by Anne Stuart
“I’m not certain it’s baseless.” Delilah seated herself opposite her husband. “After all, people have disappeared. If I were you, I would pack up my things and come join us in comfort at Arundel. We’re fully staffed, and we can look after you both as you deserve.”
For a brief moment a look of utmost dread flashed across Jane’s face, but she quickly composed herself. “We wouldn’t think of intruding . . .”
“It would be no intrusion. We’re having a little house party at the moment, and there’s always room for lovely young ladies such as yourself and Miss Pennywurst.”
“Penshurst,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Just a small group of my London friends, up to celebrate the coming of summer in a delightfully rustic setting. Though I must say it feels more like winter in this place.” Lord Chilton allowed himself a theatrical shiver.
“We’re very comfortable,” Jane said stoutly.
“Ah, the hardy Yorkshire stock,” Lord Chilton said admiringly. “I only wish I were half so sturdy.” He dropped Jane’s arm and turned his pale, colorless eyes to Elizabeth. “You aren’t Yorkshire born and bred, are you, my dear? Surely you can’t be thriving in this cold, damp house. Especially after you’ve been so ill.”
Elizabeth wasn’t certain she preferred “my dear” to Emily Pennywurst, but she wasn’t about to complain. “I come from Dorset, but I’m sturdy country stock myself. And I’m feeling quite well, thank you. The air is bracing.”
“Bracing,” Francis murmured with a theatrical shudder. “I’m sorry, but I must insist. In your father’s absence I feel I should be in loco parentis, and it is my very Christian duty to take the two of you back to Arundel with us. I’ll send some of our servants over to pack for you, but in the meantime you’ll simply come with us.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly leave the horses,” Jane said somewhat desperately.
Francis Chilton shrugged, rising from his elegant sprawl on the delicate settee. “Then we’ll simply have to take Miss Pennywurst back with us. She’s been quite ill, I gather, and this cold, damp house will probably bring on an inflammation of the lungs. I know you wouldn’t want to be responsible for that.”
“No!” Elizabeth stammered in graceless panic. There was something about the Chiltons that unnerved her, particularly when Francis rose from his elegant sprawl on the delicate settee and advanced upon her. She held her ground, standing by the cold, empty fireplace, trying desperately to appear calm without being mannerless. “Truly, I’d much rather be here with Jane. We’re quite comfortable, and I wouldn’t think of abandoning her . . .”
Lord Chilton put one of those pale, soft hands on Elizabeth’s arm, and the relentless strength in them was shocking. “I’m afraid I won’t take no for an answer,” he said softly.
Elizabeth stared up into his colorless eyes, searching for some kind of clue, some kind of reason behind his insistence. He was stroking her arm, a soft, possessive caress, and yet she knew with absolutely sure instinct that he had no romantic interest in her. He wanted her, and he was determined to have her, but she couldn’t possibly imagine for what.
“I insist, dear Elizabeth,” he said softly, in a voice doubtless meant to be endearing. It gave Elizabeth a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she couldn’t reason away.
“You insist on what, Francis?” A new voice entered the fray, a low, elegant voice at odds with Lord Chilton’s light, faintly lisping voice. Gabriel, like an errant angel, had come, Elizabeth thought with dizzy relief.
Francis made no move to release her. Instead he moved, to make certain his body didn’t block Gabriel’s view of his possessive touch. “I insist on taking this sweet young thing back to sample the delights of Arundel, Gabriel,” he said, and there was a trace of mockery in his affected voice. “Dare I hope we can entice you to join us as well?”
“Oh, do say so, Gabriel,” Delilah murmured, batting her eyes madly at him. “Several of your former companions are visiting, and I know you’d bring our little celebrations up to a whole new level.”
Francis Chilton was still stroking her arm. The flesh on his hand was softer than hers, almost like an infant’s. Pampered and white, yet she knew, with the instincts Old Peg had lauded, that this man was totally devoid of innocence. He flashed a triumphant smile at Gabriel. “What say you, Gabriel? Wouldn’t you like to renew old friendships, enjoy old pastimes?”
