Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02]

by Dangerous Angels

  “Will it not?” He watched her narrowly. That she was furious was readily apparent to anyone who knew her. She was very nearly shaking with fury.

  Angelique made a last attempt. “It was not my doing, madame, please believe me! It was the work. So much to be done, and English girls, they are so lazy.”

  “You will have less work in future, I promise you,” Charlotte said, her voice still trembling. “I mean to tell everyone I know just how you treated Jenifry, and what happened to Annie. Even if you were not the one who killed her—”

  “Ah, madame, you must not believe what that wicked one told you. Annie, she went to London. La pauvre méchante, she believed she would become rich there.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Charlotte snapped. “Come, girls, we’re leaving.”

  Since Jenifry was too weak to walk, it was as well for the effect of Charlotte’s exit that Antony picked the child up and followed, with Bess like a shadow beside him.

  They left Lostwithiel at once. Antony held Jenifry, and Bess rode pillion with his groom. They rode directly to the Breton cottage on the edge of the moor, and they rode in near silence, Antony having decided to leave Charlotte to her thoughts, for a time at least, after one look at her set face and trembling lips.

  Wenna Breton was home alone when they reached the cottage. She greeted them with mixed emotions, gratitude over Jenifry’s safe return warring with worry over the child’s condition and the likely consequences of having deserted her position.

  Antony hastened to reassure Wenna. “There will be no consequences that need concern you,” he said gently. “Angelique and her husband have broken the law, and he will be punished for what he did to Jenifry.”

  “But how will she find another position?” Wenna asked, holding her daughter as if she could not bear to let her go, even to put her to bed. “We’ve so little money, sir, and other mouths to feed.”

  “Get her rested and healthy again,” Antony said, “and she shall come to Seacourt Head to serve the Lady Letitia.”

  “Oh, how good you are, sir. Thank you.”

  Charley saw Antony slip Wenna some money, but the sight did little to calm her fury. From the moment she had seen Jenifry tied to the railing, she had wanted to murder someone. Having managed to control herself, first for the child’s sake and later for propriety’s, she had expected the feeling to ease once she was alone with the two girls, but it had not. Poor, frightened Bess had so frequently expressed her fear that Michael Peryllys would return that Charley had nearly snapped the girl’s nose off.

  As they rode away from the cottage, leaving Jenifry to her mother’s care, she still felt angry and, at the same time, as if she wanted to cry. Trying to ignore the hot prickling of tears in her eyes, she dashed them away with the back of her hand, glared at Antony, and said harshly, “Why did you pretend to Wenna that we’ve solved all their problems? What happens when Letty returns to France and you and I—”

  “Letitia will not return for several months yet,” he interjected firmly. With a sign to the grooms to fall back, he added, “Curb your temper, mon ange. You nearly let the cat out of the bag just then, about our marriage.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She glared at him again, but the look he gave in return made her decide to say no more. Instead, she gave spur to Shadow Dancer and galloped ahead, hoping to blow the unrelenting fury from her mind. She expected Antony to pursue her. When he did not, she felt both angrier and relieved. She did not want to have to hold her own in a conversation with him, but she thought he should care enough at least to try to talk to her.

  When they arrived at Tuscombe Park to collect Letty, Charley forcibly gathered herself, not wanting to reveal her emotions to the child or to anyone else. Sending Bess to the kitchen, where Mrs. Medrose could be counted upon to give her a hearty meal, she took Antony’s arm, and went up to join the rest of the family in the drawing room.

  To her surprise, they all were present, and she greeted her grandmother, Cousin Ethelinda, and Lady Ophelia with unfeigned pleasure. Her greetings to Alfred, Edythe, and Elizabeth were more restrained, and when she saw Rockland, she grimaced and said, “Are you still here?”

  “By Jove, confess that you’re glad to see me,” he said, grinning at her. “I told you, I mean to stay for the consecration and to dine with the Duke. Alfred won’t let me go, in any case. Says he’d never survive in this houseful of women without me.”

