“What are you doing here, Tommy?” she demanded, staring up at him, shocked by the expression of misery on his face. Viscount Thomas Byer was well-known for his languid airs, his lack of concern for anyone or anything, and being the oldest student at Oxford. He was generally referred to as a Care-for-Nobody, although Eva knew that was not true. He was her brother’s best friend—two outcasts who’d found each other Gabe’s first year at university.
Before he could answer, her father said, “Perhaps we might return to the inn before we engage in such discussions?”
Eva turned to face him, shuddering at the leashed fury that burned beneath the blue.
“Of course, Father.”
His eyes flickered to Godric, who’d come to stand beside her. “Shall I give her a hand up, sir?”
The marquess nodded abruptly and Godric’s hands closed around her waist and lifted her up behind her father. The journey back to the inn was a silent one, which was probably just as well since Eva’s ears had only just stopped ringing when the Greedy Vicar came in sight.
Godric strode beside them, his expression closed and unreadable. Tommy rode on her father’s other side, his face set and grim. The only person who seemed the same as ever was Andrew, who couldn’t stop gazing at his blunderbuss in wonder, no doubt surprised it had actually fired.
She was grateful to be seated behind her father, and not to have to meet his gaze. Never had Eva seen her impeccable father so dusty and mud-spattered; he looked a decade older than when she’d last seen him. Was it possible for a man’s hair to go gray in so short a time? Because the Marquess of Exley’s inky-black hair was indeed a striking and snowy white at his temples. His eyes were still more cutting than the sharpest blades, but the skin beneath them looked bruised.
When they cantered up to the Greedy Vicar’s small stables Mr. Norton and his son Anthony came out of the inn.
“Welcome back, my l-lords,” Mr. Norton stammered, his gaze flickering between the men and finally landing on Godric. “Er, I’m sorry, sir, but the magistrate is off on the circuit.”
Godric nodded.
“That is just as well,” the marquess said in his precise, diamond-sharp tone. “I don’t wish for an audience.”
Nobody said a word as the five of them trooped into Mr. Norton’s small coffee room.
The marquess cut a cursory glance around the small but impeccably clean room. “Have you any other guests?” he asked.
“Uh, no, my lord.”
“Then I will engage your entire inn for the evening.”
“Er, Papa?”
He turned those cold eyes on her, and Eva swallowed. “There are only two rooms.”
“As to that,” Norton said, looking as if he couldn’t believe his mouth had opened and he’d shoved words out of it, “I’ll quickly make my two other rooms ready.”
“I thought you had only the two rooms?” Godric demanded, and Eva realized Andrew hadn’t told him about the others.
Norton winced. “No, I’ve got four.”
Now Godric looked just as grim as the other two men.
Eva yawned; she wanted to crawl into bed and leave them all to it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fleming,” Norton babbled. “It’s just that, well, Mrs. Crosby kept the rooms locked, you know.” He shifted from foot to foot.
“What’s this about rooms? And who is Mrs. Crosby?” Tommy said, his gaze fixed on Eva in a way that made her squirm.
“The cook here,” she answered. “It’s a long story. But if the rooms are habitable?” she asked Norton, eager to get away from the penetrating stare of her father and equally disconcerting eyes of Tommy, a man she’d never seen serious for more than thirty seconds but who now looked as old and stern as the marquess.
“Aye, ’course.” Norton all but sprinted toward the stairs.
Godric stepped up beside her. “I’ll bunk with Andrew, sir. Eva may keep the room she is already in and you and Lord Byer can have the other two.”
The marquess looked at Godric as if he were something he’d inadvertently carried in on his boot. Eva saw the earl’s face redden, but he did not look away. She was proud of him. Meeting her father’s gaze head-on was not for the faint of heart.
Godric turned to Eva and gave her a reassuring smile. “You go up, Eva. I’ll pop in to collect my things in a few minutes.”
Her father said to her, “Take an hour to put yourself to rights and then come to the coffee room.”
Eva was at her bedroom door when she realized Tommy had followed her. “Could I talk to you a moment?”
Eva would have rather not talked to anyone—ever again—but nodded. When she went to close the door, he shook his head.
“It’s not proper, Eva. Leave it open.”
Eva stared at him; just who was this stodgy, bossy man? His stern expression suddenly infuriated her. “Why are you here?” she asked rudely.
“Gabe and Drusilla have their hands full, and I knew your father would come alone if I didn’t force my company on him.” Tommy closed the distance between them and took her chin in his warm, slightly roughened hand and tilted her face up. “Has Visel—” He stopped, his jaws clenching. “Has he—”
Why, the nerve! “That’s none of your concern,” she said icily.
He winced, but did not release her. “You’re quite correct. It doesn’t matter what has transpired. It was vulgar to mention such a matter in your presence. Don’t worry, Eva. I will take care of you—and sort out this mess.” His hand slid from her chin, over her jaw, and stopped behind her head. He swallowed hard and leaned closer, almost as if he were about to . . . kiss her.
Eva tried to jerk her head away, but he was strong.
