Devon confirmed his belief that he knew exactly how the information had been obtained by not waiting for a reply. “Why did you have Danielson investigated?”
Sighing, Luc gazed at the fire as he framed his answer. “You’d agree he’s a bruising rider?”
At Devon’s nod, Luc continued. “You would never have known it from what I saw in the village when Ria was injured.” His throat tightened as he remembered the sight of her lying on the ground.
His friend put the accounts on the small table beside his chair. “Surely you don’t think Danielson deliberately set out to hurt her?”
Luc shrugged. “A rider of his caliber should have been able to handle the horse, even in a crowded street.”
“I agree it looks bad.”
Unable to sit still, Luc jumped to his feet and walked over to the fireplace. Turning back to look at Devon he said, “I looked at the horse later—it was stabled in the inn. There were small cuts under his mane. I don’t think they were accidental, though Danielson said it was a careless groom. One he’d conveniently dismissed.”
Prowling the room, he continued thoughtfully, “Add to that the incident with the coach. Ria’s reaction to that puzzled me. Most people would have been incensed and would have reprimanded—probably dismissed—the coachman. After all, she could have been killed. Yet, if anything, she comforted him.”
Gesturing to the report, he said, “Danielson’s pockets are to let. That gives him a motive for trying to kill her if he’s her heir.”
A look of horror crossed Devon’s face. “You believe he’s desperate enough to resort to murder?”
“Yes.” Luc stopped by the table and looked at the report. “Pemberton has a few more things to investigate. Something to do with the will but he hasn’t gone into details. Just says he’s checking the facts.”
Devon and Luc exchanged grimaces. Well accustomed to their solicitor’s foibles, they knew he would not make any statement until he had checked and rechecked his facts.
“What did Ria say about all this?”
Resuming his prowling, Luc said, “Very little. She said she didn’t believe he was trying to kill her, but after the incident with the coach she asked me to teach her to shoot. And she bought a pocket pistol. Even after getting injured, she still wouldn’t admit Danielson was trying to harm her.”
A slight smile tilted the corner of his friend’s mouth. Luc got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh. Frowning, he asked, “What is it?”
Devon shrugged. “You sound maddened. Strange when a few days ago you said you’d washed your hands of her. And you haven’t called off the investigation…”
Luc’s jaw tightened. “She is still a woman, and there is no one to protect her. It is my duty to ensure her safety.”
Devon snorted then repeated Luc’s words. “Duty. That’s all?”
Repressively Luc told him, “Yes, it is.” His tone was so positive and firm he convinced himself that was the truth. Almost.
“I could protect her.”
At Devon’s words Luc fought the urge to snarl at his best friend. His fists clenched, and he shook his head in rebuttal.
Undaunted, Devon continued, “All right then. Inform the local magistrate and leave it up to him. If he sees the need, he will arrange protection.”
“With Danielson no longer in England, a magistrate will do nothing…”
Devon looked at him, a knowing smile playing about his lips.
“What now?” asked Luc
“You still love her,” Devon said softly.
Luc shook his head vehemently. “Don’t be an ass!”
Devon merely looked at him and continued to smile.
Finally, to break the silence, Luc said emphatically, “I feel responsible for her, that’s all!”
His friend shrugged, “Pity, considering your feelings about Persephone before you met Ria. Seems to me, as they are the same person, you could have all you wanted.”
Bitterly, Luc considered what Devon had said. Persephone’s allure had woven a sensual web that had trapped him instantly.
Ria’s apparent kindness, quick intelligence, and loyalty had also woven a spell around him, albeit more slowly.
Put the two together, and yes, he had everything he could want.
Luc’s throat grew tight. It was all an illusion.
He looked up as Devon asked, “All this time, you never suspected she was Persephone? Masks don’t cover everything.”
“She was wearing a full mask and had her hair covered with some sort of scarf.”
“I would have thought there were some clues. Something she did. There was nothing about her walk, scent, voice?”
Grudgingly, Luc admitted there was.
The same lavender and rose scent, same walk, her breasts the same shape and fullness, the same lush curves. Just thinking about those curves, how they’d felt, was enough to make his cock stiffen.
Which is what had happened the moment he saw Persephone. And he’d pursued her—nothing would have stopped him at the masquerade. Nothing.
Then, seeing Ria in the cemetery, he had the same reaction. She clearly hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, but he was so drawn to her he’d been compelled to pursue her.
All these clues had been there, but he hadn’t fitted the pieces together. Why the hell not?
Devon obviously could see the answer on Luc’s face. Softly he said, “You noticed. You just didn’t want to admit it.”
Reluctantly Luc realized that on some level he must have known. Which would explain why he had ceased to look for Persephone once he met Ria.
Refusing to respond, he instead asked, “Why the blazes would Ria go to the masquerade?”
“If you’d let her explain…” Devon abruptly stopped at that point and held up both hands in an expression of surrender. Which was just as well because Luc was struggling with the urge to pummel him.
Eyeing him like a wild beast, Devon added, “Perhaps she went there because of you.”
Luc narrowed his eyes. “Me? That’s ridiculous. Why would you even suggest that?”
