Devil of Montlaine (Regency Rendezvous Book 1)

by Claudy Conn

  He kissed her long and sweet and held her. “Would that I could keep you with me, my love, but I want you home, safe and sound. You need to get back before…”

  “I know, as you so wisely wish, before the servants get up to start their day. I shall ride like the wind,” she answered softly.

  “No, not in the dark,” he said on a frown as he kissed her ear and made a path to the hollow of her neck. “You will ride slowly, safely, for Shadow’s sake as well as yours.”

  “You are quite right,” she said, and moaned as he pressed her tightly into his arms. “If ever I leave here.”

  He swatted her romp. “Now off with you, Naughty Ness, but come back to me soon.”

  She eyed him, her face full of mischief. “As you wish.”

  A moment later, he had tightened Shadow’s girth, and as she led her mare out of the cave and into the balmy night, she heard his soft chuckle at her back even as the waves rolled in and crashed against the jutting boulders.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Richard of Grey flung off his superfine after which followed his waistcoat and cravat. He gave them a good swift kick across the room and stood to gaze at himself in his looking glass. “You are naught but a fool. You have put Mary in the gravest of dangers.”

  He had seen how Duncan Echworth had stared at her. The man’s eyes were pools of ice, but more than that, he was, like his sister, intuitive about people. Duncan Echworth was driven. More than that he could not be sure of, but a driven man could be a dangerous one.

  He had seen through Sheila’s façade early on, although his cousin had not. Randy was now sulking in his room, unwilling to talk. He wasn’t concerned about Randy’s heart. It had not been touched. Only his cousin’s pride had been pinched. He hadn’t thought Randy would do more to help them other than keep what secrets they might have going forward. Now, Randy had, before stalking off, promised his aid.

  Even so, Mary was a threat to the Echworths in more ways than they had realized. While she was alive she would fight to prove her brother’s innocence. It was more than her portion of the inheritance the Echworths wanted. It was her silence. If one, or all of them, were guilty of murdering the poor Fry woman, they were dependent on the viscount forever being blamed. They didn’t want fingers pointed in their direction.

  He could still see that very mysterious glance that passed between the twin brothers when Mary entered the room on his arm. It was more than surprise. It was something close to fear, at least on Orson’s part. Duncan was another matter. He wasn’t sure what to make of Duncan, who appeared charming at first light, only at first light.

  The obvious conclusion was that sooner or later one of these villains, no doubt Orson or Duncan, perhaps both, would try and end Mary’s life.

  He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  She was infatuated with him, but he wasn’t concerned about that. Her infatuation would wane with time. She had school to finish and then London Seasons. She had Lady Penrod to see to her future. It was, however, up to him, his sister, and Randy to see to her safety now that they had allowed her presence to be exposed.

  A knock sounded at his door. His first thought was that it was his sister, though she had a habit of knocking and then barging in. He opened the door and was surprised to see an adorable face peeking up at him. “Mary!” He hoped he put enough disapproval into his voice.

  Apparently not, for she swept past him saying, “May I come in, Richard? I couldn’t sleep.”

  He left the door wide open. “Apparently, you took my answer to be yes, when it is no, no, you may not come in and seeing that you are, you may turn yourself about and walk right out again. You should not be here…like this, with me, in my bedroom, Mary.”

  She plopped onto a chair, her hands in her lap. “Don’t be angry, Richard. I…so many things are disturbing me and…please, Richard, don’t frown at me.”

  “You could have gone to m’sister if you needed to talk,” he suggested.

  “I did,” she said at once. “I knew you would not approve of me coming to your room like this. So I went first to Ness’s room, and, Richard…” She lowered her voice. “She isn’t there.”

  “Isn’t she, by Jove?”

  “No, and though it has me worried, I thought I had better come to you rather than to Lady Penrod.”

