He was just about to enter her room when he heard her voice and paused in the doorway. Because of the angle of the bed, he could see in, but Ria was unable to see him.
Alarmed, he watched as she conducted a conversation with thin air. It was a perfectly audible and reasonable conversation except it was one-sided as there was no one in there but her.
Frowning in concern, he strode into the room. As he entered he heard Ria gasp. Looking around the chamber, he commented, “I thought I heard you talking?”
She slowly said, “I have a habit of speaking to myself.”
“I believe a lot of people do.” Though they didn’t usually take the form of answers to unheard questions. Perhaps it was an effect of her head injury?
As he put the jug of water down on the dresser, he made a mental note to discuss it with the doctor. Pouring a glass, he took it over to her.
Though still concerned about her conversation with an invisible person and how serious her injury might be, he turned his attention to another worry—Geoffrey’s actions. “Do you remember what happened just before the accident?”
Briefly, Ria closed her eyes. When they reopened he saw reflected in them the horror of that moment.
Choosing his words carefully, he asked, “Do you have any idea why the horse reared?”
“It was startled by a vegetable cart,” she said huskily.
“Perhaps.” Luc sat in the chair bedside her and inspected her closely. Should he tell her what he’d found? Was she strong enough?
Rather than go into details, he contented himself with simply saying, “Ria, you know you can trust me, don’t you? If you need help, all you need do is say so.”
During the long silence that followed, her hands plucked at the pale pink bedcover. He could see she was wrestling with something. He also knew the moment she’d made a decision.
Just as she began to speak, Aunt Charity and Aunt Faith bustled into the room, exclaiming, “My lord, what are you doing here? You cannot be in here. We have told you before. It is most improper, especially now Ria is awake.” And before he knew it, he found himself shoved into the corridor.
A few days later, Luc watched Ria and the ladies prepare to leave. He hadn’t been able to see her alone since he’d asked why Danielson was trying to kill her. Each time he tried to enter her room, one of the ladies was there and had shooed him away, claiming it wasn’t appropriate. Society’s strictures could be a bloody nuisance.
It was clear there would be no chance of getting to see her now. The chattering ladies had Ria surrounded, then Matthews gently assisted her into the carriage, and Mary followed with her arms full of rugs. Even the innkeeper’s wife was helping.
As the carriages carrying Ria and the ladies departed, a black horse trotted into the stable yard. The rider dismounted near Luc. After handing the reins to a stable boy, he walked over to the earl. “You have troubles, my lord?”
“Yes, McDermott, I believe I do—or at least someone important to me does.”
“Can’t have that.”
“No, McDermott, we can’t.”
In perfect agreement, the two of them ascended the inn steps together.
18
Ria looked at her embroidery as she halfheartedly listened to the ladies’ chatter. Her flower was looking decidedly lopsided. If she embroidered a caterpillar, she could say it had eaten the petals.
Her attention was caught when she heard someone mention Lord Arden. She looked over at Agnes, seated at a library table, talking about a newspaper item. “Lord Arden’s mother has been seen about town on the arm of a young gentleman whom the writer believes is the son of an old flame.”
Aunt Charity shook her head as she put another stitch in her embroidery. “They keep trying to find something to reignite interest in her antics. But it’s just not the same anymore, not now she’s a widow.”
“No, indeed,” said Aunt Faith. “I believe the editors went into mourning when her husband died. There’s less interest without a wounded spouse playing the martyr.”
Ria’s brow furrowed, and she looked at the ladies. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean.”
Aunt Faith, sitting beside her on the library sofa, patted her on the knee. “Oh, my dear, you are probably too young to know. Lord Arden’s parents’ marital difficulties provided the ton with a substantial amount of gossip for years. They probably kept a number of scandal sheets in business.”
Aunt Faith opened her snuffbox and took a pinch. Ria and the other ladies waited patiently until she had finished sneezing. “His mother had numerous affaires, but unlike most spouses, her husband didn’t turn a blind eye. Instead, he humiliated her with very public scenes.”
