Lord Alton’s recollections revealed nothing that Rob had not seen for himself. The man refused to list any of the people whom he remembered being present. “This is foolishness, Rosley. Who else but the Indian would have had reason to do it?”
Rob stood, signaling that the interview was ended. “When we know that, my lord, we will likely know who did do it.”
And he firmly showed the diplomat to the door.
Late in the afternoon Rob sought Iantha in her sitting room. “I’ve talked to everyone who was near the scene of the shooting, but I haven’t learned a damn thing of use. No one remembers exactly who was seen in the corridor outside the door before I opened it.” He commenced to pace back and forth in front of the sofa on which Iantha sat. “Alton is convinced that Vijaya killed Carrock because of the insult on Christmas Eve, and he fears for his own life. I suspect he has influenced Lord and Lady Kilbride also to believe that Vijaya murdered their son. They indicated as much when I visited them. Several others mentioned it, too.”
“How are the Carrocks? Mama and I intended to go to them, but we were told they did not want visitors.”
“They are taking it better than I expected, but grieving, of course. I’m sure Cosby must have been a trial to so quiet a couple, but he was still their son.”
Iantha nodded. “I can’t believe Vijaya can be guilty of so foul a deed. He is so placid and kind.”
“Nay, it is not his way at all. I am afraid that Carrock was, in fact, involved in the attack on you, and that someone silenced him when you recognized his laugh. Several people have hinted at it. Sam, Sebergham and Mr. Farlam, among others, have worked that out. So we have two prevalent opinions. There may be others. Wycomb was the last to see him alive, but he was in the corridor outside the locked door, so it cannot have been he.”
Rob ceased his pacing and sat beside Iantha. He reached for her hand, but sensing her tension, quickly released it. “Iantha, I don’t want to frighten you, but I am seriously concerned for you. Your father and I discussed it this afternoon. He and I both believe that I can protect you more successfully here than he can at Hill House. I would like for us to be married as soon as I can obtain a special license.” He smiled. “This is, after all, a fortress.”
“And we are trapped in it with a rapist and murderer.” Ignoring his proposal, Iantha shivered, as if cold. Rob sighed inwardly. Well, let that be for the moment. Obviously, she was going to require some persuasion.
“It seems so. But do not be afraid, Iantha. I will take every precaution to ensure your safety until the roads clear. It will be tomorrow or the next day before carriages can leave. When that happens, I expect a precipitate departure from most of the guests, including the killer.”
“And he will get away again.”
Rob’s heart twisted at the bleakness in her face. “That is certainly a possibility. We have at most two days to unravel the puzzle, and I do not see how, without new information, we can do that.” He brushed a fallen lock of hair away from her forehead. “But at least he will be gone from here, and you will be safe.”
“I will never be safe again.” Iantha’s voice sounded choked.
“Unhappily, that may be true. Not until we find the killer or others who still might wish to silence you. But we need time to do that.” In spite of her rigidity Rob lifted her fingers to his lips. “So please say that you will marry me immediately. Nothing need change between us. We will continue to feel our way along until you are completely comfortable.”
“But then you will be irrevocably committed. What if we never succeed in—”
Rob placed a finger against her lips.
“I have never considered that a possibility.”
A very tense two days ensued. Rob went through the motions of playing host to a group of very frightened people—people who locked their bedchamber doors at night and refused to open them to anyone. People who, even with the presence of patrols in the corridors, could not ignore the fact that someone among them had murdered a fellow guest.
Rob certainly could not.
He found himself eyeing everyone with whom he had conversation. He and Sam played cards with the men, their ears open for further information, but the gentlemen, while continuing to make serious inroads on Rob’s supply of liquor, no longer showed the noisy good spirits of the Christmas celebration. Nor did they reveal anything to the purpose. They still argued politics, gossiped about the royal house and their absent neighbors and eyed the respectable young ladies, who were the only unmarried females in the party, with disappointment.
Clearly bored, Horace Raunds struck up a desultory flirtation with Meg Farlam—much to the visible annoyance of Thomas—and Stephen Wycomb made an abortive attempt on Lady Kendal’s virtue. Lord Sebergham drank steadily, but without noticeable effect, and Lord Kendal prowled through the house like a wolf in the sheepfold.
A knot of older gentlemen that formed around Lord Alton and Mr. Welwyn grumbled about Vijaya’s presence in the house, much to the—invisible, he hoped—annoyance of Rob. The subject of their suspicions stayed in his own quarters. Sam did his jovial best to help keep everyone cheered up, but no one could forget the stiffening corpse lying in an unheated chamber above stairs. Everyone prayed for warm, sunny weather.
Especially Rob.
Iantha avoided the ladies’ entertainments arranged by Lady Dalston. She kept to her sitting room, visiting only with her mother. But even with mama she could not relax. She simply could not make polite conversation right now. Dinner last night had been a nightmare, with every guest gazing suspiciously at every other, and with Iantha feeling that every one of them eyed her threateningly. She lived with held breath and slept with either Burnside or Feller or Rob himself guarding her door. It seemed that Rob did not even completely trust the newer members of the staff. A cold lump formed in Iantha’s stomach.
