Rebel Marquess

by Amy Sandas

  The marquess, to his immense credit, gave a polite acknowledgement of her impromptu invitation with a short nod but promptly advised, “I am afraid I have longstanding plans I cannot break.”

  Lady Terribury was obviously disappointed but did not press the matter. Eliza murmured a quiet wish that her mother might simply be grateful with having the marquess at their dinner table and leave him alone for a little while.

  Rutherford hid his annoyance well. He was adept at portraying just the right amount of attentiveness to offset the obvious boredom in his expression. His focus shifted occasionally from one speaker to the next and he gave the appropriate replies and meaningful queries when engaged in a discussion.

  As expected, the others at the table were far too involved in espousing their own perspective to notice how Rutherford’s tone was often more dry than the topic warranted or that his gaze slid toward the clock on the mantle approximately every twelve minutes. But Eliza noticed these things.

  The poor man was having a dreadful time.

  Eliza sighed in silent sympathy and wondered why he hadn’t just come up with an excuse to avoid this dinner altogether.

  So far, she had managed to keep her hand with the ring on her lap under the table for the whole meal and she now thumbed the gold band absently. She didn’t expect to be able to hide the stunning gift from her family indefinitely, but she hoped to perhaps get through dinner so the theatrics that were sure to ensue could be a bit more contained. The ring, however, was a solid reminder to Eliza of Rutherford’s devotion to seeing that their engagement be taken at face value. While she appreciated his attentiveness to their plan, she was becoming anxious over how far they would have to take the farce.

  She reminded herself to try to claim a private moment to ask him if he had made any progress in finding a way out of their predicament. Of course, as soon as the idea of being alone with the marquess entered her mind, the focus of her thoughts took a quick turn and she recalled with shivering sensitivity just how close he had come to kissing her before dinner.

  At least, she suspected he had almost kissed her. Surely, she had not misinterpreted the rush of intimacy that had enveloped them behind the vase of feathers. She slid a covert glance down the length of the table.

  Lady Terribury was chatting away once again, but this time the marquess was not even attempting to show interest in what she had to say. Rather his full attention was focused directly on Eliza.

  Now, in the instant her eyes met his, she became aware of a dozen things at once, including that the attention of everyone else present seemed suddenly occupied elsewhere. Her heart inexplicably doubled its rhythm. The marquess’s eyes had the ability to darken with his mood, and she was becoming accustomed to identifying his state of mind by the minutest changes in his expression. His current expression told her he might actually be thinking about the same thing she was.

  A blush warmed her cheeks, but she found she could not shift her gaze.

  While she watched, his eyelids lowered just a fraction over his gaze and his brows furrowed with subtle consternation. Then he looked away and the strange intimacy of the moment was broken.

  Yet, the warm weight of the ring on her finger felt like a charm tethering her to the marquess with a persistent intuitive awareness.

  It was not an unpleasant feeling.

  “Well, I for one am shocked such villainous creatures freely roam our country highways.”

  Judith’s dramatic declaration jolted Eliza from her internal musing. Her sister’s statement had been loud enough to draw the attention of everyone present.

  “What’s that, darling?” Ashdown inquired from the other end of the table with a lazy sort of interest.

  “I was just telling Regina about the run-in Mother, Lizzie and I had with highwaymen in Essex. A dreadful experience,” she added with a delicate shudder for good effect.

  “Quite so,” Lady Terribury agreed with a nodding of her head. “I daresay I shall never forget it.”

  The subject had come up nearly every time Judith and her mother were in the same company. Neither lady seemed inclined to let the experience drop. Eliza desperately wanted to look to see if the marquess revealed any evidence of his involvement by his reaction to the new topic, but she was wary of drawing any undue attention to him. Her longing to confirm her suspicions warred with the unexpected desire to protect him from being discovered.

  “A highwayman?” Belinda asked with wide-eyes. “How frightening.”

  “It was terrifying,” Judith replied.

