Three Heroes (88 page)

Susan poured tea into her cup. Life goes on. “Yes, he’s a lovely man, though he’s not going to live here.

But you’re right, Ellen. Everything will be all right as long as he’s earl.”

The maid left, and Susan spread butter and jam on the roll, took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.

Life must go on.

A lovely man.

He was.

Beneath the dark and angry moments lived Con, the blessing of her youth. With Lady Anne he probably was that man. At Somerford Court he probably was that man.

That comforted her. She thought perhaps she could bear this loss if Con was living a good life somewhere in the world.

She rose and washed and dressed as usual, unable to escape memories of Con taking off the same clothes. So she faced the memories, embraced them. Most of them were to be treasured.

She almost felt the events of the night should have marked her, but the most careful scrutiny in the mirror showed not a sign. Last night her skin had been a little reddened, her lips a little swollen. Now no trace remained.

Just as it hadn’t eleven years ago.

She’d returned to the manor sure that everyone would know what she’d done, that she was marked, changed. It appeared not to have been so. Con and his father and brother had left three days later, and after that Aunt Miriam had remarked once or twice that Susan was missing him. Perhaps there’d been a hint of sympathy for a young love that had come to naught. But no more than that.

Today, no one would notice anything either.

What secrets lay in the other hearts around her?

With a sigh, she went out to organize the day.

She was inspecting the laundry that had come up from the village when Amelia bounced in, bright-eyed and beaming. “Hello. Where’s the dragon?”

“Not in these quarters,” Susan said, waving the maids off to put the folded sheets and pillowcases away.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

She was smiling, though. No one could help smiling at Amelia, and all the shadows suddenly seemed to shrink.

“I do have a reason,” her cousin said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but I won’t tell you what it is unless you tell me something exciting about the earl.”

“I’m a servant here,” Susan said, deliberately being difficult. “It is not a servant’s place to gossip about her employer.”

“Susan! We’ve gossiped about the earl enough in the past. What I really want is to see him.”

“I have to pick some flowers to refresh the arrangement in the dining room. You can come with me if you promise to behave.”

“I’m not a servant here.”

“Behave like a lady, I mean. And,” she added, picking up a basket and some shears, “you’re much more likely to see him there than here.”

That made Amelia enthusiastic. Susan fought off a touch of guilt. If she was any judge, Amelia wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Con while in her company.

When they entered the courtyard, Amelia looked around. “This isn’t much of a garden. If I’d known you wanted flowers I could have brought some from the manor. We’re awash with tulips.”

“Two gentlemen don’t require a lot of flowers.” Susan snipped some wallflowers and stocks.

Amelia was looking up. “All those windows. It’s like being in a box, watched.”

Susan looked up, realizing that Amelia was right— and that Con could be watching.

As if picking up the thought, Amelia asked, “Where is he? I do long to see him.”

“I don’t know.”

It was true. He’d eaten breakfast but she knew no more. Mr. Rufflestowe was here again going through the curiosities. De Vere was presumably in the office. Con could be with either of them, or anywhere else. She didn’t think he’d left Crag Wyvern, though. Mr. Swann was expected.

“How long are you going to stay here?” Amelia asked. “It must be pretty boring.” But then said, “What does it mean? ‘The Dragon and His Bride’?”

Susan looked over to see her cousin studying the words carved into the rim of the fountain.

“It used to have figures. A dragon and a woman.”

Amelia turned to her. “What happened to them?”

Susan was remembering one of the problems she had with life at the manor. Everyone expected to know everything. The concept of private matters did not occur to them.

“The earl didn’t like it, so he ordered it removed.”

Amelia’s eyes lit up. “Was it very improper?”

“Highly.”

“I wish I’d seen it before it was destroyed. It really isn’t fair. I never get to experience anything exciting.”

Susan added some delicate rue to her basket. “You don’t want to, either.”

Amelia wandered back to her side. “Not if it was uncomfortable, no. But a naughty statue wouldn’t be dangerous, would it?”

Susan suppressed a wry smile. “You’d be surprised.”