The feather in Agatha’s hair trembled as she bobbed her head. “Yes, indeed. Why, I was at one ball Lady Arden attended and Lord Arden—the father of course, not the son—he came right in amongst the dancers, seized her arm, and dragged her away with him. And what do you think she did? Do you think she went quietly?”
To Ria’s surprise, the other ladies shook their heads.
“Exactly. Any other lady would have gone very quietly to avoid making a scene. Well, not she. She tried to pull her arm away, and when he wouldn’t let go, she screamed. Loudly. Right there in the crowded ballroom.”
From the things Luc had said, Ria knew he’d had a difficult relationship with his parents, but she hadn’t realized his parents, themselves, had problems. “What happened then?” She asked. “Did anyone go to her aid?”
Agatha looked at her in astonishment. “Of course not. As was proper, they politely ignored the scene and pretended it wasn’t happening until the Ardens left.”
“And then talked of nothing else for a sennight,” Aunt Charity said dryly.
“Was she all right? Did he hurt her?” Ria asked anxiously.
All the ladies looked taken aback at her question. Agatha answered her, “If I recall correctly, she was seen a day or two after that. Quite brazen, as though nothing had happened.”
Looking thoughtful, Aunt Charity said, “I don’t believe he was violent. She was never missing for more than a day or so—and she certainly never changed her behavior.”
Ria wondered what Luc’s childhood had been like—a poor little boy caught in his parents’ war. Even with a nanny and then a tutor to look after him, until he went to school he’d have been exposed to a corrosive atmosphere. And no wonder he’d spent his summers at Little Bridgeton.
Her attention was drawn back to the ladies when Aunt Charity said her name. She looked up to find all of them looking at her expectantly.
“My dear,” Aunt Charity told her, “I said the earl is visiting us often these days.”
Cousin Agatha added, “He does seem much taken with our shrubbery walk.”
Cousin Agnes naively said, “Mayhap he wants one of his own. Though I would be surprised if he does not already have one. Ria, my dear, does Arden Park have a shrubbery walk?”
“I don’t know, Agnes. He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Perhaps it doesn’t.” Cousin Agnes looked disturbed at the thought. Obviously, in her mind, no house was complete without one.
Aunt Faith gently told Agnes, “I do not think the earl is visiting us because of our landscaping.”
“No, indeed. He likes the company of ladies,” Agatha said. “But unlike the Marshams, we do not have any daughters we are desperate to get off our hands.”
All the ladies paused for a moment to think about the Marshams’ five daughters—all of marriageable age, none of them yet spoken for.
Aunt Faith put their thoughts into words. “Thankfully, we do not have daughters to marry off who squint or laugh like a horse, or look like a horse, for that matter.”
Charity regarded her reproachfully. “Oh, sister, that is not nice.”
“But it’s true.”
None of the ladies could refute that.
“So he comes here for refuge—he feels safe with us,” Agnes said.
&nbs
p; “Perhaps.” Aunt Faith gave Ria an arch look. “Maybe he is thinking of getting caught in the parson’s mousetrap. That is what gentleman call it, I believe. The latest on dit is he gave his chère-amie her congé a few months ago and apparently hasn’t replaced her.”
At the mention of his former mistress, Ria’s hand tightened on her embroidery needle.
Agatha looked at the other ladies, her brow furrowed. “I haven’t heard anything said about his looking on the marriage mart.”
“Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman,” Aunt Charity said. With another look at Ria, she added, “At least not on the marriage mart.”
Aunt Charity’s expression made it clear she thought the earl was going to ask Ria to marry him. Ria wasn’t so sure, even though Charity was right about at least one thing. He had been visiting often. Every day, in fact.
Before her accident, she would have said he was going to propose. Well, make a proposal, though not one of marriage. Perhaps he’d had her in mind to replace his mistress.
