Fever Dreams

by Nicole Jordan

  “Someone had access to this room and knew exactly what to target to put you in danger. The other day you identified three potential suspects. The most likely is still the estate steward you fired, but we can’t ignore the possibility of it being your over-amorous neighbor, Viscount Gyllford, because you rejected his suit. Or even the new Earl of Hayden—the uncle you said wanted you off the estate because of your interference in his business affairs. Any of them could have engaged one of your servants to carry out his orders. Or it could be someone else we don’t yet know about.”

  Biting her lip, Eve fell silent. She was glad Ryder knew how to go about exposing a criminal, for she didn’t have the slightest idea.

  “I suppose,” she murmured, “we should begin by interviewing our butler, Dunstan, since he came to London with us from the Park. The housekeeper, Mrs. Farnley, lives here even when the family is not in residence, but Dunstan will be familiar with all the servants at both locations.”

  “Good,” Ryder replied. “I’ll want a list of their names. I also want a list of everyone you can remember entertaining here in this room since you came to London. What about Gyllford? Did you receive him here on any of the occasions when he called?”

  “Yes,” she replied thoughtfully. “At least twice that I can recall. But he had no opportunity to be alone. The family was always here.”

  “Well, let’s start with the list of your servants so I can have my own people begin investigating.”

  Eve gave Ryder a curious glance, wanting to ask him about his “people”—whether he meant the society of Guardians Cecil had told her about. Realizing this was not the time or place, however, she merely fetched pencil and paper from her damaged writing desk to begin making the lists Ryder wanted.

  While she was thus occupied, Ryder and Macky combed the town house top to bottom, searching for any more possible traps lying in wait, but they found nothing remotely suspicious. Afterward, Eve and Ryder questioned the entire London staff. Normally the interviews would have been conducted in the morning room, but since it was closed for repairs, they were held in the housekeeper’s office.

  No one, however, had any clue as to who might have tinkered with the lamp. Nor did they appear to know why anyone would want to harm Lady Hayden or the rest of the family, for that matter. In fact every last servant seemed appalled at the very idea and aghast at what had happened to sweet, gentle Lady Beatrice.

  Their lack of results from the interviews was frustrating for Eve but wasn’t surprising, since Ryder had warned her this was only a preliminary step in finding the culprit.

  What did surprise Eve, however, was that Ryder not only let her participate but insisted on her conducting the inquiries, since she knew all her servants and their histories. And after every interview, he wanted to know her evaluation of each employee.

  She couldn’t imagine her late husband condoning her involvement or seeking her opinion. The last thing Richard had wanted was for her to have a thought of her own. It was just one more indication of how different Ryder was from the late earl.

  At the conclusion, Eve was sitting alone with Ryder in the office, having just offered him the list of staff members and notes she had taken, when he caught her hand with his own.

  “You are not going to Hertfordshire next week without me,” he said calmly, holding her gaze. “Macky is good, but I don’t trust anyone but myself to guard you.”

  Eve nodded solemnly, no longer inclined to argue about his attendance at the house party. There was no question now that Ryder would accompany them. Her own personal objections to his presence seemed trivial in light of Beatrice’s accident. Certainly they all would feel safer with Ryder to look after them.

  “I would feel better if you came,” she admitted, extricating her hand from his. With a gesture of her head, she indicated the list he was placing in his jacket pocket. “How do you mean to proceed? Do you intend to get the Bow Street Runners involved?”

  “No, I have my own resources. I’ve already sent two of my men to Hertfordshire to find out what they can about your former estate steward. And being in the country next week will give me a chance to do my own investigating.”

  Eve couldn’t pass up the opportunity to satisfy her rabid curiosity. “You said you would have your own people investigate the accidents. Do you mean the Guardians?”

  Except for the slightest sharpening of his gaze, Ryder gave no overt sign that she had hit a nerve. “What guardians?” he asked casually.

  “The society that Cecil said you are a member of.”

