Devil of Montlaine (Regency Rendezvous Book 1)

by Claudy Conn

  Randy shook his head sympathetically. “I was never so glad to escape anything in all my life. Good Lord, what a bore that woman was. We didn’t want to go off and leave you, but you must see…couldn’t very well take you off to inquire about a cock fight, now could we?”

  “No, and shame on you. I don’t approve of cock fights,” she said sharply.

  “There you are,” her brother answered reasonably.

  “Oh, never mind. It was an excellent notion of yours to call on the Echworths. I must admit to a certain curiosity about them…and Montlaine.” She returned her attention to the high-rising castle in the distance.

  “Now, Ness…” her brother began on a worried note.

  “Aren’t you curious, Rick? I mean, ‘tis all so strange. What of the missing Montlaine child, Mary? What of the girl I saw in the woods at Penrod? Why did Guss tell us as much as she did, but seemed to hold back when I questioned her about particulars? She knows more than she says, and only told us what we were bound to find out anyway.”

  “I don’t have the answers, but, Ness, ‘tis none of our affair, is it?” her brother tried coaxing her away from the subject.

  Ness did not answer him, but smiled to herself as she clicked her horse to action once more. They took the remaining road to the long drive to Montlaine in easy time, and before long the heavily studded doors of Montlaine were opened wide for them to enter.

  A tall, lean, and rigid looking butler led them to the library, where he bade them be comfortable while he went in search of Mrs. Echworth.

  Ness scanned the room, absorbing everything as quickly as she could.

  In spite of its enormous size, its furnishings gave it the appearance of warmth. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, but its most captivating feature was the full length portrait above the fireplace.

  Ness went directly to it and made a low exclamation as she stared at the hatless man in the painting. His black hair was tousled by the wind. He wore a black cape blowing backwards, a white shirt unbuttoned at the neckline, and he was astride a black stallion depicted as rearing, snorting, and pawing the air.

  A chill went through her entire body as she studied the painting and the arresting features of the boldly handsome man. His black almost satanic brows above black forceful eyes seemed to dive into her, demanding her full attention. His face was sculptured and beautiful in a way that caught her imagination.

  She was so engrossed with the portrait that she felt a twinge of irritation when the three Echworths entered the scene and she was forced away from the painting and into the circle of greetings.

  After a few moments, Ness left Sheila and her mother to the lively banter with her brother and cousin. She turned her attention, once again, to the portrait, until she felt Orson’s eyes studying her. “You are exquisite,” he bent and whispered.

  She looked up at him and he seemed to suck in air as their gaze met and held.

  “Do you know, those aqua blue eyes of yours exactly match your riding habit…it is like diving into the sky and getting lost in its color,” he said so softly she had to strain to listen.

  Ness smiled, but only slightly, and ignored his compliments as she asked, “Who is that a portrait of?”

  He frowned. “My late cousin, who always seems to catch attention, even in death.”

  He sounded peeved to her, but his answer confirmed what she had already suspected. “He is an imposing subject, as is the horse…”

  “Ah, Midnight. Indeed. I have heard no other could mount that horse,” Orson said peevishly.

  She eyed him a moment. “Your cousin…but I don’t see a likeness.”

  He conceded with a rueful expression, “My mother and his father were cousins, so we are once removed. We were…er…never much alike.”

  “I suppose this was done in the viscount’s heyday?” Ness pursued.

  “It was done, I am told, less than a year ago, by the great Lawrence himself. I find it a bit distasteful myself.”

  Surprised, she countered, “Distasteful? But why? I think Lawrence did himself credit with this portrait.” She could sense something just beneath the surface of Orson’s remark, something she did not quite understand.

  “Well, look at the pose he takes on that wild animal, for one. They appear to rage against the heavens. With all that he had, he seemed ill-contented, even on canvas. It was no wonder it would end in his being called the devil.”

  Ness knew about a wayward nature, she had been restless a good part of her life. She looked up at Montlaine and said quietly, “No, he is not raging against the heavens or anything else. It appears to me that he had a need to live fully, no doubt because of his time as a soldier. It is…no more than that.”