  “Lady Penrod? Egad, child, what a thing to suggest. Dashed glad you came to me.” He shook his head and then ran a hand through his golden locks. “No doubt Ness is on one of her junkets. Restless sort, is Ness. She never thinks twice, but there she is, off on her mare. Personally, I don’t see the harm in it. If I wanted to ride out, which from time to time I do, no one would say a deuced thing to me, but there you are. I’d wager this evening’s doings had her in a tither. Couldn’t sleep…rode out.”

  “But do you think she will be safe…out alone?” Mary played with her fingers.

  “Ness? Never knew a girl like her. Carries a horse pistol, you know, always…at her saddle. M’father made certain we both knew how to shoot, and she is a crack shot, she is.” He pulled a face and then grinned. “Though Papa would have an apoplexy to know she was out and about over the moors at such an hour. The truth is, he don’t quite understand her. I do.” He sighed. “What she needs is a man to curb her waywardness. Never met one that was her match.”

  Mary’s eyes went distant. “I have.”

  “You don’t say. Who, by Jove?”

  “My late brother…” Her voice trailed off.

  His features softened. “Now, Mary…don’t be running into the past. You’re bound to stumble on that route.”

  “Yes, I know, it is just that…I keep feeling…well, ‘tis absurd, but a part of me thinks he isn’t dead at all.”

  “That is because you don’t have…well…he was never found,” he responded.

  “I suppose you are right,” she said forlornly.

  “Now, tell me, what brought you here to me?”

  “I’m frightened and ashamed to be frightened,” she whispered.

  He put a comforting arm around her, noting that she was trembling. “Here, Mary, have you no confidence in me?”

  “That isn’t it. ‘Tis Duncan. I wasn’t expecting him. Richard, he means me harm. I sensed it, felt it when my gaze met with his, and he means to have Ness.”

  “On your latter concern, rest assured it is laughable. Ness would never tolerate his advances. He is a park sauntering knave and I have seen her clear her path of such less wicked than he. You have no worries on that score. As to the other, I agree. We shall keep a watchful eye, mark me on that.” He pulled her up from her chair. “Now…back to your room and get a good night’s sleep.”

  She went to the doorway under his watchful eye and stopped. “You will make certain Ness gets in safely?”

  “That I will, child. Now…off with you, because we both know you shouldn’t be here.”

  She pulled a face. He laughed.

  A few moments later he descended the stairs to await his sister’s arrival.

  * * *

  Duncan saw his family within the doors of Montlaine. He went to his room and stood for a long time at his bedroom window. It was odd being in this room. It had been the viscount’s suite and now was his.

  He had not actually murdered the viscount, though he would have liked to do so with his own hands. However, that situation had worked out even better than he had planned or hoped.

  He undressed and took to his bed, his thoughts very clear as he made up his mind. He never liked the chit, but now he would have to handle the matter of Mary sooner than he had expected.

  He didn’t like being beaten.

  Apparently, the viscount had reached out of his grave and had attempted to protect his sister. It was infuriating, as now his plans would have to be altered to accommodate Mary’s safe haven.

  He wanted all of Montlaine. He would share nothing with Mary and to accomplish that goal, she would have to be eliminated. He rather enjoyed the notion of besting the vis
count and seeing Mary perhaps even beg for her life.

  Yes, putting an end to the audacious brat was just what he needed to revive his spirits.

  Mary had never liked him. It was as though she looked through the façade he presented to the world and saw him as he really was, and that was something he could not tolerate. Even if she hadn’t inherited such a fortune…rightfully his, he still would have her dead.

  In this mood, he found himself in a fidget. He was up, dressed, and pacing by his open window. He should try reading. He went downstairs and into the library, and tried one of his favorite poets, Lord Byron, but he couldn’t concentrate.

  In this mood, he often liked to walk. He made his way outside and breathed in the balmy night air. Before long, the fall would be upon them…and all his goals would be accomplished.

  Walking took him to the stables, where a groom lay asleep on a pile of straw, a pint of some sort of libation at his side.

