by Louise Allen
‘I know.’
The shock kept him in the chair, knocked the breath out of his chest, the words from his mouth. He stared at his father, stared into the amber eyes just like his own and fought for some control. ‘You knew. When did you know?’
‘A month or so after you had gone, when William had stopped ranting and posturing and playing the little gentleman and Bella had stopped pretending to be a wronged woman and had dispensed with the crocodile tears and had got a wedding ring on her finger. Your brother never could tell a lie with any conviction, not and make it stick.’
‘You knew. You have known for eleven years. Did you bother to look for me?’ Pride kept his tone ironic, kept him from getting to his feet and hurling things about the room.
‘Yes, I knew. And I searched, believe me. But by that time they were married. My son and heir was married to the daughter of some jumped-up Whitby coal merchant, they had tricked me into agreeing to a marriage William knew damn well I would forbid, and you had vanished off the face of the earth. In the end I put it about that you’d run off to join the army, at least that preserved the family name from scandal.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Jared drawled. ‘I was worried that I might have caused some embarrassment. Heaven forbid.’
‘What would you have had me do?’ his father demanded, red in the face now.
‘Look harder? You accused me of having no honour whatsoever, you took Bella’s word against mine that I had seduced her with no intention of marrying her and you believed William when, for the first time in his life, he showed an inclination to do something involving self-sacrifice.’
He stood up, now that he had the urge to smash the furniture under control, and began to pace up and down the room. ‘How are you? Don’t pretend with me, this must have hit you hard.’
The Earl passed his hand over his eyes. ‘It is a nightmare. He was fit, healthy – and then he was gone.’ He shook his head, a wounded, confused bull. ‘I am Huntingford and I will not give way to this grief.’
The defiance affected Jared as tears would not have done. He turned towards the desk, his hand held out, and his father flinched. It stopped him dead in his tracks as no word could have done.
‘Are you frightened of me?’
‘You come in here with that damned sword at your side and every excuse in the world to use it.’ His father stood, suddenly every inch the Earl of Huntingford. ‘I would not blame you if you did. I thought you dead but, yes, I should have looked harder, I should not have given up and told myself that the family name and avoiding scandal was more important than my son.’ He turned, hands open, defenceless. ‘I would not blame you,’ he repeated, the words almost a whisper. ‘And I do not know you, the man you have become. My son.’
Jared drew the rapier from its scabbard and laid it down on the desk, the hilt towards his father’s hand. ‘You wounded me more than that ever could. Hanging on to hate is not going to heal it. I do not know if I can forget, I have no idea whether anything will ever be easy between us and this is complicating my life almost more than is tolerable, just at the moment. But I am Ravenlaw now and so I suggest we try and make this work.’
The Earl picked up the weapon, flexed his wrist and tried the balance of it. ‘A fine blade.’ He was recovering his composure again, his breathing was slowing. He handed it back to Jared. ‘Just who are you now, Jack?’
‘Jared Hunt the swordmaster hired by the late Viscount Northam. I am hunting his murderer.’
‘For one moment I believe he thought I was there to kill him.’ Jared unbuckled his sword belt, dropped the rapier on the table within reach and collapsed into the biggest, deepest chair the turret hideaway possessed.
‘But that is ghastly.’ Guin took the chair opposite. ‘Does he understand that you forgive him now?’
The look Jared gave her was decidedly jaundiced. ‘Do I, I wonder? I understand him and that’s the next best thing, I suppose. I was always the unsatisfactory son and he was stuck with his heir marrying beneath him, as he thought. He reasoned he couldn’t add scandal to that, conveniently assumed I had run away to join the army and tried not to think too hard about the situation. If my mother had been alive she wouldn’t have let him get away with it, of course, but she had died two years before. Now he has sent to Bow Street and to private investigators in an attempt to track down his lost heir. He has been spared that expense, at least.’
‘He must be devastated by William’s death.’
