“And what?” Diana gave him a questioning glance.
“Uh—” Vincent grinned sheepishly “—one might say I moderated my entertainments.”
She laughed out loud. “My lord, do you mean to say that you held unseemly parties?”
“I think orgies is the word.” Vincent went back to eating, admiring the blush that suffused her delicate features.
“Oh, my. No wonder Mrs. Buckden looked askance at my arrival. One can hardly blame her.”
“Mrs. Buckden knows full well that when I brought women here for that reason, I did not bother to conceal them in a wagonload of apples. At least the apples seem to have been put to good use.” He took a large mouthful.
“Yes, and the ham, also. But where is the cheese?” An impish smile lit her face. How lovely. Vincent had seen her smile so seldom.
“Were you wanting cheese, my lady?” Durbin hurried back into the room and presented a basket of rolls. “I believe Cook has some planned for the next course.”
“That will be fine, thank you.” She chuckled. “I was sure it was on the menu. Please tell her that the food is quite delightful.”
“Oh, I will, my lady. She’ll be that pleased, she will. Kind of you to say so.” He gestured at the footmen bringing in the next course. They filed in and deposited steaming dishes on the sideboard. “Now, what would you like with your cheese?”
Diana felt uncomfortably full. She had lived on short rations for such a long time, she had to resist the temptation to overeat. Durbin had plied her with far more cheese than she’d wanted, but he had been so eager to please she had not the heart to refuse. If she was not careful, she would soon find herself letting out the seams of her clothes. But no matter, she was still far too thin.
She never ceased to wonder at the numerous platefuls of food Vincent could devour at a sitting without seeming to gain weight. No matter how much he consumed, his body remained lean and hard.
A body she found herself thinking about all too often.
Every courteous touch between them, every hungry glance, set her tingling with almost-forgotten desires. But she dare not succumb to them. Restraint would serve her far better than surrendering to passion. She must keep her wits about her. Her relationship to Vincent was ambiguous, to say the least. Guest? Lover?
Hostage?
She had never been sure. Could she leave Inglewood if she wished? Even if she had somewhere to go? With Throckmorton guarding Bytham and Selena and Vincent watching her… It would not be easily done, if his lordship did not wish it. But that question did not signify. She had nowhere to go.
And she was beginning to understand that she did not want to go.
If she were in actuality a prisoner, at least her prison provided not only comfort but luxury, Diana thought as she made her way through several broad, richly paneled corridors to the wing that housed her and the children. She now need not concern herself with cooking or cleaning or even the care of her children unless she wished.
But she did wish it. Selena and Bytham were all she had in the world and the greatest joy of her life. It was for their sake she fought. Without them she might well succumb to the temptation to give up and let Deimos send her to the gallows or allow her unseen enemies to put a bullet through her. It would be so much easier than living with dread and suspicion and poverty.
And she was so tired.
But they needed her. She would battle to her last breath not to desert them. They should be asleep by now, but she could not go to bed without looking in on them, to kiss their little cheeks and listen for a moment to their soft breathing. She would have preferred to share their bedchamber, but Vincent had insisted that Throckmorton stay with them. She nor Nurse could hardly sleep in the same room with him, and she worried about his ability to care for the youngsters at night.
What if they had a nightmare?
She listened for a moment at their door before carefully opening it. All was silent, but a candle still burned. She peeped through the crack to see Throckmorton ensconced in a rocking chair, a book open on his knees, and Selena asleep against his shoulder. As the door opened, he dropped the book, his whole being alert. He lifted a pistol from his lap. Diana froze.
“Ah! My lady. Come in.” A grin broke over his face. “I won’t shoot.”
Diana returned the smile. “I’m happy to know you are attentive to your duties.” Diana walked across the room and retrieved the book from the floor. It was one of her daughter’s favorites. “You were reading to Selena?”
