“Merde,” Ewan swore. “Are either of you hurt?”
Yvette shook her head. “No.” She closed her eyes and swallowed the bile lodged in her throat. Voice quaking she told him. “I shot one. Vangie threw a knife at the other.”
Shock began to set in. She clenched her hands to stop their trembling. Merciful God, she’d shot someone. Vangie moaned against Ian. Anger surged through Yvette. And she’d do it again. She’d been right to suspect the Italian. Lord Fielding . . . that was unexpected.
Yvette pressed against Ewan. Peering at him, she asked incredulous, “How did you know?”
“Ian and I were at the stables. We heard the gunfire, chéri.” He smiled at her. “Your shot alerted us. That and a woman’s bloodcurdling scream.”
“Where are the men I assigned to patrol the perimeter?” Ian’s furious gaze roamed the area. “Palmer, take three armed men and follow their trail. I want to know who dared to trespass on my lands and assault my wife,” he ground out.
Yvette laid a calming hand on his arm. “I know who they were.”
He stiffened, rage spewing from his eyes. “Who?” The single rasping word echoed ominously amongst the greenery.
“It was Lord Fielding and a woman named Pauline.” Yvette’s troubled gaze swung to Ewan. “It was the same woman we encountered at the jeweler’s.”
Vangie’s guttural moan brought everyone’s attention back to her. “Ian, I fear our little one is going to arrive early.”
Despite her bravado, Yvette saw the terror reflected in Vangie’s eyes. She had already lost one babe.
Please, dear God, not another.
“Sweeting, it will be all right,” Ian soothed.
“You there, lad.” He pointed at the scrawny stable boy in tattered breeches and a threadbare shirt. “What’s your name again?”
“Jimmers, sir.”
“Run, quick. Have Jasper fetch Dr. Farnsworthy and Midwife Godfrey at once. Tell him to hurry.” Ian cradled Vangie to him. “We need a stretcher sent here too. Hurry, boy!”
Gulping, his Adam’s apple bobbing, Jimmers sputtered, “Yes, m’lord,” before bolting off to the mansion, his lanky legs churning furiously.
Ewan helped Yvette to her feet. She swayed against him.
“Evvy, you’re sure you’re unharmed?”
Leaning against his strong, solid maleness, she closed her eyes in relief. She breathed him in, pressing her face against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and soothing, thrummed beneath her ear. Propriety was of no account in this moment. She needed this, needed his comforting embrace.
“Yes, Ewan, only frightened.”
He drew her shaking form closer. When he kissed her forehead, she smiled against his shoulder. The stretcher arrived for Vangie, and together, the anxious troupe found their way to the manor to await the birth of the Warrick heir.
Some sixteen hours later, Vangie gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. Yvette sent word to Ian and Ewan sequestered in the study with a bottle of cognac. Mere moments later, a forceful knock rattled the bedchamber door.
Grinning, she’d opened the door. A humble, unsure Ian stood there. Ewan shifted from foot to foot, looking equally ill at ease. Goodness, they could be lads called before the schoolmaster to be chastised.
Ian’s gaze kept shifting past Yvette to Vangie lying in the bed.
“You can come in now.” She looked to Ewan. His smile shifted ever-so-slightly when her eyes met his. Was he remembering the night of their arrival too?
She stepped aside allowing Ian to pass. Breaking with protocol, Ewan followed his friend into the chamber. Vangie lay propped against a pile of pillows, pale, but beaming, cradling a babe in each arm. Ian maneuvered himself onto the bed beside her. Reclining against the headboard, he took his son and tenderly tucked him in the crook of his arm.
Yvette and Ewan stood at the end of the bed, his strong arm wrapped around her waist. She’d looked up at him and met his gaze. They smiled in understanding.
One of the babes whimpered, drawing Ewan’s attention. Grinning he said to Ian, “Careful there, Papa, you’re squeezing the little chap.”
Mrs. Tannsen slipped into the room, a pinched expression on her face. “Please forgive me for intruding and ruining this happy moment, Lord Warrick.” She wrung her hands in her spotless apron. “Palmer found two of your men in the woods . . . dead.”
