Lord Langley Is Back in Town (36 page)

Chudley kissed his wife good-bye and rode off toward the Dover road.

But Minerva lingered for a moment, gathering her thoughts, trying to pull together the details. As she glanced over at the spot where the man had shot from, she tried to reconcile her nagging doubts.

What was it Chudley had said?
A demmed fine shot.

And was it by a Foreign Office agent? Or perhaps a hired assassin?

Mayhap . . .

For she couldn’t help shake another suspicion. That the man who fired that shot had been someone else.

Like a former army officer.

But what would Gerald Adlington have to gain by killing Lord Langley? She bit her lips together and stole a glance back at Langley as one then another possibility raged through her thoughts.

To force her hand, perhaps? For the Sterling diamonds? Definitely. Then he wouldn’t have to wait for her supposed nuptials to get his money; rather, he could just make good his threat to take the Sterling diamonds and be gone.

Could it have been Gerald the other night, beneath that greatcoat and low-slung hat? He was certainly the right height and build as Gerald . . .

And he’d been at the theatre . . . threatened her . . . Oh, why hadn’t she considered this before now?

And if it was true, that this Lord Andrew was going to capture him, and it was Gerald, then she had no doubt Adlington would sell her out if he thought it would gain him his freedom.

Minerva shivered. She could only hope it had been someone other than her devilish foe.

“Is something wrong?” Langley asked from inside the carriage. “You looked demmed pale out there in the cold.”

She shook her head. “No. ’Tis nothing,” she said, climbing inside the carriage and sitting down next to him.

At least she hoped it wasn’t.

W
hen they arrived at the house at Brook Street, it seemed that news of the duel had preceded them.

A crowd was gathered outside, while inside the house the nannies lined the foyer. Tasha’s footman, as well as a couple of servants from across the street, were called to help carry the wounded baron up to Minerva’s room.

How he did it, Minerva didn’t know, but Langley nearly had her believing he was on his deathbed. In addition to his bloodied shirt, he groaned and moaned with each jostle, hanging onto her hand as if it were his last lifeline to this world.

When the duchessa saw him, in true Italian fashion she dropped to her knees wailing and crying. Tasha patted her shoulder and stood as straight and upright as a solitary pine, tears glistening on her cheeks.

Brigid clung to Knuddles, while beside her, Lord Throssell had his arm around her shoulders.

“Not good,” the man muttered. “Not good at all. Won’t last the night, I daresay. Shame that. Demmed shame.”

Jamilla surveyed the proceedings with a handkerchief stuffed to her lips, her kohled eyes revealing nothing.

Minerva followed the litter up the stairs, and when she came to the landing, she glanced back and found that only the margravine seemed unmoved, as if she wouldn’t believe any of it—at least not until she saw Langley breathe his last.

“Do you need anything, dear Lady Standon?” Nanny Helga asked, almost sounding sincere. “We could take turns sitting vigil with you.”

Minerva tapped down the shiver running down her spine at the woman’s offer and instead shook her head. “I think it best if he has naught but peace and quiet until . . . until . . .”

This implication made the contessa sob even harder, and the lady’s wails prodded Aunt Bedelia into the next act of their plan.

“Come now, all of you, the man needs peace and quiet. I think it is best if you all take refuge at Hollindrake House—it’s just on the next block over. If only to give Lady Standon these last few hours—”

“Yes, yes,” Jamilla readily agreed. “There is nothing more for us here.”

Tasha nodded as well and helped Lucia to her feet, while Throssell guided Brigid out the door. Only the margravine lingered, waiting for Tasha’s footman to come down.

“How bad is he?” she asked.

“The lead is still inside him. Even if they could get it out, the surgeon will only finish him off in the trying.”

The margravine put her handkerchief to her lips and nodded, looking as aggrieved as Lucia.

Or was she smiling? Minerva wondered as she took one last furtive glance over the railing.

“A
re they all gone?” Langley asked.

“Yes,” Minerva said, glancing back over her shoulder as she pressed the door closed. “Apparently with you on your last breath, that lessens their chances of finding their missing jewels.”

“Don’t rule out their determination just yet,” he told her. “Gemstones have a powerful hold over their owners.”

“They do indeed,” she agreed, opening the case that held the Sterling diamonds and dangling them in front of her.

“And we are all alone?” Langley asked, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yes.”

He waggled his brows at her and patted the spot next to him on the bed.

Minerva stifled a laugh. “Aren’t you afraid the exertion will kill you in your state?”

“Only if you keep me waiting,” he teased back.

“I may finish you off myself. You had me worried sick.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Why?”

“Langley, do I have to answer that?”

“Yes,” he said. “But if you would rather, you can show me how worried you were.” Again he patted the spot on the bed beside him.

“I am still in a pique. Haven’t you the least concern I might finish you off?” she asked, sauntering over to the bed, then falling into his open arms.

“That is what makes it so much more fun,” he whispered before his lips claimed hers.

Chapter 15

A former lover is like a dog that bites. Never think that just because they slept in your bed and held a tendre for you once, they won’t take off your hand at the least little provocation.

Advice to Felicity Langley from her Nanny Brigid

“I
f you do not stop pacing about, I will shoot you myself,” Minerva told Langley, who continued to wear a path in front of the hearth despite her warning. “You are supposed to be on death’s door.”

