Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  He chuckled. Tynweith just stared at him. He was now too angry to speak.

  Lord Peter cleared his throat and looked away. “Frankly, I can’t stomach another visit to her bed, but I don’t want to offend her. As I said, I feel sorry for her—and she is the Duchess of Hartford. No use making her my enemy, heh?”

  Tynweith gripped his hands so tightly together he wondered if he would break a bone. Killing the man was very appealing. He could strangle him in short order. Castration with his penknife would be even more enjoyable.

  “You are telling me this, because…?”

  Lord Peter shrugged. “She mentioned you last night. I was eager for something to talk about. Casting around really, hoping to get something to spark the fires, as it were. Said I’d come up, and wanted to keep my word—she hadn’t invited me for tea obviously—but I was having trouble, um, rising to the occasion, if you know what I mean. The first night had been a lark—and I never turn down bed games when I’m offered a chance to play. And it is a rare treat not to have to pull out—”

  “Lord Peter!” Tynweith took a deep breath. He would not shout.

  “Yes, well, she said there was something between you once. Ancient history, I think she said, but she didn’t sound like she meant it. So I thought, as soon as I’d managed to come and knew I didn’t want to come there again, that maybe you’d be interested in taking my place. For old time’s sake, perhaps?”

  What to say? Tell the whelp in no uncertain terms that a gentleman never discussed his conquests? But he was happy for the information—a specific part of him was rigid with delight. And even happier that Lord Peter thought Charlotte still entertained some feeling for him.

  “You will, of course, not repeat any of this. I am certain the duchess would not care to know she had been the topic of such a conversation. And Hartford most especially would not like to hear he had been cuckolded.”

  Lord Peter sat up straight. “Of course not. That’s why I sought you out here, in private. Knew it was a topic of delicacy. Didn’t want the thing bruited about.” He leaned forward. “So, will you do it? Will you take charge?”

  Tynweith nodded. “You can put your mind at rest on that score. Don’t give it another thought. I will handle the duchess.”

  Lord Peter looked visibly relieved. He stood and straightened his waistcoat. “I believe I’ll play least in sight so I don’t have to explain anything.”

  “I understand. If the duchess should ask, I’ll say you are indisposed. Shall I have a tray sent up for dinner?”

  “I thought I might go off to the tavern in the village.” Lord Peter grinned. “Find a bite to eat and a barmaid to satisfy my other hungers.”

  Tynweith nodded. He’d be happy to have the man elsewhere. “I hear Harriet is very accommodating.”

  “I thought you’d know. I’ll be off then.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll head back to Town in the morning. Wouldn’t want to risk making her grace uncomfortable with my presence and, well, there’s not much here to amuse me any longer.”

  “Of course. Shall I have your things sent on to the inn?”

  “That would be splendid.” He let himself out.

  Tynweith hardly noticed the door closing.

  So, Charlotte still had feelings for him, did she? But was Lord Peter a good judge? Doubtful. Still, she had responded to him in the shrubbery yesterday.

  She had such an iron hand on her emotions—well, she had never had them fully awakened. He would love to waken them for her.

  He leaned back in his chair. Tonight. He would go to her tonight. He would show her what could be done in bed between a man and a woman. It would be his pleasure.

  He began to plan how exactly he would woo the Duchess of Hartford.

  Chapter Ten

  “Meg!” Lizzie grabbed Meg’s arm as she walked past the library.

  “What is it?” Meg stepped into the room and looked around. “Have you been hiding among Lord Tynweith’s books all afternoon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever for?” Meg looked at Lizzie as if she had lost her mind.

  Lizzie shrugged and glanced away. “I don’t wish to encounter Lord Andrew alone, that’s all. He made me extremely uncomfortable at luncheon.” And she didn’t wish to encounter Robbie, either. What could she say to him after last night? Especially since she still didn’t know how she felt.

  “What did Lord Andrew do?”

