“I see,” Julien said thoughtfully, studying the boy. “Why don’t we return to Winthrop House? You can share a cup of tea with me, perhaps.” Actually, Julien had his mind set on a brandy.
“You wouldn’t mind, sir?”
What adult could be immune to that plea? Julien wondered. He knew exactly what the boy was asking and it amused him. “I’d make a wonderful alibi, no doubt,” he said. “But, Sam, it won’t work. Knight must be told about those men. It wouldn’t be right to keep such a thing from him.”
Sam looked as if it were the rightest thing in the world, but he managed, wisely, to hold his tongue.
Knight, who had arrived home just five minutes earlier, was rather surprised when Julien, with Sam in tow, appeared in the library doorway.
“Good day, Knight. Behold a savior delivering your cousin to you from the maw of kidnappers.”
“What the devil are you talking about, St. Clair?” Knight paused at the look on Julien’s face and quickly added, “Sam, go ask Duckett for some tea and cakes. Go.
“Now, what happened? Oh, yes, come sit down, Julien.”
“My thanks. Yes, well, I came along—quite minding my own business—to see Sam being held under the arm of a contentious-looking creature. His cohort looked little better. Sam was yelling at the top of his lungs, bless his presence of mind. I had my sword stick, thankfully, drew it, and dashed forward like a regular St. George. The fellow dropped Sam and the two of them fled in the opposite direction. I didn’t go after them. After all, there were two of them, and I had no wish to have my gullet carved out, not even to impress Sam with my heroism.”
“I see,” Knight said slowly.
“You know who those men are, perhaps?”
“I have an excellent idea. Did Sam tell you what they wanted of him?”
“No, we didn’t speak of that. Hopefully they said something of value to him.”
Knight was silent. He paced the library and continued silent. He turned abruptly. “Don’t say any of this to Lil—Mrs. Winthrop. I don’t want her unduly worried. She and the boys will be leaving for Castle Rosse tomorrow morning. They will be well out of the way of any more villains.”
“Doesn’t she have the right to know?”
“No. I will decide what she should and shouldn’t know.”
“Quite the autocrat you’ve become, Knight.”
“Brandy, Julien?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Knight was in the process of pouring when he heard Lily’s and Sam’s voices outside the library door. He closed his eyes a moment, vowing Sam to silence. But it wasn’t to be.
There came a knock on the door. As it opened, Knight heard Sam say with great descriptive relish, “They were ugly and awful, Mama.”
“Sam loves his mother,” Julien said. “You truly didn’t expect him to keep mum, did you?”
Knight cursed softly, downed his brandy in one long drink, and stared balefully toward the half-open door. “Come,” he called.
Lily’s face was pale, but she appeared otherwise composed. “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said to Julien. “I trust your wife is well?”
“Yes, certainly, Mrs. Winthrop. Please, ma’am, you needn’t pursue social vanities with me, not when you’re bursting with questions.”
“Thank you, my lord. Come here, Sam. You will tell me and Knight exactly what happened.” To Julien, she added, “If you will interpolate when necessary, my lord.”
Sam knew he was in for a scolding at the very least. From the expression on his cousin Knight’s face, he suspected it just might be a hiding. He drew a deep breath and plunged forward.
“…and then the huge man said real loud, ‘Isn’t that one of Tris’s nippers?’ Then they called each other by their names—Monk and Boy—I’m sure, even though they sound odd.”
“Just a moment, Sam. Describe these men.”
Sam described Monk and Boy with some inaccuracy due to the perspective of a young child well under five feet of height. Julien ably assisted to right the matter. When all was said and straightened out, Knight spoke in a voice that he’d scarce ever used in his adult life. “Go to your room now, Sam. You will stay there until tomorrow morning. You will have your dinner, but by yourself, in your room. What you did was stupid and ill-advised. Apologize to your mother, then off with you.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
Lily scarce heard Sam’s abject words. She was staring at Knight in growing fury and surprise. How dared he discipline Sam? Still, she knew the value of adults sticking together when it came to punishment. She herself, upon hearing of Sam’s escapade, had wanted to strangle him, spank him until he couldn’t sit, and hug him tight since he was safe again. She and Tris had formed a partnership in that regard. He never gainsaid her orders, nor she his. She held her tongue now, but it was difficult. This man wasn’t the children’s father.