  “Might be the making of him,” Lady Ophelia said crisply. Then with a narrow-eyed look at Charley, she added, “What have you been up to? You look perturbed.”

  Charley forced a smile. “Letty must have told you, ma’am, that Sir Antony and I had business to attend in Lostwithiel.”

  Alfred cleared his throat noisily, saying, “The child babbled some nonsense about interfering with an apprentice. I hope you did no such thing.” He shot an oblique look at Antony, adding, “Not a proper matter to barge into, in my opinion.”

  “Indeed?” Antony raised his quizzing glass.

  Charley said, “We certainly did interfere, Cousin, and I hope if you had seen what they did to that poor child, you would have done the same.” Realizing that her voice had begun to shake, she pressed her lips together, wishing someone else would speak. They all seemed to be staring at her.

  Cousin Ethelinda blurted, “Have you had any luncheon, dear? Perhaps—”

  “I’m not hungry,” Charley said, certain she would choke on food.

  Tense silence fell again until Letty said suddenly, “When you came in, I was just telling everyone of an amusing account I read in this newspaper. It’s about a man walking on the common near Wadebridge, who suddenly felt his legs grasped by what he feared was an imp from the dominions of his satanic majesty. ‘The appearance of the demon was black,’ it says here, ‘and it had a tail, which it twisted around his leg with great force.’ She looked up with a twinkle. “His satanic assailant was a monkey, which footpads had trained to help them rob people. Only wait until I tell Jeremiah!”

  “Merciful heavens, child,” Edythe exclaimed, “what paper is that?”

  “The West Briton,” Letty replied, shooting a glance at Charley.

  “That dreadful, common newspaper,” Edythe said, making a face. “Wherever did you come by such a thing, child?”

  “I don’t think I should tell you,” Letty said calmly. “I certainly don’t want to get anyone into trouble merely for being kind to me.”

  “Such impertinence,” Alfred said sternly, “only goes to show why females, especially young ones, ought never to be allowed to read newspapers.”

  “Pray tell me, sir,” Lady Ophelia said in a tone of dangerous calm, “just how does the child’s reading about a monkey show any such thing?”

  “No good ever came of encouraging females to read,” Alfred snapped. “Women are hard enough to handle already, and females who read newspapers stuff their heads with things beyond their understanding. From what little I’ve seen of The West Briton, it’s filled with liberal nonsense that no one of sense ought to read, let alone a child.”

  Letty said thoughtfully, “I have observed that men—”

  “Hush, Letty,” Charley said swiftly.

  Lady Ophelia said, “No doubt you fancy yourself a loyal Tory, sir, but I have never understood the idiocy of men who refuse to read what the opposition writes. It is quite the simplest way to know what they are up to. Moreover, The West Briton is amusing.”

  “You have read it, madam?” Edythe exclaimed, clearly shocked.

  “Certainly. My woman acquires a copy for me each week when I am in Cornwall. I also read the Royal Cornwall Gazette and the Times, and I can tell you that when one wants to comprehend a local election, The West Briton beats the others all hollow when it comes to printing the facts.”

  Feeling the onset of a headache, Charley looked at Antony, who said at once, “I fear I must curtail this conversation. If the gray cloud I noticed over the Channel is f
og, we don’t want it to catch us on the cliff path. Letty, are you ready to go?”

  In the flurry of good-byes, Charley managed to steal a moment with Lady Ophelia, begging her to call at Seacourt Head so they could enjoy a more comfortable conversation.

  “I’ll come,” the old lady said with another of her sharp looks. “Is he treating you well? I must say, you look as if you’ve been run off your pins, but I daresay a good bit of it is lingering grief over your parents’ deaths.”

  “Good mercy, don’t fret about me,” Charley said, striving to sound perfectly normal. “Why, I’ve been so busy, ma’am, that I’ve scarcely had a moment even to think about that, so I promise you, I am not wallowing in grief.” Turning to assure herself that Letty was doing all that was polite, she saw a moment later that Lady Ophelia had stepped away and was speaking forcefully to Antony. The scene made her smile grimly. She hoped the old lady was giving him pepper. She had a feeling that not too many people in his life had dared to do so, and she thought it would do him good.

