The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (21 page)

Rand took the offered goblet of port from the blue livered footman. As always, the atmosphere of the room changed once the ladies left to take their tea. He’d never been a great fan of the custom as he hated to ruin a pleasant dinner with the foolish blustering and posturing of his peers that usually followed. He hoped tonight would be different. It wasn’t.
    Lord Foxworth, a tall, big bellied gentleman with a florid face and white mane of hair, was the oldest of the small gathering and, therefore, the most experienced at pomposity. He took a sip of his port, loudly cleared his throat, looked directly at Rand and remarked, “Well, Clarendon, it seems your life’s taken a few drastic changes of late. When I left London, you were unencumbered, without a care in the world and enjoying life’s pleasures as a bachelor. Now you’ve a title, a wife and you’ve left London to become the gentleman farmer.”
    This oversimplification irked the marquis. He was no stranger to the pleasures London had to offer, but since he had taken over Danfield Enterprises his had not been a life of unencumbered leisure. And as fortunate as he might be, he had certainly had his share of worries and problems to contend with.
    “Life can be strange,” he said casually. He took a cheroot from the polished ivory and onyx humidor that was being passed around the table, then glanced up at his host. “Egyptian?”
    Sheraton nodded. “Came in last month. I was lucky to get them.”
    Rand picked up a candle from the table. He held the flame to the tip of his cheroot and then puffed it to life. “Excellent. I’ve always been partial to Egyptian.” The red embers flared as he inhaled.
    Undaunted by the change of subject, Foxworth continued, “You could have knocked me over with a feather when I learned you’d married Stratton’s youngest sister. A striking lass. Very engaging. Caught her young, too. My motto’s always been,
Marry them young. Train them young.”
He chuckled. “Makes the lasses easier to manage.”
    Rand fought the laughter than welled up in his chest. It was clear Foxworth had no notion of his bride’s nature. “I’ve no complaints,” he managed to get out with a straight face.
    Foxworth set his elbows on the table and tapped his fingertips together. “Good. Good,” he said amiably as he nodded his head. “Pleased to hear it.”
    As the earl was the only one talking, Rand was beginning to wonder what his game was. It wasn’t long before he found out.
    “Heard you’ve had a few problems on your estates,” Foxworth remarked casually.
    “I prefer to think of them as challenges,” Rand responded. “Land’s been neglected. I’ll need to bring it up to snuff.”
    The earl pursed his lips. “Heard it was a little more serious than that. Delinquencies, non-payments, theft and vandalism.” His displeasure came through. “Can’t let these people get away with that kind of thing. They need to understand who their betters are.” He rested his hands against the edge of the table and leaned forward. “There should be repercussions for this type of behavior. Can’t let a tenant use your land without payment and then pull up and leave. It’s out and out theft. They’d be swinging from the gallows, if this was London.”
    A quick glance around the table told Rand that most of the guests were in agreement with this statement. And they expected some kind of response from him. He decided not to give them one. He leaned back in his chair, blew a few smoke rings and waited.
    After an uncomfortable silence, Sheraton spoke. “It just isn’t done,” he pointed out. “If you let them get away with it, our tenants will come to expect the same leniency.
    Several others nodded.
    “I believe the rest of us feel the same way,” Lord Withers said. “Sets a bad example.”
    Rand knocked a bit of ash onto his plate. “What exactly have you heard?” he asked mildly.
    “We’ve heard that you’re letting them off scot-free without so much as a rap on the wrist!” Foxworth’s florid complexion had grown more so.
    Rand put a thoughtful look on his face. “So you’re suggesting that I hunt them down and send them to debtor’s prison? All of them?”
    “Might not be able to find all of them,” Foxworth admitted grudgingly. “But if you do nothing at all, it sends the wrong message.” He paused a moment and then added in a somewhat more conciliatory tone, “Trust me in this, Clarendon. There’s really no choice. I know it isn’t pleasant, but it’s a responsibility we have to live with.”
    “I say, Foxworth,” Hammond broke in cheerfully. “I heard the overseer collected the rents and vanished. Not sure it’s quite fair to hold the tenants responsible for that.”
    “Then let them provide their receipts,” Withers said. “I’d wager you wouldn’t find a single one. Without receipts they can’t prove a thing. Who’s to know whether or not they really paid up?”