Since the accident, Ria was unsure. He was different. And if he did propose marriage what would she say?
She stared sightlessly at her lopsided embroidery. She didn’t know. Her masquerade wasn’t the only barrier. There was also his rakish behavior. She looked searchingly at the ladies. “He is, I believe, a rake. Do you really think he would make a good husband?”
Cousin Agnes shook her head, the long lace ends of her cap brushing her shoulders. “I’m not sure I would call him a rake.” Looking at the others, she asked, “Perhaps a Corinthian?”
“I don’t know, cousin,” replied Agatha. “I haven’t heard that he is a sportsman. If we were talking about his friend the Marquess of Lyon, well, that would be different, but Arden—his sport seems to consist of chasing ladies of somewhat questionable reputation.”
“And he does like to gamble,” Faith said.
“And drink,” added Agnes despondently.
“So maybe he is a rake, then,” Agatha said.
All the ladies looked crestfallen but then cheered when Charity said, “They say a reformed rake makes a good husband.”
“As long he’s in love. That’s essential,” Faith said firmly.
“Nothing like a reformed rake—that is, if you like the possessive, protective type,” Charity said.
“He would be a good father, particularly for a young girl,” affirmed Agnes.
Ria considered what the ladies had said. She couldn’t help but wonder how many rakes did reform. And how one would know if they did. “Rakes by definition are accomplished flirts with a talent for saying the right thing. How would you know he’d reformed? How could you tell if he was sincere?”
Aunt Charity beamed at her. “Oh, that’s easy. It’s when they lose their talent for saying the right thing.”
“And say the wrong thing,” Agnes added for clarification.
Aunt Faith nodded. “They lose their charm.”
Ria looked at them in confusion. What on earth did they mean?
An unaccustomed commotion in the manor entrance hall made the ladies look at each other in concern. Ria heard the muffled sound of a loud voice. Taking a deep breath, she put down her embroidery and walked to the door. Opening it, she was able to hear more clearly.
It was Geoffrey Danielson.
Her instinctive reaction was to swiftly close the door, but she could hear his voice getting even louder. He was demanding to see her.
If she didn’t go out there, he might hurt Flowerday. She could tell by the murmur of voices that other servants were there as well, and if there was a fight and Geoffrey was injured, the servants would likely be held at fault by the authorities.
Surely with so many people around she would be safe. He wouldn’t dare attack her.
She turned at the sound of Aunt Charity’s voice. “What is it, dear?”
Not wanting to worry the ladies and certainly not wanting them to go near Geoffrey, she said, “I will go and see.”
As Aunt Charity put her embroidery down and made to rise, Ria added, “No, don’t trouble yourself. I am sure it is nothing. I won’t be long.”
After slipping out the doorway, she firmly shut it. She quietly walked along the corridor until she was in the doorway of the oval entry hall. Unnoticed, she observed the scene. All three burly footmen were lined up behind her butler.
Geoffrey was loudly remonstrating with Flowerday. “Tell her I am here. And don’t give me that rubbish about her not being at home. I know she’s in. Damned disgraceful. This is my second home, man. You shouldn’t have to introduce me. I’m family. What do you mean by it?”
He then tried to move around the butler, but the footmen blocked his path.
Ria stepped forward, careful not to get too close. “Did you wish to see me, Geoffrey?”
At the sound of her voice, Geoffrey looked at her, only partially visible behind the wall of footmen. With an ingratiating smile, he said, “Honoria, my dear. I am so pleased you are well.” Glaring at the servants, he added, “These fellows were trying to keep me from you.”
“I am sorry, but they were following instructions. I am not receiving visitors, you see.”
“Yes, but I am not a visitor. As I told them, I am family.”
“Nevertheless, they were acting on my instructions.”
Geoffrey tried to come closer to her, but the wall of servants blocking his path did not move. “My dear, perhaps we could adjourn to the drawing room. I would like to talk with you.”
“I believe everything was said the last time we spoke.”
