And with that abrupt pronouncement, he left.
What on earth? She would have thought that a man who experimented with explosives would find snapdragon harmless, if not boring. It certainly didn’t get people killed. That was ridiculous!
As she stared after him, Percy turned to her. “Can we play it now?”
“No, indeed. It would be rude to go behind his lordship’s back in his own house.”
That ended the discussion. But later, after the children were tucked in and Ellie sat on her aunt’s bed relating the day’s events, that last encounter stuck in her mind. She wanted to understand why he was so prickly and unpredictable.
So she asked her aunt a question she’d been reluctant to voice until now, having not wanted to alarm Aunt Alys unnecessarily. “Have you ever heard of a gentleman called ‘the Black Baron’?”
Her aunt let out a heavy sigh. “I wondered how long it would take for you to hear of our host’s reputation.”
“You knew?”
“Of course. One of the children mentioned the nickname, and I remembered the rumors. At first I was concerned, but he’s behaved nothing but kindly to us. In my opinion that speaks louder than any gossip.”
“Exactly,” Ellie said. “Just because he’s the most cantankerous fellow in Yorkshire is no reason for people to despise him. He may sometimes be rude and leap to conclusions about people with absolutely no reason, but—”
“You like him.”
“Yes.” She caught her aunt’s knowing expression. “No! I-I mean, not how you think. I’m merely grateful to him for giving us aid, that’s all.” As her aunt’s eyebrows arched higher, she protested, “He’s not my sort, much too uneven in temper. Besides, any man who thinks Christmas is humbuggery isn’t suitable marriage material.” Even if he were interested in marriage. Which he wasn’t. But she wasn’t about to reveal that embarrassing truth to her aunt.
“You can’t blame him for not liking Christmas, given that his brother died during the season.”
“What? How did you know that?”
“Everyone knows. The man was killed in a mine explosion.”
“Oh, dear.” That was the reason Lord Thorncliff disliked Christmas—because it reminded him of a painful time. Her stomach roiled—how awful of her to have pursued her plans without a care for his opinion! What he must have thought, have felt . . .
But wait, surely Mr. Huggett had known. Why hadn’t he stopped them?
“That’s why they call our host the Black Baron,” her aunt went on. “Some people hold him responsible for the accident.”
“Why?” Ellie asked. “What happened?”
“No one’s really sure, which is why people invented nasty stories to explain it. It seems his lordship’s late brother hosted a house party here at Christmas, and the guests witnessed the two men arguing. Then the present Lord Thorncliff stormed out and went to the mine, followed by his older brother. Some time later, an explosion occurred. And that was the last of Rupert Thorncliff.”
“That doesn’t mean our host is responsible.” She couldn’t have mistaken the abject grief on Lord Thorncliff’s face at the mention of his brother’s death.
“No, of course not, and an inquiry exonerated him of any blame. But he did inherit everything as a result, which is why some said that the younger brother took the opportunity to gain the title and the property.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ellie said stoutly.
“Neither do I.”
Ellie’s righteous indignation grew the more she thought about it. “Why, he doesn’t even seem to care about the title. He’s certainly shown no interest in lording it over people. He speaks of society with disgust.”
“I think that’s part of the problem. His brother was a sociable fellow, loved and admired for his gregarious manner and generosity to his friends. Whereas from what I understand, Lord Thorncliff was much as he is now. People tend to side with the people they like, even if it flies in the face of logic.”
“But they shouldn’t spread gossip without knowing the circumstances.”
“I agree.”
“The Black Baron, indeed. That’s just cruel.”
“Absolutely.”
“They ought to be ashamed of themselves!”
“Certainly.” Her aunt’s lips tightened as if she fought a smile. “But I don’t know why you care if you’re ‘merely grateful to him for giving us aid.’ ”
Ellie dropped her gaze. Her aunt saw far too much. “I just don’t like to think of anyone being branded a villain wrongly.” Giving an exaggerated yawn, she rose, too full of emotion to endure more probing. “I think I’ll retire now. The children want to hunt for a Yule log tomorrow, and that will be exhausting.”
“Sleep well, my dear,” her aunt said softly.
Ellie pressed a kiss to her cheek, then headed into the next room. But as she settled into bed beside Meg, the mystery of the previous baron’s death continued to absorb her.
The very idea of Lord Thorncliff arranging his brother’s death was so unfair! She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. Nonetheless, she spent a restless night in lurid imaginings that only ended when she fell into a dreamless sleep in the wee hours of the morn.
When she awakened, she realized two things at once. She’d slept later than usual. And the house was quiet. Too quiet, given that the boys generally woke at dawn. Even Meg was missing, although a peek into Aunt Alys’s room revealed her curled up with her mother, having a story read to her.
“Where are the boys?” Ellie asked.
Aunt Alys looked up. “Outside, I imagine. Percy said that’s where they were going while they waited for breakfast. I told them to let you sleep.”
Had the boys headed into the woods alone? Surely not. It wasn’t like them to go so far without breakfast. But a niggling sense that something was wrong made her rush to the window in her room that overlooked the woods in back. As she threw open the casement, she heard a roar that was unmistakably his lordship’s.