    Rand felt all eyes on him as he lounged and smoked his cheroot. He waited until Foxworth’s mouth opened to continue their discussion before he said calmly, “First, I’d have to find them. It wouldn’t be a profitable use of my men or my time and, as you know, I’m quite fond of making a profit. And then there would be the weeping women and children to deal with as the bailiffs hauled their men off to the sponging houses or Fleet’s Prison. God knows I hate dealing with tears.”
    “You wouldn’t have to deal with them.” Foxworth stopped abruptly as he realized he was being made sport of. “Dash it all, Clarendon,” he sputtered. “We know what we’re talking about. This is a new endeavor for you. Take a little advice. You can’t begin by appearing soft. They won’t respect you.”
    Anger was beginning to get the better of the marquis. That he outranked the men who were taking him to task didn’t even occur to him, but when Foxworth indicated he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to take care of own his business he was tempted to ask him to step outside. He forced himself to take in a long slow breath. “It’s good of you to be so concerned about the condition of my estates. I’m quite aware that there are a number of problems to be dealt with. Major problems.”
    He continued on, the pitch of his voice didn’t change; his words were slow and deliberate. “The Clarendon Estates are in chaos primarily because the previous marquis were damned idiots. Thank God, the land was entailed or there would be nothing left. Years back, most of the livestock was sold to pay gambling debts. Without sheep there was no wool for the textile mill so the mill was shut down. That resulted in an immense loss of income. To make up for it the tenants were charged rents far in excess of what they could pay. Some made partial payments, but as near as I can tell the money was pocketed by the last overseer who, as you so astutely brought up, has inconveniently disappeared. And by the way, if I do find the bastard I will beat him bloody, but my chances of finding him are very slim and I’m not about to waste my time looking. The account books are in such a jumbled mess I can’t even guess at what else has transpired. It’s likely I will never know and I won’t prosecute without firm facts.”
    He paused as if daring anyone to challenge him then continued, “Why the pottery mill was shut down, I don’t know, but I’m fairly certain more stupidity was involved.” He leaned forward in his chair. “This is my plan, gentlemen. I have wiped the slate clean. What happened six months ago, one year ago, or five years ago is of no consequence to me. I deal in the present. I am starting over and it’s a challenge I’m looking forward to. In the meantime, I have a fine house to live in, fertile farm land, rich grass lands; two mills that need to be reopened and my pockets are deep enough to pay for whatever needs to be done. There will be difficult and frustrating days ahead but I am equal to the task. Now that we have ironed out this little wrinkle, could we go on to other topics?” He jabbed his cheroot back in his mouth and glared.
    For a moment there was silence. It was broken by Hammond whom Rand suspected was not nearly as deep in his cups as he appeared to be. “Gentlemen. Please join me in a toast,” he said with a lopsided grin as he raised his glass. “Here’s to starting over.”
    All but Foxworth and Sheraton raised their glasses. The issue was temporarily put to rest but Rand knew it was far from over.

Cloaked in a quiet darkness, André was the sole passenger in the hired coach. He had closed the curtains and left the lantern unlit. He preferred traveling at night when it was cooler and the dampness kept the road dust at a minimum. And he liked the darkness. He always had. Traveling the roads in the dark of night carried additional risks and the coachman hadn’t been happy about it, but André had offered enough money to make the risk worthwhile. He had also paid extra to travel alone. This trip was costing a fortune, but it was his last chance for comfort. Soon enough, he would be living with the stable hands or if he couldn’t find employment, camping in the woods. The prospect of posing as a laborer brought him no joy, but it seemed the best way to learn the habits of the Clarendon household.
    However, if another way presented itself he would take advantage. And after it was over? It was likely he would be dead. A sense of peace enveloped him as he thought of falling forever into a black velvet void, but first, he had one last thing to accomplish. Revenge for Marguerite. He stretched out his arms, wincing as scarred tissue around his wound pulled. He’d slept poorly of late and exhaustion had set in. The rhythm of the coach wheels rolling over the dirt road was soothing. He settled against the squabs, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep...

André’s lids slowly opened as his mind struggled to make sense of what had woken him. The coach was as a standstill. Men were shouting and he flinched as a shot rent the air. But the realization they were being robbed barely penetrated his consciousness until the door was flung open and a bulky form filled the doorway. A kerchief covered most of the man’s face and his hat was pulled low. Only the eyes were visible.
