Lord Satan

by Judith Laik

  “You were very gallant to the Marble ladies.” At the Good Queen Bess Inn, the ostler, Ben Sefton, lounged in the yard with a couple of his cronies. None of them paid the least attention to the passersby.

  “Yes. I always behave the opposite of what one would expect of me. If I am charming to a lady, you may be sure I have no desire to ingratiate myself with her.”

  She studied his face as he blinked, then glanced away. He regrets that revealing speech. She smiled. Perhaps she could lead him into other revelations, more germane to her pursuit of justice.

  “Now, where shall we go?” He continued walking up the street. Their direction took them away from The Castle.

  “My next call is on Mrs. Chambliss. It is quite some distance outside the village,” Libbetty said.

  “Merely a pleasant walk.”

  They approached Sidneys’ mercer shop. Mrs. Sidney was a notorious gossip, and Libbetty looked nervously at the shop’s front window. Luckily, Mrs. Sidney’s face did not appear over the dusty array of ribbons and thread. Libbetty relaxed. “Our quiet country ways must seem tame to one used to the amusements afforded by the city. How have you occupied your days?”

  “It has not been easy. I have gotten a great deal of exercise riding.”

  This was true. From the beginning of his sojourn at The Castle, villagers had reported frequently seeing Lord Neil on his black thoroughbred. She had seen him herself on numerous occasions when she went out on an errand for her mother.

  “You must have occupied your time in other ways as well. One cannot ride all the time.” They passed the last buildings of Peasebotham. On both sides of the road stretched orchards. Only a few stray remnants of their spring blossoms still clung to greening branches, and the nubbins of the fruit that replaced them were beginning to show. She headed up a narrow, dusty lane.

  “I sit in my lair and plot how I shall spend Trevor’s money when it belongs to me.”

  She sucked in a breath at his bitter tone. “That is a dreadful subject to make jest of.”

  His charcoal eyes darkened. “Yes, it is. As a topic for gossip, it is nearly as distasteful.”

  Instant protest rose to her lips. “I have not…” But she had gossiped. It did not seem wise to say her purpose was to uncover the truth—uncover him as a villain.”

  “You have not—what, Miss Bishop?” He frowned as he stared at her, seemed almost to look through her.

  Her face flamed. “Nothing.” Silence fell. She watched the swirls of dust that floated about her feet as she walked. She would not look at him.

  “Tell me, Miss Bishop, has your father eased his strictures on you since I called upon him?”

  She stammered, “How did you know about my restrictions? Did Papa tell you aught of it? No—he would not.”

  “He had no need to. It was obvious enough. I regret that by my public revelation of your call on Trevor, I caused your troubles. We will not speak of the impropriety of your having gone behind your parents’ back in your activities.”

  “How dare you, sir. It is not for you to call me to account for my misdeeds.”

  “Indeed, not. That is why I said we should not speak of it.” His tone was teasing. “I merely meant I naturally did not suspect when I spoke to you of your call at The Castle that I revealed any secrets by doing so. I hoped it would soften your father toward your offense if I told him of your public-spirited chiding of Trevor on his neglect of his duties.”

  “He most likely considered me guilty of disrespect for presuming to say such things to Lord Cauldreigh.”

  “No, I believe he was surprised and a little proud of your courage. I truly believed my words might have the effect of releasing you from your punishment. Since it has not, I must see if I can think of something else that will do the trick.”

  A stirring of hope made her forget her intention to ask him more pointed questions. “You are good to concern yourself in my difficulties, sir.”

  “Not at all. Trevor has not met anyone else since rising from his sickbed in whose conversation he has had any enjoyment.”

  They had arrived at Mrs. Chambliss’s small cottage. Libbetty started up the walkway. She turned away to hide the sudden hurt she knew was reflected in her face. She didn’t know why it mattered that Lord Neil cared nothing for her. She had wished to capture Lord Cauldreigh’s interest, and it seemed she had.

  “Good day, Miss Bishop.”

  “Are you not coming in?”

