The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set

by Chasity Bowlin

  “I have made a list of names that appeared as payments… Whether these represent individuals that might have some claim to the estate or simply private debts held by the previous earls, I cannot say but we shall find out. In the meantime, I feel we’ve been studious enough. I cannot look at another barely legible page and I daresay you cannot either.”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “It feels as if I’ve all the sand of Egypt in my eyes at the moment.”

  “Then we shall return to this thankless task later, and for now, we shall go pay a visit to Mary. Tomorrow, I will ride to Fort William and pay a visit to the solicitor who contacted me regarding Kinraven. He may have access to more information regarding the various branches of the family tree and who stands to inherit.”

  “I will accompany you,” she insisted.

  “I can be there and back by tomorrow night if I go alone,” he said. “If you accompany me, it will be a two day journey at minimum. Please, remain here and I will attend to this,” he urged.

  A sense of foreboding overcame her, but she nodded. She’d had no visions, no clear portent of danger. Her fear could well be a product of everything that had occurred thus far rather than any real danger that she sensed. “You promise to be back by tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, and furthermore, I intend to send Mrs. Agatha on errands to the village tomorrow that will keep her occupied and out of the house for most of the day. As for Fergus, I intend to send him on a journey to Edinburgh.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “He will be inquiring at an agency to hire a skilled gardener and gamekeeper. That task should not rouse too much suspicion and it will have the added benefit of keeping him away from you and away from John and Mary while I’m gone,” Spencer replied.

  Larissa’s eyes widened as other possibilities entered her mind. “And while they’re away from the house, I can search their rooms!”

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “What if you were discovered?”

  Excited at the prospect that they might finally uncover some truly useful information, she replied, “Who will be here to discover me? They will both be gone! Spencer, this is an opportunity that we will not get again… If there is something that they are hiding, let me take this chance to discover it!”

  “And if there are other servants who are assisting them? What then?” he demanded.

  “Then you should give most of the servants their half days tomorrow… a benevolent gesture so they might enjoy the break in the weather and visit their families,” she said. “Spencer, you must see that we cannot allow this opportunity to pass!”

  “No. If they return and discover you there—.”

  “What will they do? Besides, I’ll have Dorcas here with me to assist. She can keep an eye out and warn me if anyone returns!”

  “Dorcas will be so deeply in her cups she won’t even be able to hold her eyes open! Larissa this is foolish and I forbid it!”

  Anger washed through her. “Forbid? You haven’t the right to forbid me anything!”

  His fists were clenched and that same muscle worked in his jaw as it always did when he was angry. “We will discuss this later… when we have both had a chance to calm down.”

  “I still need to identify the markings on the pouch and determine what the intent behind its contents are,” she replied. It was an abrupt change of subject but an effective peace offering.

  “Let us go see Mary and then if you feel the need to abuse your eyes more, I will at least keep you company.”

  Larissa nodded her agreement and they left the library together. As they strolled toward the kitchens and the small rooms there that were occupied by their patients, Larissa felt the stares of many of the servants. It could have been her own guilty conscience, but she didn’t think so.

  “I think Mrs. Agatha has been quite free with her description of this morning’s events,” Larissa muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I ran into her as I was leaving your room,” she whispered. “She was very disapproving of my … appearance.”

  He frowned. “Why would she have been up that early and in that area of the house?”

  “She’s your housekeeper. She may go where she pleases and no one, especially none of the other servants, would dare to question her,” Larissa pointed out. “We may never know why she was there unless she chooses to tell us.”

  “You do realize that if the servants are aware you spent the night in my chamber, Katherine and Finella will know as well.”

  Larissa inhaled sharply. “I am aware. I think it best if I do not join you for dinner tonight. I will take a tray in my room.”

  “No. Taking a tray in my room is precisely what led to my being poisoned with Devil’s Strumpet or whatever it was!”

  “Devil’s Trumpet,” she corrected, enunciating with care. “You’re as bad as Dorcas!”

  “No one is as bad as Dorcas,” he retorted just as they reached the door to Mary’s sickroom.

  “Hush! She’ll hear you,” Larissa admonished. “And then we’ll never stop hearing her!”

  Spencer knocked at the door and the subject of their conversation called out for them to enter. Dorcas was seated beside Mary’s bed on a borrowed chair. The maid opened bleary eyes and when she saw Spencer, she looked away and began to sob.

  “Mary, you’ve no reason for tears,” he said.

  “I’ll be sacked… I didn’t know, m’lord.”

  “I believe you, and you will not be sacked. There will be work here for you as long as I am here,” he vowed. “But I need information from you. Tell me about Fergus. What do you know of him?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, m’lord!”

  Larissa stepped forward then. “How long has Fergus been here? Has he always worked at Kinraven?”

  “Oh, no, miss! He come here just before the last earl… well, ’fore he passed.”

  “Who hired him?”

  “Miss Katherine, I believe. She said she’d lured him away from a fine house in Edinburgh,” Mary answered. “Though I don’t know when she’d have stayed at a fine house in Edinburgh. She only went there for a few days when the last earl passed and before you were located, my lord.”

