The wherry hit the shore with a soft bump. Before she could protest, Lord Denby lifted her in his arms and waded through the shallow water with her once again cradled against his chest. But this time she felt no intimacy in the gesture. It was rather as though she were a burden to be disposed of and forgotten about as quickly as possible. She chanced a glance at his profile, taking in the grim set to his expression as he placed her on her feet. He was angry, but whether with her or the Frenchman she couldn’t have said.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, her limbs burning from the touch of his arms, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I can find my own way from here.”
“It’s not safe. I will escort you.”
It wasn’t a question and so she accepted his company without comment, aware that he would have followed her anyway, no matter what she said. The closeness she had felt towards this complex aristocrat was now replaced by confusion and mistrust. One hour ago she would have spoken to him about almost anything. Now he was a complete stranger to her. Perplexed, disappointed, bereft even at the loss of their fledgling intimacy, she stretched her legs out and strode along as fast as she could. She wished to be rid of him as quickly as possible so that she could reason matters through without his distracting presence.
She chanced occasional glances at him in the dim light thrown from windows as they passed through the village. He looked formidable. Gone was the relaxed individual who had shown her his boat with such obvious pride and listened to her sing with deep appreciation for her modest ability. Subdued menace emanated from him as he looked directly ahead, such deep animosity clouding his handsome features as to make her swallow against the ache in her throat.
In many respects, the incident with the Frenchman had brought her to her senses. She felt a deep attraction toward the marquess, which was ridiculous. She mentally upbraided herself for being so foolish and hardened her heart. She owed it to society to find out more about the foreigner hidden on his boat and, if necessary, to expose his lordship for the traitor he might well prove to be.
How he could be a traitor now that the war was over she had yet to fathom. There was no law against having a Frenchman on his vessel, but why such secrecy? The brief glimpse she had caught of the young man caused her to suppose that he was too youthful to have been involved in espionage when the war had still raged, but that didn’t mean that his lordship hadn’t exploited him in some other way, always supposing that he was a traitor to his country.
“We are here.”
His voice caused her to start. It was the first time either of them had spoken since leaving the shore. Leah had been too taken up with her introspective thoughts to realise that they had arrived at the gatehouse.
“So we are. Thank you and good night.”
She turned towards the side gate but the marquess’s hand on her arm stayed her.
“Things are not always as they seem, Leah,” he said, lowering his head and whispering the words so closely against her lips that his breath peppered her face.
His use of her name turned her insides to mush, which infuriated her. This man was nothing to her, and her body had no business reacting to his quite disgusting charm in such an obvious manner. She wanted to escape the searing intensity of his gaze, apparent even in the darkness, but didn’t seem able to move. Helplessly she stared back at him, aware that the situation required words but completely unequal to finding the appropriate ones—or any at all. She ought to ask questions or, at the very least, give him the set-down he so richly deserved. Instead she merely nodded dutifully, feeling like a fool as she waited to see what he would do or say next.
“Go,” he said, his voice a rough command. “But think carefully before you act.”
Still incapable of movement, he gave her a gentle push. It had the desired effect and she slid through the gate without a word of goodbye or a backward glance. She was conscious of him standing there, watching her even as she closed the kitchen door softly behind her and bolted it. He was still there when she reached her chamber and pulled back the curtains to look outside. She could just make out his impressive shape, standing where she had left him and staring at the gatehouse as though he’d never seen it before.
Leah threw off her disguise, washed her face and hands in cold water from the ewer on her nightstand, slipped into her night rail and fell into bed. It was late but she knew sleep would elude her. She had much to think about. Decisions to make. She had just been presented with a journalistic scoop that would set the family up for life.
But at what cost? If she was wrong she could destroy the reputation of one of the country’s foremost families beyond repair.
But what if she was right?
She thumped her pillows whilst a dull pain echoed the gesture from inside her head. She thought about dear, sweet Felicity and her kindness, treating her and Beth quite as equals. She thought of Lord Gabriel and his enchanting manners. Beth was quite taken with him. She had not seen her sister so animated in many a long month. Even if she was right to suspect the marquess, what right did she have to interfere? Perhaps a word in the right quarter would be enough and she could then leave it to others to delve. But to whom should she communicate her suspicions? Besides, as she’d already reminded herself, the war was over.
In spite of all that, Leah knew she couldn’t let the matter drop. Nor could she jump in, speculating in her usual irreverent manner and leaving readers to draw their own conclusions. Before she did anything more she must gather more evidence, and to do that Leon must again make an appearance at the Boar. She would take Jonny and Pickle with her this time, question some of his lordship’s crew about the mysterious Frenchman and defer taking any action until she was more certain of her facts.
Satisfied with her plan, Leah drifted into a restless sleep. A sleep that was haunted by a pair of sparkling brown eyes, warm amusement reflected in their deep richness. And something else—something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Each time she tried, the explanation slipped from her grasp.
Visions of his lordship’s tanned skin blending with the dark blond of his hair remained in much clearer focus. Loose strands escaped his queue and perfectly framed his oval face, accentuating his rugged masculine beauty in a way that made her heart skip a beat.