  “No, I have paid enough calls today. I will call on Mrs. Chambliss another time.” With a brief tip of his hat, he spun around and walked swiftly back the way they had come.

  Chapter Eight

  Libbetty shut the gate to the Brooks’ farmhouse yard and started up the lane toward home after her call upon old Mr. Pringle. He had been butler at a noble house in Worcester until crippling rheumatism forced his retirement. Now he lived with his nephew and his family, and counted on Mrs. Bishop’s liniment to ease his aching joints.

  Despite the bright and balmy day, a brisk wind blew against her cheeks and whipped her cloak around her legs. Puffy clouds chased each other across the sky.

  Tom came racing toward her on Concobhar. “Libbetty, you’ll never guess. Someone shot at Lord Cauldreigh!”

  She halted, staring at Tom in shock. Lord Cauldreigh had been killed! No, for two riders, following more slowly behind Tom, emerged from the bend in the lane some distance away. Lord Cauldreigh and Francis. “What happened?”

  “The ball went through his hat and carried it away. It was a close-run thing, I’ll tell you.”

  “Did you see who shot at him, Tom?”

  “No, blast it! By the time we’d collected ourselves, no one was in sight. We found some bushes where he’d lain in wait. Cauldreigh won’t hear a word of suspicion against his uncle. He was indignant when we pointed out Lord Neil had given him the errand and no one else knew where we were bound. He says anyone could have found out, and most likely a poacher fired the shot.”

  “What errand?”

  “Oh, Lord Neil asked Cauldreigh to go to Brooks’ farm to tell him the thatchers would come next week to re-thatch his barn.”

  Libbetty shook her head. “It does seem as if a number of people must have known of the matter.”

  “Not a bit of it. He only asked Cauldreigh to go as we started on our ride. And another thing—it seems a damned, er—a trivial thing to have sent Cauldreigh to do, anyway. A footman or groom could just as easily have carried the message. It seems like a tactic to know where Cauldreigh would be.”

  “Do you really think he did it, Tom?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Libbetty’s heart raced. Here was her chance to search for clues. Perhaps Lord Neil had left some incriminating evidence behind, and the danger to Lord Cauldreigh could be ended. “Where was this?” she asked as the other two riders approached.

  “Oh, three miles from here, at the edge of Cauldreigh Wood. You know where the old oak is, opposite the Applegate Farm?”

  Libbetty nodded. She greeted Francis and Lord Cauldreigh, but did not linger to speak. The scene of the shooting was hardly out of her way at all, and if she hurried, her parents would not suspect she had not come straight home from her errand.

  “Where are you going now?”

  “Cauldreigh insisted on still conveying his message, but we made him agree to return home and rest after that,” Tom said.

  *

  Neil rode through Cauldreigh Wood, thanking the happy notion he’d had of enlisting young Bishop and Squire Hogwood’s son to accompany Trevor everywhere. Trevor had wished to continue his ride after nearly being shot, but young Bishop insisted he needed rest after such an unnerving experience. Bishop was as sensible as he’d expected, and Hogwood the prattler, without whom Neil would not have learned of the shooting.

  Bishop had cast mistrustful glares at Neil, which divulged the fact of some unusual event. However, he’d not have mentioned the incident to Neil. And Trevor dismissed it as an acc
ident.

  Neil rode toward the site, seeing in his mind the young men breaking out of the woods at the same place he now was. He picked out at once the bushes the marksman had used as covert.

  A basket lay near the bushes, and he frowned in recognition. As he approached, the expected female form was bent over behind the shrubs, examining the flattened weeds behind them.

  “Miss Bishop. What are you doing here?”

  She jumped and spun around, losing her balance and toppling into the grass. No doubt she had just destroyed any remaining evidence of who had lain in wait.

  Her face crimson, she leaped up again. “I might ask the same of you. But I don’t need to. You came to make sure there was no sign you had already been here.”

  He swore to himself. Both Bishops had already convicted him of an attempt to murder his nephew. He regretted he had ever had the idea to use his reputation to set the trap.