“Aye. She woke with a dream and could not fall asleep again. She likes for me to read to her, but in truth, I can’t say why. She reads better than I do.” He stood and carried the child back to her bed. “I ain’t had much schooling, but I like to try.”
How kind of him! Diana considered the book in her hand. “I cannot believe you find children’s stories very enjoyable.”
“They are well enough, I suppose.” The big man did not sound very convincing.
“Perhaps you should ask his lordship—” She broke off as the door opened again and Throckmorton lifted the pistol.
“Ask his lordship what?” Vincent stepped into the room and held up his hands as he spied the weapon leveled at him. “Whoa! Hold your horses. It is only I.”
“Sorry, me lord.” The boxer grinned and lowered the gun. “Already I came near shooting Lady Diana. Mayhap I best lock the door.”
“Yes, I would recommend that, even here.” Vincent suited the action to the word and turned the key. “Now, what were you to ask his lordship?”
“I was just saying,” Diana explained, subduing the burst of fear that had flashed through her when Throckmorton had raised the gun, “that you might have a volume or two in the library that Throckmorton might enjoy reading more than he does the children’s books.”
“You like to read?” Vincent gazed at his henchman with new interest.
“Well, sir, I do like it, but I ain’t too good at it.” The battered man actually blushed.
“That’s easily remedied with a little practice. Remind me tomorrow and I’ll see what I have.”
“I’m much obliged, me lord. But was you wanting me for something?”
“No, I just came to look in on you and the children. Apparently all is well?”
“Oh, yes, sir. All right and tight.”
“Then I’ll say good-night.” Vincent started toward the door, only to turn and walk back to the children’s bed. He gazed at them for a heartbeat, then straightened the blanket and tucked it under Bytham’s chin.
Diana followed him and placed a kiss on each precious face. “I’ll come, too. It is time for bed.”
They repeated their good-nights to Throckmorton and Vincent unlocked the door. Diana followed him into the hall, her heart sinking as she heard the lock click between her and her children. He offered his arm and escorted her the short distance to her own bedchamber, pausing when they reached it.
He turned her so that he could study her face, placing her in the light of the wall sconce. His fingers brushed across her cheek. “Your injury seems better.”
“Y-yes, it is healing now, thanks to Mistress Annie’s fomentations.” His touch made her breath catch in her throat. “But there will probably be an ugly scar.”
“Nothing about you could ever be ugly.” He leaned down and touched his lips to the spot.
“I—I…” She could not get the words out. Didn’t know what words she wanted.
Gazing into her eyes, he smoothed her hair with his hand—his big hand. Strong. Gentle. “I will not press you, Diana. You need have no fear. But you should lock your door, also. If any alarm occurs, I will be right across the corridor.”
“Is that your bedchamber? I thought…”
“No, my chamber is at the end of the hallway, but I will be sleeping here.” He opened her door for her. “And, Diana…”
She stopped halfway through the opening. “Yes?”
“My door will not be locked.”
Sleep had not come easily to Diana. She had lain awake long into the night, achingly aware of the two locked doors between her and Selena and Bytham. And of one unlocked door across the corridor. How long would her resolution hold? Alone in the night, and lonely, she found it harder and harder to maintain her suspicions of Vincent. Her fear of him had diminished. How could it not? He treated her with respect and kindness. He said he cared for her, and she could see his growing affection for the children.
And feel her own growing affection for him. She needed his comfort so badly.
Her reputation had by now been damaged beyond repair, in any event. If it did not already, the polite world would soon enough know of her unchaperoned journey in his lordship’s company, without even a maid to lend her propriety. And now she was sequestered in Vincent’s home. The gossips’ tongues would flay her alive.
Another thing that hardly mattered if she did not survive.
So why did she lie cold and forlorn in an empty bed?
For how long would she do it?
The following morning Vincent emerged from the door of the stable where he had been reviewing his riding stock. He already owned a dainty dapple-gray mare that would make an excellent riding animal for Diana, but he must have his groom search for two ponies suitable for Selena and Bytham. The lively pair should have the opportunity to learn to ride.
