by Regina Scott
If only his cheeks did not betray him. He could feel them heating. “Nonsense. If you see Marbury on your way, tell him I’m ready for Mr. Villers.”
She started for the door, then looked back. “Will you tell him our plan?”
Gregory smiled. “Certainement.”
She answered his smile and left.
His smile faded. His mother and sister seemed certain he would beat or discharge Yvette over some infraction even though he tended to be the most lenient of employers. He still wasn’t sure what Yvette thought of him.
And Villers thought him a fool who would allow the fellow to dally with his sister.
The intelligence agent came in a short while later, walking gingerly as if the gold and ruby carpet was as hot as coals.
“You wished to see me, my lord?”
Gregory motioned him into a chair. Villers perched on the edge as if ready for flight.
Gregory sighed. “Why are you in my house?”
Villers blinked. “Surely you know. I was sent to protect Yvette de Maupassant.”
Gregory leaned forward. “Then why, when we were out in public, where anyone might approach her, did you leave her side?”
Villers threw up his hands. “We were on hallowed ground! No one would dare trouble her there.”
“You give the villain more credit than I do.” Gregory leaned back. “In fact, I’m fairly certain Claude de Maupassant was watching our every move.”
Villers shook his head. “You must learn to be more trusting, my lord. We were perfectly safe, I assure you. I would have noticed anything untoward. I am trained for this sort of thing, you know.”
“Indeed.” Gregory crossed his arms over his chest. “And what sort of training does Lord Hastings provide his agents these days?”
Villers flicked a piece of lint off his trousers. “I’m afraid that is privileged information, my lord.”
The popinjay! Given Julian’s comments about his abilities, Gregory began to think the fellow had no experience whatsoever. “Then allow me to share with you some equally privileged information. Claude de Maupassant was at the church. I saw him.”
“What!” Villers surged to his feet. “Where? Why didn’t you capture him?”
“Because,” Gregory gritted out, “I was too busy protecting Yvette. Alone.”
Villers sank back onto the chair. “Oh. I see. So, he got away.”
“For now. Yvette intends to make herself more visible the next few days to attempt to lure her cousin out of hiding.”
His pallor said he liked the idea as little as Gregory did, but he nodded agreement. “I will do my duty, my lord.”
“Good,” Gregory said. “Now, care to explain why you were attending my sister after church instead of doing your duty then?”
Villers blew out a breath. “I never could ignore a lady’s tears.”
“Tears?” Gregory frowned. “Why was Lilith crying?”
“Those banns.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine? A woman of delicate sensibilities like your sister, hearing that her mother’s companion was to wed a baronet while she languishes on the shelf. It was not to be borne.”
He hadn’t realized Lilith regretted her single state. He had never seen her go out of her way to seek a husband, if that was her goal.
“I would hope my sister to be magnanimous enough to be happy for the woman,” Gregory said. “This is an excellent opportunity for Patience Ramsey, and I gather Harry is over the moon.”
“Utterly besotted,” Villers said with a curl of his lip that told Gregory his feelings on the matter.
He thought he knew at least partly why Villers was as bitter as Lilith about Harry’s upcoming marriage. Gregory clasped one knee with his hands. “My condolences, old fellow. I know you hoped Harry for your sister.”
Villers shrugged. “Lydia has made her choice, for all I think it beneath her. Playing with chemicals in a laboratory.” He shuddered. “Sisters.”
Gregory felt for him. He too would have liked to see his sister well settled. Sometimes he thought Lilith’s frustrations stemmed from having little on which to expend her skills. A house of her own, a challenging occupation, or a noble cause might help.
“I also wish the best for my sister,” he said aloud. “Which is why I must ask your intentions.”
Villers stiffened. “Intentions?”
“Come, now. Strolling alone together, standing heads bowed in the churchyard.”
“I told you—I was comforting her,” he protested. “As any gentleman would.”
“Then you have no feelings for my sister.”
He adjusted his cravat as if it were suddenly too tight. “I never said that.”
“You don’t seem to be saying anything at all,” Gregory pointed out.
Villers shifted on the chair. “Lady Lilith is one of the most magnificent specimens of womanhood it has been my pleasure to meet. I treasure her friendship. But I was under the impression you would never countenance a match between us.”
Interesting. Lilith had certainly shown her preferences for the fellow. If the feelings were mutual, a match might benefit all around.
Gregory studied his fingers. “That would depend. As her brother and head of the family, I must look to her best interests. What do you offer her?”
Villers sank lower. “What would you consider? I have no title, no estate, and my fortune is barely sufficient to meet my needs.”
“Such honesty,” Gregory said, looking up, “is a start.”
Villers raised his head. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
He straightened. “Excellent. Then let me confess that in my devotion I fought a duel last year in your sister’s honor.’
Gregory started. “What?”
Villers froze. “Few knew of it. I wouldn’t have mentioned it now, except you said honesty…”
“Yes, yes. But why did you need to defend my sister’s honor?”
He raised his chin. “You’d have to speak to her about that. I will say no more on the matter. Word of a gentleman.”
Gregory rose, and Villers put up his fists to shield his face.
