The Dragon's Bride

by Jo Beverley

  Yes, in part.

  He knew he could cut through the graveyard to join the path up to the Crag, and so he took that route. As he went he found himself among the Kerslake graves. He stopped by one tiny stone recording the brief life of Samuel Kerslake, born in May 1799 and dead in June of that year. Susan’s youngest brother, with no record of his parents given at all.

  Was the infant to be re-created the Honorable Samuel Somerford, son of Isabelle, Countess of Wyvern and the Earl of Wyvern? Put like that, he could see that it would be just about irresistible to Lady Belle, no matter what David Kerslake thought.

  He wandered through the other Kerslake graves, and found one very interesting.

  The clock struck five as he let himself out through the small gate and walked the narrow path between green hedges full of noisy, nesting birds. Where the path joined the wider one he encountered a middle-aged countrywoman in broad hat and apron. It was her direct, shrewd look that alerted him to her being more than she seemed, and he wasn’t surprised when a smile lit her face.

  “Why, you must be the earl. I remember you now. I’m Lady Kerslake, Lord Wyvern. You and your family dined with us a couple of times many years ago. You’ve hardly changed at all.”

  Con felt as if no scrap of that innocent youth remained, but as he bowed he thought that such a positive statement doubtless came naturally to her. So this was the generous woman who had given a good home and unstinting love to her sister-in-law’s carelessly discarded children.

  “Lady Kerslake, I do remember. You were very kind.”

  “Oh, nonsense. A family of interesting strangers is an entertainment in these quiet parts. Are you walking up to the Crag, my lord? I’m going along that way a bit to see Will Cupper’s grandmother at the stables.”

  They turned to walk together. “Susan says you don’t plan to live at the Crag,” she said.

  “I know it will inconvenience the area, but I do have a home in Sussex. And,” he added, “Crag Wyvern is Crag Wyvern.”

  “It is, isn’t it? You know at various places along the coast the earth has given way now and then. I have thought it would be nice. But only if no one was injured, of course.”

  They shared a laughing glance that reminded him of Susan. So much of her must be from the family that had raised her—a good, solid family, all in all.

  He was wondering what effect it would have on the Kerslakes if David established a claim to the earldom. He suspected that they were not the sort of family to enjoy the attention and speculation that would have to come.

  At least the story was to their credit.

  “I gather the Crag is built on a piece of reasonably solid ground,” he said. “My relatives here have been peculiar, but not entirely crazy.”

  They had come to the stables and paused. “The first earl chose the building site, Lord Wyvern. I fear it has been all downhill since then. The lack of progeny could be seen as a sign of divine wisdom.”

  “I noticed in the churchyard that a Somerford woman married a Kerslake. Did that happen often?”

  “Not to my knowledge. They’ve been peculiar all along. That would have been my husband’s great-grandmother, I believe. A beauty, they say, but wild. The story goes that she danced herself to death by going to an assembly too soon after the birth of her third child.”

  Con sighed, looking up again at the house. “Do you think it’s impossible? That anyone who lived there would be bound to go mad?”

  Of course, David Kerslake wouldn’t have to live there if he didn’t wish to. He could build himself a house in the village here. But Crag Wyvern was still a burden any Earl of Wyvern had to bear.

  “It’s not a wholesome house,” she said, “but it’s the blood that is least wholesome, and that, thank heavens, has died out. Probably the place could benefit from some modern improvements and a lot of activity. My daughter Amelia has a great desire for you to hold a ball there.”

  “A ball! Would anyone come?”

  “My dear Wyvern! Come to see the new mad earl? Most of the county would walk there in their bare feet.”

  He laughed. “A fashionable crush should certainly exorcise some ghosts.”

  “And if you need relief, come to dinner. You and your mischievous secretary. Take potluck. You will always be welcome.”

  “And Susan?” he asked, deliberately using her first name and watching for a reaction.

