Moonstruck Madness (46 page)

The groom shifted uneasily. "No, Yer Grace, he sneaked out before dawn and rode off on one of the horses, real quiet like. I only saw him 'cause I was, well—" He turned pink as he
mumbled,
"I was coming in kinda late."

"I see. Well, he usually doesn't leave without telling me where he's off to, but he must've wanted an early start. He is probably across the lake fishing or in the woods somewhere hunting," Sabrina explained unworriedly, wondering why this should be so urgent.

"Well, Yer Grace, I would've thought that too, and not come a'runnin* to you about it, except a groom from the Flying Horse Inn brought young Richard's horse back later this morning."

"What!" Sabrina asked in surprise. "Was Richard thrown? Is he hurt?" She got to her feet hurriedly, fear in her eyes.

"No, he was ordered by the young gentleman to bring it back here, seein' how Lord Richard wouldn't be
needin'
it any longer."

"Why on earth not?
And what was he doing at the Flying Horse Inn?" Sabrina demanded, feeling a sudden chill as the groom answered.

" 'Cause
he was leavin' on the coach headin' north, Yer Grace. Figured maybe you didn't know about the young gentleman's plans, and I oughta tell you," he concluded lamely, feeling a flicker of unease as he watched her face whiten.

"Oh, Richard," Sabrina breathed, knowing without having to look that the tapestry she had placed in the chest in her room would be missing. Richard was going to claim his treasure.

"Thank you," Sabrina told the groom gratefully, "you did the right thing in telling me so soon. And now will you prepare a carriage, for I shall be travelling within the hour."

Mary snuggled down beneath the covers, curling her toes as she felt the coolness of the sheets. She looked regretfully at the empty place beside her and wished Terence would hurry up and come to bed so she could warm herself against him. She had left him working on the accounts in the library, his eyes tired as he struggled to reacquaint himself with the running of his estate. Now that he was no longer an officer he was devoting all of his energies into reorganizing his tenants and holdings. He'd let them slide under the easy management of his estate agent in his long absences, but now he was taking over like a commanding officer bringing order to unruly troops.

Mary smiled happily and contentedly as she thought of her life. Eight months as Terence's bride she had lived at Green Willows, and now she could hardly wait until the birth of their child. She secretly hoped for a son in the image of his father, but Terence admitted that he would like a little girl, claiming he couldn't resist anything in skirts. A little girl like Rhea, Mary thought,
then
shook her head. Never could there be another child as beautiful as she was, with her golden curls and violet eyes and disposition sweet as a flower. If only she could also have brought.
happiness
to her parents. Mary despaired at times of Sabrina and Lucien ever finding happiness. They had drifted so far apart since they'd married. How unlike her own marriage—but then
neither she
nor Terence were like Lucien and Sabrina. They were so proud and arrogant, neither one willing to give an inch to make amends. It was so tragic when Mary knew that they must love one another. But if they didn't find a way to mend their differences, then it would be too late. They would not be able to recapture their love because of the bitter memories, and lately Mary had even heard rumors from London. She didn't want to believe them, and yet was it so impossible that Lucien would seek love from willing arms; but she would not believe that Sabrina had a lover, too. Those had to be lies.

Mary rolled over onto her back and forced her mind onto other thoughts. Aunt Margaret would be paying them a visit soon. She was staying with Sabrina now, but had planned to arrive next week. Mary compared Green Willows with Camareigh as she thought of the differences between their homes, and how small Green Willows would seem after the grandeur of Camareigh. Her home might not have the grand staircases and painted ceilings, nor the state rooms of Camareigh, but the red brick, mullioned windows, and gables created a pleasing effect at the end of the yew-hedged drive. They had a lovely, carved staircase and an oak-paneled dining room besides the salons and drawing rooms decorated in her favorite yellows and blues. She had just finished redoing the nurseries, placing toy soldiers confidently in a toy chest. With a satisfied smile she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the day she would hold her son in her arms.

It was the sound of the big clock in the hall striking twelve that wakened her. She sat up with a start and was surprised to find her nightgown soaking with perspiration. Her face felt clammy and with a cry of terror Mary tumbled out of bed and ran from the room, nearly falling as she stumbled down the stairs in panic.

Terence was bent over the papers on his desk, his quill scratching across the surface as he wrote, when he was startled by Mary breathlessly running into the library.

He looked up in surprise, muttering an oath beneath his breath as he saw her pale face and hurried to her.

"What in God's name has happened?" he demanded worriedly as he half-lifted Mary to a chair. "It's not the child?" he asked suddenly.-fear on his face.

Mary shook her head, and with a deep sigh of relief he left her to pour a glass of brandy, wrapping her cold fingers around the glass and guiding it to her bluish-tinged lips. He took her hands when she had finished it and rubbed them vigorously, hoping to return the circulation to them. "Mary," he pleaded. "You must tell me what has happened. Something has terrified you. Now tell me, what is it?"

Mary looked at him with enormous gray eyes darkened almost to onyx. The bones of her face showed sharply under the grayish tinge of her skin, reminding him of
a
bleached skull.

"I had let my mind drift. I'd been so worried about Sabrina that I tried to put her out of my mind," Mary explained shakily.

Terence nodded. "There is nothing you can do for them, Mary. They must find the solution themselves, but they are so damned stubborn. I don't want you worrying yourself—"

"Oh, Terence, it isn't that," Mary broke in desperately, grabbing his hands in a surprisingly strong grip. "I feel death closer than ever before.
As though a breath of cold air from the grave had caressed my cheek."

