Scandal Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  “And the new kitchen? It is progressing nicely? No more, er, setbacks? No vandals or unexplained thefts? No mysterious visitors in the night?”

  Julian looked at him. “Why do you ask?”

  Charles grimaced. “The other night coming home from your place, I noticed a horse tied to tree near the Dower House. I investigated, but couldn’t find a soul. Made me wonder.”

  “There have been no problems since the fire,” Julian said thoughtfully, “I talked to the gypsies and that seemed to be the end of it.”

  “Those fellows camping at Beckworth’s?”

  Julian nodded. “Their leader is named Cesar and while I realize that the word of a gypsy is suspect, he swore that I would have no trouble with them—and I believed him.”

  Charles grinned. “Are you talking about the latest of our uncles to surface?”

  “How did—! Oh, Marcus, of course,” Julian murmured. “I wondered if he would keep it to himself.”

  “He felt I should know in case Cesar tried to batten down on you and he wasn’t around to slap his nimble fingers away from your pocket.”

  Julian smiled. “I think Marcus worries too much about nonsensical things.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly. Always did.” They rode in silence a moment. Then Charles asked, “Does he intend to remain with you much longer? I would have thought that the demands of his own estate or the delights of London would have lured him away by now.”

  “He has a competent steward to take care of things at Sherbrook. As for London…Its siren call was always more powerful for you than Marcus. He likes the country.”

  “I don’t dislike the country,” Charles snapped, scowling. “I think you forget that my stepmother makes it plain that she doesn’t want me underfoot. She endures me for the winter, but come spring…Turfed out of my own home, what the bloody hell am I to do but take myself off to London and lose myself amidst the hells and fleshpots?”

  Startled not only by the admission, but the pain and frustration in his cousin’s voice, Julian halted his horse. He stared at Charles’s averted features, so many things that had puzzled him about Charles’s actions becoming clear. Mrs. Weston, Julian thought grimly, has much to answer for. Aloud he said merely, “It is your home.”

  Charles gave a bitter laugh. “You might try telling her that!” He shook his head. “No, it is far better for me to be in London and away from her—it keeps me from wringing her neck and throwing her body in the river.”

  Returning to the house, Charles’s question about the duration of Marcus’s stay was answered by Marcus himself. Having bid Charles adieu, Julian had closeted himself in his study to go over the estate books that Farley had left on his desk. It was a boring, mundane task but a necessary one and from a young age Julian had taken his duties as the owner of a grand estate seriously. But when Marcus knocked on the door and walked into the room, Julian welcomed the interruption.

  He set aside the books filled with Farley’s cramped writing and, smiling at Marcus, invited him to take the overstuffed leather chair near the corner of his desk.

  They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Marcus said, “I am reluctant to leave you without a satisfactory conclusion to the, er, Shadow Man, but I fear that I must leave for a few weeks.”

  “Trouble?”

  Marcus smiled wryly. “No. My mother. She demands my escort to London.”

  “Ah, I understand.” It was well known in the family that Marcus’s mother, Barbara, a charming, complaisant woman, made few claims on her son’s time, but the one thing she did insist upon was his company whenever she traveled any distance from Sherbrook Hall. A trip to London was a great undertaking for her and since the death of Marcus’s father several years ago Marcus had good-naturedly escorted his mother on her annual trek to and from the city. No amount of persuasion by Marcus could convince her that the roads were not littered with highwaymen bent upon attacking her coach and her and ripping her jewels right off her fingers.

  “I should not be gone longer than I can help,” Marcus said, his expression troubled. “There has been no sign of your wife’s madman since we found that poor butchered girl. Perhaps he has moved on.”

  Julian grimaced. “Believe me, I would like to think so, but I doubt it. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing when or where he will strike or even if—although my wife is convinced that it could be any day. She says that the times between his murderous rages are shortening. It has been nearly three months since the death of Ann Barnes and she fears another nightmare any day.” Julian sighed. “The problem is that you could remain chained here at Wyndham indefinitely waiting for something to happen. There is no predicting his actions.” He smiled faintly at Marcus. “I have been most grateful for your support, but you have other demands on your time—go escort your mother to London.”

