"It will be fine, Jem, I assure you. Lord Lennox will bring me back later." Her fingers were trembling with the combined effects of anxiety and exhaustion, but Tess was glad to hear that none of her uncertainty reached her voice. "Go back to the Angel now."
"A'right, Miss Tess." The young hostler's frown deepened. "If you're sure, that is, though I don't half look forward to what Mr. Hobhouse says when —"
"Now, Jem." This time is was an order.
Shaking his head, the youth climbed back into the curricle and urged the horses forward. A moment later they turned down the long, tree-lined drive, their hooves kicking up ghostly waves of fog as they vanished into the night.
In the sudden silence after their departure, Tess felt a wild urge to call the boy back. But it was too late for second thoughts, she knew. Her lips tight, she walked up the broad marble steps and rapped the knocker smartly.
A sleepy-eyed servant appeared several minutes later, looking distinctly displeased at this late interruption.
"I am here to see Lord Lennox," Tess announced imperiously, well aware how odd her presence at such an hour must seem.
Raising one bushy eyebrow, the servant looked her up and down, from her tangled hair and dusty cloak to the worn leather satchel lying beside her on the steps. His eyes were patently mocking. "And who am I to say is calling, if you please? Assuming, of course, that his lordship is at home, which I ain't saying he is."
Tess's chin rose a degree higher, but she was instantly assailed by new doubts. What if the earl was from home? What if he was with company?
It had to be tonight! If she did not act now, Tess knew she would never find the strength again.
The servant did not move, refusing to budge until he had a name.
"Miss Leighton," Tess answered coldly. "Do you mean to keep me waiting here all night?" she demanded.
The dark eyes flickered. Almost furtively, Tess thought, as the man turned and ushered her inside. Without a word, he led her to a small, windowless room off the foyer, then left her, closing the door carefully behind him. But his steps, she realized a moment later, moved off in the opposite direction from Lord Lennox's study. Having been here before for an occasional fete or dancing party, Tess was familiar with the rooms on this floor.
An odd flare of relief warmed her at the thought that she could delay her interview, and that is what convinced her to open the door herself and go in search of Lord Lennox.
For she was weakening, Tess knew. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she darted down the quiet corridor.
She found her destination easily. Too easily. Far too soon.
She raised a slim white fist to knock, a cold knot of regret tightening inside her, squeezing her heart painfully. Go on, she told herself sharply, her eyes bleak with pain.
Far away, down the corridor, she heard the tap of approaching feet.
Her fingers gripped the cold metal latch. Forcing her lips into a bright smile, she opened the study door, an apology ready on her tongue.
With an odd, numbed sort of clarity Tess noted the room's elegant furniture and the man seated before an exquisitely carved rosewood escritoire, pen in hand, several vellum sheets and envelopes spread out before him. He was just putting a red seal in place on one of the envelopes, she saw, using his ring to imprint the warm wax.
Abruptly Lord Lennox swung about, his blond brows sharply slanted. Strange, Tess thought, but she had never noticed before how light his hair was.
"Pray forgive me, my lord, for intruding so late."
The green eyes warmed. "Miss Leighton?" he breathed, almost as if he did not believe that the vision before him was real.
"So it is," Tess said, in what she hoped was her gayest tone. Feeling the sudden intensity of his gaze, she ran her fingers nervously across the bookcase beside the door. "You've changed the room somehow. New curtains, perhaps?"
"New chairs." Slowly the earl pushed the envelope to the back of his desk and came gracefully to his feet. "New desk. New wallpaper. But somehow," he murmured, moving across the room, "I cannot believe you have come here at this late hour to talk about my household furnishings."
Tess's throat constricted, as if blocked by a wedge of linen. Tell him, a hard voice urged. Now, without delay!
She swallowed.
"Do you mean to tell me why you have come, my dear, or am I to guess?" He reached for her hands, cradling her wrists gently as he searched her face.
Tess jumped nervously as the cold metal of his ring brushed her skin.
Get a hold on yourself, she thought, barely catching herself before pulling away from him.
