Slightly Scandalous b-5

by Mary Balogh

  She fenced with his tongue and got her hands beneath his cloak and under his coat and waistcoat-why did men wear so many layers of clothing?-while his own fondled her breasts beneath her cloak and then moved behind her to cup her buttocks and pull her hard against him, half lifting her as he did so, rubbing her against him so that the ache inside her almost exploded to add to the starlight.

  "You are not-?" he prompted her much later, lifting his mouth perhaps an inch away from hers.

  "Panting with desire," she said, ignominiously breathless.

  He laughed softly. "Heaven help me if you were, then," he said. "Why do you not want to marry me, Free? You cannot have Ravensberg, but I suppose sooner or later you must have someone. Why not me?"

  "Must you have someone sooner or later?" she asked sharply, drawing back her head another inch.

  "It is different for a man," he said.

  "How so?"

  "A man likes freedom and no commitment," he said. "He can enjoy dalliance and look for nothing beyond it. Women have nesting instincts. They want homes and fidelity and everlasting romance and babies."

  He laughed suddenly and caught her right wrist in his, moving back far enough to look down at her hand.

  "What, sweetheart?" he asked. "No fist? I thought that would provoke you if anything could. Ouch!"

  Her left fist had caught him a solid blow on the jaw.

  "Why do I not want to marry you?" she asked. "Perhaps it is because I feel some pity for your pretty face. If it were within my daily reach for the rest of a lifetime, it would soon be in sorry shape, like the faces of those brutes who are employed to box each other into oblivion for the amusement of gentlemen who choose to wager on blood sports."

  He threw back his head and laughed, fingering his jaw and flexing it as he did so.

  "We had better get back to the house," he said. "It is perfectly understood, then, is it, that I am footloose and restless and not nearly done with sowing my wild oats, if I ever will be, and that you would rather go through life as a spinster than marry someone who cannot engage your feelings as deeply as they were once engaged? We will never marry, Freyja. But we are attracted to each other, and we tend to erupt like a pair of volcanoes when opportunity presents itself. Shall we avoid such opportunities until we can put an end to them altogether? Or shall we not, but simply enjoy the moment for what it is worth? The moment being the next few days or weeks or whatever."

  "You speak as if the next few days can be taken up with nothing but opportunities for dalliance," she said. "There is supposed to be a plot afoot, is there not, to have you accused and convicted of murder. A witness can be a dangerous thing."

  "Lord, yes," he agreed. "Half a dozen witnesses could be even more deadly. I wonder if my aunt would be so wise-or so foolish."

  "I wonder what really happened that night," she said. But she shook her head even as she was speaking and pulled her hood up over her head again before turning and striding back along the path in the direction of the house. "But I do not want to know."

  He fell into step beside her. "Because you fear that I really did kill him?" he asked her.

  Was that why she was so reluctant to hear the truth?

  "I did threaten to kill him," he said.

  "But you did not do it," she said firmly. "You told Aidan you did not when he asked at Lindsey Hall, and I believed you. I still believe you. Would you have killed him if he had lived long enough?"

  He was a long time answering. They walked around the corner into the wind again, at their backs now.

  "I really do not know," he said. "But I very much fear that perhaps I would not have."

  There! That was all she wanted to hear on the subject, Freyja thought, lengthening her stride. She had already heard too much. Something horribly serious had happened that night-apart from the nasty fact that someone had died. And she did not want to know what it was.

  I wonder if Hallmere has thought to mention to you that he has the most adorable little bastard son living in the village close to Penhallow with his mother.

  The remembered words came back to Freyja in the marchioness's whining voice.

  She was the girls' governess until the unfortunate incident forced my husband to dismiss her. They appear not to be suffering. I understand that Hallmere still supports them.

  The sordid story had nothing to do with her, Freyja decided. He was not her betrothed and she felt no inclination whatsoever to stand in judgment on him. But she had a horrible suspicion that the quarrel in the boat that night had been about the governess and her child. Had Albert delivered one of his stuffy, self-righteous lectures on the topic? And had Joshua . . . Well, how had he reacted apart from threatening to kill his cousin? Exactly how and why had Albert died?

