She had delayed too long in her answer, she discovered, when Randolph reached past her and picked up the book. His frown became amazement as he asked, “History of Norfolk? I had no idea you were interested in Norfolk.”
“I am interested in all sorts of things.”
He paged through the book. “This appears to be dry reading for a young woman.”
Linnea bristled, but said nothing. It would be just a waste of her words. Randolph believed she was like his sister who never had bothered her mind with anything that would not assist her in the pursuit of a titled husband with plump pockets. Even if she had not chanced upon Nils and wanted to learn more about the city he was from, she often wandered through Papa’s book-room to find something to read. As her father shared her eclectic interests, she usually found something intriguing to peruse.
“I have never been to Norfolk,” she replied when he glanced up from the book. “I thought I might learn more about it, so I will enjoy it more when I visit it.”
“You are planning a trip there?”
“Not just now, but it would be nice to go there some day.”
His nose wrinkled. “I have been to Norfolk. There is nothing there that would interest you.”
“I would like to determine that for myself.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. His dark eyes snapped with fury. She could not blame him, for she had been less than polite since the beginning of his call. If she could explain why she was so at odds with herself, he might understand. But she must stay mum about Nils until she was sure that he was out of danger from those who had hurt him.
“Randolph, I—”
“You must excuse me now. I said I could stay but a short time.” He set the book on the table and walked toward the door, then looked back at her. “Do think more about our plans, Linnea. The announcement has been delayed too long already.”
Taking a deep breath, she knew she must be honest with him...at least about his desire to marry her. Randolph deserved that. “Before you go, there is something we need to speak of.”
“Of our wedding?”
“No...yes...I mean, we need to speak of your offer for me.” Flinging out her hands, she said, “You can see how the house is all in an uproar over Dinah’s wedding. It is all any of us have been thinking about. I do so love to see Dinah and Lord Simmons together. They are so happy.”
“Yes. That is quite obvious.”
“One could only wish that everyone was that happy. Love is most contagious, infecting those around us like a sickness.” She hesitated, gauging his face. Did he guess what she was finding difficult to say?
He laughed. “I have seen some men who look as if they need to recover from some hideous plague when they fall in love.”
“But so often a sickness passes quickly, and it is as if it never had been.” She waited, holding her breath.
When his eyes grew wide with consternation, he grasped her hands. “Linnea, do not even jest about such a thing. My heart remains constant, and I hope that yours will as well.”
“Randolph—” It was the last word she had a chance to speak as he spoke on and on about his hopes for their future.
When he finished with, “And our match will heal so many of the wounds left by my father’s death,” Linnea knew she could not break his heart anew. Not today. Not when she had been left so bewildered after discovering Nils Bjornsson on the shore that her words might be unthinking or downright callous.
As he took his leave, along with her reassurances that she would take more time to think their plans over, she sat on the closest chair and ran her fingers back and forth on the navy satin. Randolph should be everything she wanted in a husband. He was intelligent and hard-working. He respected his own family heritage and hers, for both families had been long settled here by the time of William the Conqueror. She had seen his kindness to her when he did not take her to task for her lack of manners during their brief conversation.
But he was not the man of her dreams! How ironic that her dreams of falling in love had apparently led her to fall in love with the wrong man!
He could not understand her longing to go beyond Sutherland Park and London. Her love of reading baffled him. His favorite topics of conversation were his investments and his country estate. If she had to endure another long explanation on how he was so unlike his spendthrift father, she was certain she would have to leave the room. He had not changed. Only her silly dreams of being in love had. It was as if she were waking from what had seemed to be a dream come true to discover it was not.
“Another thing...”
At Randolph’s voice, Linnea looked up, astonished. She came quickly to her feet and hoped that her face revealed her amazement rather than her dismay that he had returned. “Yes?” she asked.
“I did not want you to believe I was distressed with you.”
Was his smile as insincere as hers? She could not ask that. Instead she said, “Of course not, Randolph.”
“You know I have much affection for this family and you. I do understand your reluctance to do anything that you believe will detract from your sister’s nuptials, and I know as well that...”
Linnea stopped listening as she heard a soft hiss. Looking past Randolph, who was continuing with his long-winded attempt to smooth any mistakes he might have made by being honest with her—a fact that was more irritating than his words—she struggled to keep her face even. Jack was in the doorway, motioning to her.
She waved him away. Smiling, although she was sure Randolph would sense that her expression was even more feigned than before, she clasped her hands in front of her as Randolph kissed her cheek. She saw Randolph’s amazement—and Jack’s—that she was allowing Randolph such a liberty when she had followed Society’s dictates and kept him at arm’s length until now, but she would do just about anything to get Randolph to take his leave when Jack looked so frantic.
What could be wrong?
She did not worry that Randolph would take notice of Jack loitering in the hall. Since she had known him, she had discovered how Jack slipped in and out of too many other places with ease. He would not be caught now. Waiting impatiently for the stableman, she sat on the very edge of a chair. She did not want to appear as if anything were amiss if someone passed by.