Lord Lennox's fingers tightened fractionally. "Yes, my dear?" he asked softly.
Her heart began to pound. "I ... I ..." Tess cleared her throat. "To see you, my lord. That is, to give you your answer," she finally managed.
A flicker of surprise crossed Lennox's eyes. "I shall not pretend to misunderstand you, my dear Tess. Am I to be made the happiest of men, then?"
Was there the faintest formality in his tone? Tess wondered dimly. No matter. It was all part of this impossible night's events. Tomorrow everything would settle to normalcy. Yes, tomorrow ...
The blond brows rose slightly.
Tess flushed, realizing he was still waiting for her answer. "Yes. I mean, my answer is yes. I shall marry you, my lord."
Slowly Lord Lennox raised her open palm to his lips, his eyes probing her face. "My dear girl," he whispered, his lips skimming her cool skin. "You positively unman me."
Tess's skin prickled, now hot, now cold. She felt a nervous giggle rising in her throat and barely managed to fight it down. Hypnotized, she watched Lennox's fingers tighten, anchoring her palm while his teeth scored a sensitive ridge of skin.
A tiny shudder ran through her. She looked up to see the earl's eyes upon her, hard with hidden demands.
"This is loverlike, to be sure. To slip to me by moonlight. You fuel my warmest thoughts, my dear, I warn you. I have waited a very long time to hear those words — longer than you know."
"I-it was for that reason — because you had waited so long, that I came, to tell you immediately."
"Very thoughtful of you." The earl's lips brushed little circles on her palm. At each intimate movement Tess blinked, painfully aware that it was not Ravenhurst who touched her so.
She let her eyes close, afraid he would see the black despair that swept over her. But she dared not move away, even slightly, lest she betray herself. Dear God, she prayed numbly, let me convince him. And let it be over soon.
The quiet rush of his escaping breath made Tess open her eyes. His face was shuttered now, the fires carefully banked. Slowly he released her hand. "You delight me with your answer, my dear. And with your impetuosity in delivering it. Yes, you make me the happiest of men. Indeed, I believe the occasion calls for a libation."
The earl turned and strode to a small chest, from which he removed a crystal decanter and two glasses. Nervously, Tess locked her hands, trying to focus on something — anything — to take her mind off the enormity of the commitment she had just made.
Blindly she looked away, her eyes falling upon the vellum sheet on Lennox's desk. Behind her she heard the clink of glass, followed by the rush of liquid.
15 JUIN, the letter was dated. June 15th. So he was writing to someone in French. Tess's eyes widened as they ranged lower, skimming over line after line of numbers in no discernible order.
Probably some arcane financial transaction, she thought, her gaze shifting to the back of Lennox's desk, where an envelope stood propped against an inkwell. Thick and crimson, its seal caught her attention, a medallion of a bird in flight.
Very lovely, she thought, just as everything the earl had was lovely. Was it possible that he desired her in the same way, as an object to add to his collection?
Pained by that thought, Tess frowned faintly, bending down to pick up a small jade figure from the corner of the desk.
"Admiring my furnishings aga
in?" Lennox's mouth was at her ear, so close that she jumped slightly.
"Just — just this sculpture. It is very lovely. But then, you always did have exquisite taste, my lord."
As if in a dream Tess saw two filled glasses lowered onto the desk. A moment later Simon's hands circled her shoulders, his lips seeking the vein that throbbed at her neck. "Indeed?" he murmured.
His touch was light and teasing at first, but soon grew more demanding. "And is that all you were thinking about, my dear?"
Tess swallowed, trying not to flinch. Her eyes darted wildly about the room. It was only then that she registered the image on the seal. A bird of prey, wings upswept.
This time her stiffening was sharp and unmistakable. Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. No, she must be mistaken! It could not be ...
Slowly Lennox straightened, his fingers gently caressing the ridge of her shoulders. Without haste, he turned her to face him, his eyes unreadable.