The first timid rays of dawn inched over the horizon, causing the uppermost branches of the hoary oaks to glimmer with iridescent light. Yvette exhaled a satisfied sigh. The view from the terrace was paradisiacal, possibly more so, because her heart overflowed with gladness. Ambushed by a myriad of emotions, she felt a sense of joie de vivre at the birth of a new day.
A steady tread sounded behind her. Strong arms encircled her, drawing her against a solid chest.
“Ewan,” she said and that was all. Closing her eyes, Yvette relaxed against him. Wholly exhausted, she had yet to find her bed after the terrifying ordeal in the garden yesterday morning.
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. The heat from his kiss remained long after he lifted his mouth.
“I thought you’d retired,” she said yawning behind her hand. Lud, she could scarcely keep her eyes open.
“I’m too restless to sleep just yet,” he murmured against her hair.
Jasper and Mrs. Tanssen, laden with overflowing trays, bustled their way to a table situated near the periphery of the patio.
“Lord Sethwick, Miss Stapleton, we decided some nourishment might be in order,” Jasper said.
Lowering their burdens, Mrs. Tanssen set about distributing the contents while Jasper bowed to Yvette and Ewan.
“Breakfast? Neither of you has eaten since yesterday morn.” The staid butler’s mouth was turned up into the same perpetual grin which had adorned his face for three hours past.
Even Mrs. Tanssen was smiling, despite the disturbing news she’d delivered after the babes’ births. “Yes indeed. The two of you’ve had a long night of it.”
“Not as long as dear Vangie,” Yvette said, sitting in the chair Ewan held for her.
“Or Ian,” he chuckled taking the other seat.
She giggled, “He was quite Friday-faced, wasn’t he?”
A shape separated from the shadows alongside the concealing border. From the corner of her eye Yvette caught the faint movement. Her heartbeat quickened.
Was someone watching them?
Chapter 18
“You’re quite sure you’re feeling well enough to be about so soon?” Yvette hid a smile. This morning her dear cousin had insisted she would go mad if she had to stay in her room one more day. An exaggeration to be sure, but Vangie wasn’t one to laze about.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Reaching for the steaming pot of tea Jasper just delivered, Yvette asked, “Shall I pour?” Not giving her cousin time to answer, she filled the cup. Handing Vangie the steaming brew, she prompted, “Would you like an almond shortbread biscuit or a maid of honor tart?”
“The tart, I think.” Vangie reclined against the chaise lounge, smiling as she sipped her tea.
Choosing a pastry for herself, Yvette lifted a napkin from the tray. A piece of paper twirled to the floor. She raised curious eyes to Vangie, now sitting upright, peering at the scrap.
Vangie pointed to the slip of paper. “Whatever is that?”
Bending over, Yvette retrieved the folded paper. She held it between her thumb and forefinger. “It appears to be a note.” She turned the missive over. Her name was scrawled across the surface. “For me.”
Vangie giggled. “Perhaps ‘tis a love note from Ewan.”
Dubious, Yvette eyed the paper. It was of poor quality, the writing smudged and crudely penned. The paper was crinkled and grimy, as if it had
been stuffed into a pocket by a dirty hand. She shook her head. “I think not.” She unfolded the note and scanned the contents.
Sweet Jesus. She passed the paper to her cousin without a word.
Vangie read the note and gasped, “Faith, who would do this?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Unless it was Edgar, or perhaps, Lord Fielding.” Yvette tried to keep the terror from her voice.
Snatching a bell from the end table, Vangie rang it insistently.
Jasper hustled into the room, his face etched with concern. “Lady Warrick, did you require . . .” One look at the lady’s stricken faces, and the majordomo stopped short.
“Whatever is amiss?”
Vangie showed him the offending paper. “This was concealed on the tea tray. Have you any idea how it came to be there?”
Jasper drew himself up to his full height, which was not considerable. Yvette looked him eye to eye when standing. What he lacked in stature, he more than compensated with in dignity.
