Devil of Montlaine (Regency Rendezvous Book 1)

by Claudy Conn

  He backed away and used a rock formation as cover while the lady led her horse along the natural trail. As she passed by him, he got a glimpse of her profile in the partial moonlight, and thought surely the shadow and lights had played tricks with his vision. No maid, so young, so fair, could be on such a dangerous lark at this hour!

  Only beach and rocks lay ahead. The cliffs curved at the end of the beach and stretched out into deep water. He watched her hesitate before she turned around and looked upwards. She was, he realized, trying to analyze and find an explanation for what she had seen. He smiled to himself and then realized this lovely was not about to let it go. She would not believe she had seen an apparition.

  Eerie shadows from the rock formations were everywhere. Those same huge jutting rocks created nooks and crevices. Would she begin to examine their secrets? Was she so foolish?

  * * *

  Ness forgot her brother and cousin in her complete need to discover the truth of what she had seen. Forgotten was Sheila and Lady Penrod’s awaiting dinner as she concentrated on finding the answer to her question. Where had the rider and horse gone?

  Shrubbery brushed up against her and she pushed it away.

  Right before her eyes was the mouth of a cave.

  Its forbidding blackness held her frozen in place. It was both unwelcoming and threatening, making it ineffably irresistible to her.

  She drew in a breath, bolstered herself, wished for a lantern, and promptly rubbed shoulders with a container of matches right at the mouth of the cave. She lit it, wrinkled her nose at the odor, and held it up high.

  Within, she found Midnight munching his hay, though he was still saddled and there was a bit of sweat glistening on the horse’s neck.

  She went to him immediately. Her mare cautiously rubbed her nose against the stallion’s, and Ness laughed. She hooked her reins around her mare’s stirrup so that she would be inhibited to go far, and smiled again to find the stallion did not mind Shadow eating from his large hay pile.

  A wooden bucket of water sat nearby. What the devil?

  She turned and found deeper in the cave, a straw bed, several books, and many artifacts indicating a male boarder was in residence.

  “Humble, but I call it home.” The voice was deep, self-assured, and slightly sardonic.

  Ness whirled around. It was the Viscount of Montlaine. She would know him anywhere. Right out of his portrait. Oh, but the artist had depicted him so completely and precisely.

  Here was the libertine and suspected murderer. What should she say? Her kind nature came to her rescue and restored her voice. “I…I am so sorry. Truly. I know I have stumbled upon something you have been at pains to keep hidden, but when I saw what rumor has called a ghost, I could not credit it. You see, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  He snorted and there was a glint of anger in his dark, beautiful, amber lit eyes. “You didn’t stumble, my girl, you came looking. What I should like to know is, why?”

  “I told you. I don’t believe in ghosts and I and my cousin and brother with Miss Sheila had just left Montlaine. I saw your portrait and…you and Midnight there…well…”

  “Ah, so you don’t believe in ghosts? What then did you think you would find?”

  “An explanation. The truth.” She didn’t mean to sound so profound, but it was all she could say beneath his penetrating eyes.

  His satanic brow moved. “So, you left your brother, cousin, and Miss Sheila to come sleuthing without regard for your safety?”

  She heard the disbelief and contempt in his voice and put up her chin. “Am I in danger from you? Is that what you mean to imply?”

  He laughed ruefully. “You might very well be, if all they say about me is true.”

  She heard a tinge of bitterness in his voice and immediately sympathized.

  “People talk, very often unfairly. An opinion turns into a fact and a fact into a nightmare. I always prefer to make up my own mind with a proven truth, Viscount.”

  “So tell me, are my cousins already entertaining in my home?”

  “They believe you dead,” she answered.

  “And how quickly they have put off their mourning clothes,” he answered sarcastically.

  She wasn’t ready to answer this, so instead asked, “Why do you stay here? Why not leave the country? You could then establish yourself elsewhere…in exile for now, until you prove your innocence.”

  He looked angry as he turned and paced.

