Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition

by Patricia Frances Rowell

  At last Caldbeck spoke. “What are your plans with respect to Lady Diana?”

  Vincent briefly considered feigning confusion over the question, but gave that up as useless. His uncle had come to take him to task…again. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure I need not point out the impropriety of this situation.”

  “No, sir, you do not.” Vincent paused. “And I assure you, I have given it much thought.”

  “And you have concluded…?” Caldbeck’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch.

  “I have concluded that I would above all things like to offer for Lady Diana’s hand.”

  “So have you?”

  “It is not that simple, Uncle Charles.” Long practice informed Vincent that the expression—or rather, the lack of it—on his uncle’s face indicated doubt. “In the first place, I am not at all sure that she would have me.”

  Caldbeck’s lack of expression indicated further disbelief. “What choice does she have?”

  “That, I fear, is the second place.” Vincent smiled wryly. “She has none.”

  “Then I fail to appreciate the problem.”

  “I do not want her to wed me for that reason. And…you know as well as anyone what I am. I would not press any woman…”

  “To accept your unworthy self?”

  Vincent frowned, wary of his uncle’s penchant for hidden humor. Whether the comment was an example of it remained unclear. “Just so. But in addition to that, I have involved myself in certain matters that might bring further danger to her. I do not want to do to her and the children what Wyn has done to them. Had I a family, I would never have… But I did not, and I have.”

  “Can you extricate yourself from these arcane matters?”

  “Perhaps, in time, if I live long enough.”

  Caldbeck peered at him over his glass. “Most alarming. What must you do to prevent this impending premature demise?”

  “I must identify those who threaten Lady Diana and remove them,” Vincent stated firmly. “And I think that will also solve at least a part of my problem until I can honorably withdraw.”

  His uncle steepled his fingers and regarded Vincent across them. “Which returns us to your first problem—the lady herself and your matrimonial prospects. Allow me to impose on you with some advice. You may not be aware that Catherine married me for precisely the same reason. She had no choice. I did not allow that to deter me.”

  “I… No, I did not know that.” Who would have thought it? But what woman would not want the distinguished Lord Caldbeck? “But you, sir, were a man of honor. I, on the other hand…”

  “Have you learned nothing of honor in the last four years, Vincent?” His uncle gazed at him intently.

  “I would like to think so.” Vincent’s mouth quirked at the corner. “I have thought about your definition of honor every day since that time.”

  “Have you indeed?” Caldbeck actually sounded a bit startled.

  “Your exact words were, I believe, ‘honor is a matter of having courtesy toward others, of treating inferiors kindly, of keeping your word, of paying your debts. Of treating women of all stations well.’”

  Something surprisingly like a chuckle escaped his reticent relative. “I did not remember my own eloquence. Do you tell me that you think of it each day, but do not practice it?”

  Vincent’s brows drew together. “I do my best.”

  His uncle inclined his head an inch. “Just so.”

  Vincent got up and brought back the decanter. He poured again for both of them, and they drank in silence while Vincent attempted to decipher that last cryptic remark. At last, Caldbeck set down his glass and rose. “I must be going. I will bring Catherine and the children to visit Lady Diana. Call on me if you need my aid.”

  Vincent walked with him to the front door. As he was going out, Caldbeck turned back. “Vincent, all of us can forgive the mistakes of an unhappy boy and a misguided young man—especially when he has put them aside. I suggest you allow yourself to do the same.”

  God damn the useless bloody bitch to hell! How dare she disobey him this way? The two weeks he had given her to think about her fate had come and gone without a word from her. Apparently she was conquering her fear of him. A great mistake on her part. He would soon administer another dose of it.

  And how dare the slut take his coin and give nothing in return? Well, she would learn soon enough that he always collected his debts.

  Always.

  One way or another.