  Marcus hesitated, his expression unhappy. It was clear that he was torn. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “I could write Mother that I have broken my leg and would be of no use to her…”

  Julian grinned. “And that would bring her posthaste to our doorstep to ascertain for herself the extent of your injuries.” When Marcus smiled ruefully, Julian added, “Until and if he strikes again there is nothing you can do. Go. And return with all speed.”

  Marcus rose to his feet. “I shall do that, especially the speed part.” He looked worried. “Let us hope that he remains quiet while I am away.”

  Julian nodded. “Yes, let us hope.”

  Marcus departed that afternoon and Nell was surprised at how empty the house felt without his presence. She said as much to Julian as they took an early evening stroll around the gardens.

  “He would be flattered that you say so,” Julian replied.

  “He is very different than Charles, isn’t he?” she asked.

  Julian laughed. “Indeed! Marcus is staid and steady and Charles is a profligate gambler and impudent in the bargain.” He shook his head. “While Marcus lives a calm, ordered life, Charles lurches from one near disaster to the next and thinks it a great game. He has the Devil’s own luck, too. How he escaped drowning last year when his yacht sank, won on the turn of a card, I might add, is beyond me. Marcus was appalled by the incident and Charles thought it an amusing jest. I can think of no two men less alike than Marcus and Charles, but I also could not name two other men that I would like at my side when facing adversity.” He paused and a smile curved his mouth. “Except, perhaps, my cousin Stacey. Do you remember meeting him at our wedding?”

  “Vaguely,” Nell admitted. She wrinkled her nose. “It seems a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

  He smiled down at her. “Yes, and yet, it seems just yesterday. Any regrets?”

  She shook her head and leaned her cheek against the sleeve of his coat. “Not one…now that I know that you love me.”

  He took her into his arms. “And I do. With all my heart. With every breath of my body.”

  Starry-eyed she melted into his embrace.

  Charles’s mention of finding a horse tied near the Dower House aroused Julian’s curiosity. For several nights afterward, long after Nell had fallen asleep, he would slide noiselessly to his feet, hastily dress and, although feeling ridiculous, he would creep out and make his way to Diana’s future home to watch it for any signs of activity. Deciding that he was on a fool’s errand as he made his way from the manor this particular night, he swore to himself that tonight would be the last he spent lurking like a thief in the shrubbery that surrounded the Dower House.

  The moon was waxing full and there was plenty of light for Julian to see as he slowly walked. Before the rooftop came into sight, he slowed his pace and kept his ears open. Stopping in the shadows of a large lilac bush a short distance from the rear of the house, he surveyed the scene but saw nothing to arouse his curiosity. He hadn’t expected to see anyone, but he remained concealed in his spot for over two hours before deciding that he was indeed on a fool’s errand. He was about to leave and seek out his bed when just the slightest fli
cker of movement near the back entrance caught his eye.

  He stiffened, his gaze locked on the spot, but as the minutes passed and he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he relaxed again. Imagination? His eyes playing tricks on him? He smiled. Or perhaps he just wanted to see something? A moment later, he jerked upright, his smile gone, certain this time that he saw something moving in the shadows near the house. Yes, there at the corner, where the construction of the new kitchen was well under way, he could make out the form of a man. From his post near the lilac tree, Julian watched as the man slid from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight for a second before disappearing into the house. There was something familiar about that tall form, but the glint of moonlight on the golden earring in the man’s ear told Julian exactly who he was watching: Cesar!

  Expression grim, Julian worked his way through the shrubbery until he was only a few feet away from where Cesar had disappeared inside. He hesitated, not relishing charging into the unknown. The interior would be black as Hades and he had no way of knowing if Cesar was alone or if he was meeting someone. He could wait for Cesar to return and confront him, but then he wouldn’t know what the gypsy was doing, and there was no guarantee that Cesar would leave the same way he had entered.