Not that any of them could go very far afield. At least, not yet. But sooner or later their pursuers would reveal their cards, and when they did, Vincent intended to put an end to the pursuit once and for all. And then…
And then, what? Vincent found himself thinking more and more of the future. For most of his life he had not expected to have much future, had not cared how long—or how short—his life might be. Recent events had changed that. The woman he most desired was no longer wed to his best friend. She was here, in his home, under his protection. She needed him.
As did her children. A pang of surprise struck Vincent whenever he thought of Bytham and Selena. Whence had come this longing for fatherhood? For wife and family? And why must it appear now—now when he was engaged in the most dangerous venture of his life? When his association with the surviving Corbys only placed them in further danger?
He could not let that continue. He must bring the matter to a close, find the proof he sought and put a stop to the Bonaparte conspiracy. Then perhaps he would be free to build a life for himself.
And Diana, if she would have him.
Down the lane behind the stable, a figure caught Vincent’s attention. A man was strolling toward him, playing a sailor’s pipe and avoiding the two small, shaggy terriers that scampered about his feet. He wore a shabby brown coat. Vincent strode to meet him.
“Good day to you,” the man hailed as Vincent came into earshot. “You need any rat catching done today, guv’nor?”
“I might—if I can find the rats.” Vincent glanced around, and seeing no one else, asked, “Have you been here long?”
The man in the shabby brown coat grinned. “I been ambling about the neighborhood for a few days. Caught a rat or two.” He jingled the coins in his pocket. “Figured you’d show your front here by now. Any problems on the road?”
“A few,” Vincent admitted. “They were dealt with.” They set off walking down the path to the cow byre.
“See you have a new footman.” The man nodded past Vincent to the garden, visible in the distance, where Diana and the children played, attended by Nurse and Throckmorton.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “Aye. You know him?”
“A bit. Used to box. Got too old, I think.”
“He isn’t that old.” Uneasiness stirred in Vincent’s chest.
“Nay, mayhap not. Went to work for some lord, I heard.”
“Litton?”
“That’d be him, aye.”
“Throckmorton ever in any trouble with the law?” Vincent squinted against the sun, trying to get a better view of the group in the garden.
“No more’n most. Left town for a while, but came back in his lordship’s employ.”
Not very reassuring, but not seriously alarming, either. Vincent bit back frustration. He could never be sure of anyone, it seemed. “You have news for me?”
“A bit. Been watching St. Edmunds and his friends. They meet pretty regular at a certain pub. I keep me listeners open. Ain’t been able to get no proof of anything, nor heard no actual plans, but they’re scheming, right enough. I’ve got a list of them for you.”
“Bloody hell! I had hoped to become a part of the group, get my hands on some documents perhaps, learn how they intend to affect the escape from Elba, but now…”
“Too late now, me lord. You piking on the beam with the lady mort done put the fat in the fire.”
Vincent sighed. “No doubt. I’ll have to assign someone else to do it. I’m afraid I’m now compromised beyond repair.”
The man shook his head. “I think they was on to you, any case, me lord. Best you should lie low for a spell.”
Vincent thought about that. It could be true. “Perhaps it is just as well. Whomever attacked Lady Diana and her children will surely appear here in time. Perhaps I will be able to eliminate some of the conspirators when they do. Any word on Deimos’s whereabouts?”
“Nay, guv’nor, not a whisper. You think mayhap he retired? Maybe he don’t like the new king.”
“I doubt it, but I suppose we may hope so.” Vincent stopped, scowling into the distance, his instincts clamoring. “No. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. He is out there somewhere, and wherever it is, he means someone no good—most likely me.”
“That’s the God’s truth. Well, I’ll be about if you need me. Where’s them rats you want caught?”
Vincent wished he knew.