  Spencer nodded. “I see. And why did Katherine go to Edinburgh, Mary?”

  The maid blushed. “She was fair furious, m’lord! Claimed that she had a legitimate claim to the title and that it ought to be hers. I don’t know anything about it, other than that.”

  “Thank you, Mary. That’s very helpful,” Larissa responded. Spencer was lost in thought, obviously considering the implications of Katherine’s involvement. Did she want the title badly enough to kill for it?

  “John woke up today!” The maid offered, shyly. “Only for a minute, he couldn’t say much, but Seamus seemed to think he had his wits about him. ’Tis a good sign, right, miss?”

  “I believe it is a very good sign, Mary. I will continue praying for his full recovery… and yours. You’ve both been through quite an ordeal. He was very brave to search for you in such dark and frightening places.”

  Mary’s blush deepened. “He’s a very good man.”

  “He is,” Larissa agreed. “You could do far worse.”

  “He could do far better,” the maid said and ducked her head, blushing furiously.

  During the night, Spencer had revealed the young man’s confession, that he’d intended to ask for Mary’s hand, but as Spencer was lost in contemplation of his cousin’s potential perfidy, he said nothing. Larissa elbowed him sharply. “You don’t agree with that do you, Spencer? That John could do better than Mary, here?”

  He blinked at her, and then realization dawned. “No. Not at all. John has expressed his admiration for you, Mary… and it is well deserved.”

  “Well, it isn’t exactly a romantic admission, but admiration is the foundation for so much more,” Larissa said smoothly, while she glared at Spencer. “We’ll leave you to rest now.”

  After they’d lef
t the room, she turned on him. “You should not have spoken to her of admiration. Clearly, if he intends to marry her, his feelings go far beyond that!”

  “My feelings for you are far beyond that, I have expressed my desire to marry you and you labeled it admiration,” he protested.

  Behind them, Gertrude dropped the bowl of potatoes she’d been prepared to peel. They rolled willy-nilly over the kitchen floor as she gaped at the two of them. Larissa sighed. “Could we discuss this privately?”

  He opened the door that led into the hall which was quite deserted. “This is private enough. What would you have had me say to her? He awoke for a moment today, but the extent of his injury, his ability to support a wife, to live any semblance of a normal life is yet unknown. Should I give her hope only to have it dashed?”

  “No, but surely you could have offered her some measure of warmth. Something to indicate that he thinks of her more fondly!”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean ‘why’?” she asked. “Because the poor girl has been through a terrible ordeal and she needs something to hope for!”

  He looked at her then, his gaze steady and bold. Larissa felt it all the way through her, as if he was peeling back the layers and staring right into the heart of her.

  “This isn’t about Mary,” he said. “This is about you. What did you hope for? After I found you at that posting inn and took you to Briarwood, what hopes did you have?”

  She shook her head. “None. I couldn’t allow myself to have them… it’s different, Spencer.”

  “Because Mary is a servant and you are gentry?” he demanded.

  She drew back as if he’d struck her. “No! Because… because no one will point at John and whisper about who had her first! I knew, from the moment Moreland dragged me to his bed, I knew that I would never have a husband. That no man would ever look at me and not think of it.”

  He turned his head away for a moment, releasing her from the penetrating gaze that made her feel so exposed. When he looked back, what she saw in him was infinitely worse. Spencer had never pitied her. He’d been sorry for her pain, for what had happened, but she’d never known his pity before this moment and it stung.

  “You’re wrong,” he said. “It isn’t how I or any other man looks at you that is the problem. The problem, Larissa, is how you see yourself. You are letting his acts define you… He bends you to his will even now, and you’re letting him do it!”

  She was unprepared for the fury that swept through her. It was an emotion she hadn’t thought herself capable of feeling. Without thought, she lashed out. Her palm connected with his cheek and the sound echoed through the hall like a shot. But the anger he’d sparked didn’t simply abate. Her hand flew back again, only this time he caught it. His fingers closed over her wrist firmly. He held her gently, caused her no pain, yet there was no escape from that hold.

  “Let me go!”

  “You hit me once, and I allowed it. I won’t allow it again… It isn’t me you’re angry with anyway. It’s the truth. And I can’t change that.”

  She jerked her arm and he released her so abruptly that she staggered a bit. “Your arrogance is boundless!”

  “Probably. But so is the depth of my feeling for you… if only you would accept it. I will see you at dinner,” he said and turned on his heel.

  Left to stare after him, Larissa felt hollow. His words had cut through to a part of her she’d thought deeply buried. The pain and humiliation that she’d thought were firmly in the past were far from gone. In truth, those wounds had never healed. She’d simply refused to acknowledge them for so long she’d become accustomed to the pain. “Damn him… and damn me,” she whispered as tears threatened.

  Chapter Twelve

  Larissa took one final glance at her reflection in the mirror. Spencer had insisted she come down for dinner, and while she wasn’t especially concerned with what pleased him at the moment, nor was she inclined to engage in another battle of wills with him. He would have to physically drag her to the table, but somehow, she’d wind up there regardless.

