by Win Hollows
Normal things.
Max had never been particularly good at normal. Just at acting, so he pretended this was any other mission in which he had to charm his house guests as a means of getting what he wanted from them. After all, wasn’t that what he was really doing, anyway? He needed Asher’s help with the Damarek, and this could be his last hope of ever finding it. If he had to act the part of cloying host to garner his cousin’s cooperation, so be it.
“Your mother mentioned you were in Scotland and Ireland recently,” Ivy said to Max. “I’d love to go sometime, if I can drag Asher away from his pet projects long enough.”
Asher swallowed a bite of ham and raised a brow at his wife. “You’ve never had any trouble at all shifting my concentration, love.”
“Trips to the bedroom don’t count as travel, love,” she returned with a batting of her eyelashes.
Max coughed into his coffee and burned the roof of his mouth. “This time of year is quite nice in the north.”
“See?” Ivy wheedled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just skip Blackbourne Square altogether and see what Scotland has to offer?”
Asher set his fork down and tented his fingers. “What is the point of going to Scotland? You’re either reading on a piece of furniture in England or reading on a rented piece of furniture in Scotland. You’re not going to get out and trek across the moors, are you?”
Max watched Ivy’s eye narrow. Even he knew Ash’s response wasn’t going to elicit a positive response. “Well, certain activities are the same in a bed as in a tub, but you insist on partaking in both places. You’re right. We should really never do anything outside the one place we should.”
Asher grinned. “Touché.”
Max felt he should probably leave the room. He’d never seen Asher like this. Flirting, yes, with more women than was wise, but this was different. There was a contented air about him that held a levity he hadn’t seen in Ash in years. His cousin had always been intensely focused in private, but with a devil-may-care façade in public that most assumed was genuine. Max had always known better, having seen Ash at both his best and his worst. Now, Ash seemed to be balanced differently in relation to his surroundings, and Max suspected it had everything to do with the small woman seated opposite him at the table.
“If you’ll excuse the interruption.” Corvard entered the room with a maid in tow. “Mrs. Tarrow has provided fresh blackberry scones with a lemon sugar glaze.” The maid set down a tray of steaming pastries that smelled heavenly in the center of the table.
“Smashing,” Ash exclaimed, reaching for the plate. “Please give Mrs. Tarrow my immense thanks and tell her I’ll double her salary if she comes to work for me.” He stuffed half a scone in his mouth.
“Ash!” Ivy scowled from the other end of the table.
Asher shrugged and grinned, talking around the food. “You can’t put a price on good scones, and our cook is retiring at the end of the month, if you’ll recall.”
“Do you always poach people’s staff when you visit their homes?” Max inquired, sitting back and crossing his arms.
Asher swallowed. “Not always. Just the people who have stolen from me in the past. Seems fair.”
Max conceded that with a small smile.
“You two are unbelievable,” Ivy scolded, looking back and forth between them. “I’m going to find Jasper and look in on Miss Crescenfort. Try not to kill each other in the meantime.”
“No promises,” they both said at the same time.
Max looked at Asher. They might hate each other for various reasons, but perhaps friendship with his cousin wasn’t completely out of the question…
Chapter Fifteen
Elorie signed her name with a finishing flourish on the note she’d written to Cosette and stretched her legs out underneath the lap escritoire that had been brought in for her use. Anything that pleased the Duke of Morley was bound to earn her mother’s wholehearted approval, and she’d made sure to mention how connected the Blackbournes were to the Duke. She just prayed the duke didn’t show up at the Crescenfort home unexpectedly and contradict her slight fabrication regarding the Blackbournes’ relationship to His Grace.
She shoved the sleeves of her borrowed day dress up again. Max had had one sent from the nearby village of Ditchling, and it was just a bit too long in the sleeves. Otherwise, Elorie quite liked it, with its blush hue that bordered on cream and long skirts pleated in a natural style. Translucent lace gathered in a thin ribbon around the base of her throat, with roses embroidered in the lacework to overlay the solid bodice that began just above the top of her bosom. It had been so nice to finally get dressed with Bridget’s help after bathing this morning. She felt as though she had steeped in that nightgown for decades, and the sensation of throwing it off had been glorious.