  “She’s always welcome, of course.” She cocked her head, her eyes holding an appealing, practical wisdom. “You were good friends, I think, all those years ago. When we’re young we tend to take such friendships for granted, thinking the world full of them. In time we see that they come rarely in life and should be treasured.”

  He noted the message. “Thank you. I do hope we can take up your invitation, Lady Kerslake, before we leave.”

  He opened the gate for her, closed it, and went on his way.

  A rare and precious friendship. It was true, and he hadn’t considered it that way, being generously provided with friends.

  Or was he?

  He, Van, and Hawk, being so close in age, and bound together by geography, had been destined to be friends. They were bound by time and proximity, but were in fact quite different in their natures. If they’d met elsewhere—at school or in the army, for example—they might not have formed such a close bond.

  The same could be said for the Rogues. Nicholas had deliberately gathered a varied group. There were commoners and aristocrats, scholars and sportsmen, thinkers and men of action. They even had their republican rebel in Miles Cavendish, the Irishman.

  There was a strong bond, but within the group other friendships had formed. During school terms Con’s closest friend had been Roger Merryhew, who’d joined the navy and drowned within sight of England in a storm.

  And then there had been Susan.

  He and Susan could never be only friends and yet they could not be more. He’d sent that damned letter to Lady Anne. Though he’d love to wriggle off the hook now, he could not in honor do so.

  Susan couldn’t imagine where Con was. It wasn’t the housekeeper’s place to be fretting over her employer’s whereabouts, and yet she couldn’t help it. Had the letter so disturbed him that he’d ridden off a cliff?

  Then she heard that he was back safely, and soon that he was sitting down to dinner with de Vere. She tried to put him out of her mind and, having made sure all was in order for the next day, retreated to her rooms.

  Then Ada came to knock on the door and tell her that the earl required her presence in the library.

  Oh, no. Not again. Tonight she would be strong. “Give him my regrets, Ada. Tell him I’ve retired with a headache.”

  “If you wish, ma’am, but your brother’s there.”

  “David?” She stood and hastily pinned up her hair. “Very well.”

  She entered the library, wary of a trap. However, she found David there with Con. They were flipping through a portfolio of drawings they’d spread on the long table.

  “Look at these,” David said to her. “The original designs for the Crag.”

  He seemed completely unaware of any tensions or problems!

  She went over, even though it brought her close to Con. A darkly thoughtful Con. Unease prickled through her. Why had he summoned David here? What did he intend to reveal?

  “They were stained glass,” she said, looking at a meticulous design for a set of glazed doors. “And one of the crazy earls had smashed them playing a ball game.”

  She caught a look from David that suggested that he wasn’t completely unaware of tensions. Of course, she’d spilled the fact that she was in love with Con. She could only pray her brother wouldn’t embarrass her.

  Con firmly shut the portfolio. “I’ve asked you here for a reason, Kerslake. Take a seat, if you please, and you too, Susan.” He sat on one of the library chairs, looking somber, and every inch the earl.

  Susan and David sat on the opposite side of the table.

  “Kerslake,”
Con said, “Susan showed you that letter from your mother.”

  “Yes. I hope you’re not worried that I’ll try to act on it.”

  It was all Captain Drake, and bloody arrogance.

  “Not worried at all,” Con said. “In fact, I hope you will.”

  Susan looked between them. David glanced at her.

  “You want me to attempt to claim the earldom?” David asked. “Why?”

  “Because,” Con said, “I don’t want it.”

  “You look sober.”

  “I am, and damned serious to boot. Listen. Even if the earldom was the wealthiest in England, and Crag Wyvern a place of beauty and refinement, I would not want it. I am foolishly attached to the place of my birth, and my father’s title is good enough for me. I’ve accepted my duty, as we’re all trained to do, but now I’ve been presented with an escape, and with your help, I intend to take it.”

  “And without my help?”

  Susan realized that Con could use the papers without David’s consent.

  But after a moment Con said, “No. I won’t force it on you.”