  She was a little surprised to see that Antony had spoken the truth about weather gathering over the Channel. It did not look threatening, and the sun still shone brightly, but she knew it could well be fog. Scarcely a day passed this time of year without any.

  Letty seemed determined to chatter about her visit, speaking so disdainfully of Alfred that Antony called her sharply to order. Unabashed, she smiled at him and said, “Well, I would not say that to just anyone, you know, but the man has fluff for brains.”

  Antony said, “It is improper of you to say so, however, even to us.”

  “I didn’t say it. Aunt Ophelia did. However, if you would rather that I not repeat such things, I won’t. May I ride ahead? There isn’t any fog yet, and I want to gallop.”

  “Very well,” Antony said, signing to Jeb to go ahead with her. His own man and Teddy remained behind, with Bess again riding pillion behind the former. A few moments later, Antony said, “You did want to leave, did you not? I saw the way you looked at me.”

  Charley shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Their bickering was giving me a headache, and I felt guilty that Letty had displeased Alfred again.”

  “Don’t. Alfred is a prig.”

  She grimaced. “I won’t attempt to refine upon that assessment, but Letty is getting out of hand, and I fear that I’m to blame. I’ve encouraged her to speak frankly, and somehow she has begun to go beyond the line of being pleasing.”

  “She’s an enchanting child who is testing her boundaries, that’s all.”

  “I hope her parents will agree with you when she returns to Paris.”

  “They will. Look here, I’ve learned something I want to discuss with you. Gabriel has heard rumors of a plot to capture Wellington when he arrives at Fowey.”

  “Good mercy!” The news diverted her thoughts instantly. “How?”

  “He doesn’t know, but he believes French smugglers are at the heart of it.” He paused, looking at her with an odd expression in his eyes, then added dryly, “Gabriel says they may be led by a chap called Lee Renardo.”

  Charley stared at him. “Le Renardeau? You’re joking.”

  “I wish I were. It is not the first rumor that has surfaced recently about him either, or the first that suggests he is in Cornwall. I just wish I knew the source. In any case, if you have any creative notions about this latest wrinkle …”

  “But if there is a plot, surely you must have heard of it.”

  “Not a whisper. They are always plotting amongst themselves, of course, but I have heard nothing to suggest so massive an undertaking. Still, I must treat it as fact and plan accordingly, so if you can think of anything that might help …”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised.

  They did not catch up with Letty before she reached the house, but as Charley went upstairs to change after presenting Bess to Aggie, she met Letty coming down. Jeremiah, perched on the child’s shoulder and apparently searching for treats in her hair, paused in his search long enough to chatter a greeting at Charley.

  Letty said with a grin, “He liked the story of the footpad’s monkey, Cousin Charley. I wonder if we could train him to do something like that?”

  “Letty, for shame!”

  “I just wondered,” the little girl said.

  “Just keep him out of mischief,” Charley said sternly.

  “I will.”

  As she changed her clothes, Charley thought about the smugglers and forgot about Letty and Jeremiah, but when she went downstairs again, she was quickly reminded. Approaching the drawing room, she heard raucous squeals and shrieks, then a crash accompanied by the unmistakable sound of shattering china.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE FIRST THING CHARLEY saw when she entered the drawing room was what seemed like a thousand pieces of Sevres porcelain scattered across the floor, some of them still moving. Letty stood amidst them, looking in dismay at the wreckage. Striding angrily toward the child, vaguely aware of Jeremiah leaping from the mantel to the top of the nearest curtains, Charley grabbed Letty and gave her a shake.

  “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?” she scolded, both hands now on the child’s shoulders as she punctuated her words with more shakes. “How could you be so careless? That was Sevres china, young lady, Cousin Melissa’s favorite vase!” Her voice increased in volume, and Letty’s eyes widened with alarm. Charley shouted, “You deserve to be severely punished for such carelessness, Letitia, and by heaven—”

  “Charlotte!” Antony stood in the doorway. He said more calmly, “I want you, please. Letty will excuse you.”

