by Regina Scott
His mother clutched the bell tight, but she didn’t ring it again. As if determined to align herself against him, Lilith went to stand with Miss Thorn. Gregory could see Fortune peering up from her owner’s arms as if unsure of his sister. He knew the feeling.
“Tell me about your estate,” Yvette said, and he wasn’t sure if she was addressing his mother or him.
His mother was certain. “Well, Gregory? Answer French. You’ve done a great deal to improve the place. I would think you’d want to crow.”
He had never been the type to praise his own accomplishments. God had given him strength, vitality, and intelligence. He simply used them.
“Carrolton Park encompasses roughly ten thousand acres,” he explained. “The house and gardens take up a small portion, the woods another portion, and the farm over that hill the rest.”
She glanced up at him. “And what do you grow on your farm?”
Why was he feeling self-conscious? He could have told her the exact variety, the yield in bushels per year, but a gentleman wasn’t supposed to be that invested in the things that brought him income. “Grain, vegetables, that sort of thing.”
Her mouth quirked, as if his answer did not satisfy her.
“And what of you, my lady?” she asked his mother. “What do you love about it?”
His mother shifted under the lap robes even as Lilith and Miss Thorn ventured closer, as if drawn by the quiet conversation.
“I didn’t like it when I first came here,” his mother confided. “Too distant from anything I’d ever known. But you must admit it has a certain beauty. See the bluebells under the trees? When I was young, I’d walk through them and listen to the sounds of the wood, then gather armloads and bring them back to the house.”
He didn’t remember that, but the image of his mother as a young woman loving plants as much as he did was appealing. “We could gather some now, if you like.”
Lilith snorted. “Oh, Gregory, really. What nonsense.”
His mother nodded. “It was only a girlish fancy. Your father never liked the things and had the staff throw them out.”
He didn’t remember that either, but he felt as if he should apologize. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
Her gaze was on the distance, though he thought he saw a sorrow equal to his own in Yvette’s eyes.
“It matters not,” his mother insisted. “Now Marbury brings me fresh flowers every day.”
For once, something close to a smile hovered on his sister’s lips. “Me too. Lilies, my favorite.”
“I must thank him for the flowers in my room as well,” Miss Thorn said with a smile to the butler.
“Actually, madam,” Marbury started. Gregory shook his head.
“It was no trouble,” the butler finished smoothly.
“And you, my lord?” Yvette murmured. “Do you love your estate?”
He smiled, gaze going out over the lush green. “I will admit to admiring it greatly, Miss French. Others find it distant, but I like that it’s set off by itself, with nothing crowding in. You can walk, you can ride, you can even dive into the stream if it suits you. There’s no one and nothing to get in your way. And I like the bluebells. Your eyes are very similar in color.”
He wasn’t sure why he added the last part. She blushed, smile deepening, until he wanted to lean closer, perhaps press his lips to hers, see if they tasted as sweet as they looked.
He stood taller, made himself look away. She was a lady under his protection. He had no business thinking about what it would be like to kiss her!
He was relieved when their head footman strode out of the house to fetch him, announcing that they had visitors.
“The Duchess?” his mother asked, perking up.
“No, your ladyship,” Perkins said, inclining his tawny head. “Two gentlemen to see the earl, a Mr. Mayes and a Mr. Villers.”
Every lady reacted. Yvette stiffened from where she’d been attending his mother, Miss Thorn clutched Fortune close as if for protection, and the cat issued a hiss of challenge, to her owner or the visitors, Gregory wasn’t sure. His mother beamed, and Lilith picked up her skirts and climbed back up the stairs at a pace he would not have credited to her. Even Marbury frowned in her wake.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Gregory said, more mystified than usual by the ladies of his household. He started after his sister, but his mother caught his arm.
“Ask them to stay for dinner,” she ordered. “I want to meet them.”
“I’ll do what I can, Mother,” he promised. He caught Yvette’s eye, and she nodded as if in understanding. He hurried into the house.