But he was their legal guardian. She realized quite suddenly that he had more to say about their behavior, and about the consequences of their behavior, than did she.
Sam, his lower lip nearly pouched down to the floor, left the library, his step as slow as a snail’s. Lily still held her peace. Knight said, his voice laced with amusement, “Lily, don’t let Julien’s presence stop your flow of outrage. Come, spit it out before you choke on your bile.”
Her chin went up. Julien sat back on the settee, an interested spectator. Knight was regarding her with open amusement. He was, she realized, goading her.
“I would have thrashed him soundly,” she said. “I would have locked him in the attic and given him only bread and water for three days.”
That took him aback, Lily saw, and was more than pleased with her outrageous lie. “Sending him to his room—which he shares with Theo—isn’t at all a punishment. He will enjoy himself immensely, and because Theo loves him, he won’t leave him to any isolation. He will consider it his duty to amuse him.”
“Your logic is shattering. I shall send him to spend the evening with Laura Beth.”
Lily laughed at that, unable to help herself. “Now, that would be a punishment. Sam would probably poke out Czarina Catherine’s painted eyes were he banished to spend even an hour alone with Laura Beth.” To Julien, she added with a faint smile, “Czarina Catherine is her doll—”
“An extension of her arm, more’s to the point,” Knight said.
“Yes, her constant companion. Now, Knight, you may as well say it. Those two men are the same two who came here yesterday.”
Julien got to his feet. He smiled gently at Knight, then at Lily. “You are doubtless wishing me to Jericho at the moment. Not that I’m not fascinated with all of this, but you need to work it out between you. Also, I don’t account myself a sterling referee. Actually, before all the excitement, I was just coming to see you, Knight, to inquire if you wished to attend a mill with me. Near Backlesfield, tomorrow afternoon.”
Knight’s eyes gleamed, but he said with commendable fortitude, “No, I think not, Julien.”
“Why not?” Lily asked. “We knew you wouldn’t be accompanying us to Castle Rosse,” she continued, disappointment lying heavy on her tongue but, thankfully, not sounding through in her voice. “It would be a great waste of your time.”
Knight was torn. He was worried that the men would see them leave and follow. On the other hand, he knew if he accompanied them, he would have the very devil of a time keeping his hands off Lily. He needed space from her, and time. He needed very much to regain his perspective on life and he needed to take Janine to bed, at least a dozen times. He needed to get his rudder back on an even keel. If he could ensure that she and the children would be safe. “Very well, Julien. Fetch me at two o’clock.”
“Excellent. Mrs. Winthrop, a pleasure, ma’am.”
Once they were alone, Knight said quickly, “I will send two Runners with you to Dorset, to Castle Rosse. You will have ample protection.”
Lily was both regretful and relieved that Knight wouldn’t be coming with them. She
would miss him. Dreadfully. “I’m sure we’ll have no problems. The men can’t be observing the house all the time, and we can make certain they’re not around when we leave tomorrow morning.”
Knight waved her observation away. “The question is why, Lily? What is it they want? They called him Tris’s nipper. Obviously they were cohorts of Tris’s, or associates, or something, for God’s sake. They were quite willing to take Sam. As a lever? Quite possibly. Think. What could they want?”
Lily moved away from him, toward the bowed windows that looked onto the park opposite.
“Lily, you must have something of value they want.”
“I don’t know.” She whirled about to face him as she spoke. “I’m telling you the truth. I have no idea what they want.”
“Tris was murdered just before he arrived home. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Murdered, perhaps, before he could tell you what it was he had of value.”
