Lord of the Beasts

by Susan Krinard

  She had struck the right chord, for he drew up and glared as if he had entirely forgotten the peril she represented. “I believe I can convince her,” he growled.

  “Very good. Once you have joined your body with hers, the potion will be activated, and Cordelia will be helplessly in love with you. She will agree to anything you propose.”

  “And this love will endure?”

  “Oh, yes. At least until you have her wed.”

  He sank into a brooding silence. “I pray that you will forgive my frankness, but this is all very sudden. If only you will allow me time to think…”

  She jumped up, scattering the pillows, which vanished before they touched the ground. “There is no time, mortal. Either you do as I ask, or I shall see to it that you never win another bet, that no woman will ever favor you again and that you die in abject poverty.”

  “How do I know that you can—”

  She swept her arms outward, withering every plant within a hundred feet. “Shall I show you again?” she cried. “Shall I take your manhood now, and allow you to ‘think’ on that?”

  He hunched over, crossing his arms protectively across his lap. “No,” he whispered. “No, my lady. That is not necessary.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” She sighed and smoothed her skirts. “I suggest you arrange to entice Cordelia away from Edgecott very soon…within the next few days. I have a little more business to conduct in the mortal realm, but when I am finished, I expect Mrs. Hardcastle to be your eager servant.” She smiled. “Are we in accord, Viscount Inglesham?”

  “Yes.” He coughed. “Quite.”

  “Then I shall show myself out.”

  She left him, her thoughts already skipping ahead to her next target. Donal would not be nearly so easy to control, but in the end he, too, would surrender to her will.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DONAL DID NOT RETURN to Inglesham’s estate that evening. He contented himself with dreams of vengeance throughout the sleepless night, and paced the cottage floor as he pondered Countess Pavlenkova’s inopportune arrival at Inglesham’s estate.

  Given what he had observed of the woman at Edgecott, he did not for a moment believe that her visit had been the casual call of a stranger. She seemed exactly the sort of female with whom Inglesham would be well acquainted, and Donal’s instincts told him that her interest in Ivy—whom Inglesham had threatened—was no mere coincidence.

  Ironically, one of Inglesham’s footmen had been waiting for Donal at the cottage when he returned from his thwarted punitory expedition. The man had informed Donal that the next race was to be held near the village of Woolhampton in three days’ time, and that the viscount would meet his “partner” outside Edgecott’s gates at dawn that morning.

  Donal had dismissed the footman and immediately began to formulate new plans for Inglesham’s downfall. At least he wouldn’t have to find an excuse for his absence from Edgecott; Cordelia was fully occupied with her father, who was recovering from his illness under Dr. Brown’s diligent care. Donal still felt the sting of her rejection, and that anger would serve him well when he was about to forsake all the tenets by which he had lived his life.

  It had become very clear to Donal that he no longer had good reason to linger at Edgecott. The animals suffered from his proximity when he failed to control his emotions. Ivy hardly benefitted from his presence, and even Tod had turned against him.

  He needed no further proof that his attempt to reside and work in the company of humans was a dismal failure. The distant, untamed lands across the sea still called to him; if their voices were muted by the yearning in his heart, he knew they would not be so forever. Grief, like love, held no lasting sway in those of Fane blood. He would lose himself in the wilderness, and learn to live alone again.

  And if he solved the mystery of Pavlenkova’s purpose in Gloucestershire, he could end Inglesham’s menace and be free to leave Edgecott before Cordelia learned what he had done.

  Just after sunrise, Donal fetched Boreas from the stables and rode out across the park, following a groundskeeper’s directions to the manor house now occupied by the Countess Pavlenkova. Shapford had obviously seen better days; its grounds were neglected, and at first glance the house looked sadly in need of repair.

  Donal’s first impressions were borne out when no servant appeared to take his mount or meet him at the door. He knocked, waited several minutes and knocked again. At last a woman opened the door…a very peculiar servant, whose dress had the same outlandish quality as the one the countess had worn during her visit to Edgecott. She regarded Donal with wide eyes, as if he were the one out of place, and suddenly vanished, leaving the door open behind her.

