The Charmer

by CJ Archer

  ***

  Orlando watched the little party until they were inside the house. They passed Lynden on the way. He'd remained inside with Margaret's body, but now he approached the walled garden with a frown.

  "Why is Susanna crying?" Lynden asked as he approached.

  "Take a look in there," Orlando said without removing his eyes from the door through which Susanna and her servants had disappeared. He'd seen unhappiness in others before, but never had it echoed within him as it had done watching Susanna grieve for her trees. His very bones ached with it and his heart couldn't bear any more of her tears. If he could banish her sorrow, he would do it in an instant.

  "Not another one," said Lynden, from inside the garden. "What happened this time?"

  Orlando passed under the arch and his gaze connected with Monk. The man had turned out to be a swift, capable killer. When Walter had grabbed the axe and made to throw it at Orlando and Susanna, Monk had slit his throat cleanly. If Orlando didn't already know it was Monk's first kill, he would have discovered it from his reaction afterward. He'd looked ill.

  Orlando could sympathize. It may have been some years since his first kill, but he remembered it vividly. And if he hadn't, killing his first woman today would have been enough of a reminder. He still couldn't unknot his tangled feelings on the matter of Margaret's death, and he doubted he ever would.

  "It doesn't get easier," Orlando told him, "but you will grow used to how it feels and find a way to justify it to yourself." He clapped Monk on the shoulder.

  Monk looked down at Cowdrey's body. "He tried to kill Lady Lynden," he said. It wasn't quite true—it had been impossible to know if it was Susanna or Orlando he wanted to hit—but Monk was right to tell Lynden that she was the target. His sympathy probably wouldn't stretch to an attempt on Orlando's life.

  "That's the problem with beauty," Lynden said on a sigh, turning away and wrinkling his nose. "It breeds jealousy. She needs to be married. It'll make everyone's life easier, including her own. Her father will be able to die in peace knowing a husband is taking care of her again."

  "I'm not sure she'd agree with you," Orlando said. He wasn't sure he agreed with him either, but there was a logic in his words that couldn't be denied. He wished it wasn't so.

  "I suppose it'll be up to me to find her another husband," Lynden said. "With Walter gone, she'll need to look out of the parish to find an eligible man. I know a knighted gentleman who may soon be in need of a new wife. His current one is on her deathbed. He already has children too. Susanna might like that." He nodded, pleased with himself.

  "She doesn't want to marry anyone," Orlando said, dully. "Nor does she have to."

  Lynden snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. She does have to. Look what happens when a woman like her doesn't have a husband." He waved at Cowdrey's body without looking at it. "Utter chaos."

  Orlando's fists closed at his sides. He needed to work off some excess tension and thumping Lynden would make him feel better. He stepped toward him, but Monk caught his arm.

  "Not now," Monk said quietly. He nodded at the arched entrance. "We have company."

  Hughe and Cole stood just inside the walled garden, taking in the scene. Cole appeared unaffected by the sight of the body, but Hughe gasped and pressed his long fingers to his mouth. He wrinkled his nose and turned away. It was almost the identical way that Lynden had reacted and Orlando would have laughed if he was in a better mood.

  "Good day," Lynden said, bowing. "Lord Oxley isn't it?"

  Hughe nodded and flapped a hand at the body. "Is that...blood?"

  "I'm afraid so," Lynden said. "There's been an unfortunate accident. Or two."

  Hughe made a gagging sound in his throat. "Perhaps I'll return at a better time. Come, Cole."

  "Wait!" Lynden trotted over to him and bowed again. "Come inside for refreshments. Stoneleigh's parlor is warm and contains no dead bodies."

  "You might want to avoid the hall, however," Orlando said.

  Cole, still dressed in the disguise of fat servant, raised an eyebrow at him.

  "Ugh," Hughe said. "Perhaps I'll remain out here in the fresh air."

  "The lady of the house, my cousin by marriage, would be very pleased to have you call upon her. I think if you meet her you'll want to stay a while longer, my lord Oxley. She's quite...charming."

  Orlando could hit him before anyone could stop him. It would be done in the blink of an eye.

  "Ah, yes, The Beauty," Hughe said. "I've heard of her. Perhaps you could bring her out here to me. I'd like to inspect her."

  Lynden bowed elaborately and backed out through the arch. "I'll fetch her now, my lord."

  Once he was out of earshot, Orlando turned Hughe around to face him. "Inspect her? She's not a horse."

  Hughe cleared his throat and raised both brows at Monk.

  "Don't mind me," Monk said. "I'm practically one of the family."

  Orlando introduced them. "I think he could replace Rafe well enough," he said about Monk.