“Let her go, Francis.” The words were quietly spoken and absolutely deadly.
Francis released her, seeming at ease, strolling back to the settee he’d shared with Jane. Jane sprang up when she saw him approach, practically hiding behind her brother’s tall form, and Francis’s pale mouth curved in a mocking smile. “You’d think we were monsters of depravity, dear Delilah,” he addressed his wife in mournful tones. “We simply came over to offer our hospitality to these two orphans of the storm, and they act as if we’re wicked degenerates with evil on our minds.” The notion seemed to amuse him. “We’re just being neighborly, dear Gabriel. Surely you can’t fault us for that.”
“I’m certain my sister and Miss Penshurst are touched by your concern, Francis, but I’m more than capable of seeing to their welfare. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Elizabeth sank back into the shadows of the cool, damp room, watching the two of them in fascination. Their polite sparring hid something much deeper, much darker, and she found herself wishing she’d never made the dire mistake of coming into Yorkshire.
“You are, indeed, Gabriel. Entirely coincidental that you happened to time your visit with ours, isn’t it? But what a happy coincidence.”
“Actually, Francis, I watched your approach. Very little happens here at the manor that I’m not aware of. For instance, the loss of the Twickham girls was unfortunate, but not to be wondered at, considering someone or something chased the elder one through Hernewood a few nights past.”
“Really? How edifying. I must admit I’ve never had a taste for servant girls, but chacun a son gout. Perhaps you’re less fastidious than I am?”
“You haven’t seen Violet Twickham,” Gabriel replied in equally dulcet tones.
Elizabeth felt Francis’s cold eyes slither over her. “No, you prefer to bed the bourgeoisie, do you not? Personally I always felt the middle classes to be extremely tiresome in the long run. Scarcely worth the bother.”
“I feel quite confident that this is the safest place for my sister and her cousin,” Gabriel said.
“I bow to your superior wisdom. Does that mean we can count on you to join our little party? I could console myself with the loss of the two young ladies if you would honor us with your presence.”
“Oh, do say you’ll come, Gabriel,” Delilah murmured, cozying up to him, and Elizabeth surveyed her with strong dislike.
Gabriel looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his beautiful face. “Certainly,” he murmured. “I’ve been finding country life a bit tedious recently. The lack of interesting company is appalling.”
“Join us for dinner?” Delilah begged prettily.
“It would be my honor.”
“But Gabriel, you were promised to us,” Jane said swiftly.
“You are obviously in no condition to entertain, dear Jane,” Delilah murmured. “I’m certain you’d want your brother to come when you have servants back in place. In the meantime we’ll do our very best to keep him amused.” She looked up at him, smiling prettily, and Elizabeth felt a strange, stinging pain somewhere near her heart.
“We were counting on his help,” Jane said stubbornly.
Gabriel looked up from the enchanting prospect of Delilah Chilton’s scantily clad bosom. “I’ll leave Peter to assist you. I’m sure he’ll provide much better company than I would.” He didn’t even look in Elizabeth’s direction, as if unwilling to admit she even existed.
It was the perfect di
straction for Jane. “We’ll be fine without any help,” she said grimly.
Gabriel smiled at her. “I insist.”
“There, you see, everyone’s working out beautifully,” Lady Chilton cried. “We’ll expect you at six, dear Gabriel. And of course, your sister and her little cousin would be welcome as well.”
“They will remain here. But I wouldn’t think of missing it. Let me see you out, since we’re so woefully devoid of servants,” he said smoothly, putting an arm around Lady Chilton’s slender waist and guiding her from the room. Lord Chilton sauntered after them, a slightly querulous look on his pale, powdered face. He paused long enough to sketch a slight, mocking bow toward the two women. “Your servant, Miss Durham. Miss Pennywurst.” And he was gone before Elizabeth’s muttered “Penshurst” could reach his delicate ears.
Jane flopped down in a chair, looking shattered. “They are the most repulsive people,” she said in a faint voice. “I cannot imagine what Gabriel sees in them.”