  She said, “I have offended you with my blunt speaking. I am sorry for it, as it is obvious you find your situation…embarrassing.”

  “Embarrassing?” He rounded on her irritably. “My pretty little sleuth, you have no notion of what you say. I am suspected of witchcraft most vile…of creating a coven of twelve girls, of deflowering them, and using them in orgies. I am suspected of causing the death of one in particular. The villagers, who many of whom my family and I have seen through times of need, called me Lucifer…the demon of lechery!”

  “And still you remain, existing in this cave, which tells me a great deal. Had you been guilty, you would not now be explaining yourself to me. You would have put me to death so that I could not divulge your secret.”

  He said nothing for a moment and she hurried on to ask, “To what end, Viscount? Why do you remain here…to what end?”

  “I remain here because I want to clear my name, for the sake of Montlaine, for the sake of my young sister, Mary.”

  “I surmised that,” Ness said, and was incongruously pleased to see the hint of a smile touch his eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asked with a shake of his head.

  “I am the Lady Vanessa of the House of Grey. I am here at Penrod with my cousin and brother…”

  “And you have had the misfortune of following me,” he interrupted her.

  She inclined her head. “If you think so. However, the question now remains, what do you propose to do…about me?” Ness was all too aware of the fact that he had stood in her way, blocking the exit during their entire discourse. She knew he must be a desperate man and as such, he might not think it unreasonable to keep her a prisoner here and thus, protect himself.

  “What to do? You say your brother and cousin are with you at Penrod. Will not Lady Penrod soon send them off to find you?”

  “She won’t have to. I was riding with them when I told them a lie and said I had dropped my scarf and would catch up. I was curious about you, about the moors, about the fact that they hadn’t found your body.”

  “Which could have been taken with the tide,” he scoffed.

  “Indeed, but, as I said, at some point they will secure Sheila and one of them will return to find me if I don’t hurry and intercept them.”

  She started to move past him. He stopped her with a touch. Ridiculously, she felt a tingling sensation run up her spine. His touch was like magic. His closeness made her dizzy.

  “You are at my mercy, you know,” he whispered. “All actions have consequences.”

  “I am not at your mercy. Rather, you are at mine, however, you have naught to fear from me. I don’t think you Lucifer, and I certainly don’t think you a murderer.”

  “Don’t you now?” he asked, and had her shoulders in his hands. “I have too much at stake, little sleuth, to let you go sauntering out of here with the best jest ever to go around a tea party. Montlaine hiding in a cave. Oh no, my dear.”

  She looked up into his smoldering eyes and said softly, “I would never do such a thing. You don’t know me, so you shall have to take my word for it. I must hurry now. I honestly don’t want you to be found and if my brother sets up a cry…you could be.”

  “Haven’t you heard that the demon Montlaine would do anything he deemed useful? It would be useful to keep you hidden until I can clear my name.”

  “I have heard that and do not believe it. I have also heard that you wish to clear your name and that, Viscount, I do believe.”

  He dropped his hands. “You had better go. Your brother
will be worried.”

  “I shall keep your secret, my lord,” she said softly.

  He laughed harshly. “A promise extracted from a woman is a meaningless bauble.”

  She frowned. “I mean to prove you wrong, my lord.” She hurriedly took up her mare’s reins and turned to find him staring after her. “Goodnight, my lord…do rest easy, you have nothing to fear from me.”

  She left the cave and hurried up the path, mounted Shadow and rode as fast as common sense allowed over unfamiliar terrain. She would have to make up an excuse. Ah, she would say she got lost and turned around on the moors.

  Chapter Ten

  The viscount had no reason to believe her, yet, somehow, every instinct told him he could. Soon afterwards, he took up the reins of his horse and led him to the path that would take him above and then across the moors to his friend and counsel, Parks.

  His friend’s home wasn’t far and it didn’t take long before he saw candlelights glowing in the distance. Parks’ home was a two story cottage, with a great deal of charm. High evergreens swayed in the night wind, as though waving the viscount a welcome, and he smiled to himself.