  Donal entered, too vexed to stand on ceremony. He heard raised feminine voices at the end of the hall and pursued the sound to its source.

  The large drawing room might have been elegant once. Certainly the countess had done little to improve it during her residence; half the furniture was still in dust covers, and the mantelpiece and tables were bare of the usual trinkets and lady’s miscellany.

  One might have said that so beautiful a woman had no need of ornaments, and as Donal paused in the doorway he was momentarily nonplused by Pavlenkova’s startling allure. She held court in a large chair placed in the center of the room, her gown a rich gold velvet more appropriate to a palace function than an early morning at home. Her “servants,” of which there were at least a half-dozen, had the appearance of ladies-in-waiting. Donal doubted that any of them had done a day’s work in their lives.

  The countess looked at Donal with mild interest as she plucked ripe strawberries from a silver tray. “My, but you are early, Dr. Fleming,” she said, licking juice from her full lower lip. “Is it quite the thing in England to pay visits before the sun is up?”

  Donal didn’t bother to bow. “I would not think that English customs are of much concern to you, Countess,” he said.

  “Oh! It seems that this is not a social call.” She gave him a sly look under her long, pale lashes. “Have I done something to offend you, Doctor? Did I commit some terrible faux pas at Edgecott?”

  Donal entered the room. The ladies bobbed and whispered as if he might attack them, their skirts fluttering like wings. “I am sure if we were in your country, Countess,” he said, “your behavior would be entirely appropriate.”

  The servant holding the tray let it fall with a clatter. Strawberries rolled in every direction across the parquet floor. A flash of annoyance crossed Pavlenkova’s face, and then she smiled.

  “I do apologize, Doctor, for any misbehavior. I am very new to this country, it is true, and my business here is of a certain urgency, which may have led me to…an unwitting neglect of the social niceties.”

  Donal studied the countess with unwavering attention. In anyone else, such an apology might have seemed sincere, but Donal was more interested in her explanation.

  “Might I ask, Countess,” he said, “the nature of your business in the county?”

  She hissed a command to the servants, who hurriedly gathered up the fallen berries and fled the room. “Please make yourself comfortable, Doctor. We cannot have a decent conversation while you loom over me like a hungry bear.”

  Donal located an uncovered chair and sat down. “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

  She waved off his thanks. “May I guess that you are here because of our…encounter at Viscount Inglesham’s estate last night?”

  He flushed, remembering how much at a disadvantage he had felt when she caught him, even though she couldn’t know the reason for his presence. “I had been riding for some time,” he said, “but I hadn’t realized that I’d gone so far as Lord Inglesham’s park.”

  “Then you were not on your way to see him?”

  “No. But I was surprised to see you there, Countess. Are you acquainted with the viscount?”

  “Only by reputation. I felt it would be wise to become known to the people of stature in this county, so that my purpose her
e would be accepted.”

  “And what is that purpose?”

  She sighed. “I see no reason why you should not know. I feel that I can trust you, and that you will not reveal my secret until I give you leave to do so.”

  Donal was not in the least deceived by her flattery. “Does your business have something to do with Ivy?”

  The countess pressed her hand over her heart. “But that is remarkable! How very astute of you, mon cher docteur. It is precisely because of the girl that I have traveled from my country.”

  “Why?”

  “As strange as it may seem, Dr. Fleming, I believe I am her cousin.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I could not be sure, of course, until I had seen her. And even then…” She retrieved a fan from a small side table and snapped it open. “Many years ago, my cousin Prince Aleksei courted a young Englishwoman whose father was a diplomat at the Tsar’s court. Aleksei was very much in love with Estelle and intended to marry her, but alas…his parents would not permit such a match, and arranged to have him sent away before he could offer the lady a proposal. He sent her a small fortune as an apology for his desertion, but he did not know she was with child until some time had passed. By then he had married in Russia and could not go to her.”