“I’m not going to strike you!” Gregory thundered.
Villers peered over his fists. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe you.”
Gregory stepped back. “Believe me or not. I have never raised my fists in anger.”
“Well, I wouldn’t admit that in public, old boy,” Villers said, lowering his hands. “We are supposed to be protecting Miss de Maupassant. We wouldn’t want the enemy to think you’d gone soft.”
First he was a bully, and now he was a coward. He couldn’t win. He nodded to Villers. “I will consider the matter between you and my sister, but I make no promises. A great deal will depend on how Lilith feels and whether you can support her.”
Villers stood. “I understand. You will want a gentleman of sterling character, impeccable address, and high social standing for your sister. I’m certain my attributes speak for themselves.”
Far more than he knew. Gregory could only hope his sister would see that as well.
Chapter Twelve
Lady Carrolton and Lady Lilith were waiting for Yvette in the countess’ sitting room.
“Did he berate you?” the countess demanded.
“Did he order you from the house?” Lady Lilith beseeched.
Yvette held up her hands. “Peace. All is well. He was only concerned that I was distracted today from attending to you.”
“It’s Beau,” Lady Lilith said, worrying her hands. “Gregory doesn’t approve.”
“He said nothing of the sort,” Yvette assured her. “Continue as you have, and see how Mr. Villers responds.”
The earl’s sister nodded slowly. Yvette did not doubt Lady Lilith had already succeeded in attracting the gentleman’s attention. She did, however, wonder whether she’d succeeded in making her point with Lord Carrolton. The important thing was to capture Claude. He needed to remember that.
Acc
ordingly, she made doubly sure her dagger was in place before leaving her room the next morning to the sound of the countess’ bell. As if he had been waiting for her, the earl was standing in the corridor, clad in his usual tweed coat and chamois trousers, and wincing at each clang.
“Do not answer immediately,” Yvette advised him. “She likes the noise.”
“She likes the power,” he corrected her with a smile. It faded as quickly as it had come. “Send for me when you intend to go to the woods.”
Yvette put her hands on her hips. “The earl would not accompany the companion.”
“But the companion could come upon the earl out for a stroll,” he countered.
Her hands fell as she laughed. “Very clever. You are learning.”
Unfortunately, the countess was not. She fussed about every little thing that morning, until Yvette began to think she really was trapped in the role of companion. Only when Lady Lilith and Mr. Villers came to visit was Yvette able to excuse herself long enough to put the plan into action.
The day was overcast as she exited the house through the front door. Clouds hung heavy, bottoms scraping the treetops, and the breeze smelled moist with the promise of rain. Mr. Marbury had loaned her a wicker basket, which she looped over one arm as she lifted her navy skirts to start down the stone steps. She caught no sign of any other staff member as she crossed the wide swath of lawn, though a family of deer bounded away to the wood at the sight of her.
They saw the trees as shelter, but a chill went through her as she approached the shadows. She could only hope the earl’s men were standing by, as she’d suggested.
Like a gentle tide, bluebells lapped at her hem as she moved deeper into the trees. Their rounded heads bobbed in the breeze while birds sang above. Small wonder the countess had come to gather the flowers when she was younger. Yvette bent and plucked an emerald stalk.
“Lovely day for a walk.”
That familiar deep voice made the tension slide further from her shoulders. She straightened to smile at the earl. What, had he been in hiding as well? She could not credit the trees were thick enough to obscure a man of his size. Yet his coat was rumpled, and a leaf lodged in the dark of his hair. Her hand was moving to take it out before she thought better of it, but she stopped herself from touching him.
She was a companion. She must seem like a companion.
“A lovely day indeed,” she made herself say, dropping her gaze humbly to the purple carpet below. “The countess wished me to retrieve some flowers for her room.”
“Allow me to be of assistance.”
Those hands could have yanked up enough to fill her basket in one swipe, but he bent and carefully selected a flower before straightening and handing it to her.
“The gamekeeper and two grooms are watching,” he murmured as she laid the flower with the other in the basket.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said aloud. “I would not wish to detain you.”
There was a decidedly determined light in his dark eyes. “It is no imposition. Anything for my mother.” He selected another blossom and offered it to her. As she reached for it, his fingers brushed hers, and a tremor went through her.
“You will frighten him away,” she whispered, carefully laying the flower in the basket.
He shook his head but raised his gaze to look deeper into the trees. “I believe there’s a larger patch just there. Excuse me.” He moved beyond her.
She drew in a breath and tried to focus on the flowers. With so many so close she could catch the cool, clean scent of them. A shame she could not simply stop and enjoy it. A part of her must remain alert for any strange sound from the trees, any movement in the shadows. She bent and picked several more of the blooms, depositing them in the basket.
The songbirds fell silent.
She should not show that she noticed. Claude must not know her fear. He must think her blithefully unaware. She gave the basket a little swing as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Something cracked in the forest behind her.
And everything exploded. A grey-haired man dove out of cover on the left and raced toward the sound, only to have a younger blonde crash into him from the right. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, flattening the bluebells and sending birds into the sky. A third fellow appeared from in front of her and leaped his comrades to disappear into the forest again. And, like a minotaur surprised from his lair, the earl stalked out of the forest and thundered past her to follow his only man still standing.
