The Fortune Hunter (12 page)

“Do you mean to suggest, Miss Dufresne, that you find my company distasteful?”

“You are changing the subject, my lord,” she said, her smile fading.

“Am I?”

“If you prefer not to speak of this.…”

He dropped the cards to the table and took her hand between his broader ones. “How you challenge a man to do what you wish him to! I can understand why your brother stays hidden, for he wishes no one to see the scars where your barbed words have struck him.” Sitting again, he drew her down to the chair beside him. “As to your question, Miss Dufresne, I am on a quest. Like the grand knights of yore, I am seeking a nemesis who has betrayed my family's trust.”

She flinched as his words brought to mind Janelle's taunt that Nerissa was waiting for a dashing knight to sweep her into a fairy-tale life. “Your family's trust? What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Can it be that you find my story unbelievable?”

“It is unbelievable! This is 1811, not some ancient times when primitive emotions ruled.”

He laughed again, but his voice remained taut. “Emotions never change. I would guess a knight riding off on a Crusade felt the same determination I have to find the one who cheated my father out of thirty thousand pounds.”

“Cheated?” She glanced about the room.

“Not at a wager, but at a business deal that you would find boring. I am determined to find this man who stole my father's spirit and his life.”

In horror, she whispered, “A murderer?”

“You need not be so diabolic in your thoughts, for the fiend did not slay him. Only his deeds did, for my father was a man of uncommon pride.”

“Like his sons?”

A smile raced across his face, but his voice remained somber. “To be cheated by a cur, who was beneath his touch, was more than my father could endure. The shame killed him, and I vowed to make the man pay for his crimes.”

“That quest has brought you to Bath?”

“Yes, and …” His jaw tightened as the sound of footfalls and laughter came from beyond the closed door. “That is why I wished to speak with you alone. I must ask you a favor.” Not giving her a chance to reply, he went on, “You have heard the interest, I am sure, in our friendship.” A mischievous twinkle betrayed his next words. “Which is deemed to be far warmer than a friendship.”

“Yes.” She could not halt the faint sound of her voice as he stroked her fingers while he spoke.

“I would, if you will agree, let them continue to think it is more than a friendship.” When she started to reply, he put his finger to her lips. “I will call upon you along with Philip and his Annis. Let the
ton
see us in each other's company. Their curiosity will consume them, permitting me to do what I must to find the man who betrayed my father.”

“Nothing we say will deter them from their assumptions,” she said, but tensed when the door latch rose.

“Then you are agreeable to this?”

She nodded.

Standing, he drew her to her feet. In a low voice that would not reach beyond her ears, he said, “I vow that I shall unearth him with all speed. Then the blackguard will find himself in the midst of his most horrible nightmare as he learns the taste of a Windham's revenge.”

Chapter Seven

Nerissa gripped the banister as she heard a door crash closed on the ground floor. She saw Cole walk away from the front door to where Hadfield was standing in the center of the entrance foyer. Both of them were glowering at the door.

Rushing down the stairs, she gasped, “Cole, what is wrong?” She had never heard him slam the door before.

He snarled, “Everything!”

Taken aback by his vehemence, she put her fingers on his arm. He shook them off and spun to glare at her. Fear pinched at her as she saw for the first time the same terrible choler that she had suffered from his father during the years Mr. Pilcher had shared her mother's house.

“Cole, if there is something I can do …”

She realized he was not listening to her. Instead he had turned to the butler. Sharply he said, “I will not suffer that indignity again, Hadfield. If you see any sign of such problems, I wish you to handle them. I know you are familiar with doing so.”

“What problem?” Nerissa asked as she glanced from one rigidly set face to the other. Something was dreadfully wrong, and she could not understand why Cole was keeping the truth from her.

“It isn't your concern, Nerissa,” her brother returned without looking at her. “Do you understand, Hadfield?”

“I understand you, Mr. Pilcher.” Smug satisfaction saturated his voice as he shot a glare in Nerissa's direction. Turning on his heel, he walked toward the back of the house.

