by Jo Beverley
She grabbed and hurled a water glass, a bowl, and then the candlestick. The latter hit him, but her throw was weak and he blocked it with his arm, laughing.
“You’ll suffer for this, Foxstall,” Maddy hissed. “I’ll crush you, I’ll ruin you….”
But then she turned and hurled herself against Darien’s chest. He had no choice but to let go of Thea and catch her. He drew her away, into the other room, saying to Thea, “Come.”
But Maddy’s clothing was scattered around the room, so Thea scurried around gathering it. She wished she didn’t have to look at Foxstall, but she did, sensing he was like a feral animal, keen to kill. She stumbled over his scabbarded saber and was tempted to seize it, draw it, for protection.
When she was sure she’d collected everything, she backed out, clutching the clothes in front of her.
“You’ll pay for this,” he said, lips twisted as always, but perhaps truly smiling in a horrid, malicious way. “Silver feathers. How much are they worth in London these days?”
Acid rose in Thea’s throat, but she met his eyes. “Not one penny,” she mouthed. Darien mustn’t hear or murder would be done. “I’d rather walk the streets in penitential sackcloth and ashes.”
Then she shut the door between them. It took a moment to gather herself and turn to where Maddy was still in Darien’s arms, clinging, weeping, and wailing about wickedness and betrayal.
“Oh, stop it,” Thea said, dragging her cousin away. “You may have been betrayed about some things, but you came here of your own free will with this wickedness in mind.”
Maddy turned on her, clutching the counterpane. “What do you know ofpassion , you cold fish?”
“Silver feathers?” Thea replied tartly.
“I don’t believe that. I never believed that. You’ve always been jealous of me. Always!”
Darien put his hand over her mouth. “You said she’d make a scene.”
Maddy was goggle-eyed, but she couldn’t get free without dropping the counterpane, and even she balked at that.
“I’d go into the hall while she dressed,” Darien said, “but I don’t trust Foxstall. So I’ll station myself watching that door.” He let Maddy go and did so, watching the door to the silent bedroom most conscientiously.
Maddy, for the moment, seemed speechless, and Thea wondered if this terrible event had finally shocked some sense into her.
But then she recovered and dropped her cover, brashly revealing bountiful hips and breasts, and a remarkably slender waist. Her deep pink nipples jutted. “Ripe” was the word that came to mind, in look and odor. Perfume, sweat, and that something else rose off her. Thea almost gagged.
“Yes, look,” Maddy mouthed. “You’ll never know.”
“Silver feathers,” Thea mouthed back, handing over Maddy’s shift.
This was petty, but she was so furious she couldn’t stop herself. But, oh God, what would Foxstall do, and what should she do to prevent it?
As she played maid her mind spun around it, always lurching back to Darien. Darien would silence Foxstall. Darien would kill him if she asked. A duel. But that would ruin his hard-won reclamation. If he killed Foxstall, he might have to flee the country.
And what if Foxstall killed Darien? He had to be a formidable fighter.
When Maddy was wrapped in the propriety of expensive fashionable clothing she looked her usual self. No tears, no shame. If she was brokenhearted, she was hiding it well. Was she at all concerned about the risk of a child? Thea didn’t know this Maddy at all, but her heart ached. What would become of her now?
Maddy paused, looking at the door Darien guarded, and something rippled over her face. Only for a moment, however. “I’m dressed,” she said, “so we can be off.”
Darien went to open the door to the corridor. Thea and Maddy went through and down the stairs, Maddy flicking down some veiling from her elaborate hat and thus covering her face. Thea had done nothing wrong, but she blushed as they left the inn, feeling every eye upon her. A hackney happened to be nearby, and Darien summoned it.
Once in the coach, Maddy said, “Well, what’s the sentence? Do I hang?”
“If you’ve given up Foxstall, I see no need to tell anyone,” Thea said.
“But what if I’m with child?” It was tossed as a challenge. “What do I do if I can’t marry the father?”
“You should have thought of that.”
“Idid !” Maddy snapped. “That was the idea, and now you’ve ruined everything. I wish I’d never involved you.”
“So do I.”
“Where shall we go?” Darien asked calmly enough, but Thea could feel his tension. She knew he burned to go back to the inn and fight Foxstall, but she’d made him promise to avoid violence. Should she release him?Let loose the dogs of war, she remembered.
“Back to the bookstore, I suppose,” she said, “where my carriage should return soon.”
They traveled in silence and found the Yeovil carriage waiting. They changed into it and rode the short distance to Maddy’s house.
Aunt Margaret appeared anxiously at the door. “Oh, you’re back safely! But no books, dearest?”
“They had nothing suitable,” Maddy said, completely in her normal manner. “But we acquired Lord Darien as escort. Isn’t that delightful?”