A whiffling sort of snorting sound came from the hallway, and Elorie looked toward the open doorway to see a reddish-brown dog with long ears and a wagging tail sniff his way into the room. When Elorie shifted to turn toward the unexpected creature with his drooping face, the hound looked up with perked ears. Letting loose a low bay, the dog began to careen toward the bed on not four, but three legs. Elorie’s heart lodged in her throat as the hound’s jowls flopped with his every move toward her.
Why was a dog in her room? Max didn’t own hounds at this residence, as far as she knew. And what possible reason would this dog have for attacking her?
Elorie scrambled out from beneath the lap desk as the unstable beast reached the edge of the bed and jumped up onto it in one graceful leap. Elorie knew how to fend off an attack from a human, but a dog wasn’t something she’d had occasion to cross swords with, so to speak. What did it want?
The hound let out another deep-throated bay and stumbled closer, its footing unsteady on the bed’s springy surface. His deep-set, liquid brown eyes didn’t look murderous, but Elorie put her hands up as the dog came up and sat down right on one of her legs, looking dignified and happy with his current position.
“Jasper! Off! Off of her this instant.” A brunette woman stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.
The dog responded to her command immediately, leaping off the bed and landing a bit wobbly on his three legs.
“So sorry about that,” Lady Blackbourne said, patting the dog’s head as he came up to her. “Good boy. You found her!”
It took Elorie a moment to find her words as her throat was still closed in fear. She had not expected anyone to show up in her room, much less the Marchioness of Blackbourne. Yet here she was. It was a good thing she’d gotten dressed this morning. “N-no need to apologize.” She swiped her hair out of her face. “He must have quite a nose.”
“Yes, he’s very talented. Quite the hero when it comes to finding things.”
“I can imagine he must be a great hunting companion, even with three legs.”
Ivy drew a chair up to the edge of the bed. “Actually, he isn’t used for hunting,” she said, sitting in the chair with Jasper plopping down next to her to have his ears scratched. “He was trained by the Duke of Scythemore as a search dog to find people. After he lost his leg a few years ago, the duke let us keep him. Ash and Dominic—His Grace, that is—are great friends.”
“At least they’re friends with one duke,” Elorie muttered.
Ivy looked at her quizzically.
Elorie smiled quickly and leaned forward to put a hand over Ivy’s. She had learned that this gesture produced favorable results with men and women alike when trying to form a bond in a short amount of time. But this time the motion was genuine. “Thank you for all you did at the ball the other night. I am so very grateful for your intervention and protection of my reputation.”
Ivy smiled and put her hand over Elorie’s. “You’re very welcome, of course. I know how much reputation means, and the fear that everything will come crashing down due to circumstances beyond your control.”
“Do you?” Elorie looked into Lady Blackbourne’s deep-blue eyes.
A secret smile came
over her delicate features. “I’ll have to tell you a little of mine and Asher’s story sometime.”
“I’d like that.” Elorie found she did want to know more about this petite woman and her relationship with her husband. Perhaps not all married couples were fated for misery of one kind or another, but the way Ivy spoke of her husband made Elorie’s stomach clench with bitter envy. Such things weren’t for her in this lifetime.
“I’m just glad you are all right!” the brunette exclaimed. “I can’t believe someone would attack you right in the Marlings’ garden. It’s just bad manners, to say the least.”
“At least I didn’t bleed in the peonies.”
“Quite right. That would have been much worse.”
Elorie and Ivy looked at each other for a moment and then burst into fits of giggles. Elorie immediately regretted it, as her side ached something fierce, but she decided it was worth it as she tried to stifle her laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed in true mirth with another person.