  Parks’ proximity was something the viscount had thanked the fates for since the night of his ‘death’. He hurried his horse up the winding drive to the neat stables where Jerry, the only groom his friend maintained, stuck out his head from the loft window and called, “Coo there, m’lord. I’ll be down right away, I will.”

  The viscount dismounted and walked his horse into the barn and handed the reins to the older man as he shuffled towards him. “Thank you, Jerry. He needs a rubdown. I think he is blowing some.”

  Jerry was missing a couple of teeth and his skin was like leather, which crinkled when he smiled, but smile he did, broadly, and said, “Aye then, don’t ye worrit none, m’lord. I’ll walk him and see he eats no grain ‘til he cools down.”

  “Thank you, Jerry, though my pockets at the moment are to let, as soon as I fix this mess, I won’t forget you.”

  “Whist now, m’lord. Generous ye have always been to me. I don’t need a farthing, not a one, to help ye and m’master Parks in this. Right honored I am to help.”

  “Thank you, Jerry. When you stall Midnight, perhaps better use the far one in the dark corner…just in case Parks gets a visitor.”

  “Aye, but no one is expected, especially not at this hour.”

  The viscount made his way to the cottage where a round, pleasant-faced woman with a bob of unruly steel grey curls beneath a mop cap appeared. When she saw who it was, she clapped her hands together and ushered his lordship indoors, saying, “M’lord, it is that pleased I am to see ye, but och, now ye been losing weight, and no wonder. Mr. Parks be waiting on ye in the library, and I’ll be in with a proper meal for ye in just a moment or two.”

  “Thank you, Matty, but please don’t go to any trouble. It’s late and I am certain you must be tired after a long day.”

  “Such talk. Go on now.” She shooed him away with her hands. “Go on. ‘Tis m’pleasure to set a tray for ye, m’lord.”

  He gave her a warm smile and moved across the narrow hall to an undersized dark oak door. The viscount relaxed a bit. Not only could he rely on his friend, but on the servants as well at Parks’ Place. It was a good feeling.

  As he entered, he saw Edward Parks standing by the fire, rereading a letter he had in his hand. The sound of the viscount’s steps into the room brought his head up, and his lips twitched appreciatively as he regarded Montlaine’s appearance, surveying him up and down.

  “By Jupiter, man, if you don’t look the devil himself.” Edward laughed. “Why do you insist in going about in black with your hair disheveled?”

  “And good-evening to you, you old dog!” the viscount said on a chuckle. “As to my appearance, allow me to remind you that I am living in a cave. And as to black, I like black. Besides, it conceals me in the night. Now, what news have you for me?”

  He watched his friend run his hands through his sandy colored hair and frown. “Not very much, Bret. Your cousin, Duncan, remains in London, an odd circumstance considering he stands to inherit.”

  “But he cannot inherit, can he? Not without a body, or the passage of some defined time. Why should he come to Montlaine now? It might only appear…presumptuous, if not suspicious.”

  “Yes, but the sorry truth is that while he was the only man who stands to gain from your death, he was in London at the time of the young woman’s death. I checked this with several mutual friends.”

  “Was he? Or did he just appear to be?”

  “Cornwall is several days journey from London. I have…” he waved the note in his hand, “received this letter from the Lady Jersey in answer to the query I put to her. She adores you, and wishes to help me clear your name, whether or not you are dead.” Edward paused and grinned. “Which is to say that she does not believe you are. At any rate, she says Duncan has been in London and seen at many of the balls and routs during the last two months. I don’t think he could have made the journey here, murdered that poor girl, and returned without note.”

  Montlaine sank into a chair. “What then? Do I give myself up and hope for the best?”

  “Certainly not!” Edward snapped. “Good Lord, Bret, we know one of those damned Echworths is behind it all. We simply need to find out which one. For example. How is it Sheila and her mother stood by while the villagers mobbed onto Montlaine land? And do I believe that Orson was, just by chance, visiting friends in the next county and did not return until the following afternoon?”