“Of course,” Aunt Margaret said, but doubtfully. Clearly she was one of the unconvinced. “Do come in. Tea, perhaps….”
“No, I really must get home,” Thea said. “Good day, Aunt, Maddy.” Thea sent her cousin a smiling wave. Behind her mother’s back, Maddy pulled a face.
Thea returned to the carriage with Darien. “I suppose now we should go and find Harriet.”
He gave the direction and the carriage moved off, so much more smoothly than a hackney, but nothing was smooth anymore. A tear escaped.
“Don’t,” Darien said softly. “Don’t weep for her. She’s…”
She’s not worth it.
“She’s the closest to a sister I have,” she choked out. “What am I to do for her?”
“Sometimes there’s nothing you can do. But I can get rid of Foxstall.”
“No. No violence.”
“Thea, I can’t let this stand.”
“Because of the feathers?” she asked, looking into his resolute eyes. “But Maddy knows, too. Silencing him won’t solve anything.”
“You really think she’ll betray you?” He sounded shocked.
“I hope not, but…”
He sighed. “Listen, she can’t do anything without risking exposure, whereas Foxstall won’t care. And he smashes things out of spite.”
“He might smash you.”
“No,” he said flatly.
“You can’t be sure of that! I can’t bear the thought of you dead. Or of you killing him.”
He brushed his knuckles down her damp cheek. “I know. But I must destroy Foxstall, for what he did to your cousin and for the threat he holds over you.”
“What does it matter?” Thea asked, trying for a Maddy tone. “We’ll simply have to marry. Will that be so bad?”
He smiled slightly, but without softening. “Yes. Do you imagine that I’d allow you to face scandal and shame when I can prevent it?”
Tears were pouring now, and not graciously. She pulled out a handkerchief and tried to stop the flow. “But we deserve scandal and shame. We did much the same. Why should anyone die over this?”
“He’s not going to die for taking your cousin to his bed.”
“What ifyou die?” she cried.
He simply drew her into his arms and rocked her, gentle but implacable.
The carriage stopped outside Westminster Abbey. They parted, but neither of them moved to get out. Ignoring the liveried footman who’d appeared outside the door ready to open it, Darien took out a handkerchief of his own and wiped away her tears.
“This is like a battle,” he said. “Some wives wept and the truly weak even begged their men not to go. Tears can never change duty, only make it har
der. Please, Thea, don’t weep.”
She blew her nose. “That’s not fair. Iwant to change things.”
“You can’t.”
“You put yourself at my command,” she reminded him.
“No longer.”
She knew he wanted to kiss her, but with the footman there, even standing statue-still and looking away, he couldn’t.
“If I return to you with his blood on my hands, what will you do?”
She wanted to say that it wouldn’t matter, that it couldn’t touch her love, but at a moment like this, she could only give him the truth. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 35
Darien delivered Thea and her tight-lipped maid back to Yeovil House, but left before the duchess could appear. He returned to the Crown and Magpie as quickly as possible, but found Foxstall had already cleared out for good. The innkeeper had no idea where he’d moved to, only that he’d left shortly after Darien and the ladies, but not seeming to be in a hurry.
Darien considered a search of London, but if Foxstall wanted to keep out of sight, he would. Unless the search was widespread. The Rogues? They seemed to have a network of useful servants and others.
He went to Delaney’s house but found they’d finally left Town. The nearest alternative was Stephen Ball’s place. He was out of Town, too, as was Arden. So much for the Rogues’ support.
Darien went to Van’s. “At least you’re here,” he growled.
“There’s a gathering of Rogues at Marlowe in Nottingham. Do you really still need nursemaids?”
“Be careful,” Darien snapped, and Van’s brows went up.
“What’s happened?”
Darien couldn’t tell anyone the details, but he said, “Foxstall’s crossed the line. I need to deal with him, but he’s made himself scarce.”
“I did warn you about him.”
“You were right. Set the word around, will you, that if anyone sees him, I need to know.”
“Very well. Are you still coming to Rathbone’s tonight?”
A card party. “Give my excuses. I wouldn’t be good company.”
Darien spent the next two days hunting Foxstall without success. He avoided Thea, but he did write her a vaguely worded reassurance that all would be well, hoping he could keep that promise. As part of that, he visited Lady Harroving.
The lady was far too interested in him for comfort, but by engaging in some flattery and flirtation, he discovered that she saw no connection between Thea and the feathers. Certainly someone had been naughty in her linen room, and feathers had been found there, but a little teasing conversation had proved his reassurance to Thea correct. Lady Harroving’s servants knew that gossip about the goings-on during the masquerade meant instant dismissal without a character.
The lady made no secret of her association with Foxstall and revealed how he might know all. The feathers had been lying around her boudoir when Foxstall visited her and she’d told him where they’d been found. She hinted that they’d been used in some sort of love play and could be again. Darien had eased out of her presence, and breathed a sigh of relief.