"Mary," Terence murmured, "this has got to stop. You'll make yourself ill."

Mary stared through him, looking a stranger to his eyes. "I heard pipes, and saw the moon shining across the loch. It was so sad, so bleak and still, as though time had stood still. And then I saw people, but the faces weren't clear at first, until the mists lifted and I saw a boat floating through it."

Mary's eyes refocused and she looked at Terence's reassuring face imploringly. "It was Sabrina in the boat, and

Richard beside her, and I could feel something was wrong."

"Now, Mary," Terence patted her hand, a placating note in his voice. "You've admitted to yourself that you've been worried. It was a
dream, that
is all."

Mary pulled her hands free angrily. "Do not patronize me, Terence. This was no dream. It was a vision of something horrible that is going to happen. And," she whispered, swallowing back her tears, "it is going to happen to Sabrina. Oh, Terence, trust me. I've lived with these feelings all of my life, and I know when to believe them. It is something I cannot ignore. Please believe that what I am telling you is true."

Terence stared at her clenched hands and wide eyes, still doubtful. "What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I don't know anything except some vague images you've told me about."

Mary leaned forward, the color returning to her cheeks as the brandy warmed her. "We must go to Camareigh. We must make sure that Sabrina and Richard don't go to Scotland."

"Scotland! You think they would travel all the way up there? Why, for heaven's sake? Mary, listen to me, it doesn't make sense. Sabrina would not leave Rhea and go running off to Scotland, much less with Richard trailing along." Terence raised his voice, trying to make her see reason.

"You don't understand at all. If it's not in print before your eyes you refuse to believe it," Mary accused him, feeling in that moment the first impatient anger she had ever had toward Terence. "I know, and believe, with every breath in me that my vision will come true unless we do something to stop it."

Mary stood up, her rounded figure revealed clearly by her thin nightgown, and facing Terence, said with determination, "I will not have this tragedy on my conscience. I intend to drive to Camareigh and warn Sabrina—unless it is already too late." She turned stiffly and made to move past Terence.

"Mary," Terence whispered and taking her in his arms held her tightly against him. "My Mary, never be angry with me. I'm a selfish fool wanting only to keep you safe and with me, and you are right, I am slow to believe what I cannot see." He lifted her face and smiled into her gray eyes. "We will go, Mary. Now dry your eyes, and have the maids pack your clothes, and plenty of warm ones. I'll not have you catching a chill."

Mary beamed up at him, her eyes trusting, as she pressed a kiss on his mouth and then quickly slipped from his embrace as his arms tightened to hold her closer.

They traveled through the night and early morning, stopping only once for a change of horses and a quick breakfast, Mary refusing to eat, but gratefully accepting
a
cup of tea. At her insistent urging they continued on within minutes. Mary stared out the windows as dawn lightened the skies and revealed the countryside passing by, her eyes unseeing as she stared into her own mind, trying to see more.

It was mid-morning when they finally drove by the gatehouse of Camareigh. Entering the large hall unannounced, Mary headed for the stairs, but was halted by the butler who was descending them, his face showing surprise as he saw her swiftly climbing towards him, her husband close behind.

"Lady Mary," he stuttered. "I'm afraid—"

"Where is Sabrina? She is here, isn't she?" Mary interrupted him frantically.

Mason drew himself up with dignity. "I believe Her Grace has left Camareigh."

"Oh, God," Mary whispered faintly. Terence quickly put a supporting arm about her waist as she swayed. "Come on, dear, you'd better sit down. You get some tea and toast," he barked the order at the butler, who after
a
stunned look followed his instructions.

Leaning back against the damask chair Mary took
a
deep breath and tried to calm
herself
. Terence hovered nearby and as the door opened to admit the butler and
a
footman carrying a tea tray she demanded, "Where is the Duke? Please tell him we are here and must see him immediately."

"I am afraid that His Grace is not in residence at the moment."

Mary glanced to Terence helplessly, her fears evident on her face. "Is Lord Richard gone too?" she asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes he is," he confided, the distress on Lady Mary's face finally breaking through his reserve. After all, she was Her Grace's sister. "It is most strange. The young lord disappeared yesterday and upon discovering this, Her Grace seemed greatly disturbed and ordered her carriage. Apparently Lord Richard took a public coach north, but where I cannot tell you, although Her Grace seemed to have an idea of his destination," he informed them helpfully. "To be frank, if I may, we were in quite a quandary on what course of action to pursue as Her Grace left no instructions for us to follow," he concluded, a look of relief on his face as he disclosed his burden to someone of authority.

"What of Rhea?" Mary asked suddenly as she remembered the child.

The butler permitted himself a smile. "The young lady is quite safe in the nursery with a wet nurse and nanny in attendance."

"Thank God. I'll just go up and see her," Mary told Terence as she got slowly to her feet, her tiredness beginning to show.

"All right, dear, and why don't you see if you can get
a
little rest. There is nothing more we can do right now," Terence advised, then turning to the butler requested paper and pen. "I wish to send a message. The Duke is in London, is he not?"

"Yes, I believe so," Mason answered, curiosity beginning to show on his stern features.

Mary entered the nursery quietly. The nanny was sewing while she sat close to the cradle. At sight of Mary she smiled in relief as she recognized Her Grace's sister. Coming close to the cradle Mary gazed down on the small, sleeping baby. Golden curls covered the little head and her cheeks were pink and healthy. Mary put out a forefinger and touched the child's tiny, perfectly formed finger with its miniature nail.