by Mary Campisi
“That’d be Jack,” he said, nodding his head.
“Jack?”
“Jack, the stable boy,” he said, as though that should mean something to her.
“Jack, the stable boy,” she repeated, nodding her head in total confusion.
“Sure,” he said, rubbing the gray stubble on his chin. “I sent ’im out after you.”
“You did?”
“Sure. When I see’s you all dressed up like one o’ them fair ladies from town, I got to wonderin’ wot was wot. An’ since I promised the master ta make sure you was safe, I sent young Jack out.”
“Noah—I mean Mr. Sandleton asked you to watch out for me?” This was incredible. Did the man have the whole staff on alert? If he cared so much, why didn’t he just come home?
“Sure did. ’E knew I was good ta my word, or me name’s not ’enry Barnes.”
“But, Mr. Barnes, you had no right to have Jack follow me.” Did none of these people understand their positions?
“Had to. Yer the master’s wife. Have ta keep you safe fer ’im.”
“I see,” Emily said. But she didn’t. The whole lot of them were crazy, including their master. Correction. Especially their master. What were they keeping her safe from? The only harm that had come to her since marrying Noah was a broken heart and he’d been the cause of it.
“Heard ya went out with a man.” He shook his head. “Shouldna’ done that. The master ain’t gonna like it.”
“Who did you hear that from?” She had a sneaking suspicion she already knew.
“Ol’ Billington. Crusty lot, ain’t ’e?”
Among other things.
Henry Barnes laughed again, a full-bellied laugh that turned into a dry wheeze. “Ya shoulda seen ol’ Billington run out ’ere, hollerin’ up a storm ta git a body ta follow you. I done told ’im I already had Jack saddlin’ up.”
“Mr. Barnes, why were the two of you so concerned? I went riding with a neighbor. Mr. Kleeton is a nice man. It was all perfectly innocent.”
The old man cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin again. “In all my years I learn’d one thing. Nothin’ is ev’r perfectly innocent.” He nodded his head, his black eyes narrowing on her. “Jest you remember that.”
****
Emily wanted nothing more than to take a nap. It had been a trying afternoon and she was bone tired. A soft, warm bed sounded much more appealing than afternoon tea. Halfway up the winding staircase, she heard Edward Billington’s voice.
“Did you have a nice ride today, Lady Emily?”
She whirled around to find him standing two steps behind her. Where had he come from? Emily hadn’t heard him behind her. She must be so tired, it was affecting her senses.
“Why yes, I did have a most enjoyable time today, Mr. Billington.” Putting special emphasis on her next words, she said, “With the exception of the spy you and Mr. Barnes sent after me.”
Edward Billington’s lips twitched. It was the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on him. “Don’t consider him a spy, Lady Emily. He was more of an—observer.”
“An observer? What exactly was he supposed to observe?” Emily gripped the oak railing, willing her nerves to settle.
“Your safety. He was sent to make certain you were in no threat of danger.”
Emily threw her hands in the air. “Danger? What sort of danger could possibly overtake me in the middle of the country? There is nothing, I repeat, nothing here to cause me danger! The only thing jeopardizing my safety is the way you’re treating me. It’s enough to make me crazy!”
He looked at her as though she’d already gone mad. It was then Emily remembered where they were—on the staircase, in plain view and certainly shouting distance for the rest of the household to observe their little confrontation. She peeked over the railing and spotted several pairs of eyes staring back. They must have feared they’d be the next targets of their mistress’ wrath, for they scattered like dust.
“Now, Mr. Billington,” she said, turning back to the butler with as much dignity as she could muster, considering she’d just created a scene in front of the entire household. “I would like this foolishness to cease at once. I’m not a child, and don’t expect to be treated as one. If, as you say, you’re only following my husband’s instructions, then I apologize for directing my anger toward you, but unless Mr. Sandleton relays his wishes to me directly and the reasons for them, this behavior must end immediately.” And since they both knew he wasn’t coming back, this was a very polite way of telling him she’d take charge of her own life, thank you very much. “Do we understand one another?”