He wasn’t entirely surprised when their guests explained their purpose for visiting. He’d gone to school with Julian Mayes, who had later distinguished himself as a cunning solicitor. His red-gold hair always looked as if he’d forgotten to comb it, but that didn’t seem to make him any less popular with the ladies. Gregory had only heard of Julian’s companion, a tall, sallow-complexioned fellow with pomaded black hair and a long nose.
“Carrolton,” Julian greeted him as they met in the north withdrawing room. “May I present Beauford Villers. He’s an acquaintance of our mutual friend, Lord Hastings.”
An intelligence agent, then. Villers bowed, and Gregory nodded. He could see the potential for subterfuge in those grasping hands, the thin lips, the slim physique. Here was surely a fellow who would sneer at danger.
“Welcome to Carrolton Park, gentlemen,” Gregory said. “Would you care to refresh yourselves?”
They declined, and Gregory used the excuse to dismiss Marbury and the junior footman, who had been hovering behind them. His butler was too well practiced in the role to show his surprise as he bowed himself out. Gregory motioned his guests into the gilded chairs.
Julian reclined with his usual grace, but Villers sat upright, gaze darting here and there as if expecting a French agent to pop out from under the settee.
“I’m sure you can guess why we’re here,” Julian said.
“The man after Miss de Maupassant,” Gregory said. “Have you caught him?”
“No,” Villers said with dark look.
Relief shot through him. Why? He should be as disappointed as the intelligence agent that the villain still moved through England, endangering Yvette. But a few moments’ reflection revealed the reason for his relief. If the fellow was caught, Yvette would have no further need to stay.
Julian leaned forward. “We may not have caught him, but we think we have identified him. We have reason to believe Yvette de Maupassant’s cousin Claude is in England and eager to take her back to France to stand trial for treason.”
His hands gripped the arms of the chair. “Her family wants her dead? I was told they were gone.”
“Her parents and brothers were guillotined,” Julian said, voice as hard as the image it evoked. “This fellow assumed responsibility for her and took advantage of her introduction to Napoleon’s court. It seems he was incensed that she’d defected. We have no reason to believe he’s discovered her location, but you had to be warned.”
Gregory nodded. “I’ll protect her.”
“Good man.” Julian glanced at his colleague with less warmth. “Have you anything to add, Villers?”
The fellow shook himself and managed a brief smile. “How is your sister, my lord?”
Gregory blinked at the non sequitur. “My sister? Fine. Do you believe her to be in danger?”
“No, no,” Julian hurried to assure him. “There should be no danger so long as no one discovers Yvette de Maupassant’s true nature.”
The doors to the withdrawing room popped open, and Yvette scurried into the room.
“Forgive the delay, mon amis. I had to hide the countess’ cowbell and tell Lady Lilith to mind her own affairs. Now, what must I know?”
~~~
Men. They must have been discussing what to do about her situation, yet they all stared at her as if she’d floated down from the ceiling dressed in chicken feathers. M
r. Villers’s mouth even hung open.
“Vite, vite,” she said, coming to join them. “You must be quick. Meredith is with her ladyship, but I will be wanted shortly.”
Mr. Mayes brightened. She’d met the solicitor last month at Foulness Manor, the home of her friend Harry. Of course he would want news of Meredith—unless Yvette missed her guess, he intended to court the lady.
“Miss Thorn is still here?” he asked.
“For the time being,” the earl told him. Then he stepped forward to take Yvette’s hand in his. Such a large hand. Hers disappeared inside it, yet she felt perfectly comfortable.
“Miss de Maupassant,” he said, “Mr. Mayes and Mr. Villers came to let us know they have identified the man pursuing you. You must be brave. It is your cousin.”
The room dimmed. She must have swayed on her feet, for his hand slipped around her waist as if to hold her upright. She clung to his hand, to his warmth. She could not let her fear rule her.
“I should have known Claude would be involved,” she made herself say. “I am only surprised he crossed the Channel himself. Where is he now?”
“We’re not sure,” Mr. Mayes admitted. “One of our best men, Lord Trevithan, nearly caught him in London, but he managed to escape.”
