She’d said the earring had been a prearranged signal with her father. But her fear of Colonel Faraday had been as genuine as her love for Sir Henry and his family. If Meg had betrayed Colonel Faraday in some way, when she was faced with the realities of what happened to those who betrayed the colonel, her terror of her father would be justified.
So why did she come here?
Leaning over the stallion’s neck, he found the tracks he’d been seeking and urged his mount around the wrought-iron fence surrounding the churchyard. He established the point where Meg had stopped that night—before he’d alerted her to his presence and she’d pulled the mare back into the woods. He looked across the row of stones nearest him and considered the possibility that she had been telling the truth when she’d said she’d hidden here upon hearing someone following her. But he doubted it.
David slid to the ground and looped the reins around the fence. In one easy movement, he placed both hands on the iron railing and vaulted to the other side. He dropped to his haunches in front of the headstone nearest to the fence and cleared away the dead leaves that had blown against the marble. It belonged to a woman who had passed away in 1856. One arm resting across his knee, he scooped up a handful of duff from the ground and let it filter through his fingers.
For years, the whereabouts of stolen priceless artifacts and relics had remained unknown. Kinley believed Meg had absconded with the treasure. Then why would she be living a life in genteel poverty, struggling to take care of an old man and his family if she was in possession of such wealth? Would she not have purchased Rose Briar herself? How would she have gotten something like that out of India?
Too many unanswered questions lay at the threshold of his thoughts. His eyes came to focus on a distant trail of gray smoke rising from the treetops, bringing him back to the present. Colonel Faraday was still his biggest threat. Maybe even hers.
His horse snorted, warning of someone’s approach. David stood and saw a young girl standing at the arch entrance. She carried a straw-plaited basket. With her hair hidden behind the hood of her cloak, he could not tell her age.
Dusting off his hands, David shoved them in his pockets, and remained at a standstill. She did likewise as she seemed to debate the wisdom of approaching a lone man in the cemetery.
“She’s my mother,” the girl finally said, clutching her cloak.
“My apologies.” He stepped off the mound. “It is not my intent to frighten you. I saw the church steeple from the bluff.”
“Who are you?”
“A new resident.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I just paid the taxes on Rose Briar before it went on the block. I was told the owner lived around here.”
“Grandfather?”
“Is your grandfather Sir Henry Munro?”
The girl walked beneath the arch and approached. “You must be the Most Noble Baron Donally of Chadwick?” The breathy title came from her lips in a foggy mist. “Victoria told us about you in her missive. You are her cousin.”
Her hood had fallen around her shoulders. She was pretty, with long blond hair that framed a heart-shaped face. “You must be Miss Bethany Munro,” he said as if he and Meg were remotely close and that he hadn’t wrenched what little knowledge of her family from her as he could.
She smiled. “I am Miss Munro. We had no idea that Victoria had a family, much less a baron in the family.”
“I’ve only just returned to England after some time away.”
“Her note said you’ve been on an adventure across the world. That until your surprising return, she thought you had met an untimely and tragic end.”
“Did she?”
“How very exciting to go on an adventure. But not one that would find me eaten by cannibals, mind you. One day I wish to cross the channel and visit France.”
Smiling to himself, David refrained from replying.
“When Victoria wrote that you might be able to help against Cousin Nellis…” She paused. “You have to understand. We were so worried until we received the note. Peepaw hurt his foot three weeks ago in a fall. I fear I am no use to him, not like Victoria. My mother passed away when I was very young,” she said, then nodded to the grave where he stood. “Victoria brings me up here weekly. We help the groundskeeper keep the site clean and bring him victuals. Mr. Doyle lives in the woods behind the rectory.”
David looked around the grounds, curious that someone lived here.
“Not exactly in the woods. He lives in a cottage that is in the woods. Though I don’t know where he is. I was supposed to leave this basket.” She looked around the cemetery as if expecting him to appear out of the ground. “Victoria has taken over Peepaw’s responsibilities with the tenants. I’ve been trying to do everything she would want me to do. But I don’t like this place.”