  David looked at Susan again, but she had no wisdom to offer. This had taken her completely by surprise.

  “But I don’t have a drop of Somerford blood in me,” David said at last.

  “That’s not entirely true,” Con said. “You probably don’t pay attention to your familiar graveyard. The Kerslakes and Somerfords have intermarried at least once. Your great-grandmother was a Somerford.”

  “Lord, the one who danced herself to death? Mad blood, and it’s a mere drop, thank heavens.”

  “Yet probably more than I share with this branch of the family. It’s six generations since the first earl’s younger son left here and ended up in Sussex. Since then, there’s been no mingling at all.”

  David leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps I don’t want it.”

  “We could fight over it. Loser wins all.” Only a hint of humor suggested Con was joking.

  “Do I want that kind of attention? Notoriety?” David surged to his feet and paced the room. “Captain Drake should be a shadowy figure.”

  “Then be shadowy. But instead of seeking the protection of the earl, you can protect yourself.” Con put a piece of paper on the table. “Here is Isabelle Kerslake’s sworn, signed, and witnessed testimony that she married the Earl of Wyvern in Guernsey, and that her three children were all sired by him. I have already destroyed her letter.”

  David froze to stare at him. “You really do want to get rid of this, don’t you?”

  “With all my heart, but not casually. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think you would be a good ruler for this part of England.”

  David flushed slightly at that, with pride. The favorable judgment of a man like Con was an accolade.

  “There’ll be a horrendous amount of talk,” Con added, “and it will touch all your family.”

  “My family,” David said. “One reason I’m reluctant to do this is my family. Uncle Nathaniel and Aunt Miriam won’t like the fuss, but . . . I don’t like disowning Mel Clyst. I’m proud to be his son. And I certainly don’t like claiming the mad earl’s blood.”

  “Few things come without cost,” Con said. “It’s your choice. I won’t force it on you.”

  Susan thought before speaking, but then said, “Mel would love to see his son the Earl of Wyvern, David. It would be the perfect revenge.”

  “Revenge?” Con queried.

  She turned to him. “As you know from the letter, the earl and Mel had a pact. According to Gifford, the earl helped catch Mel. He betrayed him.”

  “But according to Swann, the old earl made him work very hard to make sure that Mel Clyst didn’t hang.”

  “Really?” Susan thought about it. “But of course. Death would be too easy, and would free Lady Belle to do her unpredictable worst. She probably would have marched up and installed herself in Crag Wyvern as countess. I wouldn’t be surprised if he egged her on to follow Mel. For some reason, he finally wanted to be rid of them. She did come up here after Mel’s sentencing. Perhaps to ask for help. If so, she didn’t get it, because then she took the Horde’s hoard.”

  Thinking aloud, she didn’t realize what she’d said until it was out. Perhaps it was time to tell Con why she’d wanted the earl’s money, but he didn’t seem to have noticed, and she had to remember that he was pledged to marry Lady Anne Peckworth. It would be embarrassing to be trying to gain his good opinion.

  David suddenly said, “I need time to think about this.” To Con, he said, “Even though you claim not to want any of this, I thank you for your generosity. And for your high regard.”

  He left, and Susan and Con looked at each other. Awareness of each other, of being alone together, shivered through the room. Yet neither of them moved closer, or farther apart.

  “Would it work?” she asked.

  “I don’t see why not. In addition to Lady Belle’s statement, there must be records on Guernsey. Note, however, that the foolish woman didn’t give a date. You were born when?”

  “August 1789.”

  “So sometime before November 1788—”

  “You’re not suggesting I really could be the mad earl’s daughter?”

  “Unlikely, but if the marriage was about then, you’ll probably never know.” A teasing light in his eyes made her want to throw something, but warmed her. It gave hope again of friendship.

  “I pray it was in summer. Wouldn’t it be more sensible to take a sea voyage to Guernsey in a gentle month?”

  “Definitely, but we’re talking about the mad earl and Lady Belle.”

