Or did he? The tavern servants brought the first course, a flavorful fish soup, which Elspeth loved, but her mind suddenly flipped to the possibility that Hal's interest was no more than using her as another way to hurt her husband. Hadn't he as much as said so, when he confessed to her his reason for being at Sandgrove when she escaped?
She looked at him again, this time through the prism of objectivity. Was he as well-formed, as strong, as noble as she'd painted him in her mind?
Well-formed, yes. His broad shoulders pulled the material of his jacket taut. Copper brown skin stretched over high cheekbones and deep-set eyes of darkest brown. Was there even a word for the color of his eyes? Eyes which could appear black as onyx or warm as good chocolate?
She knew he was strong. He had thrown Richard, who weighed well over thirty stone, out the window like a rag.
The nobility of his spirit was written on his face.
But he's a pirate. He robs and has killed men who are only doing their job. He does it as revenge on your husband. He accepted a charge to kill you, Elspeth. Remember that, too.
Yet he hadn't. He'd saved her.
Because you paid him.
Two hundred pounds was a small sum. The one who wanted her dead had no doubt offered him much more. Her train of thought delivered up a more serious worry than the character of Hal Merritt. Someone wanted her dead. Who?
Unbelievably, an even more horrible suspicion rose before her. No attempt had been made on her life. Had Hal fabricated the story? Had he instead decided to strike at Richard March directly, by murdering his wife, only to find that a useless act once he'd discovered the shallowness of Richard's affection for her?
Was he champion or villain? Was she his lady as he called her, or nothing more than a pawn in his war with her husband?
"Elspeth. Are you all right, my dear?" Alex's voice broke into her trance.
She tried to chuckle. "I'm afraid the events of the past few days have affected me more than I believed." Turning to Hal, she said, "I apologize for my lack of attention, sir."
The servants brought the next course, roast pheasant, and conversation died while it was served.
After the servants were gone, Elspeth asked, "Mr. Merritt, I would like to ask you about the man who hired you to murder me."
Hal laid his knife and fork down on his plate. "What would you like to know, my lady?"
"Who he is, of course."
Alex dropped his fork into his plate. "Elspeth, let me handle this later. There is no reason-"
"No reason, Alex? I should say there is every reason. Someone wants me dead. I will know as much as I can about it."
"But, Elspeth-
"Hush. I can bear this burden." She patted his hand. He sat back, his expression uneasy. She blessed him for his concern. "Now, Mr. Merritt, tell me everything."
Hal shrugged. "I got a message to meet a man at a tavern on the docks. The message promised a substantial payment for a little job. I kept the appointment." He raised his glass of wine and sipped.
Elspeth wondered if he was arranging his thoughts for better telling or if he was in the process of fabricating the next part of his tale. He dabbed at his mouth with the snowy white napkin and went on.
"I sat through two pints of ale before a man-dressed all in black from head to toe except for the most exceptional froth of lace at his cuffs, hiding his face behind shadows and the brim of a large hat-" This seemed to cause Hal some amusement. "Came over to me and made his proposal."
"Did he give a name?" Elspeth asked.
"My dear Countess, men conducting such business do not offer their cards."
His gentle jibe cut Elspeth. It had seemed to her a sensible question.
"All right then, what details did you note which could help in finding him?"
Hal breathed deeply and his eyes focused on a far distant object. Whether in space or time, Elspeth could not tell.
"He seemed to be a fop. His clothing was of fine material and well-made as far as I could tell. And-" He frowned and again breathed. No, it was more smelling. He sniffed the air as though trying to identify some fragrance. "He wore an overabundance of fragrance. Lilac, I believe."
"Lilac?" Elspeth turned the details over in her mind. A man dressed all in black. A very stylish man who used lilac perfume. She flashed a worried glance at Alex, who returned her a glance as worried as her own. "Alex, you don't suppose... ?"
"He would have motive, my dear."
"Who?" Hal asked, sitting closer, his whole body giving attention to this turn of conversation.