  Undecided, Julian waited in the shadows, wishing he was armed with something more than the knife hidden in his boot. The minutes passed and he was just about to creep nearer the house when a whisper of sound warned him that he was not alone. He moved, but he was too late and an arm closed around his neck, choking him.

  Throwing his head back with great force, Julian heard with satisfaction the grunt of pain that came from his attacker, but the chokehold around his neck loosened only fractionally. Julian swiftly bent forward almost double and his assailant went flying over his head, landing hard on the ground. Julian was on him in a flash, the knife from his boot already in his hand.

  His blade was at his attacker’s throat when the moonlight fell full on the man’s face. With a curse Julian removed the knife and rolled over to lie beside the other man on the ground.

  “Do you know,” Charles said conversationally, “that I’d heard rumors that you were a dangerous man, but until tonight I never knew how dangerous.”

  “I could have killed you, you fool!”

  “Yes, but you didn’t and that’s all that concerns me at the moment,” Charles said as he bounded to his feet.

  Julian followed his lead and almost as one the two men moved quickly back into the shadows.

  “Did you see him?” Charles whispered.

  “Yes. Recognized him, too—Cesar, the gypsy chief from Beckworth’s.”

  “How disappointing. Here I thought I would uncover some notable crime and it is merely a pilfering gypsy.”

  “How did you know that Cesar would be here tonight?” Julian asked sharply.

  “I didn’t. I’ve been watching the house for the past week from that blasted hawthorn hedge and tonight is the first time I’ve seen anything.”

  Julian grimaced. “It would appear that neither one of us is very adept at this—I have been watching from the lilacs for almost the same amount of time.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that—we were adept enough not to alert each other.”

  “Until tonight…What gave me away?”

  Charles pulled on his ear. “Nothing gave you away. I decided to try a different vantage point and discovered you, quite by chance. Gave me a start I can tell you.”

  Julian felt marginally better. At least his old skills had not failed him completely.

  “So? What do we do now?”

  “Split up,” Julian replied. “One of us watches the front, the other the back.” His voice grew grim. “And we capture anyone coming out of the house.”

  Before they could put that plan into action, the sight of Cesar slipping from the house galvanized both men and like a pair of hunting leopards, they slunk through the tangled shrubbery until they were in position to strike. Both leaped at the same time and their prey went to the ground with a groan and a thud.

  Having used the kerchief from around Cesar’s neck to gag him and Charles’s cravat to bind his hands, they dragged him to where Charles’s horse was tied. Throwing Cesar like a sack of potatoes onto the horse they led the horse to Julian’s stables. As Julian said to Charles, “We need somewhere private to talk and I don’t relish having this fellow in my library. Uncle or not!”

  The stables reached they hustled a struggling Cesar inside the stable office. Julian quickly lit a candle and Cesar got his first look at his attackers.

  Ripping off the gag, Julian said, “I think you have some explaining to do—you swore that I had nothing to fear from you.”

  “And you do not—if you will notice I had nothing of yours when I came from the house.”

  “And what were you doing there?” Charles asked mildly. “Taking a midnight stroll, hmmm? Or checking to see what else you could steal from my cousin?”

  “If you will untie me,” Cesar said, “perhaps we can discuss this like rational men.”

  Charles snorted. “Next I suppose you will suggest that we share a glass of wine.”

  “Yes, that would be an excellent idea.” Cesar’s gaze slid toward the massive oak desk that dominated the office. “I believe that there is a most exceptional decanter of brandy in the lower right-hand corner of the desk and several rather nice crystal snifters.”

  Unable to help himself, Julian laughed. There was something about Cesar that reminded him remarkably of Charles. Their impudence? Undoubtedly! Aloud, he merely said, “Know about those, do you? I wonder what else you know.”

  Cesar grinned at him, his white teeth flashing in his gypsy dark face. “If you will untie me and pour me a snifter of brandy, I shall be happy to tell you.”

  Julian glanced at Charles, amusement in his gaze. “Now, who, I wonder,” he asked of no one in particular, “does this fellow remind me of?” Not waiting for an answer, Julian walked over and untied Cesar.