  "No one could replace Rafe," Cole said. Of all of them, he seemed to feel the loss of their friend the most, which took Orlando by surprise. Cole was the loner of the band. He never discussed his past, never let his feelings show. When it came to killing, he did it without emotion or regret. In their quiet moments, they shared their hopes for the future, but not Cole. Perhaps he didn't have any.

  "That's glowing praise coming from Orlando," Hughe said to Monk. "I'm staying at The Plough until tomorrow. Come and see me if you're up for adventure."

  "And a little bit of killing," Cole added. "It's not easy. The training alone is rigorous and Hughe is a cruel task-master when he wants to be."

  Monk laughed. "Him?"

  "Don't let the lace and feathers fool you," Orlando said. "He may look like a dandy, but his heart is made of impenetrable rock."

  "And I have the strength to match," Hughe said lightly.

  "Do you think you have the stomach for it?" Cole asked.

  "That depends," Monk said.

  "On what?"

  "How much is the pay?"

  "Probably more than you've ever seen in your lifetime," Hughe said.

  "Then I'll take it."

  "You think money will buy you respectability?" Cole asked darkly. "Trust me, it does not."

  "That's what everyone who has money says," Monk said, equally dark.

  And with that simple observation, Monk had quite possibly struck a trait of Cole's that Orlando had never seen. He would have a lot of money saved from his work with the Guild, but hardly enough to be considered wealthy, not like Hughe. Yet he gave money away at every village, or sometimes he simply gambled it and once, left some behind. Money never concerned him. Did he have more than he was willing to admit to?

  While Monk and Cole glared at each other, Orlando confronted Hughe. "Now that you have another member," he said, "I don't feel so bad to be leaving."

  "What?" Hughe blurted out.

  Cole swore. "Not you too."

  "I broke the pact. I had to tell Susanna."

  Cole sighed. Hughe dropped his head, so that Orlando couldn't read his face.

  "I don't understand," Hughe said, finally looking up. He looked drawn, exhausted. "Why?"

  Orlando shrugged. How could he explain the need to tell Susanna everything? It had been a compulsion, and in the end, there had been no choice. If he hadn't told her about himself, he might have ended up as mad as Cowdrey. "Because she deserved the truth from me, and I simply couldn't lie to her anymore."

  Hughe closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He opened them again and Orlando was a little saddened to see the bleakness in their depths. "Very well. But you can't stay with us. Your identity has been compromised."

  "I know." Orlando clasped the arm Hughe offered.

  Cole shook his head and stalked off, but he got no further than the arch and returned. He clapped Orlando on the shoulder then quickly embraced him. "I always knew you were a bloody fool."

  "Goodbye
, Brother," Orlando said. "Stay out of trouble."

  "Unlikely." Hughe also gave Orlando a parting embrace then they both left.

  Lynden rushed across the gravel toward them, waving his hands. "Stop! My lord, where are you going? You haven't met Susanna yet!"

  "Another time," Hughe called out then spurred his horse onward.

  Lynden puffed heavily as he watched them go. "She would have been ready in a few minutes. If only he'd waited."

  "She wanted to come out and meet him?" Orlando asked, more disturbed by the thought than he should be.

  "No. But I could have coerced her."

  Monk gripped Orlando's shoulder, hard. "Help me get the bodies onto the cart. I'll drive them back to Cowdrey Farm."

  "I wonder who inherits," Lynden said. "Wonder if he'll want to sell."

  "Are you in a position to buy?" Orlando asked.

  "I might be, but not all of it."

  "Leave the land that abuts Stoneleigh to Susanna."

  "She cannot afford it."

  "Not yet."

  Monk gazed at the felled orange trees. "Not for quite some time. Even if you do sell the products in her stables, the remaining trees won't produce enough of a harvest to live off let alone make a profit."

  "Don't worry about that," Orlando said. "Just promise me now, Lynden, before a witness, that you'll leave some of the Cowdrey land for Susanna if it's offered for sale. If you don't, I'll have to keep that letter."

  "Er, uh, right. Very well. Agreed. God's blood, I never knew how much of a fool my cousin was until I spoke to Whipple and learned of his treachery."

  "You don't plan on continuing the communication?"

  "No! Good grief, I want to rise but not that way. I quite like my head on top of my shoulders, thank you. It sets my ruff off nicely. I also like my estate. Sutton Hall was never meant to be mine, but now that I have it, I want to keep it. Whipple told me it would have been confiscated if Phillip's treason were discovered." He made an O with his mouth and blew out a slow breath. "It has been interesting having you here, Mr. Holt, but I can't pretend I'll be sorry to see you leave. The sooner you're gone, the sooner life can return to normal again."

  "Normal," Orlando echoed. "I have no idea what you could possibly mean."