  The hour was late, he knew, but perhaps after a ride along the moors, he might be able to get a few hours’ sleep before dawn?

  He gave the young groom a kick to his boots and said harshly, “Get up, I fancy a ride. Tack up and bring me my horse.” All these servants were Montlaine people. Once all the paperwork was done, they would have to go. First things first. The courts had to declare the viscount dead…and then…

  The sleepy groom brought him his horse, and Duncan saw himself mounted and walking his dark gelding down the long drive that would lead to the main pike and Penrod Tower.

  Duncan had always paid attention to his instincts. He had no sooner reached the open pike when every nerve, every bit of intuition, screamed for him to ride towards Penrod, though he had no clue why.

  Something was not what it seemed at Penrod and he damned well was going to find out what that ‘something’ was. Nothing that evening had ‘felt’ right. He smiled to himself, thinking he should know, for no one was better at manipulation and prevarication.

  He had found that following his gut had often proven the correct thing to do, and thus it was just what he did, and slowly made his way to Penrod.

  He arrived just outside the gate, which was closed, and circumvented it by ducking into the woods, where he took the narrow path that led to the house. The dirt footpath was just wide enough for a horse, but not a carriage.

  As the majestic home loomed before him, he took another path that led him towards the back of the main building. He liked its lines. It was made of stone, with many jutting balconies and beautiful lead-paned windows. Flowers and trimmed evergreens decorated the edging of the building, which gave off a warm aura.

  It annoyed him that Mary lived in comfort here. He wanted her to suffer. He so hated her and her brother, whom he would have preferred had lived long enough to suffer.

  He smiled to think he could make Mary suffer before he put an end to her life.

  There was a movement in one of the upper windows, so he backed his horse and remained in the cover of the woods.

  It was then that he noticed the tower. It was lit up. Why would it be lit up? He could just make out the form of someone up there pacing in front of one of the tower long windows.

  Who was that? His gut answered him. Without seeing her, he knew. It was Mary.

  This was confirmed soon enough as Mary went to one of her windows and opened it wide, he supposed for some fresh air.

  Mary! So they kept her in the tower. To what end? To keep her safe? Why? Why did they think that Mary was in danger?

  This was troubling to him and to his plans. Who did they think she was in danger from? Was his family suspect? Was he? They would not credit Orson with anything nefarious. He was sure of it. They thought Orson a bit of a fool, but not a murderer. Lady Penrod knew Orson too well to think him capable of killing Melony Fry. So then, they were convinced that the viscount, damn his soul, was not Melony’s murderer.

  No one knew that he had been Melony’s lover. They thought him in London. He had switched places with his brother, who would never have conceived of such a plan. No one would suspect Orson of being her lover.

  He had always planned to murder Melony and put the blame at Montlaine’s door.

  He had always planned to murder Montlaine if the mob didn’t manage it, and call it suicide for the shame his crime had brought him and his sister.

  Things had worked out perfectly. Now, he had to tie up the loose ends. He had not remembered that Melony had a dear friend in Bess Widdons. She would have to be eliminated. He had quite a bit to do over the next couple of weeks.

  As he mused on these facts and attempted to solve his dilemma, he decided that he would have to keep a watch for Mary’s comings and goings.

  Perhaps she would be waylaid by highwaymen?

  The notion made him smile. What a very good idea!

  Thus, determined, he turned his horse and left the grounds via the woods when he heard an approaching rider.

  He hurriedly urged his horse to stand and hoped his animal would make no sound as he hid in the shadows.

  Duncan Echworth sat his horse in the shadows and kept the gelding as still as he could. The vision of Lady Vanessa in breeches, her golden hair in wild disarray, riding through the woods at such an hour took him aback.

  Here was the woman he had decided to marry, looking magnificent but dressed like a boy. Why? Where had she been? What had she been doing? Had she been on a clandestine meeting with a man? The notion made him sick. He would not have it. She was his. He had made up his mind to it!