Con was with Mr. Rufflestowe, unwillingly fascinated by the strange and occult items being entered into a meticulous catalogue.

“People really do use eye of newt?” he asked, looking into a glass vial of small, dry objects.

“So it would seem, my lord,” said the round and polished young man. He rose to take down a heavy, leather-bound book from the section already recorded. He flicked through the pages carefully and then pointed to a recipe.

“I can hardly read that writing, never mind translate the Latin after all these years,” Con said.

“It instructs the user to dissolve four eyes of newt in mercury and pig’s urine.”

“And what is that supposed to cure?”

Mr. Rufflestowe went pink. “Er ... a female complaint, my lord.”

“Should certainly stop all complaints dead, I’d think.”

Con was mildly amused, and Rufflestowe was surprisingly entertaining company, but essentially he was in hiding, waiting for Swann to turn up so he could arrange his escape.

Susan was somewhere in the house, and he wasn’t going to see her, or speak to her if he could help it.

He glanced out of the window, however, and one resolution crumbled. Susan was out there. A new aspect of Susan, smiling and chatting with a plump and pretty young lady in a sunshiny yellow dress that was all the brighter beside Susan’s gray and white.

Dammit, as her employer could he order her to wear something different?

Unfair, and dangerous.

But he couldn’t stop watching the two women. There was something so comfortable and familiar between them, and he realized that it reminded him of his sisters together.

That must be one of her Kerslake cousins.

He knew he should move back, turn away, as if from a spellbinder, but he continued to watch.

Then Race stepped into view.

“Good morning, ladies!”

Susan turned to see Race de Vere sauntering out of the office doors, smiling angelically. “Speaking of naughty and dangerous . ..” she murmured.

“Oh, lovely,” Amelia murmured back, giving de Vere her best flirtatious look.

“Mrs. Kerslake, do we have a new maid?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

Susan heard a little squeak of outrage from her cousin and had to fight a smile. She’d thought she’d never smile again.

“Don’t be mischievous, Mr. de Vere,” she said. “This is my cousin, Miss Kerslake. Amelia, Mr. de Vere. Lord Wyvern’s secretary.”

“And friend,” he said, stepping closer and bowing. “It must mean something to be an earl’s friend.”

Amelia dropped a curtsy, dimples showing that she’d overcome any outrage. “Have you been the earl’s secretary long, Mr. de Vere?”

“Mere months, but it seems like an eon, Miss Kerslake....”

Susan rolled her eyes and left them to their light-hearted flirtation as she looked around for suitable greenery. Amelia at least had what she’d come for here—an encounter with an interesting new gentleman. The selection in this area was limited and very familiar.

She wondered if Amelia had looked up de Vere in any books, and what she’d found. She was sure he was not a typical secretary with his way to make in the world. He was far too sure of himself for that.

As she worked her way around the garden, their voices and occasional laughter as background, she recalled Amelia’s interrupted question. How long was she going to stay?

There was nothing to keep her here now.

Nothing.

A flutter of pain and panic told her how much she didn’t want to leave. Not while Con was still here. It might be crumbs from the table, but if that was all there was she would stay for them.

And perhaps, just perhaps, he would summon her to his room again.

Wicked to even think of it, but she couldn’t help it. And she didn’t think she would be strong enough not to go.

Con felt unreasonable irritation that Race could stroll out there and flirt while he was pinned up here, a mere observer. Susan was now almost out of his sight unless he peered down from the window, and he wasn’t about to do that. That left only the laughing, flirting couple.

How strange it was, however, to see such normal interaction within Crag Wyvern. He was sure it had been years, decades even, since two normal young people had enjoyed each other’s company here.

Was it something to do with expectations? Could he and Susan get along better together if they weren’t so aware of the poisonous nature of this place?

But then, it was their past, not their location, that had twisted everything into disaster.

A new person came onstage.

Susan’s brother.

Ah, yes. Con remembered summoning him. If he was going to protect Captain Drake it might as well be an open matter between them.