  He frowned at her. Why was she here, anyway? Hell, he didn’t need to ask that question. His innards chilled as he realized the foolhardy girl was investigating the shooting. No doubt, her incursion into The Castle had been for a similar purpose. She was safe enough as long as he was the only suspect she investigated. But what if she inadvertently stumbled onto the real assailant? The man would have no compunction about harming her.

  He briefly entertained the thought of revealing the truth and trying to dissuade her from her pursuit. Recalling her bravado when he’d caught her in The Castle, he decided she would not be deterred. His only hope of keeping her safe was to make sure her suspicions continued to center on him.

  He affected nonchalance. “I don’t have to worry about that. You have just obliterated any evidence left behind.”

  Miss Bishop scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “Any footprints, or hoofprints, are trampled over—or crushed by your fall just now. I wonder whether the shooter was on foot or horseback? Of course, from the boys’ description of their activities after the shooting, they probably demolished any clues before you even arrived.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think. I was searching for something that you—that the gunman might have left behind.” She screwed up her face in an expression of dismay, which quickly sharpened into suspicion. “Why do you tell me such things?”

  Lord, he didn’t know himself. Because his desire to protect her warred with his need to uncover Trevor’s assailant and his frustration that after the young men and Miss Bishop had trampled over the scene there was little hope of finding anything helpful. “Why not? As I said, there is nothing you can discover here.”

  *

  Collecting her basket, Libbetty set out for home. Luckily, she knew the way without thinking about it, because her mind was wholly occupied with the puzzle of Lord Neil.

  He had seemed to be searching for clues just as she was, and disappointed at finding nothing. How could he wish there to be evidence of the person who had shot at Lord Cauldreigh if he were the one? It must be a ruse to make her believe him innocent. That scarcely made sense, either, when he took obvious pleasure in taunting her with hints of his guilt.

  He must mean to keep her in doubt. He would not succeed at that, however, for she meant to learn the truth.

  *

  Another dark-haired man accompanied Lord Neil and Lord Cauldreigh to church on Sunday. After the service, Libbetty was standing with Mr. Bassett and his daughters when Lord Cauldreigh walked up to them with the newcomer.

  “Good morning ladies, Mr. Bassett,” the marquess said. “I would like to present to you my cousin, Mr. Jonathan Colton.”

  Some years younger than Lord Neil but older than Lord Cauldreigh, Mr. Colton had an ordinary face with a largish nose and wide mouth, set off with dark hazel eyes that showed their owner’s pleasant humor. He bowed and smiled at the ladies, and shook hands with Mr. Bassett.

  “Are you on an extended visit?” Miss Bassett asked.

  “Yes, I hope to remain for some time. My cousins have made me very welcome.” Mr. Colton glanced at Lord Cauldreigh.

  “We have planned a rout party in his honor on Thursday,” Lord Cauldreigh said. “You are all invited.” His look included Libbetty, and her spirits rose at the invitation, but plummeted as she realized the impossibility of obtaining her father’s permission to attend.

  Libbetty looked for Lord Neil, but he had made himself scarce. He seemed to avoid casual social encounters. Would he even attend? Certainly, he must.

  “That’s right kind of you, sir. I like to see my little girls have a good time.” Mr. Bassett’s proud look at them contained no hint of awareness of Sybille’s disfigurement or Irene’s limited intellect.

  Miss Bassett also thanked Lord Cauldreigh, and Irene clapped her hands. “A party! Oh, I do like a party!”

  The others smiled indulgently. Libbetty excused herself, not wishing the group to notice her inability to make a happy speech about the invitation.

  She joined her mother and Mrs. Hayes. The doctor’s wife watched Libbetty with her kindly, knowing eyes. Did Mrs. Hayes know all about her punishment?

  *

  “I wondered when you would call on your old friend.” The doctor’s wife handed Neil a cup of tea and added milk and sugar to her own.

  Neil detected a faint note of complaint. “I wasn’t sure I would be welcomed. Besides, I was too worried about Trevor at first to spare any thought for social niceties.”