    “I’ll be relieving ye of yer valuables, sir. All of ‘em.”
    
Non!
his mind cried out. This would ruin everything! He needed his pistols, his clothing. In desperation, he dove for the bag that held his pistols but a heavy blow to the side of his head knocked him to the floor of the coach. He grunted in pain as the air whooshed from his lungs. Another blow fell and his last conscious thought was that he had failed Marguerite.

I
t was slightly after midnight when they left the Sheraton estate. Early by town hours, but it would take close to forty five minutes to reach home and Rand found himself rising earlier and earlier. He took his place across from Cecelia. The moon cast a pale light through the window accenting the soft curves of her face. She had been an absolute vision this evening and that fact hadn’t escaped the notice of the male guests. Hammond and a few others had been far too attentive. As she was certain to bring up Lady Sheraton, he opted for a first strike. He leaned back and folded his arms against his chest. “You should watch yourself around Hammond. He’s a reputation...”
    “To rival yours?” she finished.
    So much for a first strike. She was too clever by half. He scowled. “Never mind my reputation. Just don’t let him get you alone. Or Sheraton, for that matter. Jack’s always been a womanizer and he’s not particularly discreet.”
    She sighed loudly with exasperation. “Don’t be silly. Lord Hammond was only flirting with me because he knew it wouldn’t possibly lead anywhere. Lord Sheraton was attentive because he was the host and was trying to make me feel welcome. And as a married woman, shouldn’t I have a bit more freedom in who I converse with? It isn’t as if I did anything to draw attention to myself.”
    
Except look more radiant and lovely than any other female there
he thought irritably. He grunted. “I suppose.”
    “I didn’t much care for her.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t much care for whom?”
    “You know perfectly well who I’m talking about.”
    “Lady Sheraton I would assume.”
    “You would assume correctly.”
    “Well, there were at least another ten ladies dining with us.” He forced a yawn.
    “Do stop yawning and listen to me. She has wrinkles. Around her eyes.”
    “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Of course, you didn’t. You and the other men were noticing her other qualities.” She adjusted her skirts slightly. “I’m quite perturbed.”
    “Unburden yourself, Cecelia. I’m listening.”
    “She made me feel like a child.”
    “I didn’t notice anything amiss in her conversation. In what way did she make you feel like a child?”
    “Isn’t she a charming young lady, Sheraton?” she mimicked.
    “Horrors. She said you were charming. I don’t blame you for being upset.”
    “It wasn’t
what
she said. It was
how
she said it. And that voice of hers. No woman should be allowed to have a voice like that. But it wasn’t just her voice. She practically oozed seduction. Men will always be attracted to her no matter how old she gets. I’m surprised the lot of you weren’t gathered at her feet pawing at her.”
    He sighed. “I barely restrained myself.”
    “And it’s very uncomfortable to have one’s appearance analyzed in front of others,” Cecelia continued. “She said I was tall. She said that Eugene and I had our father’s height.”
    “You do,” he reminded her.
    “She tried to make it sound like a compliment but it wasn’t. I thought it was very rude of her.”
    He chuckled. “I like that you’re tall. I especially those long legs that do so such an exquisite job of wrapping themselves around me. But I digress. So what did you say when she so rudely referred to your statuesque appearance?”
    “Nothing. I just smiled at her. What could I say? And even worse she said, “What a lovely gown. So few red heads know how to dress to suit their coloring.” She made it sound as if red heads were an entirely different species.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “That certainly changes things. Would you like me to demand an apology? Challenge her husband to a duel for having such an ungracious wife?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    He stretched his legs out. “Why not? You are.”
    “I have every right to be ridicu...” She stopped suddenly, crossed her arms and glared at him. “There’s more. In fact, you may hear some gossip about us.”
    That caught his attention. He groaned. “What did you do, my dear? Tell me now, so I have the opportunity to prepare myself and plan our defense.”
    “We’d just sat down to tea and
she
said ‘You must tell us how you managed it.’ And I said ‘I beg your pardon?” And then she said ‘Your marriage to Clarendon’ as if it was inconceivable that we should marry. I wasn’t foolish enough to tell them the truth, but I certainly wanted to.”
    “Thank God, for that,” he broke in.
    “I simply said it was a surprise to us as well, and that we’d had a whirlwind courtship but had agreed to keep the details secret for personal reasons.”