  She did not want to know.

  "I have shocked you, sweetheart," Joshua said. "Does this mean there will be no more dalliance between us? You have slain me."

  "Is nothing serious to you?" she asked disdainfully.

  But she knew the answer to that question now, of course, and really she wished she did not.

  Yes, there were many things in his life that were serious to Joshua Moore, Marquess of Hallmere.

  She should have said good-bye to him long ago, before she even began to suspect that he was not simply a laughing, carefree rogue too handsome for his own good.

  He chuckled softly, found her hand beneath her cloak, and held it as they walked, lacing his fingers with hers.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Who is it?" Joshua asked, propping himself against the edge of his steward's desk and crossing his arms over his chest. It was early in the morning, but Saunders was already at work in his office.

  "Hugh Garnett," Saunders said. "His land is on the other side of the valley-his mother was a baron's daughter. He is prospering by all accounts. He bought more land after taking over from his father a couple of years ago. He is not by any means a gentleman without influence."

  "Oh, I know Hugh Garnett." Joshua frowned. "He is a nephew, on his father's side, of Mrs. Lumbard, the marchioness's particular friend. I am not overly surprised. But what would be in it for him, do you suppose, apart from the fact that he has reason to dislike me? He is not the sort of man to do something for nothing."

  "He has been displaying some interest in Lady Chastity," Saunders said, "but without any encouragement from either the lady herself or the marchioness. Yet she did invite him to tea here with his aunt and cousin after the return from Bath. It would be a brilliant match for him, of course, especially if it came with her mother's full blessing."

  "And more especially if I were not likely to spoil things by coming here to live now that I am betrothed and likely to marry at any time," Joshua said. "I daresay the Reverend Calvin Moore has been brought here as much to woo Constance as to bring moral support and comfort to the marchioness. She rules her world with as much ruthlessness as she ever did, does she not?"

  He got to his feet and crossed to the window. It looked out onto the upward slope of the hill. But it was a pretty view nonetheless. The kitchen gardens and flower gardens were back there, as well as several hothouses. Behind them a footpath snaked its way upward past cultivated bushes to the hardy wildflowers closer to the plateau above.

  He remembered then what Constance had told him and swung about to look at Jim Saunders. He was a gentleman of perhaps thirty years, perhaps less, who would inherit a very modest fortune and property on the death of his father, though there were a younger brother and several sisters to provide for. He was a pleasant-looking fellow and a hard worker. It was easy to understand why Constance, living in such isolation from men of her own class, would cast her eyes and her dreams on him. Did he return her regard? He was sitting behind his desk, looking down at a closed ledger, no readable expression on his face.

  "You must understand, my lord," Saunders said, his voice carefully formal, "that I am relatively new here and have not yet formed firm opinions on everyone in the house and vicinity. I do not know the marc
hioness well and do not presume to guess her motives. Neither do I know you well. But I am sensible of the fact that I owe my loyalty to you and not to her ladyship."

  It was a careful answer. It was not obsequious.

  "So you are not sure if there is any truth to these charges you warned me were imminent," he said. "You are wondering if you are employed by a desperate murderer."

  "I like to think not," his steward said.

  "Thank you." Joshua looked more closely at him. "How did you know? Nothing has been said since my arrival. There has been no constable panting on my doorstep to arrest me. Who told you?"

  Saunders straightened the ledger and brought its bottom edge even with the edge of his desk.

  "Constance?"

  Saunders began to open the book and then let it close again. "She suggested to me that you ought to be informed, my lord," he said.

  "Ah," Joshua said softly. "Then I must thank her and thank you for complying with her wishes. It would seem that the plot is not quite cooked and that my arrival might have hindered its smooth progress. Why is it not cooked, I wonder, if there is a witness, a prosperous gentleman, willing to swear that he saw me murder my cousin?"

  Saunders looked back at him but did not venture any suggestion.