  “Ah, you know that he was away at war?”

  “Indeed, but I had assumed he was a much older gentleman,” Ness said, adding softly, “and now, your cousin, who was still young, is gone.”

  “You have depth, but do not waste your feelings on Montlaine,” he answered her defensively. “He is gone, but not before he dragged the name of Montlaine through the mud.”

  Ness said nothing to this but took a step away. She wanted to quit his company, so she strolled towards her brother, who sat enjoyably reciting an anecdote for Sheila and her mother’s amusement.

  “You think me harsh,” Orson continued at her back, as though he couldn’t stop himself. “But he brought about his own destruction.”

  “Such mystery?” She arched a brow, knowing full well she had led him to the story. Lady Penrod had not told them all, but this one, this Orson person she already disliked, would, though she was sure it would not be flattering to the late Montlaine.

  “It is not a pretty tale, my dear,” he said on a feigned heavy sigh.

  “I thought not. If it were, there would be no mystery,” she answered.

  “To understand the incidents that led to his death, you must realize that my late cousin was a hard-living man whose boredom with everyday reality led him to pursue dangerous and imprudent ways.”

  “He was, I take it, something of a libertine.” Ness’s lips formed a quirky smile.

  He glanced sharply at her. “You don’t seem shocked?”

  “Should I be? I have a brother and cousin who I am very close to and thus, hear many conversations another maid might not.”

  “Yes, of course. Well, Montlaine began exploring the pleasures of what I think of as the outer limits. It ended with the villagers suspecting him of practicing witchcraft and sorcery.”

  “Fantasy, Mr. Echworth,” she answered.

  “Was it? I was never sure, myself. We didn’t often visit here at Montlaine, but we were visiting when these rumors began, you see. When I mentioned the matter to the viscount, he would only laugh.”

  “Why precisely did they suspect him of sorcery?” Ness pursued.

  “Scattered incidents. Gossip, I suppose, always gets out of hand. Suffice it to say that a young girl—a farmer’s daughter who had often been seen in his company, died under suspicious circumstances. She was found clutching the viscount’s pendant. A pendant, I might add, that is a round onyx stone with Lucifer’s sign emblazoned upon it.”

  “Oh, but that is ludicrous. Witchcraft in this day and age, absurd! And it was probably no more than a design of some sort they took to mean as Lucifer’s sign. Nonsense, all of it,” Ness remarked impatiently. She truly could not believe that a man died because of such superstition.

  “Perhaps. At any rate, a warrant was issued for his arrest. The villagers followed the magistrate here…to Montlaine, but my cousin would not be taken. They chased him over the moors toward Bodmin Heights, a mistake on his part, for there was nowhere to hide…nowhere else to run.”

  “A mistake?” Ness shook her head. “I don’t believe it. He has lived here all his life. Why would he make such a mistake?”

  “Perhaps he was in his cups…perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly? At any rate, he jumped off his horse and the animal took off for home.
I wasn’t there, but I am told how he backed up and apparently slipped and fell to his death.”

  Ness’s mouth dropped and she quickly closed it. Everything that made her who she was, made her reject this story. It was all wrong. It didn’t mesh with the sensitivity in the face of the man in the painting. It was no fit ending for such a man who had survived the war. “And his sister, Mary? The girl you came to Penrod looking for?”

  “Two oddities. Mary vanished that very night.”

  “Why would Mary vanish?”

  “I suppose the villagers were looking for blood that evening and if they thought Montlaine a sorcerer, no doubt they believed young Mary one of his witches. It is what I have been told.”

  “How very awful…all of it,” Ness said thoughtfully. “And the other oddity?”

  “Midnight, Montlaine’s horse, broke down his stall a day after Montlaine died and no one has seen or heard of the horse since.”

  It was at that moment that Sheila broke into the conversation, and Ness realized that everyone had gone silent to listen to Orson’s tale.