“The truth is that I don’t care what happened between you. You can marry me, Eva. You needn’t sacrifice yourself to—”
“I hardly think what my betrothed has or has not done is any of your affair, Byer.”
Eva gave a startled yelp and turned to find Godric leaning in the doorway, his arms across his chest, his posture lazy, his expression amused. But his eyes—
Tommy dropped his hand and the two men moved toward each other in an almost synchronized fashion. Neither stopped until they were only inches apart. She noticed they were almost the same height, although Tommy was leaner.
“You have no authority when it comes to her.” The air in the room was charged, like the sky before a storm.
Godric’s lips curled into an unpleasant sneer that Eva hadn’t seen since the morning after she’d kidnapped him. “I’m going to have a word with Eva.”
“Then I shall stay.”
Both men seemed to swell to twice their size.
Eva went to Tommy and set a hand on his shoulder. “You should go, Tommy.” When he failed to move, his gaze still pinned to Godric, Eva added, “I’ll be fine, but you need to leave us.”
For a moment she worried he’d argue, but he jerked out a nod and left without another word.
Godric’s gaze was cool, polite, and distant. “I need to know what happened today before I speak with your father, Eva.”
So, they were back to that relationship, were they? She crossed her arms. “I shall tell you under one condition.”
A laugh slipped out of him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Give me your word you will not tell anyone what I tell you.”
They locked eyes for a long moment.
“This is our business, Godric.”
Her use of his name seemed to soften him. “Very well, you have my word.”
Eva told him the story in as few words as possible. He was silent until the part about Dora Crosby taking a shot at her.
“Good God! The woman needs to be brought before a magistrate, Eva. She might have killed you.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No, but she must—”
“You gave me your word,” she reminded him. “Are you going to break it?”
He scowled. “Of course not, but—”
“Do you want
the rest of the story, or not?”
He stared in slack-jawed wonder. “You really are a little termagant, aren’t you? All right, go on, the rest of it.”
Once she’d finished he asked, “And you don’t believe she is coming back here?”
Eva thought back to the wreck of a woman she’d seen being hauled away. “I shouldn’t think so. I think Flynn will take care of her—along with her brother-in-law.” She gave him a hard look. “Who is considerably worse off than I’d expected.”
Godric flushed under her accusing look. “Yes, yes, I was a brute. I am a brute. But we already knew that, didn’t we?” He clearly didn’t want an answer. “So Flynn really is as good as his word.”
“I have to admit I was surprised, as well.”
Godric’s eyes narrowed and his lips curved into an odd smile.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
His eyebrows jumped and he smirked in a way that made her legs weak. “What way is that?”
Eva gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I was just imagining you, holding your own against her, even when she had a gun on you.” He grinned. “You really are quite something, aren’t you? You didn’t need me and poor Andrew to come rescue you at all.”
Eva scowled and tried to ignore the warm rush of pleasure she felt at the admiring look in his eyes. “I can’t believe you brought Andrew along with that wretched gun of his.”
“He did his best. But I am going to make him put that gun back to its original state.”
“I don’t want my father to know about any of this,” Eva bit out.
He blinked. “What?”
“You know what he will do if he hears about Flynn and what happened.”
“Yes, he will use his political clout to have them hunted down like the deserter scum they are. And I shall help right along with him.”
“Oh? In spite of the fact you just gave me your word?”
“Eva—”
“Aside from giving me your word, what do you think Flynn and his gang will say when they are brought to book and some of them decide to tell their stories? Will you let all this”—she waved a hand to encompass everything—“become fodder for newspapermen?”
Eva could see she’d struck the mark.
Godric nodded his head, his expression reluctant. “You have a point. All right,” he said with a heavy sigh, “this shall stay between us.”
“You need to tell Andrew that.”
He nodded absently, his mind on something else. “You’d better get cleaned up.” He hesitated, his jaw flexing. “Your father asked to speak to me. What is Byer doing here?” She could tell by the slight flush over his cheekbones that he’d not wanted to ask the question.
“He came in Gabriel’s stead,” Eva said.
“Is that it? Or was there some agreement between you?”
Eva’s eyes widened. “Agreement?”
He gave her a look of annoyance. “Yes, agreement—Eva—of a romantic nature.”
“With Tommy?”
“He wants to marry you,” he pressed on, his jaw tight, his expression dogged.
“He’s like a brother to me, Godric.”
He snorted. “I hope Byer doesn’t look at his sisters the way he was looking at you.”
“Tommy doesn’t have any sisters,” she said rather stupidly, too stunned at the implications of his words to come up with anything better.
Godric snorted and then turned away to gather his few things before opening the door to Andrew’s room. “I shall see you down in the parlor.” He shut the door to her chambers and Eva collapsed into the nearest chair.
Tommy in love with her?
No, that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
* * *
Fortunately, Lord Exley wasn’t yet in the parlor when Godric entered three-quarters of an hour later. Instead, it was occupied by Norton along with two young girls, one dressed in a maid’s mob cap, the other clearly a scullery girl who must’ve been pressed into emergency service.
“Where is Lord Exley?” he asked the innkeeper.