  "I believe," Joshua said, moving away from the window and grinning, "I am about to make the progress of this plot even less smooth, Saunders. I believe I am going to enjoy my day. Tomorrow you may give me a progress report on the new buildings and the repairs that were to be undertaken as soon as the harvest was in. I will want to see the home farm too and speak with my workers and their wives while I am here."

  "Yes, my lord," his steward said, "I am at your command anytime you wish."

  Joshua left the office wing of the house to see if any of the family or guests were up yet. But he must have been with Saunders longer than he had realized. Almost everyone was already assembled in the breakfast parlor.

  "Good morning," he said, striding inside. "And a crisp, bright one it looks to be. Perhaps we could all drive or ride into Lydmere later? It is a pretty little fishing village with a harbor and beach below it. Ah, Freyja." He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kept it there a little longer than was necessary while he smiled into her eyes.

  He might as well amuse himself by annoying both her and his aunt, he thought. Freyja's eyebrows arched upward, Alleyne grinned, Calvin cleared his throat, and his aunt smiled sweetly.

  But playing the ardent lover was easier than living the reality of a fake betrothal, he decided, as he helped himself to food from the sideboard and seated himself at the head of the table. Last night's embrace had been more frustrating than satisfying, especially since he now knew what it was like to take an embrace with Freyja to its completion. He was, he had realized last night, in grave danger of falling ever so slightly in love with Freyja Bedwyn. He was going to have to work diligently to keep their relationship to its familiar pattern. The last thing he wanted was to be seriously in love with anyone.

  He joined in the general conversation until Eve and Aidan, the last to arrive, since they had been in the nursery with their children, had sat down and begun to eat.

  "It has occurred to me," he said, "that my homecoming will be an occasion to be remarked upon in the neighborhood-and I daresay my arrival did not go unnoticed yesterday. When it is known that I have also brought home with me my future bride, the occasion will be seen as one to be celebrated indeed. A grand ball at Penhallow would be in order-perhaps one week hence? I will see to most of the arrangements myself, but I have not been here for five years and doubtless do not know everyone who lives in the neighborhood now. You will help me with the guest list, I trust, Aunt? And Constance and Chastity too?"

  Constance, flushed and bright-eyed, nodded her acquiescence. Chastity smiled.

  "What a perfectly delightful idea, Joshua," his aunt said, smiling sweetly, "even if I am still in mourning for your dear uncle. But you must remember that this is neither London nor Bath. There are very few families of any note living within ten miles of Penhallow. A small dinner and reception will be more in order. I will send out the invitations myself and make arrangements with the cook."

  "About the dainties to be served at the ball, yes," he said, smiling at her. "Thank you, Aunt. I would appreciate that. I made many friends during my years in Lydmere. A number of them would enjoy kicking up their heels in the ballroom here, I daresay. And there are all my tenants, as well as the workers on my property. It will be like a village assembly more than a ton ball. It is to be hoped that your more genteel friends will not be offended by it, Aunt. I understand that Mrs. Lumbard has returned from Bath with her daughter. We will invite them. Perhaps her nephew will escort them-Hugh Garnett, is it?"

  His aunt noticeably paled and stared at him with pinched lips. Chastity's fork clattered to her plate.

  "He does escort his aunt about occasionally, I hear," Joshua said. "Indeed, I believe he escorted her here to tea quite recently?"

  The Bedwyns were all watching and listening with avid interest, he noticed. Constance was staring at her plate, though she was not eating. Chastity's wide eyes were fixed upon Joshua's face. Calvin cleared his throat again.

  "And so he did," his aunt said. "A pleasant young man. Edwina Lumbard dotes on him."

  "And yet, Aunt," Joshua said, "I believe he must have upset you badly when he ripped open old wounds that were perhaps beginning to heal."

  "Whatever do you mean, Joshua?" She set one hand over her heart while her shoulders sagged and her face looked haggard and pathetic.

  "I believe," he said, "Garnett suggested to you, Aunt, that Albert's death five years ago was not accidental, but that he was, in fact, murdered. And I believe that he named me as the murderer."

  "Oh, no, Joshua," Eve said, her hand too over her heart.