“I understand what you are saying, Lady Sandleton.” Ah yes, he understood but he hadn’t agreed to her terms. Clever. Very clever, indeed.
“And you will agree?” she persisted. She’d get him to say yes if she had to pull the words out of those thin lips.
Edward Billington stood ramrod straight and shook his balding head. “Unfortunately, I cannot abide by your wishes, Lady Sandleton. I have Mr. Sandleton’s orders.”
“To treat me as though I’m in prison?” Her voice shook in anger and frustration. “I’m not permitted to ride my horse with a neighbor unless a spy is sent along? Will you be sending someone to watch me sleep as well to be certain I don’t try to escape in the night?”
“The neighbor—”
“Is a very nice, harmless man,” Emily finished for him. “His name is Andrew Kleeton. He has resided at Penworth for the last six months, though he purchased the place over two years ago. His manners are impeccable. He behaved the perfect gentleman.” She held out her hand and began ticking off his attributes on her fingers. “Mr. Kleeton has blond hair, blue eyes, medium build. Let’s see,” she said, tapping a finger to her chin, “ah, yes. He’s an excellent horseman and I believe, a confirmed bachelor, though he did travel to London for the Season. He’s also a superb dresser, who wears gloves because of his scars.”
“Scars?”
“Yes. Scars. It seems he suffered a terrible accident that left his hands bad off. His solution was to purchase gloves in every style and color. Clever, of him, wasn’t it?”
“Very clever.”
“Fortunately for him, the accident didn’t impair the use of his hands.” She reached into the side pocket of her skirt and pulled out a card. “He sent me his card.” She thrust it at him. “The penmanship is perfect, don’t you agree?”
The butler didn’t answer. He stared at the crisp white paper, his eye narrowed to mere slits.
“Mr. Billington? What is it?” Emily peered at the card, lying open in his hand. Then she laughed. “I told you he was clever. Who would have thought to put that in there,” she said, pointing to a silver embossed design at the bottom of the card. “What is that little creature anyway? A snake?”
“Or a serpent. Either way, just as deadly.”
****
Noah banged on the door again. He knew that two in the morning was well past the sociable hour to be calling, but this was urgent business and Ian had damn well better be home. He raised his fist to pound on the door again when it swung open. A startled, young man dressed in a dark blue robe held a lantern before him, terror written on his face. The butler. Noah remembered him and the way he used to gawk after Emily. He sympathized with the poor boy. Emily could tie him in knots and he was a grown man.
“M—m—may I help you, Mr. Sandleton?” he asked, not moving from the door.
“You could help me by letting me in,” Noah said.
“C—c—certainly, Mr. Sandleton.” Was the boy afraid of him? What had Ian told everyone about him? That he was a no-good rakehell who deserted his wife and beat children?
Noah pushed past the butler and stepped inside, shrugging out of his greatcoat. He was bone weary. That’s what travelling nonstop for three days straight did to a man. No, that’s what being married to Emily did to a man. He’d been mad with worry since the second he opened Billington’s missive marked URGENT. Twenty mi
nutes later, Noah was on his way back to England. Fortunately, they were in port along the coast and The Falcon had not been difficult to locate. Billington had been with Noah long enough to know exactly where to look.
“I could use a drink,” Noah said.
“C—c—certainly, sir,” the boy stumbled over his words. “W—would you like coffee? Tea?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of whiskey.”
The butler turned a deep rose. “O—o—of course. F—f—follow me, sir.” He turned on his heel and headed down the long hall. The only sounds of night were the shuffling of the butler’s slippers and Noah’s booted feet following behind.
Once inside the study, the young man lit another lamp and watched as Noah poured a whiskey. “Come here, boy.” Noah tilted his head and threw back the whiskey in one gulp. He poured another.