“Cole—”

“I do not wish to be disturbed!” he snapped and vanished into his book room.

Nerissa choked back another gasp when that door smashed resoundingly closed. Going to the window by the front door, she peered out. The walkway was empty save for a short, round man who was standing on the opposite side of the street and looking toward the bridge leading into the heart of Bath. A pair of carriages passed, and, when she could see the other side of the street again, he was gone.

Bafflement threaded her forehead. Something had wound up both Cole and Hadfield, but she had no idea what it might be.

Climbing the stairs with the same unseemly speed as she had descended, she went into her room to discover Frye folding chemises and putting them in the cupboard. Frye stopped humming a tuneless song to smile. The abigail's smile drifted away, warning Nerissa that her disquiet was visible on her face.

“Of course, I heard the door close,” the older woman said. “Hadfield is always—”

“Cole slammed it.”

“Mr. Pilcher? Why?”

Nerissa sat in the chair and drew her feet up beneath her. “I have no idea. I thought you might know. Are there any whispers belowstairs of a problem that Cole has?”

“I know of no problem,” Frye said. She shuddered as she folded the last chemise and set it in the drawer. Closing the door quietly, she added, “Not that I wish to have anything to do with that frightful man's concerns.”

Nerissa could not argue with that. She wished she could convince Cole to rid the house of Hadfield. Until then, she must endure the butler's insolent smiles and vicious comments while she tried to puzzle out what was wrong.

Nerissa tilted her parasol, so the white lace dripping off its edge did not obscure her view of the trees, which lined the road leading through the rolling hills out of Bath. Her elbow rested lightly on the scalloped edge of the seat of the phaeton. Annis could not have selected a finer day to celebrate her mother's approval of Mr. Windham with an outing in daisyville. The sun shone with a bright, soft light that added color to the grass and flowers, but did not burn through her bonnet.

“And Mr. Windham can call whenever we are at home,” Annis said for at least the tenth time since they had left Town.

“I am so pleased.” Nerissa had tried to vary her reply, and she was not sure what she would say the next time Annis voiced her happiness.

“Mama has said I must invite Mr. Windham and his brother to sup some evening soon. Will you come?”

“I will try.”

Annis leaned forward. “Do leave Cole at home. I have no wish for Mr. Windham to be bored with his skimble-skamble talk of that canal.”

“Miss Ehrlich!” Frye's pursed lips spoke her displeasure as sharply as her words.

With a giggle, Annis said, “Oh, Frye, I knew I could put you in a stew with that comment.”

The abigail harrumphed while Nerissa struggled not to laugh. If Frye took a moment to think, she would know that Cole had no wish to leave his book room for an evening of conversation and dinner.

Her smile wobbled. As Annis continued to prattle about the upcoming party, Nerissa looked ahead to the curve in the road. It was painfully familiar. She was glad the two men rode ahead of them. As insightful as Lord Windham had proven to be, she doubted if she could have hidden her mixed pleasure and dismay as she saw the gate leading to Hill's End.
Her home
, but it was hers only until a buyer could be found. Then everything she had known all her life would be gone.

When Frye patted her hand, Nerissa looked at her abigail. Trust dear Frye to comprehend the depth of her despair. Seeing the sorrow in the older woman's eyes, Nerissa bit her lip to restrain her tears. Hill's End had been home to Frye nearly as long as it had been for Nerissa. Albert Pilcher had stolen almost every one of her father's farthings. Now they must watch strangers take over their home. It was the final insult Albert Pilcher could have heaped on them.

She stared at the stone gate, with its iron arch connecting the pillars, until the road curved to follow the low wall that marked the edge of the property that had been in her family for centuries. Blinking back the tears that she must not allow to fall, she sat straighter when the carriage bounced as the driver turned it onto a rougher road.

Frye muttered something under her breath, but Nerissa did not ask her to repeat her words so they could be understood. She understood all too well, for it had been along this road that she had walked often with her mother and Frye. They had come here to seek May flowers and to look for mistletoe. Nerissa's mother had sat with her on these mossy hummocks and regaled her with tales of the house, which had been built nearly four centuries before.