    “Good God, Cecelia. There’s no telling what they’ll say about us now.”
    “There’s little doubt as to what they’ll be saying. When she insinuated that you married me simply to set up your nursery, I let her know that you were quite determined. Lady Billings all but asked me how often we made love. I’m surprised steam wasn’t coming out of Lady Sheraton’s ears by the time you joined us.”
    He hooted with laughter. “Of course, you know they’ll be watching your figure and counting the months for a while.”
    “Well it’s for certain that they won’t come up with a number less than nine,” she grumbled. “And I don’t understand why everyone seems to think that our personal life is their business.”
    “You know as well as I, that’s the way of the ton. Everyone’s business is everyone’s business. And if the truth isn’t exciting enough, someone’s bound to make something up. I’ve been dealing with it since I came of age. If it makes you feel any better, I had my share of aggravations to deal with this evening. My decision to not to prosecute the previous tenants who failed to pay their rents have not been particularly well received amongst the local landed gentry. Sheraton and Foxworth in particular. I’d venture to guess this dinner was planned in order to give them the opportunity to vent their spleens over it.”
    “But the rents were ridiculous,” she protested. “Even I know you can’t charge someone more than they bring in and expect them to pay it.”
    “To his credit, Hammond supported me though I think it was only because he was playing devil’s advocate. I expected some dissention but thought it would be handled more discretely.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Why I thought that I’ll never know. Give me a tradesman, any day. They’ve got more sense than the blasted aristocrats.”
    “Well, Lord Sheraton and the others can think what they want,” she fumed. “You’re one of the most brilliant, successful people I know.”
    “My sentiments, exactly.”
    “If not the most humble,” she added.
    “I’ve never claimed perfection.”
    She stared at the shadow darkened landscape outside her window then turned to him and smiled. “I think we should have a dinner party. No, better than that. A house party.”
    A long moment passed before he said, “You frighten me far more than a room full of angry men. What are you cooking up?”
    “Nothing more than a house party for our neighbors and their guests,” she said innocently. “It’s customary to invite one’s neighbors for a week of food and entertainment, isn’t it? The season’s over but that doesn’t mean we must become social recluses. And as the Marquis of Clarendon, you’re expected to entertain. Lavishly.”
    “Lavishly?”
    “Yes. Lavishly.” She emphasized the word.
    “I don’t mind entertaining a few guests for three or four days but I can’t spare any more time than that, Cecelia. There’s simply too much that needs to be done.”
    She was quiet a moment, but to his surprise she didn’t argue. “Very well. But would you be willing to buy me some jewels for the occasion? Large extravagant stones that scream that our coffers are overflowing.”
    He tried to picture her in large stones and couldn’t. He shook his head. “Large stones won’t suit you. You may be tall, but your frame and face appear quite delicate. It’s very misleading as you’re one of the least fragile females I know.”
    The corners of her mouths turned down. “Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a complement.”
    He chuckled. “I’ve no desire for a delicate miss. The fear of breaking one’s wife in two would take some of the fun out of the marriage bed.”
    She grinned at him. “I suppose you’re right. And I can’t say that I would enjoy wearing large stones all that much. I could settle for perfect stones. They don’t have to be large.”
    He studied her face then commented, “Emeralds would bring out the green in your eyes. Exquisitely cut emeralds in a delicate setting.”
    “Yes, emeralds would be lovely,” she agreed. “Maybe with a few diamonds tossed in to make it more impressive.”
    He inclined his head with deadpanned seriousness. “Of course. Your jewels must bear the consequence of our position and fortune. I won’t have it said that I’m a skinflint who won’t spend any blunt on his wife.”
    “But you must choose them without me so that when someone remarks on my jewels I can say you surprised me.”
    He couldn’t help but laugh. “What a little schemer you are. Would a necklace suffice? Or would you like earrings and a bracelet as well?”
    “All of that and a broach and jeweled clips for my hair. Something unique.”
    “Something unique,” he repeated. “Define unique.”
    “You know perfectly well what I mean. Tasteful, beautiful and without comparison.”
    “That’s a fairly tall order. It could take a while.”