Woken by the depths of her feelings, she wondered how she could doubt him, even momentarily. She felt disloyal as his words echoed through her head.
Things are not always as they seem, Leah.
Had he been telling her to trust him? She wished she knew. But the question remained, if his actions were so innocent, why not tell her who the mysterious man was? Why not introduce them?
She certainly didn’t believe his hastily concocted explanation and suspected that her scepticism must have been plainly apparent. He might consider it to be none of her business, in which case why take her to his ship and risk the Frenchman being seen? It made no sense at all, she decided as exhaustion claimed her and she finally drifted back into a restless sleep.
* * *
The following morning Leah fended off Beth’s questions about the evening with vague descriptions and half-truths. She wouldn’t even tell her sister about the Frenchman until she had something more specific upon which to base her suspicions.
“You look very pale,” Beth said, squinting at Leah. “I hope you didn’t exhaust yourself.”
“Not at all.” Leah smiled her reassurance. “The sea air must have made me more tired than I realised, that’s all. Besides, I was quite late coming home.”
“Come on then.” Beth grinned at Leah. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Don’t hold back. I long to know what it is about the marquess that holds your attention, other than the obvious, of course.”
Leah quirked a brow. “The obvious?”
“Oh, Leah, stop being so obtuse. You and I both know that he’s a gentleman of consequence. A single gentleman of consequence,” she added, her eyes sparkling with fun. “And he’s taken an interest in you.”
“No, he’s merely—”
“You would have to be made out of stone not to feel the compliment. And I know you’re capable of very deep feelings.”
Leah shook her head. “Beth, you’re misreading the situation entirely.”
“Lady Felicity’s here,” Meg said, entering the room.
“Oh, lovely!” Beth clapped her hands. “Do show her in.”
Leah, grateful to have her conversation with Beth interrupted, felt apprehensive. A visit that would once have given her as much pleasure as it did Beth now filled her with foreboding. Before she had time to dwell upon her feelings, Felicity was upon them in a flurry of pink-sprigged muslin, a pretty lace shawl negligently draped over her arms.
“Ladies,” she said in a breathless rush. “I come to throw myself upon your mercy.”
“Good heavens,” Beth said, smiling. “Whatever’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that I’m surrounded by three hulking brothers who watch my every move and act worse than gaolers, that’s what’s wrong.” Flick sat at the breakfast table and accepted a cup of hot chocolate from Beth.
“What did you wish to do that they took such exception to?” Leah asked.
“It’s Hal,” she complained. “He’s being even more impossible than usual. I said I intended to go into Dover to look at the shops and he put up all sorts of silly objections. Worse, he actually forbade me to go.”
“Why?” Leah arched her brows. “Presumably you take an abigail or a footman with you.”
“Of course I do,” Flick said, “but he seems to think I shall be snatched from the streets and held to ransom in some terrible dungeon somewhere, with water dripping down the walls, stale bread to eat and only rats for company.” Leah suppressed a smile at Flick’s colourful imagination. “Anyone would think we were still at war with the French.”
Leah inhaled sharply. Had that statement been as innocent as it sounded or had her brother sent her to see what Leah intended to do with her knowledge about the Frenchman? “I daresay he’s only concerned for your welfare,” she said mildly.
“I don’t believe that for a moment. It’s more a case of exerting his authority over me, simply because he can.” She paused to take a sip of her drink, thoroughly out of sorts. “I ought to have accepted Lord Melrose’s proposal, then I would be able to do as I pleased.”
“Presumably you would then be obliged to do as Lord Melrose pleased,” Leah pointed out.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Flick pouted, and then grinned. “Besides, I did not love him and am quite determined only to marry if I fall desperately in love.”
“Well, there you are then.” Leah smiled at their visitor. “How can Beth and I help you to regain your good humour?”
“I am so glad you asked me that,” Flick’s smile turned into a glorious beam. “I wonder if you will both come back to the Hall and spend the day with me? My brothers can’t scold me all the time if you’re there to bear me company.”
The last thing Leah wanted was to confront the marquess. She needed more time to think, and to plan, but Beth was already accepting the invitation.
“We don’t have any fixed plans for the day, do we, Leah?” she said eagerly.
“No, of course not. We’ll come with pleasure, but I thought you wished to go to Dover.”
“No, I just said that because Hal was behaving like a beast and I needed to fight back. Besides, I have my drawing instructor coming later. Do either of you draw?”
“Beth does,” Leah said. “Personally, I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”
“Anyone who sings as beautifully as you needs to do absolutely nothing else.” Flick rose to give Leah a sisterly hug. “The rest of us mere mortals must strive to do the best we can.”
* * *
Hal slept badly and was out of sorts with everyone, most of all himself. Whatever had possessed him to take Leah to The Celandine?