  After their argument in the hall, she’d returned to the library just long enough to gather the book and the pouch with its macabre contents. She’d stayed in her room for the rest of the day studying them. What she’d gleaned so far was more than a little bit terrifying. The markings were all about protection, about binding, and also about darkness or blindness. With the magical connotations of the herbs in the pouch and what she’d read about the metaphysical properties of amber, it seemed that the charm was intended to block psychic energy, to prevent her particular gift from working. Of course, the charm had been there for some time, which meant that whoever had placed it had known she would come, or had some inkling that others with similar gifts would arrive.

  “Yer reflection hasn’t changed in the last five minutes… don’t know what staring at it will do for ye,” Dorcas said blandly.

  “Tell me, Dorcas, do you work at being so irritating or is it a natural gift?” Larissa asked. It wasn’t Dorcas who had earned her ire, but if the woman wished to court it, she’d find that she was in no mood for it. Dorcas didn’t respond.

  Larissa reached for the small locket she favored. It had been a gift from Emme when they were both much younger and such items were dear and difficult to come by. Worn on a simple ribbon, it would hardly match up to Katherine’s grandiose sense of fashion.

  Larissa paused. Where did Katherine get the funds for her wardrobe? Her gowns were a season or two out of date, but no more than that. If Kinraven had been impoverished for such a long time, what was the source of the fine feathers in her nest? She would broach the subject with Spencer, surely he would have seen mention of it in the account books.

  As she left the room, a sense of trepidation filled her. There was little doubt that Finella would be inappropriate and Katherine would be either disapproving at best or confrontational at worse. She’d no sooner reached the landing than she saw Spencer standing there, dressed for dinner, waiting for her.

  “Have you to come to argue about something else? The color of my gown? The height of my slippers?” The venomous words passed her lips before she could even consider them. It shamed her to behave as such a shrew with him.

  His only expression of displeasure was the slight tightening of his jaw. “I have not come to argue with you. Did you truly believe I would allow you to walk into the lion’s den on your own? I am not so cruel as to have you face Katherine’s considerable ire alone.”

  Larissa placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her down the stairs toward the great hall where they would dine. “I should not snap so. I fear my temperament will not improve during dinner.”

  “So long as you direct your venom elsewhere, I will not mind,” he offered.

  As they neared the room, she paused, “Did Katherine set her cap for you?”

  “Are you jealous? If I say yes, will it entice you to do the same?”

  “I am not jealous,” she replied. “I know you have no interest in Katherine. But I am curious.”

  “Katherine,” he replied, “has set her cap for every man who has the misfortune to inherit the title. Thus far, none have been foolish enough to get caught in her trap.”

  Larissa faced him. It pained her to say it, to offer up such a solution, but it had to be addressed. “Is it foolish not to wed her if she is the means of breaking the curse?”

  “There is no curse!” Spencer stated emphatically.

  “You’ve seen the dark mist! I saw it in my dreams. You’ve felt the presence of evil here!”

  “I have, and just because one can sense evil doesn’t mean it isn’t of human origin,” he protested. “There may well be more to their potions and spells than I have wished to consider in the past. Besides, Finella told you those words were uttered as the woman was taken away and burned at the stake… Seamus and Gertrude have insisted that did not happen, that the woman vanished from the dungeon. If she wasn’t burned at the stake, perhaps
the curse is as much a fabrication as the rest of Finella’s tale.”

  Larissa wanted to believe that. It made far more sense to think the warnings of the curse were simply a tactic of manipulation rather than something real. “Whether there is a curse or something else here, it must be stopped. What happened to John and Mary is proof that whoever is behind this will stop at nothing to get what they want.”

  “I agree,” he stated mildly. “Have you discovered anything more about the charm you discovered?”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, taking in his stern expression. Their earlier disagreement was weighing heavily on him just as it was on her. “From what I gathered, it is intended to block the ability or vision of those with second sight. Clearly, it has been effective.”

  “The footmen found others in the house. They are in the library. How exactly does one dispose of such things? I imagine tossing them out is less than effective?”

  “I’m working on that… It may involve actually utilizing one of the spells in Finella’s book,” Larissa stated. She waited for explosion of temper. It didn’t come. He remained quiet and thoughtful.

  “Have you ever done such a thing before?” he asked.

  “No. When I was younger and visited my Great-Aunt Hildie, I saw her indulge in such things. My mother was unaware of Hildie’s skills though my father wasn’t.”

  “Can you do so safely?”

  She nodded. “I can. It doesn’t bother you?”

  “What?”

  She was so frustrated by his non-response that she wanted to shake him. “That the woman you’ve expressed an interest in marrying is talking about dabbling in witchcraft! You have no concerns about that other than whether or not it can be completed safely?”

  He shook his head and smiled at her. “None. We’ve enough obstacles between us, Larissa, without you attempting to create more. Let’s go in for dinner, I’m starved.”