  In amazement, Donal remembered Ivy’s confession about her mother Estelle, her Russian father, and her own birth out of wedlock. Her story matched Pavlenkova’s account. But it made no sense at all if Ivy’s father was Fane, as Donal had always believed.

  Unless her mother had been the one of Fane blood, raised as human and unaware of her heritage just as Ivy had been. Such mistakes were rare but not unknown.

  “Dr. Fleming?” Pavlenkova said, raising an inquiring brow.

  “I’m sorry,” Donal said. “Please go on.”

  “My cousin assured himself that Estelle was comfortably situated and returned to his own life,” the Countess continued. “It was only many years later, when his wife had died and he himself was ill, that he resolved to find Estelle and their child again.”

  “Estelle is dead.”

  “So we discovered.” Pavlenkova face assumed mournful lines. “Aleksei died six months ago, but he left his entire fortune to Estelle’s daughter. He entrusted me to find her and restore her to her heritage.”

  Donal rose from his chair and paced a circle about the room. “You’re saying that she is an heiress?”

  “Évidemment. She will be a very wealthy woman. All I need do is prove to my cousin’s solicitors in London that she is indeed his daughter.”

  “And how do you propose to do that, Countess?”

  “I have met her, and I am convinced. But there is another means of verifying her identity. Aleksei sent her a pendant, a unique design made especially for her. If she still has it…”

  Donal stopped short. “If she does?”

  “Then I will take it to the solicitors as evidence, and they will surely accept her true identity.”

  His head spinning, Donal clasped his hands behind his back. “This is all very sudden,” he said. “If it’s true—”

  “You so readily doubt my word, Doctor,” Pavlenkova said with a pout. “How have I earned your dislike?”

  “How did you locate Ivy? She lived for years in the rookeries of London—”

  “I am aware of that sad circumstance. I hired men of particular skill to seek her out, and they traced her from her mother’s previous residence to Seven Dials and then to Yorkshire.” Her crystal eyes warmed. “They learned what you had done for Ivy. I was filled with much admiration for your kindness.”

  Donal waved her compliment aside. “Then these men of yours followed us to Gloucestershire,” he said, “and you arranged to meet with Ivy. Why didn’t you reveal your purpose then?”

  “Because it would be premature to announce my intentions before I have collected the necessary proof to satisfy the solicitors. To raise the girl’s hopes, only to dash them…” She shook her head. “I am not capable of such cruelty.”

  Raise the girl’s hopes. Donal resumed his pacing, trying to imagine how Ivy would react to such a fantastic tale. Would she rejoice at knowing her father had remembered her in the end? Would she forget Cordelia in her excitement at obtaining her own fortune and a chance at complete independence? Who would guide her, help her manage her new wealth and all the responsibilities it brought with it?

  Who indeed?

  “Your interest in Ivy is strictly a matter of uniting her with her inheritance?” Donal asked.

  “And to fulfill my cousin’s wishes. Ivy would have made him very proud.” She lifted her chin. “She also is my cousin, and I wish to see that she receives everything to which she is entitled. Is that so difficult to understand? Would you not wish the same for your relations?”

  “Naturally, but—”

  She stood and swept toward him. “Your desire to protect Ivy is laudable, Doctor, but it does not serve her in this case. You can take an active part in her future if you will help me to obtain her pendant without alerting her to the reason for my presence here.”

  Donal stared at the countess for a full minute of silence. “To my knowledge,” he said, “Ivy never removes the pendant. If I’m to borrow it, I’ll have to give her a good reason.”

  “I am certain that a man of your resources can find one that will not arouse her suspicions,” Pavlenkova said. “Will you help me, Dr. Fleming?”

  He closed his eyes, weighing his irrational dislike of the countess against the chance that she was speaking the truth. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll obtain the pendant and bring it to you.”

  “Merveilleux. Prince Aleksei would thank you if he were here, as I do.”