“Honoria, you are not holding that against me, are you? What I said was in anger. I did not mean it. Really, my dear, I would prefer not to discuss this in public.”
She looked at him but made no attempt to move.
Geoffrey glared at the servants and then looked at her. “This is ridiculous.”
Seeing she was not moving, he raked his fingers through his hair, then told her diffidently, “I came to apologize. For the accident as well as my behavior last time we spoke. I tried to see you at the inn but was refused admittance. I don’t know how the accident happened. The horse just got away from me. It’s embarrassing to admit—I do have a reputation as a horseman to uphold—but, well, there you have it. I am so very pleased you are better.”
His apology sounded sincere, not at all rehearsed, but it left her unmoved. After all, he had sounded genuine the day they met near the bridge. But as she had suspected, time had revealed his duplicity.
As she was framing a reply, she heard through the open front door the sound of a horse cantering up the tree-lined drive.
Moments later, a gentleman clad in a greatcoat strode into the entrance hall. Luc was early today. His incisive green eyes took in the scene within moments.
At Flowerday’s signal, a footman went forward to take his coat and gloves. The earl swiftly divested himself of them, all the while watching Geoffrey like a ravenous hawk.
Coolly he greeted her unwelcome visitor. “Danielson.”
Geoffrey swallowed hard. “Arden.”
She watched, fascinated, as Luc stood in the entry. Not saying a word. His piercing eyes fixed on Geoffrey.
In no time at all, Geoffrey crumbled under the pressure. “Well then, I will bid you goodbye.” Nodding to Ria, he said, “My dear, I hope next time we meet we can discuss things more fully.”
He turned and began to leave.
Luc grabbed his arm and murmured something very softly in his ear. Geoffrey blanched, looked over his shoulder at Ria, and then left. Hurriedly.
At a nod from Lord Arden, the footmen followed, no doubt ensuring Geoffrey had indeed gone.
The earl strode toward her. She felt a strong urge to run. The look on his face had hardly gentled, and she could see why Geoffrey had left so swiftly.
This was the first time she had seen him like this. He was beyond intimidating. Truly, in this mood, he lived up to his namesake. The original Lucifer could not have been as alarming.
Before he reached her, she told him, “The ladies are in the library,” then pivoted and quickly led the way along the corridor.
Before she could reach the comparative safety of the library, he caught up with her. Taking her arm, he pulled her into the nearest room. Bewildered, she looked at him.
Firmly shutting the door, he held her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes, then cursed, bent down and kissed her hungrily.
With a groan he broke off their kiss and held her again at arm’s length. “Do you realize how I felt when I saw Danielson in the entrance hall? Why did you put yourself in danger that way?”
She paused before answering, both to catch her breath and choose her words carefully.
“I wasn’t in any danger. I…”
He shook her shoulders gently. “We’ve never discussed this. Whenever I’ve tried to, you’ve prevaricated and I’ve let you. But not this time.”
He hesitated, his face grave. “The day you were hurt, I found small cuts under the mane of Danielson’s horse. Either they were made by a careless groom or Danielson made them deliberately.”
He looked at her as though waiting for her to say something. When she remained silent, he continued. “I believe it was deliberate. The matter should be placed before a magistrate.”
Ria inhaled sharply, then shook her head. “I don’t believe it was deliberate. It’s inconceivable that Geoffrey deliberately caused the horse to rear.” She told herself she was telling the truth. After all, how could she possibly conceive of someone wanting to kill her?
“And I have no intention of going to the magistrate,” she added firmly.
It was clear he wasn’t convinced. “Ria, what is going on? Let me help you.”
At that very moment, conveniently, Aunt Charity came looking for her, and Ria made sure he did not get another chance to talk to her alone.
But later that night, lying in bed, she considered his words. He’d said she could trust him. Could she?
Since the accident, he had visited every day. But just before it, he’d cut her in the street. She still didn’t know why. He’d not done anything like it since, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t in the future.
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