    She leaned forward. “Oh, but it mustn’t take longer than a few weeks. Three at the most. I don’t want to wait any longer than that to have our party. Though, too soon would also be a mistake. If we have it right on the heels of the Sheraton’s party it will appear as if we’re trying to show them up. But if we wait too long, there will be too many engagements in-between and no one will think to compare our party to theirs and I do want everyone to know I can entertain as well if not better than Lady Sheraton.”
    “Good God,” he said. “Female logic is astounding. Mother always had her ball at the beginning of the season so she wouldn’t be tempted to outdo everyone else. Why can’t a woman entertain without fretting over what everyone else has done?”
    “You simply don’t understand. Lady Sheraton must be made to realize that I’m more than a young girl who has married due to her brother’s influence and I don’t know how else to make my point. I know what’s expected of me. I was a bit nervous tonight but by the end of the evening, I realized that I can perform my social duties as well as anyone. And unlike Lady Sheraton I can do it without making our guests uncomfortable.”
    “Are you certain you have time for this? You’ve taken on quite a bit as it is.”
    “But I haven’t,” she protested. “Winston and Mrs. Brice do an exceptional job of running the household and I see no need to make changes where they aren’t needed, just to assert my authority. The three or so hours a day I spend with the children are very rewarding but what am I to do with the remainder of my time?”
    “I’ve noticed you’ve done a little redecorating. I’ve been remiss in commenting on it but I like what you’ve done. The new rug and paintings in my chambers look very nice.”
    “Thank you. I didn’t realize you had noticed.” She added with a touch of petulance, “You’re home so seldom.”
    “Cecelia,” he warned. “You knew I would have to be away from home a good bit.”
    “I wasn’t complaining. I was simply stating the facts. I’ve plans for the drawing room and dining room as well. They should be ready in time for our party.”
    He’d paid little attention when his mother went on her decorating tears, but three weeks seemed optimistic. “I should think it would take longer than that. It takes a while to have things brought in.”
    “We won’t need to, just yet. I’ve been exploring the house most afternoons and there are a number of nice furnishings stored in the attic and some of the rooms that have been closed off. And I’ve found the most extraordinary tapestries. They appear quite old. Mrs. Brice has them. You must see them once they’ve been cleaned. Mostly scenes of pilgrimages and one of what I believe is the original abbey.” She adjusted her skirts with a flounce. “Of course, I might know better if I could actually see the ruins. But since you’ve yet to take me there I haven’t had the opportunity.” She paused a moment. “And yes, that particular comment was a complaint.”
    Her remark stabbed at his conscious. It was a deliberate ploy on her part but he had made a promise and not followed through and it was not in his nature to do so.
    “We’ll ride out to the ruins, tomorrow,” he said.
    “Truly?”
    “Truly. Whitley can do without me for a day. We’ll take lunch and make a day of it.” “That would be wonderful,” she said happily. “I’m going to indulge myself in a long hard gallop. There are some lovely meadows we can ride through. And to the west is a stream. Harris and I stopped there to water the horses.” She stopped abruptly and Rand observed with interest as she suddenly flounced again and readjusted her skirts. He was learning her body language out of, as well as in the bedchamber and knew she was about to lodge another complaint.
    She did. “He can be so tedious,” she said. “I wish you would select someone else to ride with me. He behaves as if I’d never been on a horse before. Why, I jumped a small fence the other day and Harris nearly had apoplexy. He actually turned purple. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t lose him. He’s sticks to me like glue! Where on earth did you find him?”
    Harris had told him of her antics. She had led the man on a wild chase and then sailed three high fences with the grace of an eagle. The bulky Scotsman had been impressed with her abilities but not with her willful nature. “His instructions are to not let you out of his sight. I trust your skill implicitly. It’s your impulsiveness that gets you into trouble.”
    She heaved a sound of annoyance but didn’t attempt to argue.
    He watched through narrowed eyes as she stared out the window. Impulsive, sometimes petulant, and inherently headstrong, she never failed to stir him. In fact, he was fairly certain that was a part of the attraction. God knows she would never be boring. He would deal with the inconveniences of her occasional brashness to keep this free spirit in his life. Despite the sophisticated ensemble her heart shaped face and tilted eyes gave her the look of a wood sprite. It seemed forever since they had made love, though in truth, it was only two days. She’d been asleep last night when he came to bed and he hadn’t woken her. A moment passed and then he said, “Come here.”
    Desire changed the tone of his voice. It was low and husky and in half a second she moved from her seat and was in his lap.