  “It was alarming to be sure, but hardly terrifying,” Eliza interjected. “The thieves were only interested in our valuables, so there seemed to be little danger as long as we cooperated.”

  She really hoped Judith and her mother would not be encouraged to launch into a full recounting of the tale. Every time it was told, the incident grew more and more perilous as details were added.

  Unfortunately, her comments went unacknowledged. Lady Terribury leaned across the table to reply to Judith, “Terrifying does not even cover it, my dear. I feared for our very lives. The experience was…it was…”

  “Practically ordinary,” Eliza countered as her mother paused to catch the breath she lost in her remembered distress.

  Lady Terribury continued as if Eliza hadn’t spoken, pressing her hand to heart in melodramatic fashion. “Well, I can barely put it into words of proper description.”

  “Indeed,” Judith agreed with a lovely flutter of her hands, as if she were frightened by the very memory. “Being the victim of such marked violence is simply overwhelming to a person’s overall constitution. I sincerely hope none of you ever have to experience such a thing for yourselves.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes.

  “How many men were there?” Lord Sheffield asked in grave concern. “Were you physically harmed?”

  “Of course not. They simply took what jewels we carried and rode off.” Eliza’s words were once again unheeded. She knew she should be accustomed to how easily her family took no notice of her participation in their discussions, but it still didn’t cease to amaze her how adept they all were at ignoring her. It had started when she was young and had constantly struggled to follow the unwritten law that dictated a child never spoke unless spoken to. In order to finish a conversation around the young and precocious Eliza, her family had learned to ignore her interruptions. Of course, that had been a very long time ago. Unfortunately, the practice endured.

  She huffed in annoyance, and since no one was paying her any mind anyway, she risked a glance toward the marquess and was surprised to find him watching her once again.

  His steady stare was cool and composed, giving no hint at all that he might have a personal investment in the conversation. She nearly snorted for having been so concerned for him. Either the man was innocent of her suspicions, which she truly felt was not the case, or he had no remorse for his behavior as a common thief.

  As she stared back him, she realized there was something else in his gaze. A sort of layered amusement.

  “It was alarming how swiftly the men came upon us,” Judith explained for everyone’s rapt interest. “Three of them rode in waving their pistols, shouting orders and threatening us with devastating consequences should we fail to do as they instructed.”

  “Do not forget to tell them all how the leader wore a pale pink cape and made us all call him Captain Peony,” Eliza muttered half-heartedly. If they were going to exaggerate the details of the incident, they could at least be a bit more creative.

  As expected, no one took note of her colorful comment.

  No one except the marquess, that is, who gave a brief twisting of his lips before he lifted his wine glass for a drink.

  “One of the filthy thieves held a gun to the driver’s head while another felt free to scandalize us with disgusting attempts to seduce us into relinquishing our every possession.” Judith shuddered delicately. “He was extremely thorough.”

  “Do not fret, my dear,
the cads shall not get away with such indecency,” Ashdown said with a crafty curl of his lips.

  A shiver of alarm raced down Eliza’s spine. Normally, she wouldn’t put much stock in anything Ashdown said since he exaggerated nearly every truth for added effect. But there was something in his smug expression that caused a flash of concern.

  “You sound confident,” Rutherford remarked.

  The comment was uttered with such casual disinterest that no one else was likely to think it of any particular significance. But Eliza heard a wealth of inquiry in the comment and was grateful Ashdown proved to be quite willing to expound on his declaration.

  “Though the robbery was properly reported to the authorities, I have taken it upon myself to hire a man to conduct a thorough investigation of the incident. And though I really shouldn’t discuss an investigation in progress, I suppose I can share some of the information that has been relayed to me on the subject.”

  “Do not leave us in suspense, Ashdown,” Regina insisted. “Tell us what you know.”

  Ashdown took a moment to meet everyone’s eye around the table, as if to assure they all understood it was he who possessed the crucial information and no one else.