There was still danger, however. The fight had placed Thea close to the linen room. A large enough bribe would loosen the servant’s tongue. If Foxstall put it all together and waved it in the world’s face, it would be undeniable. Therefore, he had to be stopped.
Despite the treasured note, Thea spent two days braced for scandal, duel, or both, but also tussling with her reaction to violence. She had to come to terms with it to marry Darien. She wished she could lie to him, but when she told him she loved him, loved all about him, it had to be the truth.
Her mother drove her to distraction by asking too often why Darien hadn’t stayed long enough to speak to her, and wondering why he still didn’t visit, but on Saturday, she said, “Ah, well, he’ll be at church tomorrow.”
So he would. Thea spent the day in a mindless daze.
When they arrived at St. George’s, however, Darien hadn’t yet arrived. Thea tried not to watch for him, but she found so many excuses to turn to look that her mother asked if she was all right. The service was about to begin. Was he truly so determined to avoid her?
Then a verger passed a note to her father, who read it, then murmured, “Darien won’t be able to attend.” His lips were tight.
Thea’s heart beat with fear and she needed details, but the organ played and they all rose. Instead, she prayed. Had Darien found Foxstall and fought him? Was he fleeing the law, or lying wounded?
She prayed as never before for his safety, and for another chance. Her blind terror finally convinced her that she could not live without him.
Once they were out of the church, she demanded, “What happened to Darien, Papa?”
“An unpleasantness at his house.” Her father was attempting to appear relaxed as they strolled toward their waiting coach, but Thea knew something was terribly wrong.
Surely, however, he wouldn’t speak of a death as an unpleasantness? And “at his house”? That couldn’t mean a duel. She wanted to hurry there, but as usual they had to pause every few steps to exchange greetings.
Then Thea noticed whispers that felt horribly like those first days.
“A bloody corpse!”someone hissed.
She turned, trying to guess who’d said it. Darien’s corpse?
“Thea.”
The sharp reprimand made Thea turn back and replace her smile. But they’d been waylaid by Lord and Lady Rotherport now, an older couple but eagle-eyed gossips.
“Quite horrible,” Lady Rotherport was saying, bright-eyed, “but given the family, perhaps understandable.”
Murdering the current Viscount Darien?
“I don’t see the relevance,” the duchess said. “Darien’s family has nothing to do with someone killing a pig.”
“A pig?” Thea gasped.
“Shocking,” her mother agreed, but with a sharp look that commanded Thea to control herself.
“It took place in the Hanover Square gardens,” Lady Rotherport protested. “At night. In the exact spot where Mary Wilmott was found.”
Thea might have turned faint except for relief that Darien was unhurt. Physically, at least. This must be horrible for him. “Who would do such a thing?” she asked.
“A trail of footprints led from the carcass to Cave House,” Lord Rotherport said with relish. “Just as before. The poor Wilmotts.”
“Fortunately they’ve left Town,” the duke said, sounding bored.
“Only Lady Wilmott, Yeovil. Sir George is soldiering on.”
By killing pigs in the garden? Thea wondered. Mary Wilmott’s still-grieving father might be driven to such extremes. She’d known Darien shouldn’t be living in that house.
Thea’s mother took charge. “Come, Yeovil, we must go and offer our support to Lord Darien. Such a tiresome inconvenience for him.” She led the march to the waiting carriage. Thea followed, feeling something would burst from her effort to appear as if bodies and blood were simply tiresome.
As soon as the carriage moved off, Thea’s father said, “Sarah, dear….”
“If we don’t go, it will look as if we’re abandoning him.”
He sighed. “Very well.”
As they rolled into Hanover Square, however, they heard angry voices. The duke leaned to look ahead. “A mob. No, Sarah, it will not do.” He instructed the carriage to continue along a quiet side of the square and leave.
“But Darien…,” Thea protested, craning to see his house.
“Is well able to take care of himself.”
“Maria’s house isn’t far from here, Charles,” the duchess said. “We shall go there and send someone back to find out what’s going on.”
The duke agreed to this and gave the order.
Thea had seen no sign of Darien in the square, thank heavens. She was frightened, but as much by the mob as the vile act. These days, with such hardship in the country, a mob seemed to form over any little thing, and they could rapidly get out o
f hand. Innocent people had been hurt and even killed, and often the rich and powerful seemed a natural target. A mob didn’t heed whether the inhabitants of a private coach were careless oppressors or those who worked hard to ease suffering.
There’d been no blood-splattering for weeks, but Darien had kept up the habit of checking the front of the house before his ride each day. There’d been no mischief at all until today, when there’d been blood. Only traces this time, but a bloody handprint on the door.