“In his room, er, sir. Along with the other gentleman. That is, he is in his room, not his lordship’s.”
Godric would have laughed at the big man’s terror of the marquess if the situation weren’t so grim. Besides, Exley did tend to make a rather menacing impression, even though the man was actually quite slight of person.
“His lordship ordered a meal to be brought in, but Mrs. Crosby ain’t here. I can cook in a pinch, but”—Norton worried his lower lip—“we ain’t had no members of the aristocracy before—unless you count Sir William Tavish, but he’s a knight and don’t—”
“Mr. Norton.” Godric employed the tone he’d always employed on skittish men while cannons exploded in their ears and death occurred all around them and they wanted to run and hide.
“Er, yes?”
Just then the door behind Godric opened and Norton’s jaw fell open.
Godric knew who was behind him without even turning to look. “Mr. Norton?”
Norton’s eyes grudgingly slewed in Godric’s direction.
“Please bring something simple—bread, ale, perhaps some of that ham of yours and those delicious vegetable pickles?”
Norton nodded frantically. “Aye, we’ve got that.”
“Good man,” Godric said, clapping a hand on the big innkeeper’s shoulder and propelling him from the room.
“I shall ring when we are ready for you to bring in your repast, Mr. Norton.” Exley’s voice was so soft you had to strain to hear it, but it worked like a match to a fuse. Norton couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.
As ragged and filthy as he’d appeared on the road, the marquess was now equally spotless, his trim figure impeccably coated and booted. His pale gaze was fastened on Godric in a way that made him feel as if he’d tied his grubby neckcloth too tightly.
Exley examined Godric in silence, an uncomfortable silence that went on so long Godric began wondering if the other man was deciding whether or not to bypass conversation entirely and simply take him out to a convenient field and shoot him.
“Have a seat, Visel.”
Godric took one of the four chairs around the dining table and Exley sat across from him. Now that he could study the other man more closely, he saw signs of age other than the white hair at his temples. Deep lines radiated from his startling blue eyes, and the thin skin beneath them was smudged purple from what had likely been an exhausting journey. Of course, the gray hair and lines might simply be the product of having such a daughter rather than riding halfway across England—
“I encountered my employee, James Brewster, not far south of Doncaster.”
Godric nodded. He’d seen the young groom currying the marquess’s horse out in the inn stables. To tell the truth, he’d been stunned that Exley had brought James along rather than discharging him on the spot for helping his daughter carry out such a caper. Perhaps the man wasn’t as inhuman as he looked.
“James told me what happened. Everything,” Exley added.
Godric heard the cool displeasure beneath the other man’s words and knew instinctively it was not for him, but his daughter.
For the first time, Godric felt sympathy for the firebrand who’d captured both him and his future. What must it be like to have such a man for a father? Godric’s own father had been a kind and gentle soul who loved his family, his tenants, and his book-filled library. The only person Edmund Fleming would have ever struck terror into was perhaps his steward—but because of his careless spending habits rather than any cruelty.
The Marquess of Exley was perhaps the coldest person Godric had ever met. Of course he knew the man’s history—or at least the rumors: that he’d murdered his first two wives. He also knew Exley had killed at least three men in duels over his first wife. And then there were the tales—true, he believed—of his prowess at the gaming table and how he’d accumulated estate after estate from
feckless gamblers over the years.
Yes, he could sympathize with Eva, now.
“I apologize for your predicament, Visel.”
Godric’s eyes widened at the marquess’s words. “Er . . .”
Exley’s lips curved up minutely at one corner. “You look surprised. Did you think I would hunt you down and call you out because my daughter kidnapped you?”
Godric flushed under the other man’s cold amusement and Exley’s smile became infinitesimally larger.
“Ah,” he said, the single syllable making Godric feel like a boy of fifteen. “I can see you did.”
“You needn’t apologize for Eva’s behavior, my lord. She’s my betrothed and within a few days, weather willing, I’ll be responsible for her actions.”
Exley’s remarkable eyes narrowed at Godric’s tone. “My daughter wishes to marry you?”
He blinked at the bizarre question. “We’ve been alone together for days—and nights—and there have been multiple witnesses: postboys, Norton, two other innkeepers, the boy—Andrew,” not to mention a passel of thieves and deserters.
The marquess gave an elegant shrug. “People can develop such faulty memories when given the right incentive.”
Godric snorted with disbelief. “Are you saying you’d bribe all those people?”
“Bribe is an ugly word.”
Godric considered the fact that Flynn and all his band—not to mention Crosby—would also possess knowledge of his intimacy with Eva. Didn’t he owe the other man that information?
He thought of Eva, and the promise he’d made; didn’t he owe Eva his confidence?
“I think you should assume word has spread beyond that small number,” Godric finally said. There, that should cover Flynn and his band. “Especially now that you’ve arrived and they know the Marquess of Exley is my putative wife’s father.”
Godric knew he’d scored a solid hit when an almost imperceptible mist of red swept over Exley’s pale, razor-sharp cheekbones. Good, he should know that Godric had done a good job of concealing his daughter’s identity before he came barging in.
Outrageous Page 25