  “The horrid thing about it is, the servants are saying that the viscount’s ghost has mounted Midnight, and they ride the moors in the dark of night.”

  “Orson, dear,” his mother chided, “this is not the sort of thing to be burdening our guests with.”

  Ness noted the hint of anger in Mrs. Echworth’s eyes, but a clock chimed just at that moment and Ness said, “Oh dear, time has flown. What an agreeable hour we have spent, Mrs. Echworth. Thank you.”

  “Please, Lady Vanessa, do stay for dinner,” Mrs. Echworth urged.

  “I am very sorry, Mrs. Echworth, as much as we should all like to do that, we are promised to dine with Lady Penrod this evening and as she keeps country hours, we had better be on our way.”

  It was at that moment that her brother made her ill by saying, “Miss Sheila, please do come to dinner? We all would love to have you. Isn’t that right, Nessie?”

  Nessie wanted to kick him in the shins, but maintained a polite smile as Randy added enthusiastically, “What an excellent notion.”

  Sheila demurred, “Oh, how sweet, but I don’t know if…”

  “Ness, tell them do, Guss would be ever so pleased,” Rick said.

  Observing that her male family members were adamant on entertaining their latest heartthrob, and as politeness dictated, although she was very sure this arrangement was not going to please Guss at all, she said, “Indeed, I am sure Lady Penrod will be most happy to have you.”

  “You see,” Randy said blissfully. “It is all settled.”

  “But it is still for Orson to decide, for he shall have to fetch me home.”

  “I am dreadfully sorry to disoblige you, Sheila, but I am promised to friends this evening,” her brother said quietly.

  “It doesn’t signify,” Richard of Grey spoke up gallantly. “We shall be more than happy to see Miss Sheila safely home.”

  “Well then, Mama?” Sheila eyed her mother.

  Ness thought that Mrs. Echworth barely concealed her bliss. “I certainly don’t want to put a damper on your spirits. If Lady Vanessa is certain…?”

  Ness did the only thing she could under the circumstances and nodded politely. She had no concern that either her brother or her cousin was seriously interested in Sheila Echworth, whom she found shallow and lacking sincerity.

  Ness found herself following a lively threesome as they made their way back to Penrod Tower. However, the more time she spent in Sheila’s company, the less she liked her. She could not understand how her brother and cousin found so much to admire.

  She began to fall back from the trio and called out, “Go on ahead, Rick. I’ve dropped my scarf and shall catch up with you presently.”

  “Forget the scarf, Ness. It is growing dark,” her brother objected.

  “Forget my good scarf? Nonsensical man. Don’t worry, I shan’t be long.” Ness smiled. Something had been nagging at her instincts and she had exploring on the mind.

  Yes, she chided herself, it was growing darker than she liked, and probably too dark for her to be undertaking such an adventure, but she had an overwhelming desire to see Bodmin Heights for herself. It was only a short ride across the moors, after all!

  Chapter Nine

  The viscount led his horse down the beach and away from the boulders that concealed the mouth to his cave dwelling.

  Above him, stars winked at him, and the moon was half-shadowed by passing clouds. It had been a long, hard day drenched in boredom, and he looked forward to his projected outing.

  He had to visit with his friend, Parks, who was one of the few men alive who knew how things stood with him and was dedicated to clearing his name.

  The facts as he knew them were self-evident. He had not caused Melony’s strange death, and therefore, someone else had. He also knew that someone had stolen his pendant and placed it in Melony’s hand. There was no other explanation. Who that someone could be was a complete mystery to him. Thus, he was at point non-plus.

  Down the narrow stretch of pebbly beach, he led his horse past the overhanging cliffs of Bodmin to an incline whose winding path led to the moors above. He looked up before mounting his horse and his eyes narrowed. This was always the dangerous part of his excursions. He smiled to think how Epps had started the rumor about his ghost riding Midnight across the moors. The superstitious people of his village would believe such stuff and nonsense.