Elspeth did not want to say the name. It was too incredible. Alex answered for her.
"Geoffrey deHaven, the Countess' heir."
"Heir presumptive," Elspeth corrected. "Geoffrey has protested often enough he does not wish to be Earl and I take him at his word. Besides, I fully intend to have my own heir."
Alex laughed in a gently dismissive way. Why had the patronizing of men never bothered her before as it did tonight?
"Elspeth, my dear, a man may well protest that which he most dearly desires, especially if it appears to be out of his reach. Geoffrey has expensive tastes. Your fortune would suit him better than his own."
"Is there anyone else who would wish your death, my lady?"
Elspeth looked at Hal.
Do you wish my death, sir? Ah, he looks away. Does my regard make you so uncomfortable?
Dessert was brought to the table, a wonderful trifle, Elspeth's favorite. Patsy must have told the staff what the Countess preferred. At least there was one person she could trust.
And Alex of course.
Her gaze went back to her stepfather. Richard's brother. Would he have any reason to want to see her dead?
Her mother was already settled with her dower's portion, which Elspeth had added to, ensuring Adelpha would be comfortable for as long as she lived. Alex, Adelpha's husband, would see no more from Greymere if Elspeth died. In fact, his position would be worse as the new Earl would take possession of Greymere and Alex and Adelpha would be forced to seek lodgings elsewhere. Besides, March Shipping needed Greymere money to keep the company afloat until the pirate sitting to her left hand was vanquished.
Not to mention the fact of a March becoming Earl Greymere in time.
The possibilities were giving her a headache. Her broken wrist ached. Her heart ached at discovering the possibility of so much treachery around her.
"Gentlemen, I wonder if I might be excused. No, no." She waved both men to remain seated. "Have your port and cigars."
Hal rose, in spite of her command. "My lady, is your wrist troubling you? Is there anything I can do?"
Her confused feelings whirled around in her head. Her heart urged her to trust him, a man she'd known but days. Her head told her it was more sensible to trust no one until her attacker-her true attacker, the man who hired an assassin-was identified.
"Thank you, sir. I am only tired and wish to rest." She offered her hand over which he bowed low.
"Your servant, my lady," he whispered.
"Thank you, sir."
When he rose again and their eyes met, she fancied she saw true concern there. Could a man look at a woman that way and still want to kill her?
Too much, too much. Her brain screamed for rest.
"Good night, my dear." Alex had risen as well. "Shall I escort you up?"
"No," she said with a smile. "I'll be fine. You two men enjoy your port. Good night."
Chapter Eleven
As Hal watched her go out of the dining room, his whole body roared its desire to go after her, make sure she was safely in her room, safely abed, to tuck the covers in under her chin and kiss her rosy sweet cheek with a pure, chaste kiss.
My God, Hal, where did that come from? His self-deprecation turned to embarrassment when he saw Alex March watching him.
"So," he said.
"So what?" Hal asked, trying to maintain equanimity.
March put off answering until the servants had dis
pensed the port. He brought out a silver case from which he produced two cigars. Offering one to Hal along with a silver cutter, he remained silent while Hal clipped his cigar and returned the cutter to him. Hal concentrated on lighting the fine cigar-a Cuban, he noted with approval-and tried to remain calm.
March made much of clipping the tip of his cigar, his eyes and apparently his whole attention on the task. Finally he said, "Elspeth has feelings for you, sir. Have you not seen?"
Hal weighed his words carefully before he spoke. "She sees me as a savior." With a chuckle, he added, "I'm not altogether certain such is the case. She would have made it home without me."
March's eyebrows rose in blatant disbelief. "Elspeth is an intelligent girl, but she would not have arrived home alive, sir. Richard was in a rage when he found her gone. He would not have been able to control himself if he'd found her on the road."
"You think your brother a murderer?"
A heavy silence lay over the two men as March pondered the glow at the tip of his cigar.
"I love my brother, sir, as any brother should. However I am no longer blind to his faults."