“My lady?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Come in. Come in.”
He shook his head. “Not here. We need to speak...We need to speak elsewhere.”
Linnea did not have to ask if someone was nearby. Jack must have seen someone approaching. “I need to retrieve my slipper from where I lost it in the kitchen,” she said.
“I believe I saw it in the stillroom.” His eyes twinkled for a moment, then grew serious again.
“Then I shall retrieve it from there right away.”
“Yes, my lady.” He scurried out of the room.
She wondered how he failed to run headlong into one of the footmen who seemed to appear in the doorway at the exact second Jack rushed out. Keeping her curiosity to herself, she nodded when the footman told her that Lord Sutherland had asked him to arrange for Scamp to be cleaned. She thanked him.
Linnea tried to keep her own steps to a sedate pace as she walked out of the parlor and toward the stairs. Her hopes of reaching the kitchen without delay vanished, however, when her sister burst out of a room on the other side of the gallery.
Dinah rushed to her and clasped her hands. “Can I congratulate you now, Linnea?”
“Not yet.”
Rolling her eyes, Dinah sighed. “Linnea, Lord Tuthill is clearly devoted to you. Anyone can see that he simply adores you. How can you let him linger on and on without giving him your answer?”
“I believe Mama has enough to fret about with your wedding. She might have apoplexy if she had to plan two at the same time.” She edged toward the stairs before her sister guessed that her thoughts were not on Randolph but on another man. Her hand clenched on the railing along the edge of the galle
ry. Thinking so much of Nils Bjornsson was absurd. Certainly once her curiosity was soothed about him and how he had come to be here in such poor condition, she would be able to put him from her mind.
Dinah frowned. “Linnea, you know that is not the reason you delay.”
“And what do you believe is the reason?”
“Linnea!” her sister gasped.
Realizing that her tone had been too harsh with her impatience, Linnea let her shoulders ease from their inflexible line. “Forgive me, Dinah. I did not mean to put the question to you like that. I am a bit disconcerted.”
“By Randolph?”
“Yes.” That was not false, for Randolph’s call had led to this uncomfortable conversation.
“If you do not wish for him to court you—”
“I did not say that.”
“No, but I suspect you wish to. Once you were so excited each time he came to call. Are you having second thoughts about this match?”
Linnea wanted to focus on one problem at a time. “You are right that I am having second thoughts.” She did not admit that they were the same as her first thoughts. Wishing she could take her sister into her confidence now, but fearing what might be amiss in the water garden pavilion, she soothed her sister’s disquiet quickly.
She went down the stairs at the swiftest pace that would not call attention to her. Hearing barking as she neared the kitchen at the far left wing of the house, she was not surprised when Scamp came running toward her. She smiled weakly when she bent and took her missing slipper from his mouth.
“Thank you, Scamp,” she said, patting his silken head. She raised her head and saw Jack watching from the stillroom door. She came to her feet, her smile gone, because his face was somber.
The collection of aromas from within the small room reached out to draw her past the door. When Jack closed it behind her, she was not surprised. The tension that tightened every motion he made warned that something was terribly wrong. Leaning back on the table where Cook made preserves and distilled potions and possets from the herbs in the kitchen garden, she asked, “What is it, Jack?”
“‘Tis him, Lady Linnea.”
“Mr. Bjornsson?” There would be no other reason for Jack to wear such a grim expression.
“Aye, he was thrashing something terrible in his sleep. Olive is worried that he would hurt himself or go mad. Then—”
“I shall go right out there.” She glanced toward the door. “Thank you for saying nothing in front of Randolph.”
Jack scratched the side of his nose. “I did not know if you had told his lordship about what you had found, so I did not want to say anything in his hearing.”
“That was a good decision.”
He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but there is more.”
“More?”
“Olive and I both had to leave him alone—”
“I thought you understood that you should not leave him by himself.”
“Aye, but ‘twas just a moment, and he was asleep and...” He motioned for her to come closer. In a whisper, he added, “I don’t know how anyone in his poor condition could wreck everything in the water pavilion.”
“Wreck?”
“The bench is in pieces, and the pallet torn.” He swallowed roughly. “There was blood on the floor.”
“Mr. Bjornsson?”
“Don’t know. Can you come now, my lady?” Again he hesitated, shuffling his feet, then asked, “What did Lord Sutherland have to say about Mr. Bjornsson?”
“I have not had a chance to speak with Papa.”
“An alert should be sounded.”
“Papa is on his way to town. I will speak to him after I come with you to see the pavilion. By then, he should have returned.” She shivered, trying not to imagine what she might find there. She pulled on her broken bonnet, stuffing her hair beneath it. She glanced around the stillroom. Once she determined how Nils was hurt, she would come here and get what she must to ease his pain.