Two days later Vincent received two more communiqués. One was a note from Litton, penned with characteristic directness.
We are coming.
Before he could decide if that succinct news was welcome or the contrary, hoofbeats coming up the drive caught his attention. He had been sitting on a garden bench, reading his mail and keeping one eye on Diana and the children while she gave them a lesson on nature. He must see about hiring a governess soon.
Throckmorton now held a small box in which resided a number of insects, and the knees of Bytham’s britches were distinctly grimy from his search under bushes. Selena’s hair blew in the wind and as she pushed it out of her face, he saw a streak of dirt appear on her nose. They were really quite beautiful.
Down the drive Vincent perceived a tall, gray-clad figure cantering toward him on a gray horse. So…it appeared that Diana was about to make the acquaintance of his “terrifying” Uncle Charles. Before Vincent could decide whether or not this second advent was welcome, his visitor reached him and swung down from his saddle.
“Uncle Charles.” Vincent bowed, then extended a hand.
“Good to see you, Vincent.” Caldbeck handed his reins to the groom who had just run up, and clasped his nephew’s hand firmly, his face expressionless. “Adam wrote to tell me that you were expected here shortly. I came to see if I might offer you any assistance.”
“Thank you. At present all seems quiet enough. I suppose he told you…” He nodded in Diana’s direction.
“Aye. Has further danger to the children manifested itself?” The two men started walking toward the schoolroom party.
“We had some trouble north of London, but escaped unscathed. This has been very difficult for Lady Diana, however, and I fear that the real danger is to her rather than the children.”
Caldbeck nodded. “Very likely an accurate assessment.”
Hearing a strange voice, Diana looked up from the mysterious creature Bytham had just captured. Oh, dear, a stranger—and with the three of them all windblown and untidy. Vincent’s black locks also fluttered in the breeze, but his companion’s severely styled silver tresses seemed not to move at all. Dismayed, she hastily wiped her hands on her skirt and ran them over her own tous
led mane.
Vincent stopped beside her. “Lady Diana, may I present my uncle, Lord Caldbeck.”
Oh, my! The formidable earl himself.
“Charles Randolph, your obedient servant.” Caldbeck removed his hat and bowed. “My pleasure, Lady Diana.”
Diana could see not a single sign of pleasure in the saturnine countenance. Not a trace of a smile. Every thread of the man’s clothing, save his shirt and cravat, was gray and his silver eyes… A little shiver ran up her spine as she offered her hand. “How do you do, Lord Caldbeck?” A tug made her aware of her offspring. “These are my children, Bytham and Selena Corby.” Selena curtseyed, and Bytham essayed a bow before hiding again behind a fold of Diana’s skirt.
“Ah. Well done.” Much to Diana’s astonishment, the imposing lord went to one knee, placing his face nearer the level of the children’s. His expression softened infinitesimally. “I am happy to know you, Miss Selena. Bytham…what do you have there?” Bytham retreated further into his mother’s skirt, but held out a grubby hand. Lord Caldbeck examined it seriously. “I see. A very fine beetle. I trust it will not later appear in your sister’s slipper.”
“Oh, my lord, do not suggest it!” Diana could not help laughing. Bytham shook his head vigorously and added the beetle to the box.
“My son is much of an age with you. You must make his acquaintance.” Caldbeck stood, and Diana signaled Nurse who had just come out of the house.
“I’m sure you have business with Lord Lonsdale, and we are hardly presentable, so if you will excuse us, my lord…”
He inclined his head slightly. Taking this as assent, Diana shooed Bytham and Selena back toward the house.
Vincent watched their retreat thoughtfully for a few moments before turning to his guest. “Come in for some brandy, sir, if you have time.”
“Thank you.”
They made their way to the library where Vincent poured their drinks before they settled into the comfortable leather chairs. His uncle sipped in silence for a moment, studying Vincent over the rim of his glass. Obviously he had something on his mind. Vincent waited.
Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition Page 14