  Ryder’s mouth twisted the slighted degree. “I thought your brother could be trusted to keep confidences to himself.”

  “Please don’t blame him. He was only explaining why you are so skilled—because you belong to this league of protectors.”

  His dark eyes became shuttered. “If I do, you’ll understand why I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

  Eve sent him a faint smile. “Yes. But I confess, the knowledge is reassuring. And I am very glad Cecil knows about your order.” She paused, then added earnestly, “My brother admires you greatly, Ryder. It is amazing, really. For the first time in his life, Cecil has expressed an interest in something other than his own gratification. He wants to be worthy of joining your league. He has even talked about seeking a post with the Foreign Office in the interim, but I want him to finish his schooling first.”

  When Ryder remained silent, Eve rose from behind the desk. “Well, I had best go check on Beatrice. She is probably sleeping, but Drucilla and Claire will be comforted to learn the steps you are taking to rout our assailants.”

  She left Ryder sitting there in her housekeeper’s small office, a frown knitting his brow. He would have to have a serious talk with the Honorable Cecil Montlow, Ryder thought darkly, for disclosing the existence of the Guardians. But confiding the secret at least had reassured Eve.

  Cecil’s faith in him was well placed, Ryder reflected without any false modesty. He was considered the most dangerous of all the Guardians, not only because he possessed any number of lethal skills, but because of his experience dealing with assassins and cutthroats. His familiarity with their treacherous methods gave him an advantage his colleagues in the order lacked.

  He trusted his ability to keep Eve safe. And he intended to protect her, despite her reluctance to have him at her party.

  Briefly Ryder shut his eyes, remembering the clutch of fear to his heart when he’d seen the lamp explode in a ball of flame, leaving Beatrice writhing on the floor in pain and terror. That could so easily have been Eve, he was horrifyingly aware.

  He’d felt such rage toward the villain who had committed such a vile act—the primal response of a man’s need to protect his woman.

  Eve was his woman now, whether she knew it yet or not. He would give his life before he would let anything happen to her.

  It was frustrating, though, fighting a shadow. The thought of spending an entire week living under the same roof as Eve and being unable to touch her was also damnably frustrating.

  He wanted another night with her. Wanted all his nights with her. Just remembering the feel of Eve’s soft, silky body writhing beneath his, her ripe breasts straining for his touch, her slender back arched in the throes of ecstasy, made his arousal stir.

  Deliberately, Ryder quelled his inappropriate hunger. Under ordinary circumstances, the upcoming house party would be a priceless opportunity to woo Eve. But nothing was ordinary about her being a target for murder. And he would have to keep his mind focused on safeguarding her if he hoped to stop the perpetrator before the treacherous bastard struck again.

  Chapter

  Eleven

  It was precisely one week later that Eve found herself gazing impatiently out the window at the perfectly manicured lawns of Hayden Park as she waited in the vast entrance hall for Ryder to accompany her on her late-afternoon errand.

  The enormous manor, which was built in the grand Palladian style and boasted more than seventy rooms, b
espoke great wealth and taste. The centerpiece of the sumptuous, landscaped grounds—a large ornamental lake surrounded with willows and brightly flowering rhododendrons—was home to a flock of elegant black swans. Beyond the lake to the left, Eve could just glimpse the charming stone bridge that spanned a rapidly flowing stream and led to the dower house, a much smaller, less formal manor built for the dowager countesses of the Hayden earls.

  Eve fought back her restlessness as she watched the swans gliding on the sunlit water. Her house party had begun well. Conducting a large affair such as this—with over two dozen guests, mostly people from her usual set—was nearly effortless for Eve. Not only had her mother trained her well for the role of a nobleman’s lady, but she’d gained vast experience as a hostess by entertaining lavishly for her husband during the six years of her marriage.