  “My man suspects the thieves who accosted you on the road in Essex were not your typical manner of highwayman.”

  Eliza almost forgot herself and rolled her eyes. If her suspicion was correct, Lord Ashdown had just uttered an understatement of epic proportion.

  “How so?” Allegra asked with wide eyes, as intrigued by the mystery as everyone else seemed to be.

  Ashdown gave a sly grin. “Now, this is based on various bits of information I will not bore you with now, but…the investigator has voiced a suspicion that the thieves are not of the professional sort.”

  Sheffield snorted. “What exactly is a professional thief, do tell?”

  “What he meant is, the thieves who accosted Lady Terribury and my wife do not seem to have appeared before or since that single incident,” Ashdown explained after sending Sheffield a scathing glare. “At least one other guest from the Earl of Blackbourne’s that weekend also reported being robbed by men of the same description. The thieves seemed to have specifically targeted travelers from that party.”

  “The thefts could just as easily be completely random,” Eliza suggested. “The road is a common route to and from town, and many of Blackbourne’s guests were traveling that night. That there were multiple victims from the same party does not imply pre-meditation.”

  Unfortunately, no one seemed very interested in exploring Eliza’s suggestion and her comments were brushed aside.

  “How dreadful,” Belinda exclaimed.

  “Indeed,” Ashdown agreed. “Not only that. There is a possibility the thieves may even be associated with the Blackbourne estate.”

  Several people gasped at the suggestion. Eliza, who never had the marquess far from her field of focus, watched as Rutherford’s cool manner turned stone cold.

  “A bold accusation,” the marquess said stiffly, but Ashdown was not perceptive enough to note the hard edge to Rutherford’s voice.

  “After a very long interview,” Ashdown went on, “the driver admitted the horse of one of the thieves looked familiar. He believed he had seen it in the village when he had been sent there on an errand.”

  “But that proves next to nothing,” Eliza argued. “That the highwayman may have acquired their mounts at the nearby village does not connect them to the Blackbournes.”

  “The evidence sounds terribly circumstantial,” Lord Sheffield interjected with a heavy frown. “You will need a lot more than that if you intend to point a finger toward the Blackbournes.”

  As if suddenly realizing a significant acquaintance of that very family sat right across the table from him, Ashdown actually blushed and bowed his head contritely as he slid his gaze toward the marquess. “Oh, please do not misunderstand me. I certainly would never expect the Blackbournes themselves to be involved. The clues simply suggest the thefts may be somehow connected to their party or were perhaps perpetrated by someone originating from the vicinity of their estate.” Ashdown paused and then added dramatically, “From wherever they hail, the criminals will be apprehended. I will see to it myself.”

  “Here, here,” Lord Palmer cheered as he raised his glass.

  Others joined in the toast as well. To the casual observer, Rutherford displayed nothing more than slight disinterest in the discussion of highway thieves. But to Eliza’s critical eye, tension was obvious in every move he made. His jaw tightened and released as he clenched his teeth and the sharp glint in his gaze suggested his thoughts were anything but restful.

  She was desperate to understand what might drive him to engage in the dangerous and criminal act of highway robbery. And until she did, she was determined to keep her suspicion of his involvement a carefully guarded secret.

  “My word, Lizzie! Where on earth did you get that?”

  Eliza blinked at Allegra’s stunned exclamation, coming as it did so loudly from nearly the full length of the table. The dinner party erupted with gasps and a flurry of questions. A few people jumped to their feet to get a better look. Eliza followed everyone’s shocked gazes to where her hand rested on the table and realized with an audible groan that she had forgotten to keep the ruby ring hidden.

  Rutherford went straight from Terribury House to his club on St. James. He was nearly certain he would find Whitely there. Lady Whitely was expecting their fourth child and preferred her husband out of the house as much as possible during her final weeks of greatest discomfort. Whitely’s incessant humor had a tendency to wear harshly on thin-spread nerves.