“Cemeteries make me nervous, too.”
“They do?” She beamed. “Peepaw used to come here to visit Father. But not much anymore, since he has difficulty moving.”
The girl knelt and cleared away the dead leaves that had blown against the second headstone. “I never knew my father. He was a brave soldier in India. Victoria married him a few weeks before he passed away. She practically adopted me when she came here.”
“Your father’s remains were returned from India?” David dropped his gaze to the headstone, every sense on alert as he read the name carved in the stone.
Sir Scott Davis Munro
September 24, 1828–November 28, 1863
Cherished Son of Sir Henry
and Lady Matilda Munro
Meg had left India December of 1863.
“My father is Sir Henry’s only son,” Bethany continued. “Father must have been wonderful for someone like Victoria never to marry again. One day I’ll find a man to love as much.”
David frowned at her romantic nonsense. “That’s my cousin, the poetic troubadour of romantic causes.”
Bethany lifted her gaze and he quickly asked, “Do you live alone with your stepmother and grandfather?”
“Oh no, I have a brother as well. He is visiting family in Salehurst. My mother’s side of the family grows hops. We used to, but our last crop failed three years ago.”
His gaze still on Sir Scott’s headstone, David wasn’t listening as she spoke of bad weather cycles and lack of tenants to help with the land. He wanted to ask her questions about her father’s military unit. Mostly, he wanted to know why Munro’s casket hadn’t been on the same steamer that left Bombay as Meg.
“If you drink ale in these parts, I guarantee it is my family’s brand,” she was saying. “Victoria wants Nathanial to learn to manage these lands. Unfortunately, as you can see, he may not have land to manage by the time he comes of age.” Her blue gaze lifted to the church, and she sighed. “Not much remains anymore. Most everyone has left. Including many of the servants. Except for Mr. Doyle. He works these grounds.”
David looked past her, through the thicket of trees. Higher on the bluff, the yellow stone manor peered out over the countryside from a throne of brambling roses and crowning oaks.
“I’m afraid it will be difficult for you to move in tonight,” she said. “Will you come to the cottage and meet Grandfather?” she asked, the top of her blond head barely reaching his chest as he stood. “Besides, it is getting late and you must be famished. Sir Henry will be pleased to meet you, especially since you’ve paid the taxes on the land. We can wait for Victoria together.”
Turning away to release the reins of his horse, David wondered what Meg would think walking into the cottage and finding him present. He was suddenly quite famished.
“Are you always this friendly to strangers?”
“You’re no stranger to Victoria.” The brisk chill brought apples to her cheeks. “And I do see a family resemblance. You have dark hair and you’re tall.”
A rainstorm was pummeling the ground by the time Victoria arrived at the cottage after dark. The back door flew open and Bethany appeared like a silhouette against the light. Mr. Roc
kwell sat on the front seat of the buggy, his face hidden beneath a wide floppy hat. A black slicker swallowed him.
“Someone is here,” he yelled over the rain.
Victoria tightened the hood around her face and looked toward the barn where she saw a beautiful black horse pulled out of the rain. A stiff wind whipped up her skirt and cloak, and she captured its length with her hand. “Mr. Shelby is in the barn. He’ll see that you get dry clothes. When you’re finished, Mrs. Shelby will feed you and give you a bed for the night. Tomorrow we will see to your permanent lodgings.”
She directed him to the barn, then to the smaller cottage behind. A steady rain had softened the ground into mud. Victoria lifted her skirts as she ran across the yard and over the cobblestones that marked the path to the back door. The former hunter’s cottage was an unassuming two-story, gray stone thatched cottage. A century’s growth of ivy twined through the crevices in the stone. She could smell smoke from the chimney.