Jared nodded. ‘But he is keeping it all inside. He was always good at maintaining the façade, his composure. He hasn’t lost that.’
‘Reminds me of someone,’ she murmured. ‘And now that he has you?’
‘Now he wants to give me everything William had – the allowance, the run of the London house, the hunting lodge. Thankfully the law does not permit me to marry my brother’s wife or no doubt he would like me to do that as well in order to tidy up all the loose ends.’
‘Surely not, if she has only borne daughters,’ Guin commented, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically bitchy.
‘There is that.’ Jared smiled for the first time since he had returned.
‘Is there a Dower House?’
‘No. Widows were always accommodated about the place – it’s ludicrously large and there are suites in the most unlikely corners. Father says she is hinting at him buying her a house near Scarborough, which seems an excellent idea to me.’
‘Provided she does not find herself on trial for conspiracy to murder,’ Guin said tartly. She should be pleased that Jared’s confrontation with his father had not been as dreadful as she had feared, but her nerves were jangling and she was finding it difficult to hold on to any sense of humour. She could just imagine the Earl’s reaction to her as his next daughter-in-law: twice widowed, no family or connections to speak of, no dowry, trailing clouds of scandal – and scandalous prints – behind her.
But it seemed she could not have Jared any other way than by marriage if his determination to do the right and honourable thing persisted and he would not take her as his lover.
‘And what does your father want from you?’
‘For me to cut my hair, stop this nonsense of working for my living, stop associating – ’ There was a breath of a pause ‘– with murderers and come home to live.’
‘He has heard about me, hasn’t he? The London papers reach Yorkshire the next day, I suppose.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. He was as wary as if she was sharpening a long knife in front of him, Guin realised. ‘And he has not disinherited me of all that he might, as I had expected.’
‘So you are a desirable marriage prospect.’
‘Yes.’ Jared’s eyes narrowed.
‘You may relax, my lord.’ His gaze sharpened. It must be the first time anyone had addressed him so. ‘I do not want to marry you, I have not changed my opinion since we discussed this last night.’
‘Why not?’ He leaned forward, wrists on his knees, intent.
‘We desire each other, we have from the beginning. But that is all that it is – and it is no basis for a marriage, especially an unequal one. I would like a nice conventional affaire, you apparently would not.’ She shrugged, sure she was hiding the insecurities – He does not want me any more, he has had what he wants, he has realised what a quagmire I have drawn him into… ‘Besides, if you are going to cut your hair, I may not desire you any more.’
‘More than likely. Good thing that I have no intention of doing so.’
‘You want me to desire you? You will not make love to me but your pride insists that I pant and pine, is that it?’ She bounced out of the chair, propelled by indignation. Men had all the power, all the arrogance, all the insolent nerve in the world, while women –
A pair of hands bracketed her waist. ‘Stop flouncing.’ He moved like a ghost. The ghost of a cat.
‘I am not – What are you doing?’ She did not turn around. Did not move. Through the sensible cotton of her morning dress his hands
were warm and sure and felt very permanent, anchoring her there.
‘Being seduced.’ His hair brushed her ear as he bent and kissed the angle of neck and shoulder, the one inch of exposed flesh. ‘I am hoping you will pant and pine. Guinevere, I want to do the right thing, I want to treat you as you should be treated. I should be strong enough, but it seems I have sufficient self-control about everything else but you when you tell me you might… pant and pine.’
‘I would like to be treated as an adult woman who can make a decision about what is right for her.’ She tipped her head a little so it rested against his.
‘Touché. Je cède à toi.’ I yield to you. ‘You are right and I should not presume to make your decisions for you.’
‘Especially when they happen to coincide with what you want, deep down,’ she said.
‘There is that.’