She said nothing as the carriage was halted, and the coachman jumped down to get the rug from the boot. Lord Windham unlashed the food basket he had attached to his saddle while his brother came to hand them out of the carriage.

Nerissa watched as Annis, delighted as a child, hurried to where the rug was being unrolled, so she could supervise the arrangement of the dishes for their
al fresco
meal. Frye went after her, clucking like an old hen, as she gave orders to the coachman.

Instead of following, Nerissa walked to the top of a knoll. Anguish knotted her middle as she saw the chimneys of Hill's End past the treetops. Trying to imagine others in her home, which was so oddly empty now, was impossible.

“Miss Dufresne, if I have done anything to give you offense, I beg you to forgive me.”

At the soft plea, Nerissa looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Windham's sorrowful expression. Although he held a field daisy in his hands, he was rubbing his palms together as if he was trying to rid himself of something distasteful. Attempting a smile, she said, “You have done nothing to cause me to be angry, sir,”

“Oh.” He said nothing for a moment, then asked, “What has Hamilton done to you?”

Nerissa flinched before realizing he did not mean his question as it had sounded. No one but Frye could comprehend her silence. “Lord Windham's actions have been without complaint,” she answered. “Forgive
me
for being so unsociable. I wanted a moment to admire the view.”

Mr. Windham hesitated until she was tempted to ask him if he needed help devising his next thought, then he motioned for her to sit on the grass. Squatting next to her, he said, “I am glad you have become friends. Hamilton needs friends.”

“He appears to have many.”

“Friends?” He shook his head. “Many acquaintances, but his life for the past few years has prohibited him from having friends.”

She touched his sleeve, and he met her eyes squarely for the first time. “I know of his determination to find the fleecer who stole your father's money.”

“He told you of that?”

“Yes.”

“That is a surprise, for he is as shamed by the episode as Father was. Hamilton thinks too much of that. I hope your friendship is the advent of changes for him.”

“He thinks of you as well.”

“Me?” Mr. Windham's voice cracked on the single word.

Nerissa lowered her parasol and closed it. “Your brother fears for your life if you propel yourself headlong into the war.”

Instead of the retort she had expected, Mr. Windham grinned. “This is just the jolly! I knew you would change him from the moment I heard he had bought you that hat.”

She touched the brim of the blue bonnet. She had not guessed she must defend the viscount's actions to his brother as she had to so many others. “Lord Windham wished only to replace the hat he had ruined.”

“True.” He jumped to his feet, his grin returning. “But, Miss Dufresne, he could have sent a message to the milliner's shop and had it delivered to you with an apology. Instead he went to the shop—a place he would usually disdain—and selected the perfect hat for you before delivering it personally.” Patting her shoulder, he laughed. “You changed him even before you knew him, Miss Dufresne. He is baring his heart to you as he has no woman since …” He gulped and excused himself.

Nerissa was glad that he did not wait for an answer before he went to give the flower to Annis. She would have had nothing to say to him, because his words unsettled her more than she wished to own.
Since Elinor Howe
. That was what Mr. Windham had been about to say.

What sort of woman was Elinor Howe that she could bewitch the viscount, then shun him? She did not want to discover that.

Footsteps against the soft grass urged her to look up. Lord Windham towered over her, his head seemingly brushing the clouds as he smiled. He was dressed as casually as his brother, but she could not help noticing how well his brown riding coat and buckskin breeches matched the lines of his sturdy body.

“Philip said you were enjoying the view and suggested that I should join you,” he said as he held out his hand to bring her to her feet.

“Do you always do as your brother suggests?”

“I fear I listen to him no more than he listens to me. Neither of us has heard more than a peep from you today. You have been shockingly quiet, Miss Dufresne.”

“I never have had a reputation for having tongue enough for two sets of teeth.” When his brows arched, she regretted the barbed words. She had no reason to be angry with Lord Windham, for he was to blame for none of her problems. The man who had brought her such woe was dead, so she had nowhere to focus her frustration. “Forgive me.”