The butler inched forward.
“For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” Why was everybody always afraid of him?
“P—P—Pierce, sir. John Pierce.”
“Well then, Pierce, come here.” He poured a second and held out the glass of whiskey. “Drink this.”
“B—b—begging your pardon, Mr. Sandleton, but I don’t drink.” Now his face looked purple. How could one face change colors so many times?
“Well, Pierce, tonight’s an exception because as soon as you finish that drink, I’m going to ask you to wake Lord Kenilworth. Now, come on, boy,” he coaxed, nudging the glass into his hands, “drink up.”
Pierce eyed the amber liquid once more, as though it might be a brew from the devil himself, before he raised it to his lips, squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed. He coughed, sputtered, and gasped for a full minute. When he finished, Noah saluted him with his own glass and downed his drink with a deliberate smoothness that came from years of practice.
“Well done, Pierce. Now, it’s time to go get him.”
Pierce disappeared, stumbling a little in his hurry to obey. Or did he stumble in his hurry to be rid of Noah? Perhaps he really did instill fear in men, even when it was not his intention to do so. Why then, hadn’t it worked on his wife?
God, how he missed her. Billington’s report had concentrated on this Kleeton fellow and his note. There’d been very little mention of Emily, other than to say she seemed quite upset by his absence. Good. He hoped she missed him half as much as he missed her. If he had his way, it wouldn’t be long before he’d see her again.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Noah turned and nodded. “Nice to see you again, too, brother-in-law.”
“Damn you, Noah, why are you here?”
“Unfortunately, it’s not a social call,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. God, but he felt every one of his thirty-one years. “Close the door.”
Ian flung the door shut and reached him in six long strides. “Talk. Now. You’ve got ten minutes.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared.
Ian would never listen to him in his current mood which was darker than black. Noah had to ease the tension between them. “Do you really wear all those clothes to bed?” he asked, gesturing to the blue silk pajamas and burgundy robe.
“Nine minutes.”
Maybe that sort of humor couldn’t be appreciated at this hour of the morning. He’d try another tactic. “If you’re thinking of hitting me again, could you please avoid the nose area? You broke it last time, and it still smarts.”
“Eight.”
Forget trying to change his mood. He always was something of a spoil-sport. Stubborn spoil-sport. “It’s about Emily.”
“Six.”
“What happened to seven?”
“You lost two minutes when you mentioned her name.”
Noah took a deep breath and looked down at his whiskey glass. Empty. His gaze clashed with Ian’s. “It’s about Emily Sandleton. My wife.” He paused between each word, letting the silence heighten their meaning.
“One.”
Noah ignored him. “She’s been seeing one of her new neighbors.” He hated the sound of that. It bothered him to think she might be interested in someone else when he couldn’t get her out of his mind, day or night.
“Sounds like you’ve got a problem.” Ian’s tone grew smug and not in the least sympathetic.
“His name is Andrew Kleeton. He’s been at Penworth about six months. Obviously, I’ve never met him or heard about him until now, which concerns me.”
“So he prefers beautiful women over men,” Ian said in his usual dry manner.
Noah shook his head. “If it were only that simple. He sent Emily his card the other day inviting her to go riding with him. Do you know what was on the card?” Without waiting for Ian to respond, Noah plowed forward, “It was an embossed drawing of a serpent.”
“And?” He seemed nonplussed by the revelation.
“A serpent, Ian.”
“Are you trying to tell me you think it’s Crowlton?”
Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. But I damn well intend to find out.”
“Wait a minute,” Ian raised a hand, “this all sounds very speculative and quite premature. The man’s apparent fondness for reptiles does not make him a killer.”
“My man, Billington, also told me Kleeton wears gloves all the time. Seems he was in a bad accident some time ago that left his hands scarred.”
That got Ian’s attention. “A fire?”