“Perhaps he’s just bored,” Elizabeth suggested, trying to be fair.
“Gabriel is never bored. Not unless he’s forced into company with people like the Chiltons. I do not know what possessed him to accept their invitation.”
“I would think he was trying to distract their interest in you.”
Jane looked surprised. “Why would they be interested in me? We have absolutely nothing in common, I despise them, and no one in society has ever sought out my company. Why would the Chiltons?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said.
“I think perhaps it was you they wanted,” Jane said thoughtfully. “You’re very pretty, you know. For a moment I was afraid Lord Chilton was going to take you away by force.”
“Don’t be absurd. If Lord Chilton had the slightest interest in me as a female, I would be utterly astonished. And if he’d tried I would have kicked him.”
“Then perhaps they were just finding a way to make Gabriel bow to their wishes. They’ve been pursuing him since they got here, and barely paid the rest of us any heed. Though I do believe Father has spent a small amount of time with them. I can’t imagine what they would have in common either.”
“It scarcely matters,” Elizabeth said. “I’m certain your brother will enjoy Lady Chilton’s company, and we won’t have to suffer them.”
“Perhaps,” said Jane, unconvinced. “Perhaps.”
“I KNEW WE would persuade you,” Delilah purred as Gabriel handed her up into the carriage.
“You’re very astute,” he replied dryly.
“Really, old man, we had no evil designs on your sister. She’s really better suited for the stable than the drawing room, don’t you think?” Francis drawled.
Gabriel cast him an even glance. “Are you disparaging my sister, Chilton?”
“Heavens, no! Marvelous creature! I’m merely praising her equestrian talents,” Francis replied with just a trace of nervous malice.
Gabriel felt a small amount of gratification. The Chiltons had won this round, but he wasn’t going to let them have it scot-free. “I was certain you meant no disrespect,” he said, letting a faintly threatening note slide beneath his polite tone.
“Of course not, of course not,” Francis stammered, his smug smile fading.
“But what about that other creature, Gabriel?” Delilah said. “Your sister’s little friend, with that ridiculous hair. She’s quite pretty, actually, if you don’t mind redheads.”
“Can’t abide ’em,” Francis murmured with a shudder.
“Then you’ll leave her alone.” It was a mistake, the moment Gabriel said the words, and he could have cursed himself. It was never wise to underestimate one’s enemy, and the Chiltons were undoubtedly his adversaries.
He’d been ready to break Francis Chilton’s hand when he saw him stroking Elizabeth’s arm. Her pale, frozen face had been scant comfort—at least he knew she wasn’t enjoying it.
Such possessive rage was entirely new to him and unsetting. If the Chiltons had known of it, he would have been at a definite disadvantage. They already knew he was vulnerable when it came to his sister. They would make endless profit of his foolish weakness for Elizabeth Penshurst.
“Leave her alone, Gabriel?” Delilah cooed, a flinty look in her huge eyes. “Why would you care?”
He made a swift attempt at recovery. “Simple manners, Lady Chilton. She’s staying in my father’s house, and in his absence I feel responsible.”
Delilah smiled. “Is that all? I wonder.” She leaned forward and pressed her full red lips against his, while her husband watched with no expression whatsoever. “If you want to keep them safe, you’d best prove it to me. A bientot, Gabriel.”
He stood on the steps of Hernewood Manor, watching as their phaeton moved swiftly down the curving drive. And then he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a cambric handkerchief, and wiped her kiss from his mouth.
He glanced back at the house. He could see Jane in the front window, watching him, a worried expression on her face. She wasn’t best pleased with him, he knew, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Chiltons had played their trump card, and there was no way he would allow his sister or Lizzie anywhere near them. He knew what sort of entertainments they had planned, and he preferred that his sister never even guess such things existed.
As for Lizzie, it didn’t bear thinking about. He needed her safely back home, out of harm’s way. Out of his way.
For the time being he’d simply keep the Chiltons and their ilk at bay. But the sooner Elizabeth Penshurst returned to her safe, happy home in Dorset or Devon or wherever, the happier he’d be.