“There was nothing of value in his house or in his personal things. Nothing. This is a great deal of speculation, Knight.”
“Have you another suggestion, ma’am?”
“You needn’t get in a snit.”
“Have a cup of tea, Lily.”
“Duckett hasn’t brought it yet.”
Knight, frustrated, strode to the door, yanked it open, and bellowed, “Duckett! The tea, man!”
“My lord.”
Knight jumped a good foot. Duckett was at his elbow, silent as a shadow, the tea tray in his arms.
“Damn you,” Knight said under his breath.
“I trust you will retract that, my lord, when you have found your good nature again.”
“I’m fast running out of good nature.”
“I devoutly pray that isn’t true, my lord.”
“Serve the tea, damn you.”
Duckett served the tea in the tense silence. “The children, my lord?” he asked, once done.
“Yes, take them tea, if you please,” Knight said. “Sam also. He must have a mighty thirst after his excitement.”
“Not much of a punishment for his disobedience of me,” Lily said, her eyes narrowing.
“So I’m not used to being a parent. I did what I thought he deserved. You want me to flog him? Well, I won’t do it.”
Lily chuckled. Her smile was crooked, endearing, and made him so instantly randy that he gulped down his tea and scalded his mouth. He gulped again and groaned.
Duckett said not a word. Prudently, he left the library, after nodding to Lily.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said after a moment.
“What? I’m burned and you’re sorry?”
“Not about that, that was your own fault. I’m sorry for baiting you about Sam’s punishment. I couldn’t physically harm him either. I do want sometimes to wring his neck, but in reality, I would just as soon wring my own. I will leave you now. Do forgive us for cutting up your peace.”
“Are you going to rescue Sam?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. If adults don’t stand together, there would be chaos. And believe me, you don’t truly comprehend chaos until you’ve seen children in control.”
She turned and he heard himself say, “Lily.”
“Yes?” She faced him again, and for several moments, all he could do was just stare at her.
“You’re…” So exquisite all I want to do is kiss you, every inch of you. “I will see you at dinner.”
“I don’t think so, Knight. I have a lot of packing to do.”
“As you wish,” he said, trying his damnedest to sound indifferent.
It was only seven o’clock in the morning. The sky was overcast, the fog thick, so thick Lily couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her. It was cold, too, a damp, roiling cold that cut through any amount of cloaks and scarves and vests to one’s very bones.
Knight would have shivered as well, but he was too busy checking with the two Runners to ensure that Monk and Boy were nowhere in the vicinity.
“I’ve told the Runners to keep a close watch,” he said to Lily. “They have complete descriptions of this Monk and Boy. You’re not to worry. You will arrive at Castle Rosse this evening. They’re expecting you.”
“Thank you, Knight.”
“Cousin Knight.” Theo’s head poked out the carriage window.
“Yes?”
“I’ll finish the library when we return to London.”
“I know, Theo.”
Sam’s head appeared, then Laura Beth’s. Knight stepped to the window and lightly touched his fingers to each child’s face. He said in a low voice, “You will take good care of your mother. Don’t drive her to the brink of insanity, all right? And keep an eye out for Sam’s villains.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And mind Tucker, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
Knight assisted Lily into the carriage, then quickly closed the door. “A safe journey,” he said and stepped back.
He nodded to Tucker Dilly, the coachman, and the carriage rolled forward. Three children, John, and Lily were in one carriage. Knight felt a good deal of pity for the two adults. The Runners, two men of unprepossessing mien and decades of experience, gave Knight a confident salute, then spurred their horses after the carriage.
Knight stood quietly on the lowest step until the carriage had disappeared into the fog. Back in the house, he made his way upstairs to his bedchamber. He paused for a moment in the corridor, hearing Stromsoe say in a pleased voice, “Ah, the quiet. Finally, quiet. A gentleman’s house shouldn’t be filled with children. Ah, finally.”
Knight grinned. It was quiet.