  All manner of amusements were offered for her company’s pleasure. Lawn games such as bowling and cricket and pall-mall. Boating on the lake. Carriage drives and horseback rides. An alfresco picnic. Evening entertainments such as cards and dancing and poetry readings, and even an amateur theatrical of a one-act comedy, complete with costumes, planned for the end of the week.

  Tomorrow they would visit the charming ruins of a nearby abbey, and later in the week, they would hold a faux fox hunt sans fox or hounds, with a horseman to stand in for the fox. And finally would come Drucilla’s birthday celebration on the final night.

  Eve knew she should be congratulating herself on her success. The gathering was a transparent excuse for her to subtly play matchmaker, and for the past three days, she had striven to see that Claire was paired with her favorite gentlemen admirers. It was unreasonable to expect to be able to foster a match in this short a time, but her sister did seem to be growing more comfortable with her swains.

  And fortunately, Eve’s duties as hostess kept her busy enough to take her mind off the threats to her life. Their remaining few days in London had passed without incident, thankfully. And coming home to the Park had been a relief. But Eve still felt the strain—an anxiety that she had never before been subject to in all her time living here at the Park.

  She was truly glad to have Ryder here to protect her. As were her relatives. Both aunts had heartily endorsed his plan to accompany them to Hertfordshire.

  Ryder, it seemed, had won over the aunts entirely. They were so grateful to him for saving Lady Beatrice’s life that they’d relented completely, going so far as to call him a true hero. Whereas before he could do no right because of his disreputable past, now he could do no wrong.

  Drucilla had even been heard to remark that “Sir Alex is not Quality, but perhaps that is not so important”—a comment that would have been heresy only a short month ago.

  Claire and Cecil had delighted in Ryder’s presence as well. And Claire had expressed relief that Macky had come with them, saying that she not only felt safe with him, but that he made her laugh.

  Thus far, Ryder had performed his role as Eve’s bodyguard unobtrusively but with unrelenting seriousness. He’d examined every inch of the manor house and the surrounding buildings and stationed his own footmen inside to guard her. And he wouldn’t allow her to set foot outside without him, not even to stroll down to the lake or walk to the stables in the company of trusted servants. Ryder didn’t seem to understand why she fretted at the strangling restrictions, saying he considered her safety paramount.

  He had accompanied Eve yesterday morning when she’d ridden out to visit the home farm with her new steward, John Baggot, early enough that she could return before most of her guests were even awake. This afternoon she intended to pay a brief visit to the cottage of one of the farm tenants, whose wife had been delivered of a baby son after a difficult labor that had lasted nearly two days.

  At this moment, most of her guests were resting or refreshing themselves in their rooms before dinner, and Eve was glad to have this brief time to herself so she could attend to her other duties as mistress of a large estate.

  Just then she looked up to see Ryder descending the sweeping staircase. Her heart quickened when his dark gaze swept over her stylish green serge riding habit.

  “I apologize for the delay, my lady,” Ryder said with a brief smile that set her pulse racing even harder.

  As he reached the bottom step, a footman jumped to attention and rushed to open the front door. But Eve was very aware when Ryder placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her outside to where their horses stood on the gravel drive, held by a groom. Ryder, not the groom, lifted her up into the saddle, and then mounted his own horse before setting out with her down the long drive.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured when they were out of earshot of the servants. “I was waylaid by the duchess.”

  Her grace, the elderly dowager Duchess of Gower, was one of Drucilla’s contemporaries, and as the highest-ranking guest, she thought it her right to monopolize Ryder’s time.

  Not surprisingly, Ryder had become a valuable addition to the house party, so charming and attentive to all the ladies that they regularly sought his company. And if she were to be honest, Eve reflected with a spark of irritation, that was a prime source of her dissatisfaction…that Ryder paid more attention to everyone else than to her. Even if she had purposely swelled the ranks of females on her guest list so she wouldn’t be tempted to initiate further intimacies with him.