For the first time, he wondered if he should warn Kerslake about Gifford’s threat to Susan. She’d told him in confidence as a friend, he knew, and yet it was a matter that needed to be dealt with.

“Susan.”

She turned to find David beside her.

“Good heavens. This is becoming a market square!” But then she said, “Trouble?”

“I don’t think so. Wyvern summoned me.”

“What?” But her sudden alarm subsided. “More poring over records with de Vere, I suppose.”

He shrugged. “I was to report to him, not de Vere. Any idea where he is?”

David was Con’s estate manager. It wasn’t peculiar that Con wanted to speak to him. But prickles of alarm were running up and down Susan’s spine.

Con couldn’t want to talk about her. Of course he couldn’t.

But men were so strange about these things.

He might want to talk about Gifford. Would he feel he had to tell David about Gifford’s threat?

Would he want to talk about the gold?

What might he say about the gold?

She hadn’t thought about how to explain the fact that she now had money for the Horde....

“What’s the matter?” David asked.

She found a smile for him. “Nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.” That, at least, was true. “De Vere might know where he is. Otherwise we’ll have to organize a search.”

“A dragon hunt,” David said lightly as they strolled over to the other couple.

Susan winced, but then she saw Maisie limping out of the great hall. “Mr. Swann’s here to see the earl, Mrs. Kerslake.”

“Market square indeed,” she said, feeling as if the weight of three outsiders here—four if she included de Vere—was shifting something elemental about Crag Wyvern.

Or perhaps the change was all in herself.

“I’d forgotten,” Susan said, going over to the others. “David, that’s doubtless why the earl wants you here. Mr. de Vere, do you know where the earl is?”

“With Rufflestowe in the Wyvern rooms, I believe, ma’am.”

How nicely formal they were all being.

“I’ll go and talk to Swann,” David said. “Someone else can dig Wyvern out of Wyvern.”

With a grin he walked briskly off toward the hall. De Vere pulled a humorous face and said, “I’ll go. I’m sure one day I’ll be grateful for this exposure to fertility charms and auras.”

“What?” asked Amelia as soon as de Vere was out of earshot.

After a moment’s hesitation, Susan told her cousin about the earl’s rooms.

Amelia was wide-eyed and laughing by the end. “Susan, I have to see that place!”

“It would be most improper.”

“Foo. It would be no more improper for me to go there than for you, even though you are playing housekeeper here.”

“I work here, Amelia. I earn my pay.” It was appallingly tempting to tell Amelia exactly why they were different.

Amelia picked the shears out of Susan’s basket and began to gather more blooms. “I’ve heard the rumors,” she said. “About women coining up here hoping to get with child and become the countess.

Strange they’d think it worth it.”

“Very strange. But I talked to a couple of them and it was more a matter of getting a handsome dowry for nothing. I gather in recent years at least the earl was ... incapable.”

“Impotent?” Amelia asked, but then she pulled a face. “He’d still have wanted to touch and such, wouldn

’t he? Tom Marshwood tried to handle me in a most offensive manner at a picnic last week.”

‘The swine! What did you do?“

“Told him exactly what I thought of him, of course. He won’t be so foolish again.”

Such simple solutions among essentially decent people. Susan wondered if living in Crag Wyvern drove away all sense of proportion.

She recaptured the shears from her cousin. “This small garden can’t afford such extravagance with flowers. Come to the kitchen and we’ll have tea.”

As they strolled there she chatted, but underneath her mind was fretting about the meeting between Con, David, and Swann. It should all be business, but it could turn to other things....

Whatever was happening, she reminded herself, there was nothing she could do about it, and she had resolved to stop trying to force life into the channels of her choosing.

She settled to the haven of a session of light chatter and gossip with Amelia, wondering if there’d ever been a chance for her to be as straightforward as her cousin, or whether she’d been cursed from her irregular birth.

Con was glancing through a book about witchcraft when there was a rap on the door and Race walked in.

“Mr. Kerslake awaits below at your command, my lord,” Race said like a bad actor in a poor play. His manner had become stranger over the past day, and Con wondered what the hell he was up to.