"Why did the Countess marry him?" Hal asked bluntly.
"I urged her to." March smiled sadly. "And now I am consumed by guilt for my part in the debacle."
"Yet, you do not assist her in obtaining a divorce."
"I have resisted up to now, but if there is no other way to free her from Richard, yes, I will assist her. As much as a bastard son can."
"You carry the March name."
"Our father was a generous and loving man."
Hal chuckled. "Sir, if I may be permitted a personal observation, you seem to be a decent sort, for all that you have held a blade at my throat. How did your brother turn out to be such a-" he paused. He almost said bastard, which wouldn't be appropriate. "Such a monster?"
"He is ill." Immediately, March shook his head. "No, he's not ill, he is, as you say, a monster. Spoiled, self-seeking. Yet, I had always hoped there was good in him. I'd hoped Elspeth's gentle nature would bring the good to the fore and," he chuckled, "save him, I suppose. You know, I have come to think his madness hereditary. His mother was kind to me, but later in her life she became irrational. It might be better if Richard sires no children."
Something in March's voice, nothing he could identify directly, but some change in tone, some inflection, heightened Hal's attention. The man in black stated his purpose that Elspeth have no heir. Had the man really been talking about Elspeth? Or had the true target been Richard March? Hal tried seeing Alex March in sweeping black, reeking of lilac perfume.
Alex didn't believe Richard should have children. But how to stop that now that Richard was married?
Yet, Alex March's affection for his stepdaughter was true. Was it stronger than the blood tie to his brother?
"But you have not answered my question," March said, "Have you not seen her feelings for you?"
"As I said, I would not make much of any feelings you believe she has for me. It is clear enough to me I am not of her class."
"Indeed. Yet..." March puffed, blowing up a great smoky cloud around their heads. "I will speak frankly, Merritt, as I believe you a man who prefers plain speech. Elspeth needs an heir to ensure Greymere will remain in her line. Richard is not capable of performing the deed."
Hal was momentarily speechless at the candor of March's speech. He drew on his cigar to cover his discomfort.
"Why not then testify to this fact and help her obtain her divorce?"
"Richard has, I would not call them friends in the conventional sense, but rather, comrades in dissipation who would ignore any such testimony and deny Elspeth her divorce. Many men owe him favors. Richard is careful to keep records of such things." March puffed. "If there were a child, he would have to behave correctly toward her."
"You really believe that?" Hal knew his mouth hung open in astonishment. "How can you not know he would kill her for infidelity and never be called to account for it?"
"Elspeth is herself a peer of the realm. Not only that, sir, she is a bosom friend of the Queen. They are within a month of the same age. Elspeth stood with the Queen at her wedding this past winter." March sat up, crossing his arms on the table before him. "Victoria may be besotted with her new husband to the exclusion of almost everything else, but she still pays attention to her realm. If a peer, especially such a close friend as Elspeth, were to die by her husband's hand, Her Majesty would see to the matter being resolved. And, with the nobility being held in such contempt by the common folk, Victoria is most serious about holding everyone to the same law." He sat back and puffed again. "Richard would not be such a fool as to kill Elspeth."
Hal couldn't help pointing out, "You were mistaken before in predicting your brother's behavior."
March appeared to consider this. "True. But again, Richard is not a fool." He let that hang between them. "What he wants is an heir. It is his frustration in his own disability which fuels his wrath."
"So, speaking plainly," Hal said, "what is it you are suggesting?"
"The girl is taken with you. You care for her. I daresay she will never have a more careful lover."
Hal raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You do me great credit, sir."
"Indeed. I, too, care for Elspeth. She is like a daughter to me. I would not see her hurt...if there was anything I could do about it."
Hal wondered at the pause before the last phrase, but before he could contemplate further, March continued.
"I would not reveal to my brother who fathered Elspeth's child. Once she has her child and the succession is secured, I will persuade Richard to stay away from her."
"And if he won't?"