Chapter Fourteen
“WELL,” SAID FRANCIS Chilton, absently picking at the nonexistent spot on his lemon-satin breeches, “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”
Delilah was leaning back against the squabs, a discontented pout on her full, lovely lips. He had always enjoyed seeing her pout, and her current sullen expression was particularly gratifying, since she’d managed to get Gabriel to kiss her. “Well enough, I suppose, if it weren’t absolutely clear that he’s besotted with that ugly woman.”
“He’s besotted with his own sister?” Francis said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “But how deliciously perverse of him. There might be hope for him after all.”
“Don’t be absurd. I mean the girl. Pennywurst.”
“Actually her name is Penshurst,” Francis murmured. “And I hesitate to tell you, but she’s far from ugly. As a matter of fact, the more I see of her the more I realize she’s quite charming in a rather out-of-the-ordinary sort of way. I might be tempted to try her myself if I grow too bored.”
“She’s the wrong gender, dearest,” Delilah cooed. “Though if you’re waiting for Gabriel, I promise you I’ll have him first.”
“You do have a singular advantage. Merriwether tells me that even in his wildest days Gabriel showed no interest in broadening his horizons to include men. Pity. I don’t intend to give up my pursuit, but I bow to your undeniable attractions.”
“You were ever a realist, my dear.”
“In the meantime, what are we going to do about our little celebration? Merriwether and his friends failed to secure that serving wench, and now everyone in the area is being ridiculously careful.”
“It was ill-judged of you to send them after her,” Delilah said. “I thought we’d agreed on a well-bred virgin, not a randy housemaid. Offering her might have brought us even more misfortune.”
“She wasn’t going to be our sole offering, Delilah,” Francis said patiently. “I’m afraid the wicker cage is a bit larger than I anticipated, and there’s no time to make a smaller one. It can hold three, perhaps four people, and I do dislike wasting space. A well-bred young virgin, a lusty trollop, perhaps a strong young boy would be a fitting tribute.”
/>
“We’re having enough trouble finding a well-bred virgin,” Delilah reminded him.
“At least it keeps you safe, dearest. You’re neither chaste nor particularly well-bred.” He was rewarded with a particularly icy smile.
“We have a few days. I haven’t given up hope of some of our absent friends,” Delilah murmured after a moment. “These things have a way of working out. We’re dedicated to the premise of offering a sacrifice of ultimate value. I have ideas along that line.”
“As do I,” Francis purred.
“And we have Merriwether and his coterie to assist us. We must be patient, dear Francis. If Gabriel refuses to join us, then perhaps he might have to go, much as the idea grieves me.”
“Let us not be too hasty. He has more knowledge of the Old Ways than any other man alive.”
“But he doesn’t share that knowledge,” Delilah said, her delicious pout becoming more pronounced. “I am really most displeased with him.”
“Enough to change your mind about bedding him?” It was a foolish question, and Delilah’s sly smile was answer enough.
“I expect that once I manage to seduce him he’ll prove much more amenable to our way of thinking. He would be unlikely to deny me anything. My lovers seldom do.”
“There are times, Delilah, when you truly frighten me. Just promise me one thing, my pet. Endeavor to arrange it so that I might watch.”
Delilah’s perfect brow smoothed of all its discontented wrinkles as she considered Gabriel’s eventual fall. “Have I ever denied you anything, my love?” she asked in a throaty voice.
He smiled sweetly at her. “I am absolutely quivering with anticipation.”
She kissed him with her full, pouty lips. “I doubt either of us will be disappointed.”
NOW THAT SHE knew where she was sleeping, Elizabeth was far from happy. It didn’t matter that the cavernous room was dark and warm, and it didn’t matter that there was no clue to the nature of the boy who had grown up in its gloomy confines. It had been Gabriel’s. Gabriel had slept in that bed, presumably on the same mattress with the same dark bed hangings. Gabriel had stood at the windows and looked out over the thick woods to the towering ruins of the old abbey, just as Elizabeth did.