  * * *

  Ness had attained the crest of the slope before she realized she had forgotten her cloak in the viscount’s cave. She decided against returning for it, as she did not want to delay her return any further.

  She laughed right out loud when she told herself she was a wanton woman. No distress there, only joy! She was one and twenty and had never been in love, discounting the puppy love she had had for the blacksmith up at school and that had been so very different.

  What she felt now was thoroughly the most wondrous sensation of all. To commit whole-heartedly to a man who had become all-important, to a man who loved her just as she was and would never try and curb her bold ways, but support her, was a dream come true.

  She had to hurry before the servants caught her so wild-eyed, with her golden hair blowing about in the wind, and in breeches! The notion made her giggle to herself. She was a veritable terror and wondered if women would ever break free to enjoy such a night?

  The moon was partial, but thankfully helped to light her way through the dark woods at Penrod. All at once, her sixth sense made her slow Shadow nearly to a stop.

  “There, there, girl…do you feel what I feel?” She looked around but could see no one. Puzzled and feeling a bit unnerved, she urged her horse forward once again.

  * * *

  Richard of Grey sat upon his sister’s bed and waited. It was a lowering thought that he was an entire year older, but that for most of their lives, she had been the one that took control. Well, no more.

  It was one thing if she chose to take a quick airing around the immediate grounds, but this, this was beyond everything, and damn, he would not have it! His father had made him responsible for her behavior in Cornwall, and by thunder and turf, he knew where his duty lay!

  He saw the bedroom door open and watched as Ness tiptoed into her darkened room. He heard her breathe a sigh of relief and he lit the candle beside him.

  She released a squeal and jumped, which caused her to trip and waver for a moment before she fell back onto her bed.

  Hand to her throat, she sat straight up and gasped, “What…who?”

  He lifted the candle so she could see his face, then placed it back down onto the night stand before he got up from the bed and clasped his hands at his back. “Well, you know, I could have been Guss!” He moved to a chair, lit another candle and sat. “Come, sit with me. We need to talk, sister.”

  She did this in silence and he could see her mind working because her ey
es always gave her away. He knew her so well. He repressed the affection and the smile that challenged him.

  “Well, Richard,” she said on a formal note. “I never thought you would take to spying on me.”

  “Don’t be a ninny!” he snapped impatiently. “Little Mary went to your room after we had all retired, and when she found you missing, she came to me…concerned about your safety.”

  “And now I suppose you want an explanation?”

  “Famous! You have a knack of turning things around so that it appears foolish for me to require an explanation. Anyone would think by your attitude, you had been doing naught but taking a stroll about the house in the light of day. Confound it, Ness. It is nearly two in the morning. You are in breeches, once again, which Father forbade you to wear. You don’t even have a hooded cloak to disguise yourself and I can see you feel no shame.”

  “Shame? And why, Richard, should I feel any shame?” Her chin was well up in the air. “Have I injured anyone? Have I caused harm to you or our parents? No. I am here after a night’s ride, none the wiser.”

  “You may not like it, but females just don’t go about unescorted at night, especially at this hour. Ness, it isn’t the thing, and you know it. What do you think Father would think if he knew?”

  “Father needn’t know…?” She eyed him warily.

  “If you persist in going out at all hours, I will have no choice but to advise him of your behavior,” he said gravely.

  “Richard!” she exclaimed in shocked accents. “You wouldn’t do anything so shabby as that. Why, of all the traitorous…did I tell Papa it was you who took the raft down the Avon and ditched yourself and your friends? Did I tell Papa you missed a week of school and went sailing with that horrid friend of yours, whose name I can’t remember? Did I? No. I did not. I always made certain you were protected from discovery. What about the time you and Randy brought a monkey to class up at Oxford and were expelled for a goodly while. Did I tell Papa, no, in fact, as all the world was talking about it, I bailed you out by saying you didn’t even know who did it and were expelled with everyone else for not tattling. That is how I have been your sister!” She sucked in air and waved her finger. “And what about the time…”