I love you, Guin thought. I love you, but this time I am not going to snatch at love or security. She had eloped with Francis without thought or restraint and she had seized the lifeline that Augustus had offered her without worrying about anything else – how it might make him an object of fun as a doting old husband, that it might cause a rift with his family. Neither had happened, but that was luck, not her own forethought. Jared might seem calm and in control but he must be in turmoil inside. That was no condition to make a decision about something as vital as marriage.
Her gown gaped suddenly and she realised those clever fingers had not been caressing her, they had been dealing with fastenings and ties. His hands came round to cup her breasts, the heat streaking down as he toyed with her nipples through the fine linen of her shift.
‘Shouldn’t we be planning?’
‘Later.’ Jared said, still behind her as he dealt with her corset strings. ‘Much, much later.’
Chapter Twenty Three
‘We have circumstantial evidence but no proof,’ Jared said, much, much later as they lay on the chaise and watched the sky darkening into evening through the turret window.
‘A confession would be very handy.’ Guin played with their hair, plaiting a lock of hers and two of his together, admiring the way the black offset the golden brown. ‘But even if we can lay hands on Thomas he would not be so stupid as to put his own neck in the noose by talking. He tried to lure me out for a ride in the gig, you know. Then he accompanied Faith and me into the garden – both times armed with a club. I can’t help wondering what he would have done if the gardener hadn’t arrived just then.’
Jared closed his eyes for a second. When he spoke his voice was harsh. ‘Don’t think about it. He is never going to be able to harm you again. What we need is a confession before witnesses. A magistrate or two, for example.’ When she relaxed he took the plait from her and used the tip of it to tease her nipples, then bent to lick the tense points.
‘Where are we going to get two magistrates from?’ She let her hand slide down over his chest, enjoying the sensation of hair on her palms, then over his admirably flat belly, dipping her finger into his navel until he caught her hand.
‘Witch. You should allow your poor exhausted lover to rest before making more demands on him.’
‘You are as exhausted as a racehorse that has been for a stroll before breakfast. Magistrates?’
‘My father is one. But we need more.’ He fell silent, thinking.
‘Jared.’ Guin rolled over so that she was lying on top of him, her hands crossed on his chest to support her chin as she watched him think. Although he wasn’t brooding solely on his sister-in-law. At least, she hoped not, because there was unmistakeable evidence of a renewal of interest. She took care not to wriggle. ‘Do you think your sister-in-law realises what her friend Elizabeth has been doing?’
‘I hope not. I imagine she knows that Mrs Quenten has been trying to make life uncomfortable for you, playing tricks. Bella might be amused by that.’ He shrugged, an interesting experience when he was flat on his back and she was on top of him. They were both silent for a moment, very still, enjoying it. ‘I was infatuated with her when I was seventeen: she could be the reincarnation of Lucretia Borgia now for all I know.’
‘She has certainly proved herself capable of lies and deceit to get what she wants, even at the cost of someone else. Did you see her at Ravenscar?’
‘No. I went in the back way, unannounced, and left by the same door. I do not believe that anyone but my father saw me. He will tell her though. I mentioned that I had encountered her in Whitby.’ Jared smiled again, although this time it held no warmth. ‘I wonder when he will tell her that he has invited us to stay.’
‘Us?’
‘I have explained to him that I have a obligation to you, that Lord Northam was poisoned and that the murderer is still at large. I cannot leave you and you cannot leave your houseguest, the new Lord Northam. Who, as my father so rightly pointed out, you should not be entertaining without a chaperone. You shouldn’t have me in the house without one, come to that.’
‘I know,’ Guin said, mock-mournful. ‘Look where that leads.’ She wriggled experimentally and was rewarded by a growl.
‘So we are all going to decamp to Ravenscar where you may be chaperoned by dear Bella and where Faith and Dover can insinuate themselves below stairs while Theo and I do whatever gentlemen do at house parties in the depths of Yorkshire.’
‘Haven’t you been to any house parties?’
‘Not conventional ones, no. At the only English one I have attended someone was killed by poison – an accident – and someone was shot. Also an accident of sorts, I am glad to say, and a non-lethal one.’