Ivy wiped a tear from her eye and sighed as their merriment died down. “Do you know who it was who attacked you? Was it a scoundrel making advances on you?” Ivy leaned forward, her eyes wide.
She wanted to tell Ivy the truth, but it was impossible. “I don’t know who it was. I was taking some air and was about to head back inside when someone grabbed me from behind. I could tell it was a man from his coat sleeves and height, and I tried free myself from his grasp. Then a terrible pain flew through me, and I don’t remember much after that. Perhaps he mistook me for someone else with all the costumes about. Max said he ran away afterward.”
Ivy nodded, her chocolate-brown hair glinting in the morning light. “That is very possible at such an event. Some men…” She swallowed and seemed to have difficulty speaking. “Some men enjoy hurting women. Some men think nothing of causing others pain if they get what they want.”
The look in the other woman’s eyes made Elorie think that Ivy had more experience with such men than could be surmised from her cheerful demeanor. “Does … does your husband…?”
The look in Ivy’s eyes changed. “Oh no!” She laughed. “Asher wouldn’t hurt anyone for the world. Unless they threatened his family, of course. Then all hell would break loose.”
She thought of Max and herself. They had both hurt many people, even killed at times. But she suspected they both carried the weight of that in a way men like the one Ivy described did not.
“So you call Lord Eydris Max, hmm?” Ivy’s eyes danced.
Elorie felt her cheeks burn. She never made mistakes like that, revealing too much with a stupid slip. “He insisted. I felt it was rude to argue the point, since he is my host.”
Ivy snorted. “Right. And Jasper’s going to win the Swaffham Coursing Society races this year.”
“Do they allow hounds to race against the grays?”
“No, but can you imagine? Jasper would win because he’d knock all the other dogs over as he ran diagonally!”
The dissolved into laughter again, and Jasper bayed at the use of his name.
“What is all this about?” Lord Blackbourne leaned against the doorframe, his blond hair negligently curling over his brow as he smiled at them.
It was strange to see someone who looked so like Max, but with completely different coloring. Asher Blackbourne was exceptionally handsome in a golden Adonis sort of way, and Elorie could easily see why Ivy hadn’t been able to resist the man.
She knew because she feared Max affected her the same way.
“Nothing. Just teasing Jasper,” Ivy told her husband, stroking the dog’s outstretched head.
“Poor pup. That’s not very fair,” Lord Blackbourne responded, sauntering into the room toward his wife. “You need someone who can tease you back.” He reached Ivy and squeezed her side gently.
“No tickling!” she squealed, swatting his hand away.
Elorie smiled and looked down at the coverlet. They were so clearly in love that it made her want to be as far away as an island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.
“Where is Lord Eydris?” Elorie asked, looking up to meet Asher Blackbourne’s wintry blue eyes.
“He went to freshen up. I wanted to ask you something, if I may, Lady Crescenfort.”
She nodded.
“The man who attacked you. Did he have blond hair and blue eyes like me? Tall fellow? Six-foot-four, according to my estimate.”
Elorie’s heart flipped over. How could he know that? “I’m … not sure. I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Lord Blackbourne nodded. “I ask because a man of that description came looking for you at two of my estates during the past few days. My staff informed me of his rather insistent demeanor. Of course they neither confirmed nor denied your presence at those locations, but he must be determining you’re not there because he has not been sighted since.”
“So you were his intended target,” Ivy breathed, putting a hand on her husband’s which rested on her shoulder. “And he wants to find you.”
Elorie was quite adept at making up stories. She’d done it countless times during the past several years, and had enjoyed every thrilling minute of it. But she didn’t want to lie to these people. They were good people and had shown her every kindness in a situation in which they could have exposed her for the sake of a juicy tidbit of gossip. Yet she couldn’t tell the truth. So a story was what she must give them.
Putting on a look of fear that wasn’t altogether false, Elorie replied, “It seems so. How frightening. I wonder how he has evaded the authorities for so long, if he is as deranged as it appears.”