  "Why, the devil!" Alleyne exclaimed.

  "If this is correct," Aidan said, "it is a serious charge indeed, Joshua."

  "Gracious heavens," Freyja said, raising her coffee cup to her lips with a perfectly steady hand. "Am I betrothed to a murderer? How very diverting!"

  Chastity was looking deathly pale. So was Constance.

  The Reverend Calvin Moore got to his feet, cleared his throat again, and raised his hands, as if he were about to speak a benediction.

  "You are quite right, Hallmere," he said. "Such a suggestion has indeed been made. Mr. Garnett claims to have been a witness to the events of the night on which my cousin died. It was because of this that Cousin Corinne summoned me here. She felt the need of a man, and a relative, to advise her. But this is hardly the time or the place to discuss such a distressing matter."

  "I cannot think of a better time or place," Joshua said, smiling at him. "Do sit down again, Calvin. We are all family or potential family here."

  The marchioness was clutching her throat, her face suddenly gray. "Joshua, my dear," she said faintly. "I never for a moment believed a word Mr. Garnett said. I do not know why he would say such things. But I did indeed feel the need to consult with someone wiser than I, a man, someone in the family. And Cousin Calvin is a clergyman."

  "I hope my unexpected arrival yesterday did not discompose you too severely, Calvin," Joshua said. "But I assure you that you are quite safe here with me. I was with Albert the night he drowned, but I did not kill him. When was I to be summoned home to defend myself against these charges, Aunt? Or did your letter to Lindsey Hall pass me while I was on my way here?"

  "You must understand, Joshua," she said, "that I was dreadfully upset. I did not know what to do. I urged Cousin Calvin to come to advise me. I did not want to bring you here where you might be in danger."

  "That was remarkably thoughtful of you," he said.

  "Well." She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "You are my nephew. You have always been like my son."

  "Constance," he said, turning his eyes on her, "do you believe that I might have murdered your brother?"

  She raised her eyes
to his. "No," she said. "No, I do not, Joshua."

  "Chass?" He looked at the girl, who was still staring at him with wide eyes in a pale face. "Do you believe it?"

  She shook her head slowly. "No," she whispered.

  "Calvin?" he asked his cousin, who had just resumed his seat.

  Calvin cleared his throat-a habit with him, it seemed. "You were ever a mischievous boy, Hallmere," he said. "But you were never vicious, as far as I recall. I would believe this of you only if the evidence were to prove your guilt beyond any reasonable doubt."

  "Fair enough," Joshua said. "Freyja?"

  "The morning is slipping by while we talk such nonsense," she said, her nose in the air, her tone haughty. "I am eager for the ride into the village you have promised us."

  "Oh, so am I, Joshua," Morgan said.

  "And I daresay the children are champing at the bit in their eagerness to be taken outside," Aidan added. "I would be pleased to accompany you on a visit to Mr. Garnett later today, though, Joshua. I suppose you do intend to call on him?"

  "Indeed," Joshua said. "Calvin, you had better come along too."

  His aunt dabbed at her lips again. "Mr. Garnett is from home," she said.

  "Indeed, ma'am?" Aidan said.

  "I would have invited him here to speak with Cousin Calvin if he had not been," she said. "I am as eager as anyone to hear him admit that he was mistaken. But he has gone away for a few days."

  "Indeed." Joshua regarded her with some amusement.

  "At such a time?" Alleyne was all amazement. "When he should be going to a magistrate with his evidence? But what I cannot understand, I must confess, Joshua, is why he has waited for five years and why he has decided to come forward now."

  "Garnett is from home, I daresay," Joshua said, "in order to think through his evidence with more care. He would be foolish to proceed too hastily, would he not, especially after waiting so long. Any trial would pit his word against mine, and I am, after all, the Marquess of Hallmere. It is to be hoped that he does not prove overzealous, though. He needs to remember that a fishing boat-I assume it was a fishing boat from which he witnessed this dastardly crime-would have been perfectly visible to me and, more to the point, to Albert. Why did he row away and offer no assistance? Was he afraid that I would murder him too?"