“You really don’t have any idea who she is, do you?”
Luc gave a slight shake of his head and frowned.
Devon sighed. “You know, you’ve been such a bonehead lately I’ve been wondering why we are friends.” Relaxing, he stretched out his legs, then crossed them at the ankles. “Remember Honey?”
At Luc’s blank look, Devon prompted, “Blond curls, torn dresses. How could you have forgotten her? She followed us both around for a couple of summers. Well, actually she followed you. She adored you.”
Why was Devon asking about Honey? Of course Luc remembered her. She was…
Luc stood in stunned silence as realization dawned. Ria and Honey. They were the same person. Ria, Honey and Persephone. All the same.
Damn!
Devon got up, went to the sideboard, and poured brandy into two glasses. He handed one to Luc.
Luc tossed back the liquor, emptying the glass in a couple of gulps. Silently his friend took the glass, replacing it with his own.
Collapsing into a chair, Luc sipped at the brandy as he thought about Honey. She was the first, the only, person he knew who had complete faith in him. She’d believed him when he said she could climb the oak tree. And when she’d got stuck halfway up, she’d trusted him to rescue her. When she’d been scolded for ripping her dress, she hadn’t tried to blame him.
Just why had she been at the masquerade? Could her attendance and Danielson’s attempts to kill her be connected? Luc was arrested by that thought. Why had that not occurred to him before? Devon was right to call him a bonehead.
Mentally, he kicked himself. He should have read those papers she left him. They might have shed some light on what Danielson was up to.
Why had she gone to the masquerade? Why did she lie with him and then leave? Was Devon right? Had she deliberately sought him out? And why would someone try to kill her? It surely had to involv
e money.
Just as his thoughts began to coalesce, Devon’s voice intruded. As Luc looked at him, Devon repeated his statement. “As I said, you’ve been a bonehead.” He then added, “What are you going to do now?”
Luc looked at the report lying on the table then at Devon. Not wanting to put into words his partly formed theory, he merely said, “I’m going to London. I’ll get Pemberton to check the wording of Montague St. James’s will. It might shed light on why Danielson is trying to kill Ria. And I’ll make sure the bastard’s gone to Ireland.”
“Because you are a gentleman of honor and it is your duty?”
“Yes.”
Luc left the room to see to preparations for his journey to the sound of Devon’s laughter.
26
Solemnly, Flowerday presented a note addressed to Ria in now familiar writing. As she picked it up, her hand shook slightly.
She opened it carefully, but before reading it, she looked at Monty for reassurance. He was, as usual, sitting by the marble fireplace in the morning room. Idly, she wondered if he could feel the heat from the fire. If he couldn’t, what was the point? Habit perhaps? Or comfort. Something she was greatly in need of.
Ria turned her attention back to the note and read it. Briefly, she closed her burning eyes. Her throat felt tight as she told Monty, “The earl is in London but intends to return within the month to discuss our engagement.”
Swallowing hard to relieve the tightness in her throat, she looked at the postscript at the end. “Oh. He also says Geoffrey has gone to Ireland, apparently for an extended visit.”
Letting the note fall into her lap, she gave a small smile, the first in what seemed an age. “Well, that is one good thing at least. We no longer have to be concerned about Geoffrey and what he might say or do.” Sighing deeply, she added, “Now I just have to decide what to do next.”
She couldn’t see a way out of this situation. She couldn’t make Luc listen to her. So what should she do now?
The ever-present cloud of misery was like a weight on her shoulders making it difficult to find the strength to do even the simplest of things, let alone make any sort of decision. She was barely able to decide between a cup of tea or chocolate in the mornings.
She looked up as she heard Monty mutter, his words barely audible. “Deuce take it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not the plan at all. Put the two of you together at the masquerade and what happens afterward? He turns into an idiot. Now how do I get you both out of this bumble-broth?”
Ria frowned, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It sounded like Monty had planned the whole thing. Surely not.
Incredulously, she asked, “Did you arrange this?”
At her words, Monty looked at her. Caught off guard, his expression confirmed her suspicion.
“You wanted us to marry.”
There was a pause before Monty answered. Ria could tell he was trying to find an explanation she would believe. Obviously he couldn’t, because he sighed deeply and nodded.
“So you planned for us to meet after the masquerade?”
Another nod.
“Why Lord Arden?”
“We only met a few times, but we moved in similar circles. On the few occasions we did meet, he impressed me.” At her skeptical look, he added, “And everything I have found out about him since confirms my belief that he is suitable.”
“I remember now. In the portrait gallery, he said you looked familiar.” Ria added in a frosty tone, “That was just before you tried to hit him with a vase.”
Things still didn’t make sense. How could Monty have known they would meet again, let alone enter into a liaison? “I still don’t understand. I encountered him by chance in the cemetery; you couldn’t have known that would happen. How did you expect us to meet after the masquerade?”
“That was a fortunate coincidence.” Monty paused, then shook his head. “In some ways. I know you were uncomfortable seeing him so soon, but it happened, so I took advantage of it. I made sure he found out about your movements. However, the original plan was for us to go to London for the season once your mourning period was over. There you would have met him once again.”