  “Nothing so bad—just his usual unpleasant innuendo. But Robbie looked ready to attack him. Fortunately, Mrs. Larson stepped in with a distraction.” Lizzie frowned. “Didn’t you notice?”

  “No. I missed luncheon.”

  Meg had an odd note in her voice. Lizzie looked at her more closely.

  “That’s right, you did.” Was Meg blushing? Why would she be embarrassed about missing luncheon? It was an informal gathering. Many people skipped the meal. Hmm. Many people including Parks. “I don’t remember seeing Mr. Parker-Roth at table either, now that I think about it. I don’t suppose you know where he was?”

  Meg’s blush darkened. “We were examining an interesting plant specimen in Lord Tynweith’s garden. We lost track of time.”

  “Oh? Was that the only thing you were examining?”

  Meg examined her finger nails. “Of course. What else would we be looking at?”

  What else, indeed? Give Meg an interesting plant specimen, and she was lost to all other considerations. A mere male had no power to distract her—yet she did look distinctly distracted.

  “You didn’t stray into the left side of the topiary gardens, did you?”

  “Of course not. We did not venture into those gardens at all. I do not care for topiary work—it’s plant mutilation, in my opinion. It draws people’s attention away from the vegetation itself. If a man wants statues, he should hire a sculptor and leave the shrubbery alone.”

  “I see.” Lizzie did not want to hear another of Meg’s tirades on garden subjects. What she did want was to get away from Lendal Park and the house party. She felt extremely agitated at the moment.

  “Meg, would you like to go for a walk? Perhaps we could preview the ruins we’ll be visiting tomorrow. I’ve been told they are not too far.”

  Meg brightened. “Perhaps there are some interesting plant specimens there—maybe even remnants of the castle garden. I will go get my bonnet.”

  “Meg, we do not have all day to examine the plants, you know. You will be able to do only a quick survey. We have to be back before dark—and I do want to see the buildings.”

  Meg grunted in a fashion Lizzie took to be assent.

  Soon they were walking briskly over the lawn. Lizzie smiled and lifted her face to the sun. It felt so good to stretch her legs. She thought better when she was in motion. Something about the repetitive action of putting one foot in front of the other freed her mind to consider thorny issues.

  The thorniest issue at the moment was Robbie. Did she love him enough to give up motherhood?

  She glanced over at Meg. The other girl was surveying the ground around them with keen interest.

  “Meg, you won’t desert me for a clump of weeds, will you?”

  Meg tore her eyes away from the vegetation. “Of course not.” She grinned. “Unless it is a very interesting clump.”

  “Meg…”

  “All right. I promise to stick to you like a burr. I just hope I don’t encounter any irresistible specimens.”

  Lizzie sighed—and then smiled. A small breeze tugged at her bonnet. She missed the rambles she used to take with Meg when they were girls. They’d walked for hours, all over Alvord and Knightsdale—until Meg’s attention was caught by an interesting bit of greenery.

  Why couldn’t life be simple like that again? It wasn’t as if she wanted something unusual. She just wanted what most women wanted—a husband, a home, children. Normal things. Everyday things.

  She followed Meg up a slope. Trying to keep pace with her was making h
er breathless. She’d spent too much time in London while Meg had been wandering the fields of Kent.

  Lud! She wanted to stay in Kent, too—to stay near her home, near James and Sarah and Will and the new baby. If she married Robbie, she’d still be close to them. But if she married another man, she might have to live in Cornwall or Cumbria or Cardiff. Lord Malden, her most recently rejected suitor, had his principal seat in Yorkshire far to the north. Lord Pendel, another former candidate for her hand, lived most of the year in Lancashire. If she’d married either of them, she’d not have seen her brother and his family for months.

  Robbie was the perfect choice. Except he wasn’t.

  She walked faster, but she couldn’t outwalk her thoughts.

  Meg waited for her at the top of the hill.

  “Meg, do you ever think of marriage?”