That staff would be with them after the guests had gone.
She tried to work on her writing project, but found herself starting at every sound. Why had God let this happen to her? Iantha always tried to be good—to be loving and kind to everyone. Was it that God valued women as so many men did—in other words, not at all? Had He really made men to be the masters of women, to use them as they saw fit?
How could He!
Iantha flushed at this blasphemous thought. She was angry with God. Reason as well as piety reminded her that humans of all sorts suffered injuries and disasters—men and women, noblemen and yeomen. Surely God did not send those calamities deliberately. Surely they were only the result of the natural order of the world. She was being unjust to God.
She had to smile at that. It was hardly her place to judge God. Rather the reverse. She could only hope that He would treat her lapse of respect kindly. But she could no longer pray for Him to protect her from further harm.
She was no longer sure that He could.
By the end of the second day sleep had become impossible. Iantha almost shrieked at the light tap on her sitting room door. The hour was late, the fire had burned low and the candles guttered in their sockets. Who…?
“Iantha?” Rob’s voice, of course, his usual booming accents reduced to what he no doubt considered a whisper.
She gathered up her shawl, opened the door a crack and peeked out. Yes, it was his lordship. Iantha opened the door.
Rob came in and walked straight to the fire, which he built back to flames before sprawling on the sofa with a sigh. “What a day!” As she came to sit beside him, he took both her slender hands in his big ones. “And you are, as usual, half-frozen.”
Automatically, Iantha started to retrieve her hands, but once more decided that the warmth of his felt very welcome, even though she had to lean against his shoulder to maintain the contact. “Have you been having a bad time? I confess that I have completely given in to cowardice and have kept to my room all day. I even had dinner here.”
“I know. I’m sorry you have been alone, but I had just as soon you stay in a secure place.” She sh
ivered, and he touched her cheek. “You are going to catch your death one day.” He moved one hand and placed his arm around her shoulders.
“When I am working I just don’t feel the cold until I stop.” Iantha gave in to the comfort of the heat coming off his big body and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Have you been very lonely?”
“No, I am accustomed to being alone. I rather like it, but today… Today I was so afraid. I…”
“I’m sorry I could not come sooner. I need to keep my eye on things. Somebody in this house pulled that trigger, and I want to know who. And I certainly don’t want him to have another opportunity.”
“You have too many guests. You can’t watch them all at once.”
“True, but Sam is helping me, and in fact, everyone in the place is watching everyone else. I doubt our killer will have much chance to repeat his crime, in any case.” Rob brushed a wayward lock of silver hair away from her face, looking solemnly into her eyes. “I wish I could stay with you all night and keep you safe. Being married will give me that opportunity, but it would cause too much talk to do it now. I don’t want any more gossip about you.”
“A bit more will hardly matter.” The warmth of the fire and of Rob’s body seeped into Iantha, and she could feel the tension sliding out of her. She relaxed against his shoulder and returned his gaze. Suddenly she became aware of how handsome he was, in spite of tired circles under his eyes and the slight roughness of a day-old beard. Something stirred deep inside her, and her lips opened on a little breath. He hesitated a moment, then slowly lowered his face to hers. She had ample time to draw back.
But she didn’t.
The warmth of the room and the warmth of his mouth fanned the heat inside her. Iantha slipped one arm around his neck, and he pulled her across his lap and held her tighter. She heard the depth of his breathing increase, echoed by her own. After several heartbeats Rob lifted his head and gazed into her eyes again, a question in his own.
And she didn’t know the answer.
She buried her face in his cravat, and he laid his cheek against her hair.
Several moments later, he set her upright and stood. “You need to go to bed. Don’t be afraid. Someone will be outside your door all night.”
And while she was still searching for the answer, he went out the door and closed it softly behind him.
A thrill of panic traveled up Iantha’s back as Molly brushed her hair. Tomorrow she would wed Lord Duncan. After the roads had cleared and the grateful company had departed, it had taken only a week for the special license to arrive from London. She had not even had the opportunity to go home. Papa and Rob feared that she might be vulnerable in the carriage. God knew that she did not want that!
If only she could be as confident of success in this venture as Rob seemed to be! True, the more she was near him, the more comfortable she became with that nearness. At times she had even begun to feel protected by having his arms around her. But always afterward she felt the need to withdraw, to put him at a distance. And she knew the courteous and affectionate touches he bestowed on her were only faint shadows of the intimacy he desired.
The very thought shook her to the core, turning her hands clammy and making her breath short. Even the warm sensations his presence sometimes created in her body were a threat. They made her want more of him. More that she might not be able to stand.
A loud sniff drew her attention away from these disturbing thoughts. She turned around to discover large tears running down her maid’s face. “Why, Molly, whatever is the matter?”
Molly sniffed again. “It ain’t nothing, Miss Iantha.”
“Obviously, it is something. Why are you crying?”
A small sob joined the sniffle. “It…it’s just that you and me will be staying here at the castle instead of Hill House.”
“And you are homesick?”
Molly nodded and a louder sob emerged. “And Daniel will go back with Lord Rosley. His old mother lives near Hill House, and he has to look after her.”