  And since Lady Ashdown was otherwise occupied with her family, Rutherford figured there was a good chance Grimm would be there as well.

  He was not wrong on either count, and he wasted no time in calling the two gentlemen away from their card game. Barely thirty minutes later, the three of them were safely ensconced in Rutherford’s den at home where they could be confident they would not be overheard as they discussed the problem of Ashdown’s investigation.

  “Bloody ludicrous,” Whitely exclaimed after throwing a slug of whisky down his throat. “Ashdown wouldn’t dare cast blame upon the Blackbournes, even indirectly.”

  “On the contrary, it seems he would,” Rutherford replied drily.

  Grimm slumped in his chair with a look of mixed guilt and dejection. “This is all my fault.”

  “No time for self-pity, mate.” Rutherford’s voice was stern. “The plan was my idea after all.”

  “What if we have Simmons turn in the stolen items now, rather than waiting as we had planned?” Whitely suggested.

  Rutherford shook his head. “The return of their trinkets might turn Ashdown from his goal, but there is no guarantee it will be enough. For some reason, the man seems to see this as a heroic quest.”

  “Well, we cannot leave it as it is, can we?” Grimm asked. He had been running his hands through his hair and the ends stood up from his scalp in a way that visually mimicked the panic in his voice.

  “Of course not,” Rutherford agreed as he warmed his brandy in his palm. “We simply have to alter the course of the investigation.”

  “Quite right,” Whitely agreed, his green eyes keen with excitement as he sat forward in his chair. “Another robbery.”

  “What?” Grimm nearly choked. “You are daft.”

  “Whitely is right,” Rutherford stated, having come to the same conclusion on the drive over from Terribury House. When Grimm released a dramatic groan, Rutherford caught his friend’s worried gaze. “I do not worry so much about Blackbourne, but would you like to face Lady Blackbourne’s wrath when she discovers how our little escapade cast suspicion upon her household?”

  Grimm’s eyes went comically wide before he hung his head with a shudder he failed to suppress. “No. I would rather face my father.”

  “Right then,” Whitely said with a grin, rubbing his hands together in antici
pation of another caper. “What is the plan?”

  “We will have to hit a mark far enough from Silverly so as to eliminate the suggestion of an association there. But must also stick to a similar modus operandi to leave no doubt we are the same thieves from the previous incident.”

  Grimm groaned and slumped even lower in his chair. “This is going to be impossible.”

  “Stop being so bloody fatalistic,” Whitely snapped in a rare show of irritation. “We are all doing this to save your pale hide, so you had better start offering a more positive contribution to this conversation or I will haul you to your father’s carpet myself.”

  Grimm looked for a moment as if he might protest the harsh set down, but then he shook himself and sat straighter in his chair. “You are right. My apologies.”

  Rutherford cleared his throat to draw their attention back to the matter at hand. “Now, do either of you know of an upcoming party being held some distance from Silvery, though not too far, boasting a guest list of similar wealth and possession?”

  Silence reigned for several moments as each of the men searched their thoughts. Whitely claimed the opportunity to pour a couple more slugs of whisky, causing Rutherford to raise his brows and comment sardonically, “We would be better served if you kept your wits about you, Whitely.”

  “Yes, well, the missus refuses to let me touch her these days. If I do not get myself properly sauced before going home, I am unable to sleep next to her without getting my ears boxed.”

  Rutherford shook his head in sardonic incredulity. Whitely’s marriage was one of those shocking unions that involved healthy doses of love and passion. Though Whitely would always be a relentless flirt, his heart and devotion were firmly planted at his wife’s feet.

  “Good God,” Grimm exclaimed, “you actually sleep with your wife? I wouldn’t be caught dead bedding down in the same wing with mine. I cannot wait until she is gone visiting relatives next week. Oh, bloody hell!” Grimm bolted forward, nearly falling from his chair. “I’ve got it.”