Oh, no, the stone barn. A quick glance showed the boys frozen in their tracks at the door as his lordship stalked toward them. Bother it all, that wasn’t good.
After throwing her cloak over her night rail and buttoning it up swiftly, she shoved her feet into her half boots. Then she fairly flew down the stairs and out along the path to where the barn squatted a short distance away. As she neared the group, she spotted the barn door’s padlock, with what looked like a wire hanging out of it. They’d tried to pick the lock? He was going to kill them!
Lord Thorncliff hoisted Percy and Charlie in the air by the backs of their coats. As Tim stayed well out of his reach, he raged at them all. “Do you never listen to anyone, you fools? I said not to go near it, and I meant it! By God, I’ll cane every one of you for this—”
“My lord, please!” she cried, hurrying forward.
As he turned a wild-eyed gaze on her, she stopped short, remembering the terror on his face when he’d ranted about why they must stay away from the barn. What had he said? That he kept things in there because too many people have access to things at the mine. There’s too much chance for a visitor or a stranger to get hurt.
Like his brother?
Oh, Lord, that’s why the idea of anyone going near his explosives enraged him. And probably why he was experimenting to find safer ways to use them, ways that she and the children were jeopardizing by their mere presence here, since he seemed reluctant to work on his experiments while they were his guests.
How could she blame him for being angry at the children? He was trying to keep them safe.
“I have to punish them,” he said in a hollow voice, his eyes fixed on her.
She swallowed. “Yes, you’re right.”
He blinked.
“What?” Percy cried as he squirmed in the baron’s grasp. “Ellie, you can�
�t let him cane us!”
Glaring at Percy, she crossed her arms over her chest. Aunt Alys wouldn’t be happy about this, but neither would she want to see her boys blown to bits. “He warned you not to go near it. He couldn’t have made it more clear. You were the ones who didn’t heed his warnings.”
“I told you we should have waited!” Tim cried at the two older boys. “I told you he hadn’t left the manor yet!”
Lord Thorncliff’s face flushed a mottled red. “You thought to avoid me, did you?” He shook Percy. “Young fools—thank God I had to fetch something out here. One day you’ll be glad of it, even with the caning I mean to—”
“Please, sir, don’t!” Charlie cried as he wriggled in the air. He had enough sense to realize that bargaining was their best chance now that Ellie wasn’t taking their side. “We swear this is the last time we’ll ever go near your barn!”
“Damned right it is!” the baron growled and shook them both again.
“Please don’t cane us, sir!” Percy chimed in. “We won’t do it again, we swear!”
“You expect me to believe that?” he said gruffly.
She couldn’t help noticing that he still hadn’t done more than growl at them.
“Upon our souls, we swear it!” Percy said. “Tell him, Ellie!”
It was good to see someone put the fear of God into the boys. “Tell him what? I’m not sure you can be trusted, either.”
“Ellie!” Tim’s clear sense of betrayal vented itself in violent tears. “We only . . . d-did it because you . . .
w-wouldn’t let us p-play snapdragon.”
“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” she retorted.
“Shut up, Tim!” Percy cried. “You’re not helping!”
But Tim was wound up now. “I-it’s s-so boring here . . .” he said between sobs. “Our toys a-are at home a-and Mama is . . . always tired, and you—”
“For the love of God,” Lord Thorncliff grumbled, lowering the boys to the ground. “Don’t blame this on your cousin. She’s been running herself ragged trying to keep up with you lot.”
She shot him a surprised look. “How did you know?”
“I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? Besides, when I get home, Huggett tells me everything that you . . .” Coloring a little, he muttered an oath under his breath, then turned a scowl on the boys. “All right—I won’t thrash you, but you’ll spend the rest of the morning scrubbing pots for Cook. Is that clear?”
The boys bobbed their heads vigorously.
“After that, you must promise to stay with Ellie at all times. Otherwise—”
“We promise, we promise!” Percy cried.
Her breath caught in her throat. Not only had the baron softened his stance toward the boys, but he’d defended her. He’d even used her given name. Did he realize that? Did it mean anything?
With a glance at the still-sniffling Tim, he sighed. “And if you uphold your promise and behave yourselves today . . .” He cast them a considering glance. “Then we’ll play snapdragon tonight.”
The boys stared at him, stunned, then let out a whoop of joy. “Snapdragon!” they cried, dancing about him. “Snapdragon tonight!”
“Only if you behave!” he shouted over the din. When that sobered them, he lowered his tone. “Because if I catch you near this barn again, I’ll thrash you within an inch of your lives. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” they cried in unison.
“Now go eat breakfast. I’ll be along shortly to inform Cook of your duties.”
They needed no more excuse to head for safety inside. But Ellie didn’t follow them. Instead she watched as Lord Thorncliff unlocked the padlock to make sure it still worked, then went inside the barn. She trailed in after him.
Pushing up her spectacles, she took a quick glance around at the mysterious place that had caused so much trouble. Barrels were stacked at one end, and a long worktable sat at the other, beneath a large glass window set into the roof. Apparently it had been designed to funnel sunlight down on that half of the barn, since the stone walls had no windows. Assorted boxes and cabinets littered the rest of the space, which smelled of fire and sulfur and coal.