“Certainly not, Lady Warrick, I,” he raised his chin another two inches, “always present correspondences on a salver.” He sniffed disdainfully, as if to imply such an act was beneath him. “Never on a tea service.”
“Of course you do,” Vangie soothed. “I didn’t mean to suggest you placed the note on the tray. I only meant perhaps you saw something unusual or suspicious?”
“No, Lady Warrick.”
His chin lowered a fraction. “Cook delivered the prepared tray to my hands, and I walked here, directly.” He swung his gaze between the two women. “Might I presume the correspondence was unwelcome in nature?”
Yvette sat mute as tentacles of fear seized her. Was Somersfield not to be the haven she’d expected it would be? Remaining here indefinitely wasn’t her intention. She had three mansions of her own. She’d hoped, after the Fairchilds and Pippa arrived, to make a decision about her future.
Her gaze flicked to Vangie. Her cousin stared at the note she held. Her fine brows were drawn into a fierce scowl, the expression on her face one of puzzlement and worry.
How had the note come to be on the tray? Had someone entered the house? Chills raised the hairs the length of Yvette’s arms. Even her scalp tingled in warning.
“Indeed, Jasper,” Vangie admitted. “Please request their lordships join Miss Stapleton and me.”
Bowing, Jasper said, “At once, my lady.”
Moments later, Ewan and Ian strode into the room. Her mind, a cacophony of emotions, Yvette watched in silence, waiting for their responses.
“Sweeting, Jasper said you’d need of us?” Ian planted a kiss on top of Vangie’s head.
Repeating Yvette’s actions, Vangie transferred the paper to him without a word.
Ian accepted the note, his brows shooting into twin arches of disbelief. “Bloody hell.”
Without asking, Ewan helped himself to the missive. His eyes narrowed, and fury darkened his hawkish features. “The devil take it.”
“Ewan, the note says,” Yvette paused to take a bracing breath, “I passed within inches of them in the garden today.”
He grasped her hands and drew her to her feet. “Don’t fret, we shall get to the bottom of this. Perhaps ‘tis nothing more than a childish prank.”
She doubted any of them believed his suggestion. She didn’t, but to contemplate the alternative was more disturbing. Someone was watching her and wanted her to know it—wanted all of them to know it. Yvette shuddered. Ewan squeezed her hands.
His next words sent another tremor through her already chilled body.
“Evvy, I think you and Vangie should refrain from venturing outdoors without Ian or me.”
“Aye, I’m in agreement,” said Ian. “‘Tis the surest means to keep you safe.” His gaze traveled to include Vangie before meeting Ewan’s.
Yvette studied them. They knew something, she was sure of it. What was it, and why were they so determined to keep it a secret? “You’ve seen more trespassers?” Her question was directed to Ewan.
“We’ve had reports of other intruders on the outer grounds,” he admitted.
“I shall instruct the staff again to be watchful of any strangers lurking near the manor,” Ian said.
Yvette tried to stifle the fear that slithered its way into her mind and coiled there. She wouldn’t dwell on it, she determined resolutely. Her cheeks aching from the effort, she put on what she hoped was a brave smile. “There’s plenty to occupy my time indoors. I shall help Vangie with Roman and Rowynne, and I’ve neglected the piano and my correspondences.”
Ewan wrapped his arms about her and for a moment, she let herself believe all would be well.
The message she discovered lying on her dressing table, bold as brass, the next afternoon brought her to her breaking point, however.
Weeping, she fled down the stairs, burst into Ian’s office, and flung herself into Ewan’s arms. “I found a note on my dressing table.” She sucked in a rasping breath. “How could they get into my chamber?”
Moments later a grim-faced Vangie entered the study, the now familiar grungy paper held in her hand. “Mrs. Tanssen found this on the floor upstairs.”
Ian scowled. “Ewan and I’ve interrogated every member of this household. We’ve no new house servants, yet somehow the notes continue to find their way into the mansion.”