  If she feared only that he would send her to the hangman, she underestimated him. When he established his control over her, she would wish he had.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the rest of the afternoon, as he rode over the park looking for signs of intruders, Vincent pondered Caldbeck’s parting remark. If Charles and Adam and Helen, of all people, could forgive Vincent’s past offenses, perhaps Vincent was not as far beyond the pale as he believed. But did four years of amendment pay for twenty-two of spite and affront? It did not seem likely.

  And even if it did, it did not mean he could win Diana.

  He hoped only for respect.

  He did not expect love.

  Occupied as he was with these consuming thoughts when he strolled through the front door on his way to dress for dinner, the fact that the door was not locked did not immediately catch his attention. Nor, for a heartbeat, did the unaccustomed stillness. Then he felt his hair lift and his pulse increase. He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly in a circle, one hand feeling for the pistol in his belt.

  There was no one in the entry hall, but several large doors opened off it, gaping darkly and ominously. Vincent did not keep a porter stationed there. Largely because he did not invite them, he had too few visitors at Inglewood to bother. But there should have been some sounds of activity from Durbin or a footman somewhere in the area. Someone should have been available to open the door. The small dining room in which he and Diana had been having their meals lay within earshot through a series of salons to his left. Ordinarily at this hour they would be preparing it for dinner.

  Vincent eased up to the first opening and, back to the wall, peered around the edge into the room. He could see nothing in the dim light but the shadowy forms of rarely used furniture. When nothing moved, he slipped into the parlor and made his way to the next connecting door, where he repeated the procedure. Hmm. No one there, either.

  Perhaps he was imagining things; his nerves were on edge. He stepped into the second room and walked through it quietly, looking behind sofas and chairs. No one. He had just decided that he was becoming daft when a stealthy movement beyond the next door caught his eye. Vincent crouched and froze.

  A tall, thin form crept through the door, casting glances left and right as it came. Vincent stood, pistol ready. “Hold where you are!”

  The man threw up his hands, revealing a pistol clasped in one of them. “Lonsdale?”

  “Who? Sudbury? What the devil are you doing lurking about my house?”

  “No, no! Not lurking…not at all.” The slender man carefully slid his weapon back into his belt. “Came to call. Knocked. No one answered, but the door was open. Everything seemed too quiet somehow. I thought…” He raked light brown hair back out of his eyes.

  “You thought what?” Vincent had not lowered his own pistol.

  “Couldn’t help but remember that business in the park.” Sudbury sat on the arm of a sofa. “Heard you had brought Lady Diana north, and I feared…”

  “Where did you hear that?” Vincent set his jaw.

  His prisoner shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Where does one hear anything?”

  “And how is it I find you in Yorkshire in the first place?”

  “Been to my aunt. Expectations, you know, and besides, I quite like the old girl.” If Sudbury felt any trepidation with respect to having Vincent’s pistol leveled at him, it wasn’t evident. “But where is everyone? Couldn’t raise a soul.”

  “I don’t know. They shoul
d be making the dining parlor ready for dinner, but I don’t hear them.” What the devil was he to do now? He could not hold his acquaintance at pistol point much longer without deciding that he did, indeed, represent a threat.

  But did he?

  Suddenly a unmistakably feminine scream rent the air.

  “Diana!” Vincent wheeled and bolted for the stairs. The cry had come from above. He pounded up two pair of stairs, barely aware that Justinian Sudbury followed close on his heels. If the man was a menace, that should soon become evident. He would deal with him after he discovered what endangered Diana.

  They erupted into the corridor at the top of the steps in time to see Throckmorton, pistol in hand, pulling Diana by one arm down the hall toward the children’s bedchamber. He thrust her inside and shouted, “Lock the door!”

  He was about to race off when Vincent shouted, “Throckmorton! What is it?”

  “He went this way, me lord!”

  Vincent and Sudbury, who again held his own weapon, pursued the footman into a side corridor and all but crashed into his broad back as they rounded the corner. The big boxer stood stock-still, staring around him, his pistol swinging left and right. “Now where did he go? The bastard coulda hid in any one of these here rooms.”