  Charley scarcely looked at him. “Not now. Letty and Jeremiah just smashed Melissa’s vase into a thousand—” Unaware that he had moved, she broke off with a shriek when he scooped her up and pulled her hand from Letty’s arm. “Put me down!” she cried, pounding him with her fists. “Damn you, Antony, put me down at once!”

  Holding her with one arm around her waist, he clapped the other hand over her mouth. In the same tone he had used before, he said, “Ring for a maid to clean up the mess, Letty, then catch Jeremiah and calm him down. I’ll look after your cousin.”

  “She’s dreadfully angry,” Letty said, still wide-eyed. “I have never seen her so angry.” She looked down. “She did tell me to be careful. I’m sorry about the vase.”

  “The vase doesn’t matter a whit,” Antony said. “We will get Cousin Melissa another one, and you may choose it for her yourself. Now, go and do as I told you.”

  He removed his hand from Charley’s mouth but made no reply when she began to rant again, merely hefting her up under his arm and carrying her from the room. Struggling to free herself, she called him every evil name she could think of, paying no heed to where he was taking her, even when he carried her outside, until suddenly she was airborne. Before she had drawn breath to scream, she heard the panicked quacking of ducks and the chilly waters of the horse pond closed over her head.

  She came up sputtering, madder than ever, wanting nothing less than to see Antony dead at her feet. Splashing through waist-deep water to the edge of the pond, she scrambled out and, shoes squishing water with every step, advanced on him with fire in her eyes. “How dare you do such a thing to me! Letty deserved to be scolded, and you had absolutely no right to—Antony, no!”

  He threw her in again.

  This time she swallowed a large mouthful of water, and came up coughing, but she did not pause. Sputtering and gasping for air, she stormed back toward him.

  Antony stood at the edge of the pond, hands on his hips, watching her. “Do not speak until you can compose yourself unless you want to go right back into that pond,” he warned her, “because that is precisely what will happen, as many times as it must, until you can speak with a civil tongue. I will tolerate nothing less, and the sooner you learn that the better it will be for you.”

  “How dare you!” Angrily, she plowed her way toward the edge of the pond.

  He straightened, waiting for he
r to step out of the water.

  Recognizing his intent, she stopped a few feet away in hip-deep water and swallowed hard. “Very well, I’ll apologize, but you made me angry, and lately, when I get angry, I seem to lose every vestige of control over my temper. I c-can’t help it,” she added curtly when a sudden, unexpected ache in her throat made it hard to speak.

  He stood looking silently down at her until she felt almost compelled to beg his pardon, to promise him she would behave better in the future. Biting back the impulse, she watched him warily, knowing she looked a mess but knowing, as well, that the way she looked was not what made her squirm before that uncompromising gaze.

  He offered her a hand but said in the same quiet way as before, “I don’t think much of your apology, but since you have not had much practice in making them, I suppose it will have to do.”

  Unexpected tears welled into her eyes. “That’s an awful thing to say—as if I were a child, or an idiot.”

  “If you were a child,” he said in carefully measured tones, “and I were your father, I’d have put you across my knee right there in front of Letty and spanked you until you could not sit comfortably for a week. But you are not a child, Charlotte, and I am not your father.”

  “No, you are not,” she snapped. “My father and mother are dead!” Bursting into deep, racking sobs that shuddered through her body, she felt her knees give way beneath her. But she did not fall, for Antony was there.

  Murmuring, “At last,” he picked her up again, gently this time, like a child, and carried her into the hedged garden at the back of the house, where he found a bench in the sun. There he sat down with her on his lap, and let her cry until she could cry no more. He said nothing. He just held her very tight.

  For long moments after the last wrenching sob, she remained still, her face pressed against his chest, shivering in her wet clothes one moment, soaking up the warmth of the sun and of Antony’s body the next.