  Meg laughed. “Of course I do. I let myself be dragged up to London for the Season, didn’t I? It’s a little hard to avoid the subject when you’re surrounded by so many young misses scrambling to catch a husband.”

  “True.” Lizzie stepped around a pile of horse droppings. “But doesn’t it make you sad, the thought that you might move away from your father and sister?”

  “Not really. In fact, after the interminable dinner parties Emma orchestrated for my matrimonial benefit last year, I’d consider myself blessed to be beyond her reach.”

  “You don’t mean that!”

  “Well, no, I suppose not—though if you’d asked me right after one of Emma’s parties….” Meg grinned and shrugged. “I don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll visit Emma from time to time. And I imagine I’ll have my own children to keep me busy. That’s usually the way of it, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Surely Meg was correct. Lizzie had just never thought she’d have to consider moving away.

  She had never thought she’d have to consider a life without Robbie. Could she do so?

  Which was more important—Robbie or children? How could she decide? It was a terrible choice to make.

  “Your stepmother, Mrs. Graham—I mean, Mrs. Peterson now—she never had children, did she? Does she regret that, do you know?”

  Meg walked a moment or two in silence.

  “I think she wishes she could have had children, but she is too wise to bemoan something she could not change.”

  “But if she had married someone else….”

  “Who’s to know what would have happened? She may well have been barren. She assumed she was.” Meg shrugged. “She loved Mr. Graham and had twenty years of happiness with him. Now she has my father and Emma’s children to dote on. She’s happy.”

  “True.” But would she be happy? Lizzie did not know.

  And if she would be happy, could she convince Robbie? He was not inclined to offer for her at the moment.

  She and Meg walked along a path up through a small grove of trees. As soon as they came out into the sunlight again, Lizzie saw the ruins. The gray stone castle stood a little above them in the middle of a broad field. It was much smaller than Alvord. Its stone was dark with age and lichen, and one of the towers had lost a few of its crenellations.

  “How old do you think it is?” Meg asked.

  “Several centuries. It was built in 1372.”

  Meg laughed. “How do you know? Has Tynweith had some penny guide books printed up? I’ll have to complain—I did not get mine.”

  “You’d only be interested if he were describing the local flora. No, I did not get my information from our host. Someone left a history of the castle on a table in the library.”

  “I would not have thought we had any avid students of history among our number.”

  “I’m not certain history was the topic attracting this reader, Meg.”

  “No? What then?”

  “The book was marked at the page describing the castle dungeon.”

  “Really? I’d love to see a dungeon. It’s not every day one gets the opportunity. Does Alvord have one? You’ve never shown it to me.”

  Was Meg daft? Lizzie stared at her friend. She was now trying to examine the raised castle portcullis.

  Well, perhaps she was letting her imagination run away with her. Now that she considered it, there was no reason to attach any special significance to the fact the book was marked at a particular page. The reader might just have been called away for a game of billiards at that point. And really, she didn’t know for a fact any of the present guests had been reading the history. It was possible Tynweith’s staff wasn’t terribly conscientious. The book could have been sitting out for weeks.

  She took a deep breath. She was not going to worry—it was too beautiful a day. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the sun was warm on her face. She watched a hawk float high over the field. She would love to climb the battlements and look out over the countryside.

  “Alvord did have a dungeon at one time,” she said. “My grandfather turned it into a wine cellar.”

  “So this will be a treat for you, too.”

  Treat was not the description that came to mind, but she would try for some of Meg’s enthusiasm.

  “Right. A treat.”

  They passed through the gatehouse into a large courtyard. Weeds grew everywhere. Lizzie noticed Meg’s eyes widen. She grabbed her arm.

  “You promised to stay with me—stick to me like a burr, I believe were the exact words.”

  “But Lizzie…”

  “No. If I let you go off among the greenery now, I won’t see you again. Come on. You wanted to explore the dungeon, didn’t you?”

  “I’m willing to give that up.”