  In the end, she hadn’t been able to stomach inviting the Widow Ferris-Jones. But Lydia, Lady Keeling, had gratefully accepted her invitation. And Eve had felt compelled to invite at least one other lady on Ryder’s list of potential brides, since he’d had to delay his matrimonial plans for her sake. She had settled on Lady Susan Rumbotham, an elegant, striking noblewoman of impeccable lineage and breeding.

  She could see, however, no sign that Ryder showed either Lydia or Lady Susan any particular favoritism. But he showed her no special partiality, either. In fact he virtually ignored her except when he was acting as her bodyguard.

  He was there only to protect her, of course, but Eve had hoped for a little more warmth from Ryder, if only because of their long-term friendship.

  It was ironic that he was treating her precisely as she’d wished him to. She had planned to keep a strict distance from Ryder, but his mere presence in her home kept her nerves at a fever pitch. She’d never expected such difficulty pretending dispassion or concealing her wanton feelings for him: the irrepressible longing to see him, the shivery excitement of being with him.

  And it was utterly impossible to forget the magical hours she had spent with him making love.

  The only time he showed her any particular notice was when the dull-witted Viscount Gyllford, the owner of the bordering estate, came to call. His lordship had not only followed her from London but had shamelessly invited himself to various events of her house party without the slightest hint of embarrassment. Short of ordering him to go away, Eve was obliged to tolerate his boorish imposition.

  Cecil, who was not so forgiving, bristled every time the viscount showed his face. “That fool fellow’s nothing but a jackanapes, Eve,” her brother had complained. “You should throw him out on his ear. If I had the execrable manners to force myself on your company uninvited, you would lock me in my rooms with nothing but bread and water for a week.”

  Ryder, however, was pleased for the chance to observe the nobleman in person, since Gyllford was one of their three current suspects. Any subtle display of possessiveness Ryder showed whenever Gyllford was near her was certainly not due to jealousy, Eve knew, but out of concern that the viscount might be the culprit they were seeking, since she had firmly refused his marriage proposals.

  At that dark thought, Eve firmly shook herself. She had vowed she would try to forget her troubles for the next hour, yet here she was, wasting her few precious moments of freedom.

  It was a glorious afternoon, with sunshine spreading golden warmth over the countryside. Late spring was a perfect time to be in Hertfordshire.

&nbs
p; Glancing back over her shoulder, Eve found herself admiring the pleasing prospect of the house. The formal front lawns were graced by precisely clipped hedges of yew and boxwood, but the long sweeping avenue where she and Ryder rode was flanked by tall horse chestnut trees covered in blossom and lined with banks of rhododendrons blooming scarlet and pink and cream.

  Before reaching the end of the gravel drive, they turned off onto a tree-shaded lane and rode across the stone bridge. When shortly they came to a grassy hill that just begged to be conquered, Eve’s spirits rose instantly.

  She was delighted for the chance of a neck-or-nothing gallop; she’d always loved being on horseback for the sense of freedom it gave her. And although she disliked admitting it, she was glad to have Ryder to herself for a short while, even if he hadn’t spoken two words to her since leaving the house.

  She was keenly aware of her silent riding partner, partly because this moment reminded her of their last summer on Cyrene. Seven years ago, however, they had shared a comfortable companionship whenever they rode across the island together. Unlike now, when all Eve could think about was her memories of their one enchanting night together.

  Deciding to put an end to her absurd musings, Eve gestured at the hill. “Shall we race to the top?”

  Ryder raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think you can win?”

  “I know so.”

  “Lead the way, my lady.”

  Eve did, bending low and urging her mount into a gallop. Ryder was right beside her most of the way until they reached the crest, where Eve pulled ahead by a nose.

  She drew up, laughing. “You did not let me win on purpose, did you?” she demanded of Ryder.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t be so magnanimous.”

  “You used to let me win when we raced on Cyrene.”

  “Never. Even when you were eleven, you had the best seat on a horse of any female of my acquaintance.”

  “Cecil calls me a bruising rider for a lady, which is a high compliment, coming from my brother.”