  He put his horse into an extended trot and weaved around the boulders of the trail he knew so well. Smooth egg-shaped boulders lay ahead, partially obscuring his egress onto the moors.

  All seemed at peace. A gentle sea breeze took the heather shoots and shifted their weight. Wildflowers mingled with salt air and gave off a pungent and not unpleasant aroma.

  As quietly as he could, he urged his horse forward and sought out the satchel of grain that Epps had left him. He jumped nimbly down, secured it to his saddle, and no sooner remounted when Midnight began to snort and paw the earth.

  The viscount frowned and looked about to discover a rider crossing the moors.

  From her seat, he would have thought the rider a lad, but from the form, he knew it to be a woman riding astride, and what was worse, he absolutely knew she had seen him!

  “Away, Midnight, away!” he whispered into his horse’s ears as he leaned onto his neck. However, Midnight sensed his master’s anxiety and reacted by rearing high, and in his frenzy, the stallion blew out air, hoofing at the sky all the while.

  * * *

  Ness had been on the verge of turning back for Penrod. Night had totally engulfed her and Shadow, and suddenly the moors had taken on a fanciful and utterly frightening hue.

  Just at that moment, something caught her eye. She trotted her horse deeper into Bodmin Moors, and saw the form of a dark horse and rider. She stopped, her mouth open wide as the horse reared.

  “What the deuce?” she gasped out loud.

  Had she allowed her active imagination to run amok, she might have thought the sound she heard was a devil’s laughter. Instead, she didn’t allow herself to think. She held her horse in check, noting that whatever she had witnessed, Shadow had as well. Her mare’s ears flickered and she pawed the earth, then put up her head, tucked, and got ready to race away. Ness knew her knees trembled slightly against Shadow’s flanks, but she kept her mare in place through the agitated prancing.

  The black and magnificent horse came down and he, with his rider, bolted straightaway. The rider’s black cape flapped wildly in the wind and suddenly both horse and rider were gone!

  Ness looked into the dark night sky. Had she just seen the ghost of Montlaine? No. Impossible. She did not believe in such things. Besides that, her mare had reacted to the black horse. There could be no doubt that the horse had not been an apparition.

  Home…head for home, she told herself. A warning flickered in her mind, telling her she was headed for trouble. A stronger voice had her by the heart and urged her to do
something else entirely. Curiosity took control. True to herself, not the mores of a society which would be shocked to see her alone on the moors at night, she urged her horse forward and approximated the place where she had seen the two against the night sky and the bright stars.

  Once she had arrived at that spot, she jumped off her horse and landed in a brush patch of greens and stone.

  She looked for horse prints, but it was dark and she could find nothing in the earth.

  Shadow nudged her shoulder and she jumped and said, “Don’t do that, love. You scared me half to death.” She took up the reins and moved past a cluster of gigantic granite rocks and discovered there a mazelike path that led sharply downward to the sea.

  She hesitated. What are you doing, Ness?

  Thus, contrary to good sense, Ness followed her instincts, which took her to lead her horse on foot, down the narrow pebbly path between rocks and low shrubbery.

  She could hear the breaking surf, and feel the salt air. It was wonderful, but then, all at once, the boulders became fewer and more spread apart. She found herself staring at a narrow stretch of sandy beach, much of which lay beneath the overhanging cliffs of Bodmin Heights.

  Stop now, Ness. You are headed for trouble. Was that nagging voice going to follow her through life? Didn’t it know who she was?

  She saw horse droppings and they had been recently made.

  Anticipation filled her with excitement. It was as though everything that made her who she was had brought her to this moment in time.

  * * *

  The viscount was in a fury of irritation. He stalled his horse in the makeshift habitat and gave him more hay to munch on before he hurried out to discern how far the unknown rider had followed him.

  Damn, but he could hear the rider’s horse as it snorted against the salt spray of the crashing breakers.

  What a prodigious female this was to be sure. What was she doing out at this hour of night and why would she follow him? Who could she be?

  He could only hope that she would not discover the mouth of the cave. Its natural concealment was such that it was not readily visible.