‘What a very exciting life you lead. But Theo? Aren’t we putting him in more danger?’
‘He’s an adult, he can look after himself and I need his help,’ Jared said, almost absently. He was off somewhere in his head, plotting and scheming, she could tell.
A woman should know when to surrender gracefully. Guin slid off the lean body and smiled to herself when his hands tightened possessively for a moment then relaxed.
‘I will go and tell everyone to pack their bags,’ she said as she poured water into the basin and began to restore her appearance to something as unlike a woman who has spent the afternoon enjoying the passionate attentions of her lover as possible.
Jared, his eyelids at half-mast hiding the thinking process, made a noise than she recognised, that vague masculine sound that means everything from, Of course that hat looks ravishing on you to I am sure your mother knows best, dear. It begged to be answered with something outrageous, just to see if it was repeated.
‘Did you know that there is a unicorn in the library?’ Guin asked, rolling on her stockings.
Jared opened one eye and grinned. ‘That’s nice. Be careful of the horn.’ He went back to brooding.
What am I going to do without you? She tightened her garter with a jerk. Manage just as I always have. Somehow.
Ravenscar was almost a castle, Guin thought, climbing down from the carriage four days later. For some reason the play Macbeth came to mind and she dismissed it with a shiver.
‘Welcome, Lady Northam, Lord Northam.’ The Earl of Huntingford stood at the top of the flight of steps just outside the great oak doors that had been thrown open in welcome. Behind him, in the shadows, a figure in black waited.
He is so clearly Jared’s father. She went up the steps and shook hands, smiled, said all the proper things. He was bulkier than Jared, but with muscle that had been built by tough country sports and riding his boundaries, whereas Jared’s physique was the long, lean muscle and sinew of the athlete. His face was lined, his eyes pouched with, she guessed, recent grief, but like his son, he could conceal deep feelings.
Theo was at her side, shaking hands too, smiling at the woman in mourning. Jared had told him something in confidence about the rift with his father and he already knew that Bella might be involved with his uncle’s murder, but none of that showed on his face. He was all charm, the young gentleman he had been before the deaths in his family:
cheerful, sociable and, one might think, not terribly bright except at the card table and in pursuit of a pretty woman. He was already subjecting Bella to a discreet but appreciative appraisal.
‘My daughter-in-law, Lady Ravenlaw. Bella, Lady Northam, Lord Northam and, of course, you know Jack.’
‘It is so long since I answered to that name that you had best call me Jared if you want a response,’ Jared said. ‘Bella. You have grown even more beautiful with the passing of time. It hardly seems possible.’
She was lovely, Guin admitted to herself, even though the heavy mourning black did not suit her pale skin and light brown hair. The thin line of her lips as she looked at Jared and the faint frown lines between her brows were not flattering either. Had the Earl confronted the couple when he realised that he had been tricked and Jared wrongly blamed or did she still believe she had escaped blame for the cruel deception?
Faint colour came up over her cheeks. Yes, she knew and knew that Jared was aware his father understood the truth as well. ‘You were always easily impressed as a boy,’ Bella said, with a sweet smile.
They were in the hall now, a place that seemed a cross between a medieval baronial stronghold and a comfortable entranceway. There were rather too many suits of armour in corners and animal heads on the wall for Guin’s taste, but she approved the large fire and the pile of hats on the side table and the bridle tossed over a chair-back and the paintings of landscapes and horses.
Bella took her upstairs, Faith at her heels. ‘You are all in the guest rooms in the main wing,’ she said as they climbed the first flight of stairs. The staircase rose in two stages up the height of the hallway, the panelling hung with portraits and a display of weaponry. ‘I assumed the Earl would wish to install Jack – Jared – in my late husband’s rooms, but he appears to have some delicacy about that. Or perhaps he assumed that you would want chambers close together.’ The look she slid towards Guin was slyly insinuating.