He regretted snapping at Flick, it was hardly her fault, but until this business was cleared up he really couldn’t have her traipsing all over the place, even if she was protected. It would be inviting trouble since Flick never did anything quietly. She didn’t seem to realise it but she had presence, charm, exuberance and great beauty—attributes that would tempt not just the people Hal was concerned about. Compromising Flick would be an ideal way to get him to do their bidding, which was why the Hall was so heavily guarded. Until this matter was resolved, Flick would not travel beyond Denby unless he escorted her personally.
Rob threw him speculative glances across the breakfast table, clearly wondering what was wrong. Hal would have to tell him sooner or later, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t need his brother to tell him what an imbecile he’d been.
“You were a bit hard on Flick earlier,” Rob remarked.
“She needs to learn to do as she’s told.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Miracles take a little longer. Besides, there’s no need to take your frustration out on her. She only wished to go shopping.”
“I know.” Hal sighed. “It’s all the waiting, it’s getting to me.”
“It’s getting to us all.”
“Where’s Flick now? Perhaps I’ll apologize and offer to escort her to Dover myself.”
“She’s gone into Denby. I gather she wants to bring the two Elliott girls back here for the day. She didn’t think you could object to that.”
“Damnation, I really don’t—”
“Good God!”
“What’s the matter?”
Rob waved the newspaper he was reading beneath Hal’s nose. “I didn’t realise I should be offering you joy,” he said, smirking.
“What the devil are you talking about?”
“You and the Bentley girl. It would appear that your betrothal is all but a foregone conclusion.”
Hal snatched the paper from Rob’s hand and read the article. “God’s teeth, she’s gone too far this time!” He slapped his thigh with the flat of his hand.
“The Elliott girl?”
“Who else.” Hal stood to pace the room, quietly fuming. “I thought she was well-bred enough not to write about anything she heard in this house.”
“She might not have heard it here. Lady Bentley is deliberately spreading the rumours, you know that. Mrs. Wilkinson is her ally, so—”
“Verbal rumours are one thing, but this—”
“Calm down, Hal,” Rob said, frowning as he stood also. “It means nothing. It isn’t like you to get so agitated about a little gossip.”
“It puts pressure on me, keeping me in people’s minds when I most want to be invisible. Every matron in the district will call here now, on the pretence of seeing Flick, of course, just to discover if it’s true.”
“Hmm, I see what you mean.” Rob leaned his chin on a fisted hand as he thought it through. “You can’t deny it without seeming discourteous, and if you say nothing it will be taken as the truth.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then, big brother, you’d best stop procrastinating and get yourself leg-shackled. That would squash the rumours soon enough.”
Hal glowered. “Is that the best suggestion you can make?”
“It’s high time you led by example,” Rob said, laughing.
“I’ll be damned if I’ll marry the Bentley girl.”
“Then take yourself off to town when the season starts and find someone else.”
“I’d take myself off somewhere anyway, if I could. That would put paid to the rumours. But I can’t leave here until we’ve resolved the problem of Jean-Philippe, and in the meantime Lady Bentley and her wretched daughter will lead me a merry dance.”
“Very true.” Rob managed a brief expression of sympathy, even though he still appeared to find the situation diverting. “So what shall you do?”
“Right now?”
Rob nodded.
“Right now I intend to have it out with Miss Elliott.” Hal stormed from the room, still clutching the offending ne
wspaper, and banged the door behind him with considerable force before a footman could step forward and close it for him. He strode along the corridor, causing another footman to hastily flatten himself against the wainscoting before Hal bowled him over. He took the stairs three at a time and made his way to his sister’s sitting room. Feminine laughter emanated from within, further souring his mood. No one deserved to be so carefree when he had the problems of the world resting on his shoulders.
He tapped on the door and threw it open before Flick could respond.
“Hal,” she said, glancing up from a sketch pad and frowning. “Whatever’s the matter? You look ready to commit murder.”
Hal forced himself to bow to the Misses Elliott, both of whom had risen and curtsied when he entered the room.
“Excuse me, Flick,” he said through gritted teeth, “but I have urgent need of a word with Miss Elliott.”
“With me?” Leah looked suitably surprised, as though she didn’t know damned well what he wanted with her.
He waved the newspaper in her direction. “Now, if you please.”
The colour drained from her face when she saw the reason for his agitation. Ignoring the shocked expressions on the faces of their two sisters, he held the door open and ushered a reluctant-seeming Miss Elliott through it.
Chapter Ten
Leah followed Lord Denby along the corridor, scurrying to keep up with his breakneck pace. The rigid set to his features indicated an incipient rage and she didn’t dare ask him to slow down. She was slightly breathless when, having passed what seemed like a thousand closed doors, he finally stopped and opened one. He ushered her inside with an exaggerated bow that could best be described as insulting.
With no other choice open to her, she defiantly tilted her chin, determined not to be bullied even if she deserved his displeasure, and entered the lion’s den. She found herself in a man’s study—his, presumably. It wasn’t the same formal room in which Lord Gabriel had received Mrs. Wilkinson and her deputation. This one had a used feeling about it, function winning out over formality. Anxious though she was about the forthcoming confrontation, she still took a moment to appreciate its basic appeal, approving of what she saw.
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