  “Well, I’ve conceived a burning desire to see the view from the battlements.” Lizzie tugged on Meg’s arm. “Come on. You can look at the vegetation when we finish with the buildings. And we’ll be back tomorrow with Mr. Parker-Roth. Then you can argue with him over every little leaf and flower.”

  “All right.” Meg came along, but kept looking longingly over her shoulder. “I don’t know why you are so keen on heights.”

  “And I don’t know why you are so keen on weeds. Those are probably just the same things that grow at Lendal Park.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  Lizzie pushed Meg through the door to one of the towers. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The air was damp and chill. She shivered.

  “Not much to see here,” Meg said. She walked over to inspect a tattered tapestry hanging on one wall. “Looks like moths have gotten to this.” She looked down at the floor. “And mice.”

  “Here are the stairs to the battlements.” Lizzie crossed the leaf-strewn floor to where a dusty suit of armor guarded a set of steps and started up the circular staircase. Meg hung back.

  “Are you certain you want to go up there?”

  Lizzie stopped at the first turn.

  “Yes.” Suddenly she wanted desperately to be up on the battlements, high above the countryside. She had loved to go up on Alvord’s and feel the wind in her hair. She needed that feeling of freedom now. “Come on.”

  “There are an awful lot of stairs.”

  “Meg, you cannot be dissuaded by a few stairs. You are not a delicate flower. You just hiked here from Lendal Park without tiring in the slightest. I could barely keep up with you.”

  “Well, I’m tired now.”

  “Meg…”

  “Oh, very well.” Meg climbed up after her. “This looks like something Mrs. Radcliffe would include in her novels. Are there ghosts, do you suppose? Do you hear any wailing or rattling chains?”

  “Of course not. The history did say the castle was haunted, however. One of Lord Tynweith’s ancestors lost his head, literally, and some of the former inhabitants of the dungeon have stayed on.” Lizzie put her hand on the stone wall. The steps were uneven, worn down by centuries of use.

  “Hmm. It’s a shame Tynweith let the place go to ruin.”

  “You can’t blame the present Lord Tynweith, Meg. Once the manor house was built, the fam
ily abandoned the castle.”

  “Why?”

  “I assume because it was small and drafty.”

  “Small, drafty, and haunted.”

  “I imagine the small and drafty aspects were the most persuasive.”

  Lizzie reached the door at the top of the stairs that should open onto the battlements. She pushed. It did not move.

  “What is it?” Meg crowded up behind her.

  “Hold on. The door’s stuck.” Lizzie had climbed all those stairs—she was not going to be denied her prize. She put both hands on the door and shoved. Nothing.

  “Perhaps if I help?”

  “There’s hardly enough room for me to stand here, Meg. With the curve, the top step tapers to nothing. If you try to stand on it, you’ll tumble down to the ground and break your neck.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I do. Give me a moment.” Lizzie took a deep breath.

  “Throw your shoulder into it.”

  “I intend to.”

  Lizzie threw herself against the door. Her shoulder ached; the door remained closed. She tried again. Still nothing.

  “We are coming back tomorrow with some sturdy men,” Meg said. “One of them will be able to open the door. There’s no need to bloody yourself today, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie had to admit defeat. “All right. Let’s see if we can find the dungeon. If I understood the text correctly, it should be at the bottom of this tower.”

  They went back down, hugging the outside wall. Lizzie would hate to meet anyone coming the other direction—there simply was not room on the inner side of the stairs for a foot to fit securely. They passed the suit of armor on the ground floor and kept going.

  “Are we almost there?”

  “We’re here.” Lizzie stepped off the staircase to face another thick wooden door, much sturdier looking that the one at the top of the tower. “But I’m afraid we’re out of luck again.”

  “Don’t give up without trying.” Meg stepped by Lizzie and grabbed the bolt that secured the door. She pulled. It slid back easily.

  Lizzie and Meg stared at the door and then stared at each other.