A troubled expression settled on March's face. "Richard listens to me. He will stay away if I counsel him to."
He didn't sound as certain as his words did.
Hal drained his glass of port. "Well, sir, this is the most bizarre conversation I have ever been party to. I suggest you forget this idea of yours, lest it put the lady in a worse predicament. Be satisfied keeping Elspeth away from her husband until I have the opportunity to kill him. Then she may marry or not as she wills."
March's gaze met Hal's. "You will kill Richard?"
"Yes. I have vowed it."
"For what reason?"
"I told you before my reasons are my own. However if your brother wishes to tell you, I do not object." He put his cigar out in the ashtray and rose. "I thank you, sir, for this most illuminating conversation. I will see you in the morning to escort the Countess home."
Hal bowed and turned to leave. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he wondered if both March brothers might not be mentally unbalanced. To openly suggest to a stranger, much less a stranger who has an avowed hatred for the family, that he might sire the child who would become both Earl Greymere and the Viscount of Sandgrove, certainly sounded mad to Hal.
And yet, the idea of making love to the delectable Countess had an appeal completely unrelated to revenge or hatred or even putting his own blood on the seat Richard March so wanted. The sweetness of the thought had his mind elsewhere as he passed through the front room of the inn. It was the sound of a man speaking the Countess' name which caught Hal's attention.
"Yes, yes," the voice said, "the Countess. Where is she? I must see her immediately."
Hal stopped by the corner of the hallway and listened.
"The Countess has asked not to be disturbed," the innkeeper said importantly. "If you would like to leave your card, milord, I shall see the Countess receives it."
"See here, my good man," the visitor said, "the Countess would see me if you would only announce me. I am her cousin and heir, Geoffrey deHaven. Now, go and tell her I wish to see her."
Geoffrey deHaven. Come to see the state of the Countess for himself? Hal peered around the corner at the man, searching for any sign that here was the man in black.
DeHaven was dressed all in black with frothy lace cuffs, but there was something ab
out him, a softness, Hal had not observed in the man who had hired him to do murder. Still, he was still suspect, no matter how unlikely he appeared. Hal wasn't about to allow the man to spend time alone with Elspeth.
The innkeeper shuffled by, muttering to himself about pushy folk who considered themselves better than honest working men, and went up the stairs. Moments later, the man returned and asked deHaven to follow him. Hal waited until the innkeeper returned to the ground floor before he took the stairs to the sleeping floor.
* * * *
Geoffrey made himself comfortable, smoothing his black velvet suit and whacking the dust on his boots with his handkerchief.
"Beastly filthy town. How do you find yourself here, coz?"
Elspeth quashed her smile. "I had some business here. What brings you to Lancaster?"
"You." Geoffrey paused rather theatrically. "Your husband showed up at my door in a right hydrophobic froth two nights ago, seeking you. Then I heard a tale that you had been abducted from Sandgrove and your body had been found on the Leeds Road." He waved his handkerchief. "Beastly stuff. Needless to say, I am gratified you are alive and kickin'. Say, coz, what happened to your hand? Looks demmed painful."
Elspeth glanced down at her bound wrist. "I took a bad step and fell. You remember how clumsy I am."
Geoffrey laughed. "Yes, I do. I remember a birthday party where Vicky demanded you dance on a table like a Spanish dancer. Seems to me you tried flying as well."
The memory made Elspeth smile.
"How is the Queen?" Geoffrey asked, his expression just a little too uncaring.
"I haven't seen her since her wedding, actually. She's much taken with her husband."
"I hear she's increasing already." Geoffrey snickered. "Good man, that Albert. He'll keep her out of men's business."
Elspeth stared at Geoffrey who obviously had no idea at all what he'd just said. She dismissed any thought she had that Geoffrey was the man who had hired Hal to kill her. He wasn't capable of putting such a plan together.
"Geoffrey, I do appreciate your coming by to check on my condition, but I am so frightfully tired. Do you mind terribly?" she asked.
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