"I suppose I should return now ..." she blurted. "Since I have — since we are —"
"What, you would return so soon? And without so much as a toast to our future happiness? I will not hear of it." Smiling, Lennox pressed the cool rim of a glass into her nerveless fingers.
Blindly Tess touched her glass to his, then lifted it to swallow a tasteless mouthful of what was probably very fine brandy. The drink slipped down her throat in a trail of fire. Quickly she took another.
Lord Lennox's eyes were warm and faintly chiding as he drained his glass. "My dear, dear Tess," he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face as she drained her own.
Gently he removed the long, cool stem from her unsteady fingers.
Tess blinked, swaying slightly. Faint beads of perspiration broke out on her brow. "I don't feel ..."
Suddenly she was very hot, as hot as she had been cold only moments before. The room, the curtains, Lord Lennox's face, all began to run together, blurring before her eyes.
Watch for the wing, Jack had said. Trust no one.
Too late, she understood his warning.
Coolly Lennox toyed with the ring on his left index finger. Rising in sharp relief, a bird gleamed on the ring's golden face. A bird in flight.
An eagle ...
"Whatever am I going to do with you, my sweet?"
That soft question was the last thing Tess heard before blackness rushed up to meet her.
Chapter Forty
The jolting of wheels on rutted earth woke her.
Why was her mouth so dry, Tess wondered? Why the metallic taste on her tongue? And why was the air so dank and still at her face?
In a fierce, painful burst, memory returned. Simon, smiling faintly. The fiery bite of brandy.
Drugged.
Once more she dipped and lurched, wooden wheels creaking somewhere beneath her head. Where was she now? Tess wondered crazily, opening her mouth to scream.
But she could not, for her lips were raw and bound by a thick cloth. She twisted her hands, only to discover they were knotted together at her waist. The wagon lurched again, and her head dropped with savage force against wooden planking.
A tear slipped from the corner of Tess's eye.
The Eagle — Simon Lennox.
Terror gripped her, her blood running cold as a Channel tide in winter. How could she have been so wrong about the man? After all these months, she had never had the slightest inkling of his terrible duplicity.
Tess grimaced with pain, forcing her thoughts back to his study and the soaring bird on his ring. Jack had known, though, and he had tried to warn her.
But Simon Lennox had murdered the Fox. And now he knew that she had seen the incriminating document in code on his desk.
Frantically Tess twisted at her bonds, tearing at the harsh hempen coils. But it was hopeless, and she knew it. In tying knots, as in everything else he did, Simon Lennox was an expert.
Suddenly the wagon pitched and ground to a halt with a shrill protesting of the brake. From somewhere to Tess's right came the creak of the seat, and then the muffled drum of feet.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she heard the door of the carriage jerked open. A tall, shadowy figure stood outlined against the unrelieved gloom of the night.
Tess did not move, keeping her eyes open the barest crack, feigning sleep.
Long fingers slid across her brow and cheeks, settling at her chin. "Wake up, Tess."
How had that soft voice ever sounded attractive? she wondered, holding tight to her guise of sleep. Anything to throw him off guard and perhaps gain a few seconds ...
The fingers at her chin tightened to a painful pinch. "Wake up." This time the words were a flat snarl.
Tess couldn't prevent the shiver that ripped through her. It was a stranger's voice she heard, cold and deadly impersonal. The voice of a man who would kill her without a second's hesitation.
She sighed and twisted her head, opening her eyes slowly as if shaken from sleep. "Ammmm!" The gag at her lips prevented her from making more than a sharp, muffled cry.
"That's better," Lord Lennox said shortly. "I don't relish carrying you, my dear. In spite of all that we are to each other," he added, his tone mocking. His hands gripped her wrists, jerking her to a seated position. "Get out."
Wincing, Tess stepped down, her eyes darting right and left. Only darkness met her, unbroken by lights of any sort. Where had he brought her?
Cursing softly, Lennox shoved her stumbling before him. There was softness beneath her feet — grass? Not sand, at least, she thought wildly. Not the beach then. A good sign, surely, for Tess had no desire to be dragged across the Channel to France.