“What do you want?” he asked sharply, jarring her from her examination. “You shouldn’t be in here. You could get hurt.”
The gruff concern in his voice touched her. “Unlike my cousins, I have no interest in rummaging about in your explosives.” When he said nothing, she added, “Besides, I wanted to thank you. The boys didn’t deserve your lenience, but I appreciate your giving it anyway, my lord.”
“Martin,” he muttered, pausing in rifling a cabinet drawer.
She edged closer. “What?”
“My given name is Martin. You might as well use it.” Withdrawing a penknife, he shoved it in his pocket. “I hate that ‘my lord’ humbuggery. In my mind, Rupert is still Lord Thorncliff. It suited him better than it does me, anyway.”
Her heart caught in her throat. How could society ever think he would kill his brother for the title? “All right. Then thank you . . . Martin.”
A shuddering breath escaped him. “I will cane your cousins if they don’t behave, you know,” he said, a bit defensively.
“I know.”
“If you hadn’t come along, I would have taken them over my knee.”
“I’m sure you would have.”
“Because they have no business coming in here—”
Ellie began to laugh.
He whirled to face her. “What the blazes is so amusing?”
“You don’t have to keep growling about it now that they’re gone. Unlike the boys, I am fully convinced of your capacity to play the dastardly Black Baron as often and fiercely as you must to protect them.”
As if noticing for the first time her loose hair and the cloak she’d buttoned over her inappropriate dress, he gave her a long, slow perusal that sent wanton shivers dancing along her spine. “Do you accuse me of pretending, Ellie?”
His intimate use of her nickname sent a little thrill through her. “I accuse you of acting more bad-tempered than is your true nature.”
A sudden veil shadowed his face. “You know nothing of my true nature.”
“Actually I do.” It was time he learned that not everyone was against him. “And despite what people say, I don’t believe you killed your brother.”
Chapter Six
Dear Cousin,
My, my, you certainly have my interest piqued. Perhaps I should guess at your identity, and you can tell me how far I am off the mark. Might you be a Hessian with a fondness for lemon tarts? An aging spy for the Home Office? A woman, even? No, I know you’re not a woman. A woman couldn’t possibly be as arrogant as you.
Your “relation,”
Charlotte
Martin stared at Ellie. Had she really said what he thought?
Yes, that’s why she was watching him so closely. She’d heard the rumors, and now she meant to find out if they were true.
A groan escaped him. He’d spent the last few days in agony, basking in her warmly innocent smiles, entertaining mad ideas of what it might be like to have her as his wife, looking after his children. He’d spent three nights imagining her in his bed, cradling his body between her honeyed thighs, caressing him as only a woman could. He couldn’t stand to see her expression when it dawned on her that he really was responsible for Rupert’s death.
He headed for the door. “Since you’ve apparently learned the real reason they call me the Black Baron, there’s nothing more to say, is there?”
She caught his arm as he tried to pass her. “I should like to hear your account, since all I learned from my aunt were rumors.”
He froze, not looking at her, afraid to see what lay in her eyes. “I’m surprised she didn’t order you to take her away from here. I’m surprised you didn’
t demand it yourself.”
“Don’t be absurd. We know better than to heed some silly gossip. As Shakespeare said, ‘Rumor is a pipe/Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.’ ”
A choked laugh escaped him at her blithely quoting Shakespeare while he stood here expecting her to bolt. “You have no idea how true that is.”
“I’m sure I don’t. That’s why you should explain it to me.”
His gaze shot to her. Did he dare? Her face was open, waiting. He saw no reproach in the eyes half veiled by her spectacles, but that meant little. Once he told her, she would despise him. God knew he despised himself.
Pulling away, he headed for the worktable. “You should go. I must hide a few chemicals in case your cousins try again. I packed up the worst ones a few days ago, but yesterday I had to take out some vials—”
“Martin,” she said sharply, halting his frenzied flow of words. “You might feel better if you talk to someone. Tell me what really happened. I promise not to judge you.”
Devil take her for saying that. To have someone listen and not judge. . . . No, not just someone—her. His men didn’t judge him, and neither did the local townspeople. It was only her sort who found him guilty.
That thought spurred him to face her. “It’s not a great secret,” he bit out. “The miners witnessed it. Huggett knows it. If people really cared to know, they could find out. Yet you’re the first in society ever to ask me directly. Most people would rather invent their own tale than search for anything so dull as the truth.”
“You don’t exactly make it easy to ask,” she pointed out.
That stopped him cold. “I suppose I don’t.” Leaning back against the table, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“But since I’ve braved your temper to do so, the least you could do is answer the question,” she prodded, walking toward him.
For a moment, the silken dance of her hair about her hips distracted him. He couldn’t believe she wore it down. Had she come here straight from bed? The very thought made him harden, imagining her lush body spread out on her curtain of shimmering, coal black locks, her mouth smiling, beckoning him to take her—
When Sparks Fly Page 6