  “The women were no doubt frightened, and as to Orson, his story can be easily checked and he knows it.”

  “Aye, but I have yet to discover from him just which friends he was visiting, let alone their exact location. I tell you, Bret, ‘tis too smoky by half!”

  “Are you suggesting Orson is the killer?” Montlaine shook his head. “He is a dandy of sorts, and many other things, but not a killer. Besides, he doesn’t inherit.”

  “Yet his brother would,” Edward offered.

  “Yes, but forget them for a moment. I now have another problem, Edward.”

  “Never say so, Bret. How could you have gotten into more trouble, secluded as you have been?”

  “I was on my way to you tonight. It is the reason I am late. I had only just left the cave and made my way to the moors when I was seen. She followed…”

  “She? You say you were followed by a woman?” Parks’ eyes opened wide. “At night…on the moors? What kind of woman?”

  “Exquisitely beautiful, and apparently adventurous. She tracked me to earth and then gave her promise freely not to divulge my secret.”

  “Are you jesting? Who was this woman?”

  “Lady Vanessa Grey,” Montlaine said quietly, thoughtfully, recalling her eyes, bright and inquisitive, her full cherry lips and the way they curved. Her name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place her family, try though he had.

  “Upon my life! Bret, never say you have tangled with Naughty Lady Ness?” Edward expostulated, his pale blue eyes wide with astonishment.

  Montlaine slapped his thigh. “Damn! So that is who she is. I have been racking my brain, trying to think why the name rang a bell. Well, well, she is true to her name. I heard any number of tales about the chit when I was in London last. She is forgiven all her escapades because of her family, and I am told the London hostesses hold her in great affection.”

  “Indeed, I have heard the same. Apparently, she is a high flyer, a jester, and she takes to organized events like that cricket match where eleven ladies went against eleven men. And, Bret, the women won!”

  “And what is the Naughty Lady doing here, in the wilds of Cornwall?” Bret mused out loud.

  “I don’t know.” Edward shook his head. “No doubt took on one escapade too many and got sent down by her parents. From all I have heard, unconventional would be an understatement. Are you sure she can be trusted?”

  The viscount shrugged. “She is a woman.
Can any woman be trusted? However, my instinct told me yes, in this case. Besides, what choice did I have? I couldn’t very well hold her prisoner in my cave.”

  “I have seen her, you know.” Edward smiled. “You are right, she is a beauty. I was present when some boor had the crudeness to take a stick to his old dog on a public street. Lady Vanessa was, it seems, passing by in her phaeton. A friend pointed her out to me just as she jumped down, put the reins in her tiger’s hands, called to a young man seated still to hurry along and join her,” he inclined his head, “I later discovered it was her brother. At any rate, she crossed the street and rounded on the man. She actually wrenched the stick out of his hands and swatted him with it on his shoulder!”

  “Good God,” Montlaine said, but smiled at the picture this presented. “A veritable tigress, but I do applaud her.”

  “The dog was naught but a mongrel, and a dirty one at that, but it didn’t stop her from bending down and picking the poor animal up, asking her brother to give the man a coin, and off she goes, mongrel cuddled in her arms.”

  “Damn, but I have never heard the like. What happened next?” the viscount said softly.

  “Her brother flips the man the coin, which lands at the man’s feet, and he starts off after his sister when the brute actually chased after and dared to take hold of Lady Vanessa’s arm.”

  “Devil you say!” The viscount absurdly had a sudden need to find this man and put him in the ground.

  “Precisely. It was then that I moved towards the scene to intervene if necessary. However, there was no need. Her brother brought up his fives and landed the chap a settler.” Edward smiled. “What a row they created, with people taking sides, though most seemed to be cheering Lady Ness and her brother on.”

  “And the naughty lady?”

  “She smiled at me for attempting to help, thanked her brother for knocking…in her words, the nasty man down, and off they went, leaving a rare set-to at their backs.”

  Bret released a laugh.

  Edward eyed him. “I see that, from this incident, you now believe for certain this lady is to be trusted?”