Then, in a chilling rush, another thought flashed through her mind. He would not bother to take her to France. He meant to dispose of her right here.
"Not much farther, my dear, only over that rise. But you don't recognize this place, do you? It is my own little secret — or at least it was until the night your father came snooping about. Oh, he played his hand well, I shall grant him that. First he blustered, then he feigned anger, and then he offered me the use of Fairleigh land whenever I wanted, with no questions asked. Yes, I almost considered his offer." Lennox's flat voice hardened. "But it would have been too dangerous. Then there was the question of his lovely, headstrong daughter. You were something of a thorn in my side, I admit. For you, also, the temptation was great ..."
Tess swayed, walking blindly before him in the darkness, and nearly fell. With a harsh oath, Lennox seized her shoulders and pushed her forward over the dewy grass. Her eyes, gradually growing accustomed to the night landscape, now picked out the dark shapes of nearby trees. At her feet the low-lying mist swirled and coiled like restless, phantom fingers.
The flat, expressionless voice at her back continued. "But then the Fox returned, and I discovered your little masquerade. Very daring, my dear. I quite applaud you. Even Ransley did not realize that there were two Foxes. But you could not hope to deceive me, who knows these tunnels even better than your father did." Lennox laughed softly. "Yes, the tunnels made it so easy to watch, to wait unseen — to discover whatever secrets the night might hold. Even to set up some phantom lights of my own."
Bile rose in Tess's throat. But Leighton was not my father! she wanted to scream at the man behind her. The Fox was, though, and you killed him, too!
Only a muffled sob penetrated the thick binding at her lips.
"Yes, this all must be something of a shock to you, I'm afraid. But when you blundered into my study, you left me no choice. Of course, it was only a matter of time anyway. I would have worn you down finally, and married you with all the requisite pomp and ceremony. Then one day, while on a visit to town, you would have fainted. Your skin would begin to grow pale. At first your friends would whisper of your being in a delicate condition, but you would grow thinner rather than larger. Your mind would begin to wander, and you would imagine ... oh, terrible things. Then, to my eternal and crushing grief, you would slip away from me forever. A terrible blo
w, of course. And a very great deal of valuable time wasted. This way is so much neater, don't you agree, my love?"
Tess shivered at his cool impersonality. There was no malice in his voice, indeed no emotion of any sort, only a chilling matter-of-factness.
"It is merely a question of business, you see, of tying up loose ends. For all it takes is one clue, and I am a dead man. You of all people should understand that, my dear, given your own dangerous impersonation. Yes, very cleverly executed. Even my sister could not believe it of you. I can only wonder what became of that bottle of brandy she bestowed upon Ravenhurst. It contained a remarkably potent mixture of herbs and tonics to, shall we say, inspire his affections. There she was perfectly poised to provide its palliative, with her silken body ready and entirely available. She was quite understandably livid when he would not drink. I, too, was disappointed, for she might have learned a great deal from him in such a state," Lennox added meditatively.
His long, slender fingers pushed Tess inexorably forward up the wooded slope toward a dark, crenelated tower faintly outlined against the leaden sky.
The priory! He was entering from the opposite side, Tess realized, a way she never came, since it was farther from the road and the route bordered a farmhouse with a particularly large, snarling dog.
Her foot slipped on an exposed root and she fell forward onto the grass. A raw sob escaped from beneath the cloth at her lips.
"Get up," Lennox ordered flatly. When she was too slow in obeying, his fingers bit into the soft skin of her forearms, yanking her cruelly to her feet. "You must not delay now. We're nearly at the journey's end." A mirthless laugh burst from his lips.
Tess spun about, kicking at her shadowy captor. But with her hands bound, there could be no contest. Cursing, Lennox shoved her forward until her face met the rough bark of a tree. "You will be very sorry if you try that again, my dear, let me assure you. I have been indulgent with you so far, but I shall be so no longer, if you oppose me in any way." As he spoke, Lennox drove her forward, grinding her cheek into the hard wooden scales until Tess felt her skin stripped away.
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