They’d taken refuge in her bedroom, with only her trusted staff in the house: Mrs. Hutchinson, the woman’s daughter Mary, and of course Agnes. Mr. Mudgett had been sent over to ensure that the nannies were well settled at Hollindrake House, and set Staines to rights if the duke’s butler protested.

This left the house uncharacteristically quiet, which was unnerving in itself.

“I will be dead if I don’t find a way to uncover the truth about Brownie and his lot.” Langley paused and glanced at the painting hanging over his bed, cringing at the lopsided folly.

Or was it just a reminder of his own folly? she wondered.

“Langley, what would you be doing if you hadn’t this inconvenience before you?”

“I’d call it more than an inconvenience,” he muttered.

“Yes, well, I thought it more diplomatic than to ask you what you would do if you weren’t under threat of attainder, or what coat you would like to wear to your trial.”

He stopped, and for a moment she thought he was going to explode with anger, but instead the mirth returned to his eyes. “I don’t think they’d bother much with a trial.”

She smiled and got up, crossing the room and reaching under her bed, then dragging out a great atlas. Hefting it atop the bed, she patted a spot beside her. “Come, let us plot our escape.”

“Us?”

“I won’t be left behind to answer all the questions. Risk being sent off to who-knows-where all because of this faux engagement. If you are going to make a run for it, I am coming along.” She flipped the pages and then stabbed her finger into a spot.

“Bossy baggage,” he said, sitting down and glancing at the place her finger marked. “No, that will never do,” he went on, shaking his head.

“Abyssinia? Whyever not? Sounds wonderfully exotic.”

“Hot and full of the most dreadful bugs, some the size of your thumb.”

Minerva’s brows drew together and she pulled her finger back hastily. “Then you tell me where we would go.”

For the next hour he did just that, trailing his fingers across the pages, regaling her with tales of all the places he had seen—many of which she assumed were wild exaggerations.

“And I wager the sultan would grant me sanctuary, give us a fine house, as well as my own harem.”

“A harem!” she protested.

“Yes, it would be expected,” he said, grinning as he lay back, his hands behind his head.

Minerva tossed a pillow at him. “I think not. Hasn’t the last week in this harem been enough?”

He snorted. “I didn’t say I intended to fill it. I daresay you would keep me well-occupied for some time.”

“I would, would I?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, edging the book aside and pulling her into his arms. She made a slight protest, but only slight, for the moment his lips nuzzled her neck, any hint of pique she’d felt vanished.

“We’d spend our nights making love in the gardens with only the tinkling music of fountains, the air perfumed by an array of flowers that would still seem pale beside your beauty.”

“You are naught but a charming rogue, Langley,” she said.

“A rogue no more,” he promised before kissing her, thoroughly, soundly.

But their interlude wasn’t meant to be, for downstairs the bell over the front door jangled loudly.

“Your aunt!” he groaned. “Doesn’t that woman have anything else to do?”

Minerva shook her head, rising from the bed. “No, that isn’t Aunt Bedelia.” She paused for a second, and then glanced at Langley in alarm when she heard the front door creak open.

“Dear heavens, they are just coming in,” she whispered, going straight for her night table and reaching inside the drawer for Thomas-William’s pistol.

“Give that to me,” he told her, holding out his hand.

“No. And do be still. You are supposed to be on death’s door. Besides, no one would think that I’d be carrying such a thing.”

Minerva went to her door and eased it open.

Of course it creaked, but she could hear a whispered argument down in the foyer. Slowly she eased her way to the railing to glance down, and to her annoyance, Langley followed right on her heels.

“You are supposed to be dying.”

“I won’t have you going first.”

“I know exactly what I am doing.”

“That is what I fear.”

Cautiously she pointed the pistol over the railing before she tipped her nose over as well.

“Good God, Lady Standon!” came a beleaguered voice. “Do you always have to be pointing that demmed pistol at me!”

“Lord Clifton?” she asked.

“Minerva darling, whatever is going on?” Lucy Sterling, now Lady Clifton, pushed past her husband, unconcerned by the loaded pistol pointed at her. “Do put that away, I fear it gives Clifton hives.” She glanced over Minerva’s shoulder. “See there, Clifton, I told you and Elinor that Lord Langley could hardly be as ill-used as everyone is saying.”

Then she glanced from Langley’s dark expression to Minerva’s tousled state. “And sir, just so we are clear, if you are merely dallying with my friend, the reports of your demise will not be in vain.”

I
t only took a few minutes to sort out their newly arrived company, with Minerva and Lucy settling into the dining room. Langley gave Clifton a hearty handshake and a nod to join him down in the kitchen. As it was, the earl had news from Lord Andrew.

Meanwhile, Elinor Sterling, now the Duchess of Parkerton, had gone straight to the kitchen, and was even now coming up from Mrs. Hutchinson’s lair with a tea tray.

“For you know how long it would take if we dared asked her to do it,” she said with a laugh as she settled the tray down and began to pour for her friends.

Minerva had deliberately chosen the dining room, because she didn’t want them to be seen in the front parlor where some noisy old tabby might decide that “poor Lady Standon” was taking callers.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked.

“Come to help,” Lucy said.

“Most decidedly,” Elinor agreed, passing the plate of scones around.

“You shouldn’t have come, this isn’t like before.” When they all lived in the house and Minerva had helped them both gain their true loves.

Then she glanced at her friends. Honestly, if ever there were two women capable of helping her save Langley, it was Elinor and Lucy.

Lucy grinned. “Yes, you are seeing sense now. We can help, and I daresay you have need of us.”