sometime after their chilly encounter.

How extraordinary. Would she ever understand the man?

Perhaps he
did
do it deliberately, enjoying making others feel off-balance.

She made herself stop playing. “I don't think I want any ornament today, Susie. Pack it up. We'll have to find a place for it.”

“No one here would steal, milady, but there's a safe in your bedroom.”

Meg followed her and watched as she swung aside one of the small inset bookshelves. “I didn't know about this, milady. Mr. Chancellor showed me just now when he brought the box.”

Meg sighed. The jewels had doubtless been Mr. Chancellor's idea entirely.

Behind the shelves lay a metal door with a lock. Susie dug in her pocket and produced a key. “Here you go, milady.”

Meg inserted it, and turned. The door opened to reveal a wide space about six inches deep and two feet high, set with two shelves. The box would fit on a shelf. However, Meg's main thought was that the
sheelagh
would fit in it on its side.

Susie put the box away and Meg locked the safe. “Who else has a key to this?”

“Likely Mr. Chancellor.”

It was definitely a possible hiding place, and the best she'd found so far. First she had to get the statue back. “Susie, you are doing quite well out of this marriage, aren't you?”

The maid turned from where she was tidying Meg's nightgown, a rather wary look in her eye. “I suppose, milady. Though Monk says we can't get on with things till things here are settled.”

“Does he? Then I assume the two of you would like to help me settle things.”

“Perhaps, milady.” From the tone, Susie was still very undecided about her. In a strange way, Meg rather liked being thought unpredictable and dangerous. It was certainly novel.

“After I've spoken with Mr. Chancellor about a tutor, I need to visit our old landlord. I want Monk to accompany me. Is that possible?”

“Of course, milady. You can't be going off on your own.”

Meg tried to think of a way to put it gracefully, but couldn't. “I don't want the earl to accompany us.”

“He went out early, milady. Gone for the day.”

Meg turned away to hide coloring cheeks. So, he was avoiding her. Doubtless, the jewels had been Mr. Chancellor's idea.

She put the key in her pocket, praying she'd be able to mend things later.

“There's this key, too, milady.” Susie picked up one from a side table. “It was in the pocket of your blue gown.”

The back door key to Mallett Street! She'd thought she'd left it in the door, but clearly not. She took it, and dropped it to chink against the other one. Clearly, Sir Arthur knew that she'd been to the house, so she'd return it. Despite her minor illegal activities, she wouldn't keep someone else's property.

The key dragged in her pocket like a guilty conscience, however, as she went in search of Mr. Chancellor.

She found him in an office on the ground floor—a surprisingly businesslike office. The room was lined with glassed-in shelves over drawers, and Owain Chancellor was not alone. An elderly man and a gawky youth sat at tall desks entering something in ledgers.

Mr. Chancellor rose. “Have you come to talk about a tutor, my lady?” He waved her to a chair.

“Yes. Or a governess,” she said, sitting. “Which do you think would be best?”

“We could have both, but we thought the twins would prefer to take their lessons together for now.”

We? Had the earl and his secretary had time and inclination to think about educational matters since last night? Perhaps in this household, a night of destruction and melodramatic confrontation was all washed away with daylight.

“Perhaps a well-educated woman for now,” Mr. Chancellor was saying.

“Very well.” She made herself pay attention.

“Shall I arrange for you to interview some applicants?”

Meg was daunted at the thought of assessing other
young women doubtless very like herself, but it was her responsibility. “Certainly. As soon as possible.” She rose, but hesitated.

“Do you require anything else, Lady Saxonhurst?”

Uncomfortably aware of the clerks, Meg lost the courage to ask for money. Anyway, she couldn't possibly ask for enough to meet any price Sir Arthur might set on the
sheelagh.
She had a few coins, and the earl had said the servants would pay for incidentals.

She couldn't help one question, however. “I gather the earl has left the house for the day.”

“He had a standing arrangement to race at the Heath.”

“I see.” Meg was quite sure the arrangement would have been altered in other circumstances. Other circumstances, such as him having spent the night in his wife's bed, completing the wonderful seduction he'd begun.

She suppressed a sigh and left before Mr. Chancellor asked about her plans. In the hall, she found Monk waiting, small but dignified in his braided livery and powdered hair. “You required my services, milady?”

The stately butler stood nearby, and though he appeared uninterested, Meg had the feeling that he might step forward to prevent her leaving the house.

“Yes, Monk,” she said in as ordinary a manner as she could. “I have a few errands.”

The big dog was lying by the door like a very shaggy rug, probably waiting for his master to return home. Meg could sympathize, though she was pleased—she had to be pleased—to have a day free to settle the matter of the
sheelagh.

Brak turned his snarling, woeful face to her, heaved up, and came over, as if he'd decided she'd do as a very poor second. She fondled the dog's ears and its tail stirred.

“How did the earl come to have Brak?” she asked Monk.

“He was like he is from birth, milady. None wanted him.”

And that was complete explanation?

“I'm surprised the house isn't full of such unwanted creatures.”

Monk glanced at the butler as if checking how far he could go. “There are more at Haverhall, milady. But mostly, we makes sure he doesn't come across too many.”

“Do you require the carriage, milady?” interrupted the butler in the tone of one who expects the answer to be yes.

Brought back to the matter in hand, Meg said, “No, thank you. . . .” Bother, she couldn't remember his name.

Pringle,
mouthed Monk.

“My errands are all close by, Pringle. But I do want my outdoor clothing.”

“Very well, milady.” Meg saw the flickered look he cast at Monk before departing. It surely carried the message,
Watch this one.

Even in this house, the hall was a little chilly, so she waited in a warm reception room, shadowed by Brak, until Susie appeared with her hooded cloak, bonnet, gloves, and muff.

Then, of course, the dog wanted to come with her. She said, “Stay!” and pointed to a spot on the floor. Mournfully, he flopped down there and she could escape.

“He is well trained,” she remarked as they went down the steps.

“Sax won't have untrained beasts around.”

Meg wondered wryly about untrained wives. Looking back on last night, she couldn't decide who'd been most at fault. Perhaps it was beyond the line for a wife to disobey her lustful husband. Oh well, if only she could get the
sheelagh
back she was sure she could sort out all the other problems.