  Vincent’s heart sank. “These and numerous others. But wait… There is an old service corridor in this hall—hasn’t been used in years.” He felt along one wall and triggered a hidden catch. A panel swung open, revealing a hallway. Squatting, he studied the marks in the dust on the floor. “Someone has been here.” He stood and moved back to Throckmorton, murmuring softly, “Stay and keep watch in case he comes out of hiding up here.”

  Throckmorton nodded and silently backed until he could see both the side corridor and the door to the children’s bedchamber. Vincent beckoned to Sudbury and they slipped into the hidden hallway. He could not be sure of the man’s intentions, but at least he could keep an eye on him. Leave him this near to Diana and the children, he would not.

  They ran along the passage and down steep stairs into another hallway, following it until it came to a sharp bend. Before Vincent could make the turn, Sudbury’s hand closed over his shoulder from behind, pulling him back. Vincent slowed. His companion pushed him firmly toward the floor, signaling for quiet with a finger to his lips. Vincent complied with the unspoken suggestion and, crouching low, they squinted around the corner.

  A shot rang out and splinters flew from the wall above them.

  “Damnation!” Vincent ducked back.

  Running footsteps faded into the distance. The two of them again gave chase. They burst out of a door into the pantry. Oddly it, too, was deserted. The outer door stood open. They made for it and plunged into the dying light of day.

  There was no one to be seen.

  “We will have to search the grounds and the outbuildings.” Vincent stood, panting.

  Sudbury nodded, also gasping for breath. “But you will need help to both search and guard the house.”

  “By the time I get it, he will be gone.” Vincent stared around him at the vast grounds and considered the resources at his command. “Bloody hell!”

  An hour later Vincent was still sorting out what had happened. Sounds from below had led him and Sudbury to the kitchen where they beheld a scene of chaos. Vincent could hardly believe his eyes.

  The room was full of bats.

  The maids huddled in the corners while Durbin led the broom-wielding footmen on a campaign to rid the room of the agitated trespassers. Bats flapped and squeaked. Girls squealed and ducked. Durbin swung a frying pan. Cook ran to and fro, seizing dishes of prepared food and fleeing with them. Vincent stared in dismay, dodging as a winged missile flew blindly at his head.

  Behind him Sudbury spoke. “Appears dinner will be a bit delayed.”

  Vincent turned to glare at him and shouted to the room at large. “What happened? Where did these creatures come from?”

  “From the old flue, my lord.” Durbin paused to wipe sweat from his forehead. “All at one time, they just came boiling out with a cloud of smoke.” He flailed at a luckless creature as it fluttered by.

  “Deal with them!” Casting a look of frustration over his shoulder, Vincent abandoned the battle for possession of the kitchen and ran back up the several flights of stairs to find Diana. The bats were the least of his worries.

  He and Sudbury found Throckmorton where they had left him, warily watching the doors of both corridors. He turned to them eagerly. “Did you snabble him, me lord?”

  Vincent shook his head. “Nay, he made it out of the house before we could stop him. What happened up here?” Without waiting for an answer, he knocked on the door behind which Diana had disappeared. “Diana, it is I. Open up. Are you all right?”

  He heard the key turn in the lock, and Diana looked cautiously through the crack. “Yes, we are all here—Nurse and the children and I.”

  She pushed the door open and stepped back, her small pistol still in her hand. The men all crowded into the bedchamber and ranged themselves around the walls. Nurse sat on the sofa with a comforting arm around each of the wide-eyed children.

  “Now,” Vincent said when they had all settled themselves, “will someone please tell me what transpired?”

  Diana, looking a bit dazed, sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself. “There was a man. I was on my way to look in on Selena and Bytham before I dressed for dinner. As I came to the top of the stairs, I saw him opening doors and looking into the rooms.” She rocked back and forth as if consoling herself, her face white. “At first I thought he belonged here, but he turned toward me and I saw that he was dressed roughly—not one of the footmen.” She paused and swallowed. “I—I realized then he was looking for the children. I screamed and ran at him.”