He would, even from the dashing Lord Trevithan, who’d recruited her for a spy. Her cousin was a survivor. So many wrongs could be laid at his door, yet he always escaped capture, like a cockroach scuttling away from the light.
“You’re safe here,” the earl said in his deep voice, hand still holding hers. “He has no idea where you are.”
Yvette shook her head. “He had no idea where I was. Why do you think he allowed you to see him in London? He wanted you to know he was in England. You hurried to tell me, and he will hurry to follow you.”
Mr. Villers straightened, and Mr. Mayes’ handsome face tightened.
“You’re right,” the solicitor said. “We were fools. Carrolton, there’s nothing for it now. We’ll have to find another place for Miss de Maupassant.”
The earl stiffened, but once more the room seemed to darken. Leave Carrolton Park? She had only been here a few days, but she felt as if ribbons bound her to the place. Why? She owed them only her thanks.
But who would answer Lady Carrolton’s bell?
Who would depress Lady Lilith’s notions?
Who would smile encouragement to a beleaguered earl over dinner, share secrets and plans in the corridors?
He still had not released her hand, was gazing down at her, face troubled. Did he fear the danger she had brought to his beautiful home?
Or was he also troubled that she might leave?
“Non,” she said, and his breath rushed past her as if he had been holding it in that magnificent chest. “My cousin is somewhere between here and London. If you take me away, he will only find us sooner. I will stay here, so long as the earl agrees.”
He squeezed her hand, the merest of pressures, yet it seemed to echo inside her. “I am at your disposal, my lady.”
Relief pulsed through her. She could not remember wanting more to stay.
“Very well,” Mr. Mayes said. “Then let me beg a favor, Carrolton. Allow Villers and me to remain with you a day or two. If we make it appear our visit is merely social, the villain may return to London and try another approach to locate Miss de Maupassant.”
The earl nodded. “You are both welcome.”
Mr. Villers cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should stay at the local inn. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
The earl chuckled. “In this house? We have more than a dozen bedchambers, only five of which are occupied. You will be no trouble.”
His answering smile was sickly.
How odd. Mr. Villers and his sister Lydia had also been at Harry’s disastrous house party at Easter. The dark-haired fellow had not endeared himself to Yvette, threatening to reveal her secret if she did not pay him well. But after an attempt on her life, he had become an ally of sorts. It seemed he was still working with Mr. Mayes or he would not be here now.
So why refuse the invitation? Was he so afraid of her cousin? From what she had heard, he had spent the last few years posturing to impress those with a title. Of course, that had been when he was trying to find a husband for his sister, who had recently declared herself more interested in pursuing science than a match. Still, to forego such an invitation was unlike the Beau Villers she knew.
What was the fellow up to?
Chapter Six
He was holding Yvette close. Her hand was small and dainty, like the rest of her, yet he felt the strength in it. His mother and sister would have swooned to hear an enemy could be closing in. He’d moved to support her, yet she seemed composed, cool even.
“It is decided, then,” she said with a look to Julian and Villers. “You two, the earl, Lady Lilith, and Meredith will make up a house party. Devoted companion that I am, I will encourage the countess to join you.”
His mother was in for it now. Still, it would do her good to get out of her room more often.
“Excellent,” Julian agreed. “I’m sure Marbury can arrange the details.”
“I will be no trouble,” Villers assured everyone. “A book in my room will suffice.”
And here Gregory had thought him a redoubtable intelligence agent. Was the fellow so retiring, or so secretive? Yvette was frowning at him, and even Julian looked at him askance before turning to Gregory.
“It shouldn’t take much to make this look like a house party,” his friend said, rubbing his chin. “Tomorrow, you can take me on a tour of the estate, and we’ll see if we can spot anything amiss.”
Gregory nodded, but he felt a tightening inside. A foreign agent crept closer to his home, breathing danger. He had never thought to find himself in such a position. Small wonder it remained on his mind as he saw his new guests settled and went to inform his sister and mother of the plans. Yvette had gone up ahead of him to alert Miss Thorn so she knew to play along. All the ladies were taking tea with his mother in her sitting room when he arrived.