Yvette shook her head, set down the basket, and attempted to help her would-be rescuers to rise. She was just reassuring the gamekeeper that she was fine when the earl returned.
“Potter is on the trail,” he reported. “Thurston, James, circle around past the greenhouses just in case he doubles back.”
With a nod of respect to the earl and her, his men headed off.
“They will capture your cousin,” he promised.
Relief was stronger than the scent of the flowers. “You saw him, then?”
“No,” he admitted. “But if he caused that noise, he won’t get away.” He bent and picked up the basket. “Allow me to escort you back to the house.”
How could she argue? If his men were in pursuit of her cousin, Claude would be running for his life. If he had been watching from a distance, he would know he stood no chance of capturing her while the earl was so close. Either way, she might as well give up, for now.
~~~
Gregory escorted Yvette back to the house, careful to stay between her and the trees. His men were clever and loyal, if a bit too eager. He should have realized his gamekeeper Thurston and the younger groom James might leap to action prematurely. Still, no harm done. If Claude de Maupassant had ventured near, he would shortly be in custody. And Yvette would be free.
He glanced at her as they climbed the steps to the portico. She hadn’t deigned to don a hat or bonnet, and her curls looked bright against the grey of the day. There was no tension in her slight shoulders, only confidence in her walk.
“How do you do it?” he asked.
She laughed as they came into the shelter of the flagstone courtyard. “Your sister asked me a similar question. Am I such a mystery to you?”
“At times,” he admitted. “Your perseverance in adversity amazes me.”
“And what choice do I have?” she asked. “Persevere or die. I am not ready to die yet.”
“I’m glad.” He stopped her close to the doors, loath to return inside where he ought to pay her no notice if he was to play his part. “When this is over, Yvette, you will need a place to stay. I want you to know that Carrolton Park will always be open to you.”
Her smile tilted up with her eyes. “Merci beaucoup, my lord. But I think your mother and sister will not know how to deal with Miss de Maupassant the French lady any more than they know to deal with Miss French the companion.”
“They already care about you,” Gregory said. “I see it in how they relate to you.”
She glanced up at him through her lashes. “And you, Gregory? Do you care?”
Far more than he should, if the use of his first name could make him feel this pleased. “Of course,” he answered. “You are here under my protection.”
“Oh, oui. For the good of the nation.”
“Yes, exactly,” he agreed. He only wondered why he felt as disappointed by the fact as she sounded.
The doors opened, and Marbury glanced out. “My lord? I believe the countess would like Miss French’s attention.”
The clang of the cowbell rang through the house.
“I will go,” Yvette said to no one in particular and hurried past the butler into the house.
Marbury remained attentive. “Is there anything you need, my lord?”
Gregory sighed. “No. But I’m expecting a report from Thurston. Bring me word the moment he returns.”
“Of course.” Still Marbury waited, and Gregory belatedly realized he still held the basket of bluebells
. He offered it to the butler with a sheepish grin.
As it was, he had to wait another long hour before Marbury came to the study to report. This room, of any of the others in the house, was his alone. The furnishings, from the walnut box desk to the white bookshelves with their classical pediments, were large and sturdy, everything well organized, simple and elegant. In this room, if only for a moment, he could convince himself he was the master of all he surveyed. He leaned back in the leather-bound wingback chair behind the desk as Marbury recounted the tale.
“They found no one in the wood, my lord. Mr. Thurston asks if you’d like to bring on other men to patrol.”
With the size of the estate, even the entire population of Chessington couldn’t cover every acre.
“No,” Gregory said, “but tell him to remain vigilant.”
Marbury saw himself out, and Gregory went to find Yvette.
She was with his mother, sister, and Villers in the music room, and he stood for a moment in the doorway to admire the tableau. Gowned in a navy gown of fine silk with a cream-colored ruff gathered at her neck, Lilith stood behind the gilded spinet, voice sweet as she sang a country ballad about a tragically lost love. Villers and Gregory’s mother were seated in the little white spindle-backed chairs that graced the room, the intelligence agent looking particularly entranced.
Yvette sat on the spinet’s bench, gaze focused on the sheet music before her and fingers moving unerringly as she accompanied his sister. Even with her plain gown and studious look, she outshone every lady in the room, the blazing sun to their mellow candles. He wanted to draw closer, bask in the warmth.
Lilith finished and curtseyed to Villers’s enthusiastic applause. Gregory applauded as well as he moved into the room. Yvette looked up eagerly, and he shook his head just the slightest. She sagged on the bench, and he cursed himself for dimming her light.
“The voice of an angel never sounded sweeter,” Villers was telling Lilith as Gregory approached.
“You are too kind, Mr. Villers,” Lilith murmured, lashes fluttering. “I could be persuaded to sing another if you’d like.”
“Ah, such a dilemma,” Villers declared, tilting his head as if to see up under her lashes. “If you sing by the spinet, I will have the delight of listening, but if you stay to converse, I will have the joy of you at my side.”