  “Aye, sir.” Throckmorton took up the tale. “I heard her and came out on the run, as you may believe. The blighter gave her a shove and knocked her down and ran past me while I was trying to get to her. By the time I got her into this room, you two were in the hall.”

  Mindful of his audience, Vincent restrained the urge to go to Diana and gather her to him. She had been through so much, and now she had sustained yet another physical attack and another threat to her children. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and ward off the pain and terror that surrounded her, that turned her beautiful face drawn and pale. But he could not do that here. He took a breath to steady himself. Sudbury had followed him into the bedchamber and stood with arms folded, his lanky frame propped against the door frame. His pistol had again disappeared. Was it possible that his advent on the scene was pure coincidence? If not, then what was it? Vincent regarded him with narrowed eyes. Sudbury maintained an air of innocent attention.

  Vincent pondered the situation. Had he not found the man prowling through the salons with a pistol in his hand, he would think Sudbury’s actions had been entirely in the spirit of support. He had done nothing further to arouse suspicion.

  In fact, he had had ample opportunity to shoot Vincent in the back as they’d chased the interloper through the service passage. No one else in the house had seen Sudbury except Throckmorton, who did not know him. He might easily have done it and escaped without revealing his identity, possibly even silencing Diana in the process.

  So likely he did not pose an immediate threat.

  But could he be depended upon for help?

  As if reading Vincent’s thoughts, Sudbury straightened. “Bad business, this. Happy to offer my assistance.”

  “Justinian?” Diana appeared to suddenly realize he was in the room. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your most obedient servant, Lady Diana.” The tall man bowed. “Visiting in the neighborhood. Stopped to call.”

  “At just the right moment.” Vincent kept his voice carefully neutral. Whether it was the right moment for his benefit or that of his opponents still lay open to question. But for now he would accept the man at face value.

  And watch him.r />
  Sudbury nodded. “If you don’t mind putting me up, I can help keep watch.”

  Rather like setting the fox to watch the chickens? Well, if Sudbury was one of his enemies, then at least he would know where to find him. And he would see to it that he had no chance to play him false.

  “Much obliged to you, Sudbury.” Inwardly he sighed. Another direction in which he must maintain vigilance. Another person of whom he could not be sure. “Throckmorton, do not let Selena and Bytham out of your sight for an instant. I will send a footman to keep watch in the hall. Lady Diana, this occurrence means that you may no longer move around, even in the house, without an escort. I will take you to your room now and call to take you to the dining parlor later—quite a bit later, I fear. It will take a while to restore order in the kitchen.”

  Throckmorton gave him a perplexed stare. “I thought the trouble was all up here. What’s afoot in the kitchen, me lord?”

  “Bats.”

  Vincent offered his arm to Diana and led her out of the room, leaving Sudbury to follow and his henchman to gaze after him with furrowed brow. Down the hall at her own chamber, he opened the door for her and stepped in to look around. Finding no one in the wardrobe nor under the bed nor behind the screen, he paused before leaving. “Diana, I want to be sure you understand me. Do not open the door for anyone but me.”

  She nodded. “Very well, I shall not.”

  Vincent cast a meaningful glance out the door where Sudbury waited in the corridor.

  “And, Diana—I mean no one.”

  When dinner had finally been served, Diana found herself unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls. The stay at Eldritch Manor and the last several days of peace at Inglewood had lulled her into a sense of security. The afternoon’s incident had shattered it. Vincent had told her that their arrival at his family home would attract their pursuers, but she had somehow continued to deny the reality.

  But reality had again become undeniable.

  Those who would harm her had found her. She would no doubt next see the arrival of the Runners to take her away. The time limit Deimos had set for her to betray Vincent was nearing an end. But how could she betray the man who had steadfastly placed himself between her and any number of dangers? The man who had dried her tears, had held her in his strong arms. Had so tenderly made love to her. The man for whom she could sense her own feelings growing.