  Then, opening the drawer of the desk Julian brought out the decanter of brandy and three elegant snifters. Often, after a long day in the saddle, he and friends would linger here in the office, sipping brandy, discussing the hunt.

  After pouring the snifters and handing them out, Julian sat on a corner of the desk and asked, “When did you search the stables?”

  Cesar sighed. “Prior to our meeting in Beckworth’s meadow.” His dark gaze met Julian’s. “I spoke the truth when I said that you had nothing to fear from my tribe.”

  “Then explain to me how it is that I find you creeping around my property in the dead of night.”

  “I will not deny that some of the more, er, exuberant members of my tribe did, before you paid us a visit, uh, help themselves to some things that were lying around—in particular, some rolls of fabric from the house that I was in tonight. I will admit to those thefts.” His eyes locked on Julian’s, he said, “But I swear to you, on the blood that we share, that it was no gypsy who started the fire.”

  “That’s all very interesting,” remarked Charles, “but it still doesn’t explain what you were doing there tonight, now does it?”

  Cesar looked surprised. “I thought it was obvious—I was following the man in the black cloak. Didn’t you see him?”

  Chapter 21

  Julian nearly called him a liar, but then he remembered those few seconds before he’d spotted Cesar when he’d thought he’d seen something near the back entrance. He played the scene back in his mind, trying to recall exactly what he’d seen—or thought he’d seen. Could it have been the flicker of a cloak as someone disappeared into the house?

  “He’s lying,” Charles snapped, breaking into Julian’s thoughts.

  “No, I don’t believe that he is,” Julian said slowly, his gaze on Cesar’s face. “A few minutes before I spotted Cesar, I thought that I saw something by the back entrance.”

  Charles’s brows rose. “You saw something?”

  “I thought I saw som
ething—and the more I think on it, it could have been the edge of a cloak as someone entered the house.”

  Julian sent Cesar a hard look. “Assuming you are telling the truth, would you recognize the man you saw enter the house?”

  Cesar shook his head. “No, the lower half of his face was covered by a dark scarf and he was wearing a black…a dark hat that obscured most of his other features.”

  “Even if you saw this fellow, that still doesn’t explain what you were doing on the Dower House grounds in the first place,” muttered Charles.

  Cesar stared down into the amber liquid in his snifter. “Gypsies make their living by telling half truths, sometimes outright lies,” he said simply. “Our reputation for being light-fingered thieves is not undeserved, but”—he lifted his head and looked at Julian—“we do have our own honor, and lying to a blood relative is not an inconsequential act. When I told you that you had nothing to fear from us, I meant it.” He grimaced. “We are thieves, rascals if you like, but we do not set fires endangering lives. I knew that the damage done to your fine house was not the work of the gypsies and I was curious as to the identity of the real culprit.” He shrugged. “So I watched—and that is why you discovered me at that house tonight.”

  “Too smoky by half,” growled Charles. “And something else: for a damn rascally gypsy you have an excellent command of the King’s English.”

  Cesar smiled thinly. “My…father saw to it that my mother was given an adequate sum of money—some of which, at his insistence, was to be used to educate me. I may not have attended one of your prestigious schools, but I am not unlearned.”

  Charles looked uncomfortable. “I apologize,” he said. “My remark was rude.” He grinned. “Especially to a, er, relative of sorts.”

  “Is tonight the first time that you’ve seen this fellow?” Julian asked abruptly.

  Cesar nodded. “Yes. Once I had spotted him, I did not intend to let him out of my sight. When he entered the house I followed him to try to see where he went or what he did.” The muscles in Cesar’s jaw clenched. “But I failed. Except where the moonlight came in through the windows, the interior of the house was too dark to see anything. I lost him the moment he stepped inside. I stopped and listened, hoping to hear his movements, but I heard nothing. I could do nothing but retreat, fearful that if I continued I would blunder into him or alert him to my presence. I came out of the house, intending to wait for his return.” He flashed Julian a wry glance. “But you put a stop to that.”