  Donal turned to go and paused in the doorway. “I’m trusting you, Countess, for Ivy’s sake. But if you are playing a game of deception—”

  “I would not dare,” Pavlenkova said softly. “I have no doubt that you are a very dangerous man.”

  She saw him to the front door with all due courtesy, but Donal could not help but feel that he’d missed something vital in their exchange. He comforted himself with the thought that if he made himself an essential part of this drama, he could ensure that Cordelia had some say in Ivy’s future.

  TOD DID PRECISELY as Béfind commanded. Keeping himself invisible to mortal and half-mortal eyes, he observed as Donal spoke to Ivy about her pendant, suggesting that he might be able to use it to obtain further information about her father. Tod followed Donal when he delivered the pendant to Béfind and returned to Edgecott. And when next the dawn threw its brilliant veil across the world, Tod secretly delivered Béfind’s letter to Ivy’s room.

  He sat on the windowsill and studied Ivy’s animated features as she read the letter. He timed his appearance to the exact moment when she finished, her eyes alight with excitement.

  “Tod!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad you’ve come. Something wonderful has happened.”

  Tod pretended surprise as he jumped down from the window. “What is it, my lady?”

  Ivy hurried to her clothes press and flung open the doors. “A woman came to visit yesterday…a woman such as I’ve never seen before.” She whirled about, hugging an apricot gown to her chest. “I knew as soon as I met her that she understood me the way no one at Edgecott ever has.”

  Tod sat cross-legged on the bed, mesmerized by the radiant joy on Ivy’s face. “How is this lady called?” he asked.

  “Countess Pavlenkova. Isn’t it a marvelous name?” She stepped behind a folding screen and began to undress. “She came all the way from Russia, can you imagine it? The same country where my own father was born.”

  “This countess came to see my lady, then?”

  “No. That’s the most wonderful thing about it.” Ivy flung her dress over the top of the screen and wriggled into the apricot gown. “She didn’t know anything about me before she arrived at Edgecott, but she felt the same way I did…as if we’d met before. After she left she realized why she had be
en so drawn to me.” Ivy laughed. “I look just like a man she knew in Russia long ago.” She stepped out from behind the screen and snatched up the letter, her eyes skimming over it eagerly. “She has no idea that my father was Russian, but I am sure that there must be a connection. She wants me to come and speak with her, tonight.”

  “And my lady is not permitted to go.”

  “Cordelia hates her. I don’t know why, but she doesn’t want any of us to see the countess again.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and knotted her hands in her lap. “I don’t want to make Cordelia unhappy. She’s been so good to me. I…care about her. But nothing is turning out the way I thought it would. She’s so busy with Sir Geoffrey, and Donal…I don’t think she’d even notice if I left Edgecott.” She scraped a hand across her face and turned to Tod. “I’m going to see the countess tonight. Will you keep watch while I sneak out of the house?”

  Tod placed his hand over his heart. “Tod is always at my lady’s command.”

  “Then I shall leave as soon as dinner is finished, when Cordelia is with Sir Geoffrey.”

  Ivy paced out the hours in her room, feigning a headache when Cordelia came to inquire after her. She made a dramatic show of going down to dinner, as if the mere attempt to join the others cost her a great deal of effort and would result in an evening of utter prostration. As a result, Mrs. Hardcastle left her alone after the meal, and Tod helped Ivy slip from the house with no one the wiser. Sir Reginald joined them in the park, his soulful brown eyes swimming with apology for his bad manners with the countess. Ivy reluctantly permitted the spaniel to tag along.

  Since it would attract too much attention to borrow a horse from the stables, Tod and Ivy walked the two miles to Shapford. When they reached the house she paused to catch her breath, smoothing her skirts with nervous fingers.

  “Do I look well enough, Tod?” she asked.

  “My lady is always beautiful.”

  Ivy smiled, but her eyes seemed to look right through him. “We must say goodbye here. I doubt that the countess would know what to make of you.”