Janine, an ingenue of sorts who played a milkmaid in a current production on Drury Lane, had a limpid sort of beauty, little conversation, and thick, very long blond hair. She was as skilled as Daniella, and Knight had sex with her three times before stumbling home at three o’clock in the morning.
At least he hadn’t shouted out Lily’s name when he’d come to his release with Janine.
The next morning, he lay in bed a while, looking up at the fancy molding on the ceiling. He grinned at himself, remembering his vagrant thoughts the previous afternoon at the prizefight in Becklesfield. He’d kept wondering what Theo and Sam would have had to say about the two fighters. He feared he hadn’t been the most entertaining of companions to Julien. As it was, though, he’d won four hundred pounds in wagers on the champion.
“You going to buy a new hunter with your ill-gotten gains?” Lord Alvanley had asked.
Knight just shook his head. He thought he’d buy Sam and Laura Beth ponies and have them taken to Castle Rosse.
Sir Charles Ponsonby strolled over to Julien’s phaeton. “Where are your children, Knight?” He made a big show of looking all about the phaeton.
“They’re at Castle Rosse.”
“And their glorious mother?” asked Sir August Krinke, a fellow with more money than good sense and a leering eye.
Knight paused, looked directly at Sir August, and said, “With her children, naturally.”
Sir August took a step back at that look. Knight Winthrop was known as a very urbane gentleman, but the look in his eyes was enough to make a civilized man pause.
More acquaintances stopped by, and Knight, once into conversation, was pleased that Lily didn’t cross his beleaguered mind more than three or four times during that hour. There was drinking at the Mordant Tooth Inn just outside Becklesfield, the six or so gentlemen in the party filled with high spirits and ribald comments, none of them, fortunately, directed at Lily or Knight’s children.
Then he’d gone to Drury Lane and suffered through the awesomely bad comedy and taken Janine, the milkmaid, to bed.
At least now, he thought, he was well rested. He stretched as Stromsoe came into his bedchamber. “Ah, my lord, you’re awake. I’ve brought your coffee.”
And so the day begins, Knight thought, pulling himself up on two very fluffy pillows.
The day seemed e
mpty and yet, at the same time, frenetically busy. Odd, but it was so.
The house was so bloody quiet.
Knight could even hear Duckett walk into a room now.
“May I inquire if you will be dining at home this evening?” the butler inquired.
Knight shook his head. “No, and I shan’t be home until very late.”
Duckett knew that “home very late” meant a female to ease his lordship. He withdrew as silently as he’d entered. Goodness, but the house was quiet.
CASTLE ROSSE
DORSET, ENGLAND
Lily was exhausted. Finally, alone in her own bed, without three pairs of hands demanding this and that and three mouths all speaking at the same time. She fancied John was just as relieved to find himself alone as was she.
The butler at Castle Rosse, Thrombin, had greeted them with pleasure—much to Lily’s relief—as had the housekeeper, Mrs. Crumpe. The Runners were duly taken care of, assuring Lily before they left for their return to London that there hadn’t been a sight or a sniff or a sound of the two men. No, ma’am, not a single thing to worry about now.
Lily had burrowed more deeply under the pile of wonderfully warm covers when she heard her bedchamber door open. She froze, jerking upright in her bed.
“Mama?”
Laura Beth. “Come here, lovey,” she said, not fighting the inevitable.
Twenty minutes later, Lily, Laura Beth snuggled against her, fell into a deep sleep. Even with her small bed partner, Lily was well rested the next day. She met John downstairs in the morning parlor, eating breakfast with the boys. He was saying easily to a rapt Theo and a bored Sam, “Castle Rosse is a country seat of antiquity and history. It was built by Sir Peter Winthrop, then Baron Rosse, in 1568, during the reign of Elizabeth the First.”
“That’s why it’s so drafty in our room,” Sam said, not stopping in his chewing of bacon. “It’s bloody ancient.”
“It’s historic,” Theo said with a frown at his brother. “And mind your tongue, Sam. You know Mama doesn’t like it.”
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