  Susan groaned. “Let’s send immediately to Guernsey to hunt those registers.”

  “It might be easier to find the marriage certificate here.”

  “You clearly haven’t tried a treasure hunt here.”

  He looked at her, gray eyes warm. “You regard that gold as belonging to the Dragon’s Horde, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Con, but the earl broke his covenant with the Horde, so he didn’t deserve that money. It wasn’t the whole of Mel’s payments. He used to bring in all kinds of expensive curiosities to keep the earl happy.”

  “And without the money?”

  “David will have to run contraband dangerously often. There are debts, and on top of that people depend on their smuggling income. If there’s no work here, they’ll hire out to other gangs. Once allegiance slips . . .”

  “I see. Have you told him yet that half that stash of coin is his?”

  “I assumed you had.”

  She felt herself color at the memory of what she’d done to earn her half, and then she also remembered the way it had ended.

  “I’m sorry for taking offense at a reasonable question, Con.”

  “Don’t take all the blame. I wasn’t rational either. I’m not . . .” He spread his hands. “I’m not myself, which is a strange concept when you think of it, since we are what we are. I have no idea what myself is anymore, but I was beginning to find out before Crag Wyvern came crashing down on me.”

  “And I have made your situation more difficult. Perhaps it would be better if I left immediately. . . .”

  “No.” But then he looked out into nothing, a shadowy nothing. In the end he simply said, “Don’t go, Susan. Not yet.”

  He rose, and she could almost see him pulling on a calm shell with practiced ease. “Tomorrow we’ll have a hunt for those papers. By the way, a friend of mine, Nicholas Delaney, will be visiting, and will stay at least one night. I promised him the Chinese rooms.”

  “King Rogue. Was that where you went today?”

  It was intrusive, even between friends, but his retreat inside that shell seemed all wrong to her.

  He looked at her, deeply thoughtful, “You do remember, don’t you? He has a lovely home. I’d like to take you there—” After a halted breath he continued, “You’ll like him, I think. Perhaps your brother and cousin would like to join in the paper hunt. Do you have any othe
r cousins at home?”

  “Only Henry, the oldest, and he’s not one for games.”

  He’d thought of taking her to visit his friend, then remembered Lady Anne. She longed to go closer, to help him, but that way lay disaster.

  He suddenly fixed her with his silvery eyes. “Come to my room again, Susan. For nothing this time. We’d be careful.”

  Her mouth dried. “No need to be careful if it’s nothing.”

  He smiled. “For everything, then.” But the smile didn’t warm the shadow in his eyes.

  “It wouldn’t be right, Con.”

  “Oh, yes, it would.”

  She wavered, almost a physical wavering toward him, which she fought to resist. She wouldn’t even mention Lady Anne, for that might make it seem like a contest between them. “You’d regret it later.”

  He began to come around the table to her. “Regrets are hard to judge ahead of time. Have you noticed that? I have deeply regretted not forcing you to see sense eleven years ago.” He was on her side now, and coming close, and she couldn’t make herself run.

  “Do you regret last night?” he asked.

  “Only the ending of it,” she whispered. “But—”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The first joining of open lips conquered her resolve and melded her to him. When their lips finally parted it took all her strength not to say the fatal words, I love you. She gazed at him, tempted almost beyond will. Who could resist a tempest . . . ?

  Then she realized that someone was tapping on the door.

  Eyes met in guilt, and then they stepped apart. He went to open the door. Jane stood there, eyeing them suspiciously. “You’ve a visitor, milord.”

  “Who?”

  “Says his name’s Hawkinville. Major Hawkinville.”

  Susan’s first alarmed thought was that it was a new, higher-ranking Preventive man, but then Con said, “Hawk,” and she remembered that this was one of the other Georges.

  Here?

  Now?

  A blessed interruption, but she wasn’t sure she could cope with any more shocks and surprises, not with her body still seething with forbidden passion for Con.

  Chapter Twenty-four