Now a torrent of sobs tumbled forth, and Iantha began to appreciate the problem. “I see. You and he are keeping company?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid nodded, then hastily added, “But not when we’ve work to do.”
A small smile curved Iantha’s lips. “No. Of course not.” She envied Molly. To be frankly and happily in love, without fear of her beloved… “Has Daniel spoken to you about…about the future?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. He wants us to marry, but he needs to save his wages first.” With a wail she added, “It will be so long!”
How cruel life is, Iantha thought. She stood on the brink of a marriage she both desired and feared, and that marriage was separating Molly from her lover. Daniel was a steady young man. Her maid could do worse. “Don’t cry, Molly. I will miss you, but I can employ another maid. Let me speak to my father. I’m sure he will make arrangements for you and Daniel if you will help me until I can hire someone.”
“Oh, Miss Iantha. I will be almost as sad to leave you as to leave Daniel.” Molly sniffed and hunted for her handkerchief.
“Thank you, Molly. But Daniel is your future, I think. You must go back to Hill House.”
“I’ll never forget you, Miss Iantha.”
“Nor I you, Molly.”
For perhaps the thousand-and-first time, Rob asked his reflection in the mirror if he were, in fact, doing the right thing. As ever, his reflection was not a great deal of help. Was it sheer arrogance on his part that led him to believe that he could find the key to unlock the prison in which Iantha confined her feelings? Was he letting his desires cloud his judgment, or succumbing to the temptation to play the hero?
As Rob strove to subdue his thick brown hair, his reflection remained stubbornly silent.
Once more, unbidden, an image of Shakti’s warm body formed in his mind. Perhaps he should not wed another as long as he still thought of her with desire. Although in truth, she had never engaged his mind as his present bride did. Shakti had been always welcoming, always pleasant, always attentive, but she had possessed no inclination to intellectual matters at all, preferring to while away the day in lazy pursuits or playing with Laki.
Which had seemed enough at the time.
He had not realized how important a companion who shared his interests might be until his present lady had spent two days under his roof.
Still, without her physical response to him, he felt empty.
Rob sighed. Be the answer to those questions as they may, he had promised to protect this lady. And he had also promised to marry her. It went without saying that he would do both.
The vicar awaited him downstairs.
Rob left the mirror and shrugged into the dark coat that Burnside held. Another glance into the glass assured him that his snowy cravat remained crisp and that his dark waistcoat and knee britches displayed no spots or undue wrinkles. Satisfied, he turned to Burnside. “Well, what do you think?”
His henchman surveyed him with his head to one side. “You’ll do.”
“Do I look like a bridegroom?”
“As far as I know, me lord. I never was one.”
Rob laughed. “Did you ever want to be?”
Burnside, his own hair rigorously slicked down, thought for a moment. “Maybe once or twice. But I come to my senses.”
Rob burst into laughter, and Burnside opened the door and followed him down the stairs.
The wedding guests had already gathered in the drawing room. There were not many—Lord and Lady Rosley, Iantha’s younger brothers and sister, Vijaya, the Farlams and Sam Broughton’s wife, Amelia. Burnside, Feller, Mrs. Lamonby and Gailsgill, the butler, would also stand in the drawing room. The rest of the staff were welcome if they could find a space.
Rob found the vicar, tall and balding, and Sam, who was to stand with him, by the fireplace. He joined them while Lady Rosley fussed with Valeria’s ribbons. Iantha had chosen the girl to be her bridesmaid, and Valeria was quivering w
ith excitement. The musicians from the Christmas party had been retained for the wedding, and they now struck up a march. Iantha, on her father’s arm, appeared in the far doorway.
And seeing her, suddenly Rob knew, without a doubt, why he was doing this.
He wanted her.
All of her.
Chapter Nine
Iantha clutched her father’s arm and trembled. The moment was upon her. She had lost the opportunity to cry off. Her bridegroom and the vicar waited, and she approached them with what dignity she could muster.
She had flatly refused to wear white. In spite of her mother’s many arguments, she chose instead a heavy silk in a lavender shade that reflected her eyes. The fabric of the bodice crossed her breasts at a stylish, if modest, level, and the skirt draped gracefully from the high waist-line. She relented enough to allow Mama to pin a white lace veil over her upswept hair. It fell behind her to the small train of the gown.
She did want to look her best for her wedding—whether or not she wanted the wedding, something she had been unable to decide. But Iantha did not want his lordship to feel that he was getting a bargain any more doubtful than it already was. At least she would not shame him with her appearance.
Cautiously she raised her gaze to his and, seeing his expression, quickly lowered it. Even with her lack of experience of the opposite sex, Iantha had no difficulty interpreting that look. In spite of her recent argument with God, she sent up a prayer that she would not fail this man—this man who had both the courage and the kindness to take her as she was.
The music stopped, and she lifted her gaze once more. Valeria stood beside her, all but bouncing in her excitement. Over her head Iantha saw her mother with a rather damp smile on her beautiful face. The vicar, whom she had known since she was a child, gave her a warm smile of encouragement. She dared another glance at Rob.
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