A fine mist was rolling in off the sea as she hurried with Jack toward the water garden. Skipping across the stones on the driveway, for she had left her other slipper in the parlor upstairs, she hurried after him. Jack’s shoulders were still as rigid as the branches of the trees edging the steps down toward the pool.
Linnea did not pause as she went down the stone stairs to the garden or up the stone risers in the pavilion overlooking the water. Untying her bonnet ribbons, she grimaced when a piece of the brim fell off in her hands. She tossed it into her bonnet and set it on the newel post at the top of the steps.
In horror, she stared at the destruction. The bench was in pieces on the floor as if someone had taken an ax to it. Two of the shutters had broken slats. She tried not to think of how they looked as if someone had been shoved viciously against them. Feathers from the pallet rested everywhere, and two blankets were torn into shreds. The canisters had been burst, and water pooled in every low spot on the floor. Her stomach cramped when she saw the pinkish shade of one pool.
Olive rushed to her. “He just woke, my lady.”
“Just woke?” She grasped Olive’s hands. “Then who did this?”
“I am not sure.”
“But how can he be awake already? I thought you put a tincture of opium in his water.”
“I did, but I must have misjudged the amount. He is a brawny man.” She sighed. “I was not certain he would wake when he seemed to be so lost in his own world.”
“What do you mean?”
“He spoke strangely. I could not understand anything he said.”
Linnea clasped her own taut hands together. “That is because English is not his customary language. He speaks another.”
“Oh.” Olive’s eyes grew round, and Linnea guessed her maid had never given that idea even a thought.
“How long did you leave him alone?”
“Just moments, my lady. I went out to call after Jack to bring more bandaging from the stable. I don’t know how anyone could have slipped past me. When I came back...” Olive shuddered and wrung her hands in her apron.
“Lady Linnea!” The command rang against the roof of the water pavilion. “I will speak with you now.”
Sending Jack back to the stillroom with a list of supplies, including hops that she could put in a tea to bring sleep to Nils, Linnea skirted the puddles to go to where Nils was struggling to free himself from the blankets that had become tangled around him. “What happened?”
“Do you need to ask?” he spat back. Grasping the knife he had kept by his side, he held it up. The tip was stained crimson. “I told you Kortsson was near.”
“But no one saw him enter the pavilion.”
“He was here.”
“Mayhap you thought you saw him here.”
“And attacked a shadow of my mind?” He laughed coldly. “Do you think I could do this damage when you have me bound up like a swaddling babe with all these bandages?”
“You are badly hurt.” She frowned as she tried to loosen the blanket from around his hurt shoulder. He must have been tossing about like a small ship on a wild sea. That suggested he had been in the midst of a brain fever. Yet, he seemed quite sane now. “Be still. You are making things worse.”
“Things cannot be worse,” he growled.
“You could be dead.”
“Then I would not be here. I would be—” His hand fisted on the floor when she drew the blanket from around his broken arm.
“I am sorry. I do not mean to hurt you more.”
Nils raised his head. “Why are you sorry?”
“I just said why. I did not want to hurt you more.”
“Why not? You are my enemy, too.”
“You are mistaken. I have no reason to be your enemy. You should concentrate on finding your true blood-enemy.”
He flinched, then moaned.
“Do not worry about your enemies,” she continued as he looked away. “I shall make certain that you are not left alone again until you can de
fend yourself. If you would agree to go to the house...”
“You see the damage here. Think what Kortsson would do in your father’s house where there are no warriors. The blood I drew from him before he fled would become a river as he slew your family. At least he knows I am here and not within your father’s house.”
“I shall make every effort to see that you are safe. There will be someone with you always, and I shall make sure that Jack has a gun.”
“A what?”
“A weapon that expels a ball of lead at a high speed.”
He smiled grimly. “I would like to see this weapon, but I doubt you will trust me enough to do that before you turn me over to your king.”
“Why would I do that?”
He locked eyes with her, and she nearly recoiled from his fury. “Because I am of the Norrfoolk and you are of Britannia.”
“Norfolk is part of England. It is—”
“Not Norfolk. Norrfoolk.”
Linnea frowned. His pronunciation of the two words was just about the same, but by straining she heard the slight difference. “What is Norrfoolk?”
“You don’t know?” His laugh was taut. “Do you think me a daari that I would believe that?”
“What is a daari?”
“I told you before. It means a fool.”
“Would you speak English, for heaven’s sake?”
“I do not intend to make your interrogation of me simple, my lady. I will not be your way of gaining favor with your king.” He arched one tawny brow. “Now I understand why you wish to safeguard me from my blood-enemy. The prestige you gain your clan by turning me over to the king will be great.”
She laughed as icily as he had. “Keep talking like that, and I will believe you are as mad as the king.”
“Do not compare me to that cur.” He pushed himself up to sit, although his bronzed face became even grayer with pain. “Ask me what you will, my lady, but know that, as a Norrfoolk, I shall never bow my head to King Ethelred.”
My Lord Viking Page 5