“Or perhaps he is using you to get to Maxwell,” Lord Blackbourne observed.
“Whatever for?” Elorie scrunched her face in confusion.
Lord Blackbourne smiled. “Just a thought. You were … with Maxwell before the attack, is that correct?”
Elorie flushed. “Yes. He was accompanying me for a walk through the gardens and offered to fetch me a drink.”
Ivy raised a brow but said nothing.
“So he could have observed the two of you together and assumed you are important to my cousin.”
Elorie nodded. “It’s possible, yes.”
“I will speak with Max. Perhaps he can provide information to help narrow down the identity of the man.”
Elorie gave him a smile. Fat lot of good that would do, but she didn’t need anyone digging into this any further. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble. Perhaps the authorities—”
“Interrogating my houseguest, are we?” Max said, stepping into the room.
As he came up near his cousin, Elorie noted the striking resemblance between them again. Max was a hairsbreadth shorter than Asher, but built more solidly with darker features. Still, they could have been brothers.
“Who is older of the two of you?” Elorie blurted, curiosity winning out.
“I am,” Max stated. Asher nodded in agreement. “By a matter of two whole months.”
“Pity it didn’t result in your maturity progressing faster,” Asher quipped.
“Why ever did I invite you here?” Max pondered, looking at Asher. “Oh yes, I didn’t. You invited yourself.”
Elorie raised her brows. Yes, they most definitely could be brothers.
Asher smiled cheerily. “For a reason which I assume you’ll want to discuss soon.”
A look passed between them, and Max nodded. “Will you be all right with Lady Blackbourne while Asher and I discuss business?” he asked Elorie, his warm eyes catching hers directly, as though there were no one else in the room.
She nodded, and Max’s eyes grazed her form before he turned away.
Lord Blackbourne placed a kiss on his wife’s head. “Back soon, little one.”
Ivy and Elorie watched as they strode from the room, the sounds of their bickering starting up again in the hall.
“Are they always like that?” Elorie asked Ivy.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “
Worse.”
With Ivy’s help, Elorie managed to put her slippers on and wobble down the main stairway of the house. She hadn’t had an occasion to see any of the first floor. Anything besides her room and the music room, really. As she meandered through the numerous rooms with Ivy and Jasper, it was clear that Max had suffered no such financial setbacks as her family had. Everything was understated luxury, yet every space was light and airy without an overabundance of heavy furniture. In contrast to some of the more fashionable homes of London with bright colors and ornate décor, Max’s home was unburdened with such things. A peacefulness borne of light walls, transparent white draperies, and lovingly displayed family heirlooms pervaded every public room.
And outside… Everything was green and golden with a sky bluer than her companion’s eyes. As they stepped off the tea terrace, Jasper lumbered forth onto the softly prickling grass and rolled around with great enthusiasm. Elorie gazed at the distant farmland and, to the west, trees flowed out as far as she could see. Birds twittered and chased each other over the lawn that stretched down to the forest at the bottom of the slight hill on which the manor sat.
It was uncomplicated in a way that she knew Max’s life was not. It must be why he liked it here, she supposed. She liked it here too. Away from London’s smog and noise. Although she enjoyed the bustle of the city and was accustomed to it, there was something about this place that called to a yearning deep in her soul—a longing to have a place to call home in which she felt safe from anything that could get to her. This was that kind of place, and she envied Max for it.
She would never be the kind of woman who wanted to stay cloistered in a house, doing needlepoint and producing heirs, but it would have been nice to be able to come back to such a place after having been to the far reaches of the known world. She loved going off on adventures, but could one call it a “trip” if one didn’t have a true home to come back to afterward?
Her own house hadn’t felt like a home since she was fifteen. Since it had ceased to be a safe place where nothing bad could happen.
Elorie grinned at Jasper’s lopsided lope down the hill, his sleek coat gleaming in the sun. Though she knew she had to go back to reality, this place not a day’s ride from where she’d grown up was more of an escape than any place she’d ever been.