  “Trevor has been well on his way to recovery for some time now. You must not forget his physician lives with me.” Neil relaxed at the smile on Maria Hayes’s face. “And surely you have not forgotten how gossip operates in the country. I can tell you of every place you’ve called in recent weeks.” She raised her brows at Neil, inviting his response.

  To give himself time, Neil gazed around the drawing room. The Hayes’ comfortable home had at one time been almost as familiar to him as his own. He had spent many hours in company with Maria and her older brother, Gerald. The manor had belonged to Maria Beeson’s family for innumerable generations before her marriage to Derek Hayes.

  “You’ve changed this room.”

  Mrs. Hayes laughed. “My dear Neil, in the twenty years since you’ve seen the room, it would be more wonderful if it had not been redone. Indeed, we have refurbished the whole house.”

  “Fifteen years,” Neil supplied. He sipped his tea, reminded of the dilapidated condition of the vicarage. That had certainly not been refurbished during the tenure of the current vicar, nor several years prior to the death of his predecessor. The thought of Miss Bishop’s sunny presence dimmed by the shabbiness of such surroundings made him clench his fingers. His saucer tipped, spilling hot tea onto his fawn breeches.

  “Oh dear.” Mrs. Hayes jumped up, handing him a napkin. “I’m afraid you haven’t grown any more graceful in those twenty, er, fifteen years. Would you like some brandy instead?”

  “No, thank you.” Neil dabbed at the wet stain, trying to ignore the burning in his thigh beneath the fabric.

  She sat again. “Why wouldn’t you be welcome here?”

  “In truth, I didn’t think you would make me unwelcome. However, what about Dr. Hayes? Would he want his wife associated with a man who has such an unsavory reputation?”

  Mrs. Hayes gave a chuckle. “Derek is the last man to let gossip influence his opinions.”

  “Well, good.” Neil drew an envelope out of his pocket. “I’m inviting you and Dr. Hayes to our little party on Thursday.”

  Smiling, she took the envelope. “Our presence is so important that you had to deliver the invitation in person?”

  “I have a favor to ask. I understand you and Mrs. Bishop are friends. Could you persuade the Bishops to release their daughter from the punishment she is suffering for having called on Trevor with Miss Hogwood and allow her to attend the party?”

  The atmosphere in the room changed so swiftly, Neil could have sworn the temperature had dropped several degrees. “Don’t make her the object of your gallantries, Neil. She’s an innocent.�
� Maria’s face was stern.

  “Good God, what do you take me for?” Neil jumped up and paced. “I was asking on Trevor’s behalf. He says she’s the only person here who’s entertained him. Actually, he asserts he’s falling in love with her, but I put little credence in that. Trevor falls in love with a different pretty face every quarter.”

  “It could hardly serve her any better if he raised her expectations and then disappointed her.”

  “She’ll come to no harm at his hands. He’s no seducer of innocent females. All he wants is a little flirtation. And besides, there will be other eligible men at the party.” He came to a stop before her, smiling coaxingly.

  She gazed at him thoughtfully, until he began to think she saw clear through to his soul.

  “Why have you appointed yourself her protector?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m not. Her parents are well able to do that. I do, however, like the girl a great deal.”

  Neil reseated himself. “Well, so do I, from the little I’ve seen. And what I’ve seen makes me wonder whether she’s as young as you think. She seems old enough to attend some adult parties and canvass for a husband.”

  Mrs. Hayes sighed. “No doubt. She’s a little older than my eldest son. They have been playmates since the Bishops came here, and it’s hard to think of any of them being grown up.”

  “Your son and she?”

  “And her brothers.” The smile she cast his way was pure mischief. “She may appear quite the young lady, but I assure you she was a complete hoyden until recently.”

  He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” Sobering, he eyed her fondly. “Not so very different from when we were young, is it?”

  “Except you were the pesky little brother the rest of us tried to shake off.”

  He pulled in a deep breath. “I still miss Tipton and Gerald every day of my life.”

  “So do I.” She sipped her tea, but he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes before she hid them behind the cup.

  “At least your brother didn’t bring disgrace on his name before he died,” he said.