This room had been decorated to his mother’s specifications, with fanciful swirls marking the pink and blue panels of the ceilings and walls, a thick flowered carpet underfoot. The delicate gilt furnishings always made him feel like a lumbering bear. He declined to take the seat his mother offered and stood instead, but he only ended up looming over them all.
“I’ve invited friends to stay,” he announced. “We’ll be riding and playing billiards and that sort of thing, probably of little interest to you, but you’re welcome to join us for meals and conversation in the evenings.”
“Friends?” his sister asked, tremor in her voice. “Including this Mr. Villers?”
Gregory cocked his head. “You sound concerned. Has Mr. Villers offended you in some way, Lilith?”
She paled. “Certainly not. I hardly know the man.”
Miss Thorn eyed her a moment before turning to Gregory. “I’d be delighted to join you, my lord.”
“We will all join you,” Yvette said with a look to his mother and Lilith. His mother nodded, but his sister said nothing.
“Perhaps we should start with a tour of the house,” Miss Thorn suggested. “I’m sure your guests would appreciate seeing it in all its glory.”
“Mais oui,” Yvette put in with a twinkle in her eyes.
Lilith rose. “I have no need. Excuse me.” She hurried out.
“Meet me in the entry hall in a quarter hour,” Gregory told the others, then strode after his sister.
He stopped her just as she put her hand on the latch to open the door to her suite. “Lilith, wait. Forgive me if I overstepped by not consulting you about the other guests. There’s nothing to concern you. Marbury is making the arrangements.”
She avoided her gaze. “It’s your home. You can invite who you like. I’ll do what I must to make you proud. Marbury may not have had time to inform Cook. I’ll speak to her about the meals.”
He nod
ded. “Thank you. I wish you’d join us. You must remember Julian Mayes. And I can introduce you to Mr. Villers.”
“No need for an introduction,” she said. Then she whipped open the door and disappeared into her room.
Gregory didn’t follow. She deserved the privacy she was so set on maintaining. He only wondered why she felt the need to hide just as Beau Villers arrived at Carrolton Park.
Gregory found Julian, Miss Thorn, his mother, and Yvette waiting for him in the entry hall at a quarter past. Julian seemed more interested in eyeing Miss Thorn than his surroundings, and Gregory’s mother appeared to be happy watching them both. As if she noticed as well, Yvette moved closer to him.
“And what is that lovely stone in the floor, my lord?” she asked. “I noticed it when I came in. It is unusual, non?”
Focused in such a way, he found it easy to explain his choices. His architect and interior designer had been surprised by his suggestions, but pleased to implement them, and Gregory had largely been satisfied with the results.
“It’s Blue John,” he explained. “A Devonshire stone. I saw it at Chatsworth, the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and thought it would look good here. You see, Carrolton Park is surrounded by green. Even in winter, our evergreens keep the land verdant. I wanted the entry hall calming, serene, different from the outdoors. Grey, white, and blue seemed appropriate.”
His mother was staring at him. “Why, Gregory, I had no idea you had such thoughts.”
His cheeks were heating. He turned away from their admiring glances to hide the fact and pointed instead into the stairwell. “The Grecian motive continues here, but with brighter tones of silver and white, welcoming guests and family further into the house. The carvings depicting the forest remind us of the wonders to be viewed outside.”
“So that’s why the stones show trees,” his mother mused. “I just thought it was pretty.”
And it was pretty. A nice arrangement if he said so himself. Not out loud, of course.
As he continued leading them through the house, from the scarlet withdrawing room with its medieval tapestries in the south wing to the saffron silk walls of the long gallery, he couldn’t help noticing the changes in his guests. Julian walked ever closer to Miss Thorn, until the lady’s arm was tucked through his. His mother seemed utterly entranced by her own home, a fond smile playing about her mouth and eyes warm. Only Yvette seemed to be attending to his explanations.