“Possibly. Emily may be in danger. If he is The Serpent, he’ll try to use her to get to me.”
Ian let out a long breath. “I need a drink.” He walked to the side table and poured a whiskey.
“I want to go to her, Ian,” Noah said.
“Impossible.” He lifted the glass and drained it in one swallow. Then he poured another.
“She needs protection. Someone to watch over her and keep an eye on Kleeton.”
“I can do that from here. I’ll bring her back to Marbrook,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Do you really think she’ll go with you? She’s just settled into a new home. She won’t let you haul her back for no good reason, and you can’t tell her the truth without putting her in more jeopardy.” He joined Ian at the side table and poured another whiskey. “What would you tell her?”
“I’ll think of something. She might not like it, but she’ll listen.”
“Even if she does agree, you can’t put the rest of your family at risk. Every one of you would be targets, including Augusta and the baby.”
Ian remained silent for several minutes, and Noah waited while his friend turned over possibilities and weighed obstacles as he determined the best course of action. Ian had always been a great tactician which had made him a great spy. “I’ll hire a bodyguard to stay with her at Glenview Manor.”
“Who?” Desperation washed over Noah, rendering him powerless. “Who but you and I would know how to handle a man like The Serpent?” He was going to Emily, with or without Ian’s permission.
“We could contact The Crown and tell them of our suspicions,” Ian said.
“What would we tell them? I found a man living next to me who uses embossed serpents on his calling cards and wears gloves at all times? They’d call us mad. Probably tell us we’d been on one too many missions.” He rifled a hand through his hair. “It’s not enough for them to bother with and you know it.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m going to her.” There. He’d said those same words over and over in his head since the moment he’d read Billington’s missive.
Ian’s gaze narrowed. “What did you say?”
Noah squared his shoulders and repeated, “I’m going to her.”
“Why?”
Noah stared at him. “Jesus, do you have to ask me that? I haven’t slept in three days for worrying about her. Thinking I might get there too late. I need to see her and make certain she’s safe. I’ll go crazy if I’m not there. I have to protect her.” He began pacing the room.
“Wh
y couldn’t you have displayed such honor a few weeks ago? Before you seduced her? Then she wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
The words stung, like salt in a wound. An open, bleeding, raw wound. Noah had tormented himself with those same thoughts for the past three days. He stopped pacing, faced Ian and said in a hoarse voice, “I love her.”
“Does she know?”
Noah shook his head.
“If I do agree that you should go, how do you plan to keep her safe? Obviously you can’t present yourself as you are. If Kleeton didn’t shoot you, Emily would.”
“I’ve got it all planned out. I wasn’t known as The Chameleon for nothing,” he said, referring to the code name he used during his espionage days. His specialty had been transformation, walking into a building as a young man and hobbling out an old one. With the right makeup and props he could turn into anything.
“You’ll go in disguise.” Ian said, a hint of a smile on his face.
“The name’s Cyrus Mandrey,” Noah replied, lowering his voice to a raspy imitation of his character. “I’ll have bushy brown hair and a beard and mustache,” he continued in that same voice, “with glasses this thick.” His fingers extended an inch. “And nobody, but nobody’s going to touch Lady Sandleton.”
“Even her husband?” Ian asked, raising a dark brow.
Noah dropped the guise. “About that promise. Would you consider releasing me from it?” He prepared for the worst but prayed for the best.
Ian rubbed his jaw. “I never thought you’d fall in love and certainly not with my little sister. I don’t think it’s my decision any longer. Now, it’s up to Emily.”
“I want to know that when this is all over, I can try to win my wife back without worrying you’ll show up with a pistol.”
“Agreed.”
“Or a strong left hook.”
Ian laughed, a full deep sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Let’s have a drink and settle the details. If that bastard is still alive, I want him exposed as soon as possible.”
Chapter 11
“Ian!” Emily shrieked, bounding across the room and into her brother’s arms. “I’ve missed you.”