Monty ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “As for whether you would develop a tendre for him—my dear, I am a ghost. I know more than you may think. In the unlikely event I was wrong, well…” Monty shrugged. “There are other gentlemen that would be suitable for you, but I will admit he was my first choice. Not least of all because when you were eleven you said you were going to marry him.” He smiled at her expression, “You thought I’d forgotten that? I hadn’t.”
He looked at her, his gaze piercing and intent. “The main thing is I will not allow you to bury yourself in the country for the rest of your life. Your attendance at the masquerade was part of that plan.”
Before she could respond, Monty asked her, “Why are you so upset? I would have thought you’d be pleased.”
Ria asked herself the same question. Why indeed?
She rubbed her aching neck. Since Monty’s death, she had come to feel more in control of her life, and she enjoyed that feeling. Until now, she had believed Luc had been her choice. Hers alone. Now she found Monty had manipulated events.
Once again she was a puppet with strings attached, albeit invisibly. So much for thinking she had autonomy. Well, she would be a puppet no more. Mentally she snipped the strings.
Sick and tired of shilly-shallying, she made a number of decisions in rapid succession. Not giving herself time to think further, she said. “I think it’s time I admit defeat. I’m going to release the earl from our engagement.
Bracing herself for the argument she knew would follow her next statement, she added, “I won’t be here when he comes. In fact, I won’t even be in the district. I’m going to visit the farm my cousin left me.”
She was surprised to see Monty’s face pale. She hadn’t thought that was possible with a ghost.
“Ria! No! That’s out of the question.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but my mind is made up. I have to go.”
Monty looked at her helplessly. “My dear, I can’t go there. I won’t be able to aid you, to protect you if you should have need.”
As she shook her head, he added desperately, “If you must go away, then go somewhere I have been. What about the London town house? That would suit.”
Again she shook her head. “Sir, there is no need for you to concern yourself about protecting me. Geoffrey has gone to Ireland.”
Seeing the real concern on Monty’s face, she gently told him, “I believe it’s important I go. We have to face the possibility that the earl may realize what I have done. He may not understand and could tell Geoffrey or a magistrate.”
She thought the latter unlikely, but it was possible and she needed to make plans. “If we are fortunate, the ladies and I will be able to live at the farm, and it will be profitable enough to support us. I need to ensure their welfare.”
As Monty began to speak, she held up her hand. “My mind is made up. I am going to forget about the Earl of Arden and get on with my life.”
With that, she walked out of the room, her back ramrod stiff, her steps quick and decisive.
Sighing deeply, Monty watched her leave. “We shall see about that,” he muttered. “I haven’t got this far just to give up.”
Ria watched as her lady’s maid flitted about the room, packing the trunks.
Now she had decided on a course of action, she felt better—somewhat apprehensive but not so miserable. She felt more in control, and having a task to accomplish provided a welcome distraction.
“Mary.”
Her maid looked up at the sound of her name.
“Do you want to come with me? I know there’s a farmhouse, but I have no idea of its size or condition. Perwick did say it hadn’t been used for some time. If you would rather not, I will understand.”
Mary smiled. “That’s not problem for me, madam. I’m not like one of those
French maids wots never been out of the city. Thank you for asking me, though.”
Ria looked at her searchingly. She really did want Mary to come but only if she knew what she might encounter. “It may be uncomfortable, Mary. I’ve employed a housekeeper, but she won’t be starting until spring at the earliest. I should be able to get someone from the village of Bishop Malton to help out, but am not sure.” Ria shrugged helplessly. “I really don’t know what to expect, so are you sure?”
“Yes, madam. I grew up on a farm, so I know what it will be like, and I couldn’t possibly let you go on your own.”
Ria smiled in thanks and began to help her maid pack.
A while later, Mary asked, “What should I do with this, madam?”
She turned to see Mary holding up Luc’s black domino. She closed her eyes briefly at the sight of the cloak. “I have no use for it. Give it away. Throw it away—I don’t care.”
As Mary turned to leave, carrying the domino with her, Ria was unable to stop herself calling out. “No, wait. Leave it with me, and I will take care of it.”
With a puzzled frown, Mary laid it on the bed and then left.
She looked at the domino. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t part with it just yet.
The packed trunk lay open. On impulse, she put the domino on top. It was warm. Perhaps it could be used as a rug. Shaking her head at her silliness, she removed it with an impatient sigh and put it on the bed.
As she moved about the room, collecting a few last remaining items to put into the trunk, Ria kept glancing at the domino. She had to do something with it.
She strode across the room, snatched the cloak from the bed, put it back into the trunk, dumped the remaining items on top and closed the lid with a snap.
27
Underwood Farm, Bishop Malton, March 1814
After a week of traveling, Ria was relieved to hear Matthews call out to her. “Underwood Cottage is just around this bend, madam.”
Although she had been warned the farm cottage was neglected, she couldn’t help feel eager as they rounded the corner in the road and she caught her first glimpse. The outside of the two-story cottage was smooth gray stone with dormer attic windows set in a high-pitched roof. She counted three chimneys. As they got closer, she saw that one front window appeared to be a modern sash but the others were older casement windows with small panes of glass.
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