Wrapped in Ewan’s protective embrace, Yvette asked, through her tears, “But how?”
“No doubt a bribed hireling delivered them,” Ewan murmured into her hair.
Ian took the note from Vangie. Scanning it he exclaimed, “This reeks of Marquardt.” He handed the crumpled paper to Ewan.
He gave it a cursory glance and rejected the notion. “I think not. Edgar hasn’t been seen once since we arrived. After the garden abduction attempt, and the murder of your men, Ian, I suspect something larger is afoot.”
Now he suspects? Yvette didn’t think so. She sniffled loudly. He’s been on the scent since they left London.
Vangie ventured, “Is it possible we’ve a new groundskeeper or groom? The first note mentioned the garden.”
Ian moved to his wife, then hugged her. “‘Tis not impossible, sweeting. I shall speak with Palmer and see if we’ve any new help in the stables or gardens.”
Yvette reluctantly removed herself from Ewan’s embrace and accepted the handkerchief he passed her. Good Lord, she’d soaked his shirt and waistcoat with her tears. Why couldn’t she cry daintily? No doubt her cheeks were blotchy and her nose and eyes red and swollen.
Dabbing at her eyes, she allowed Ewan to direct her to the settee, then sat at his urging. Vangie sat on the matching settee.
“Evvy?” He took the seat beside her, covering her hand with his.
She met Ewan’s eyes. She didn’t like the worry reflected in their depths. Her stomach churned.
He was blunt. “Ian and I are in agreement. ‘Tis not safe for you to remain at Somersfield.”
She bit her trembling lip as the knot in her belly tightened. Sighing she said, “I’ve thought as much myself.”
“‘Tis my concern, our concern,” he shot a glance Ian’s way, “that whoever is responsible for the trespassers and notes, will use any means to gain access to you.” He paused, as if seeking the right words. “‘Tis possible, Vangie and the twins may be at risk too.”
“God in heaven.” Yvette sent her cousin a horrified look. “I’d never place you or the babes in danger.”
Indignation gripped her. Her outrage spiraled into fury. “I can’t believe Edgar is so determined to have me or my inheritance he would resort to terrorizing infants.”
Bolting to her feet, her gown billowing in angry waves, she vented her frustration. “Who is doing this? Why? What of Fielding and those Italians? What is their connection? Why did they atte
mpt to abduct me?”
The questions were hurled at no one in particular. Yvette pivoted to face Ian. She peered at him sitting calmly behind his desk, then spun to glare at Ewan. She fisted her hands in her skirt. Was that remorse in his eyes?
She pointed a finger at him. “You know something. Something you’ve kept from Vangie and me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t deny it. What is it? I have a right to know. I cannot keep living in constant fear.” She couldn’t. She was exhausted. Dear God, would she ever know peace again?
Her emotional tirade at an end, she slumped onto the settee beside Vangie. Stinging tears pooled in Yvette’s eyes.
Take a deep breath. Calm down. Stop behaving like a hysterical schoolgirl.
Vangie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Leaning into the comforting embrace, Yvette scrutinized the men. Ian’s expression was carefully bland. Switching her gaze to Ewan, she arched a brow. “Ewan?”
He rose and began pacing. “You’re right. There’s more to this situation, but Ian and I aren’t sure precisely what. We’ve made inquiries and have strong suspicions. You’ll have to trust me in this.”
Yvette gapped at him. “Trust you? When you refuse to trust . . . “
A single knock echoed at the study door.
“Enter,” beckoned Ian.
“You have callers, my lord,” intoned Jasper, looking to Ewan.
Despite the sobering conversation of moments past, a grin lightened his features. “Would they be well-armed and Scots?”
Chapter 19
Entering the drawing room, Yvette was taken with Ewan’s countenance. His head was thrown back in unrestrained laughter, and he and Ian were surrounded by five of the largest men she’d ever seen. Her gaze shifted to a stunning woman relaxing against the fireplace. She wore a white shirt, short jacket, and black breeches tucked into knee-high boots. She must be Ewan’s sister, Adaira.
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