“Victoria!” Bethany launched into her arms as she entered the mudroom. “I was in the kitchen and heard the buggy. Look at you. I was beginning to get worried. Are you all right? You said little in your note. You must be freezing.”
Water dripped into a puddle at her feet. Bethany helped her remove the sodden cloak she had stolen from David’s closet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. How is your grandfather? Has he been soaking his foot?”
“He’s playing cards.”
Victoria remembered the horse in the stable. “Who is here?”
“I’ve got the most wonderful surprise for you.”
Bethany took her hand and led her down the long corridor to the back of the cottage. Men’s voices sounded from Sir Henry’s bedroom.
David was sitting beside the bed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, cards in hand, as he finished the shuffle. A fire crackling in the hearth radiated warmth in the room. Beside him, lying on the bed, his left foot bandaged, sat Sir Henry, his craggy face split into a wide grin. Victoria had not seen the elder so animated in weeks.
David turned his head and saw her standing in the doorway. The light from the lamp cast a shine over his dark hair and accentuated his classic features. She couldn’t ignore the strange flutter she felt inside her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I met His Lordship today near the church,” Bethany said.
Victoria had momentarily forgotten David was a baron, or that he was supposed to be her long-lost relative returning from the jungles of some continent. “The church?”
“He cheats at cards, I’m sure of it.” The man she loved liked a father chuckled with glee. “Victoria? You’ve finally introduced me to someone worthy of my time.”
She looked at David, confused by the camaraderie between the two. He gave her a wink. “Sir Henry drives a hard bargain.”
“Well, I say if His Lordship can swindle the swindler at rummy, then he deserves to win, Peepaw,” Bethany said, lifting that evening’s dinner tray from the nightstand. “You should not have behaved so ornery in the first place. He is our guest.”
“Pish posh,” Sir Henry snorted. “I’ll not be signing over Rose Briar to any man lest he can prove himself up to a challenge. Nellis never could play cards worth an owl’s hoot.”
“What did you say?” Victoria moved into the room. And David dared call her a thief? “What papers have been signed?”
“The agreement I’ve made is with Chadwick. Men’s business, if you will. Now, help me out of bed and let me look at you. Bethany, make Victoria a hot toddy.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Bethany murmured obediently, and with the tray departed.
“Where have you been?” Sir Henry demanded after Bethany left. “We’ve missed our appointments for three days. What madness possessed you to fall off your horse?”
“Tommy Stillings’s wife is with child,” Victoria said, telling Sir Henry the truth at least on that account. “He was worried about Annie.”
“Worried, my bum.” Sir Henry raised his gaze to David. “Watch out for Stillings,” he warned David. “He’s my nephew’s puppet. Run most of the decent folk away from these parts. He came here the other night and scared my granddaughter senseless. We thought he’d dragged Victoria away. He and Nellis—”
“Really, Sir Henry.” Pulling her skirt aside so as not to touch any part of David, Victoria inserted herself between her husband and the bed. “I’m sure my cousin isn’t interested in our problems. Your foot is not healed,” she warned the older man when he moved to the edge of the bed. “Have you been soaking it in hot water and salts?”
“Yes, yes.” He waved an impatient hand. “Now let me look at your head. Bethany said you had a concussion. Though why you should suddenly grow clumsy—”
“I’m fine, Sir Henry.”
“I’ll decide that for myself, young lady. A concussion isn’t to be taken lightly.”
Victoria obediently bent her head for his examination, wincing as he tenderly probed her skull. “Nellis has decided he wants Victoria,” Sir Henry said.
“I’m sure Lord Chadwick isn’t interested…ouch.”
“Nonsense. You can’t allow a man to walk blind into the middle of a family feud.” He held up two fingers. “How many?”
Frustrated, she glared. “Four.”
“You’ll live.” He patted her cheek. “Now help me out of bed.”
“May I look at your foot first?”
“See what I have to deal with?” Sir Henry said to David as he eased off the bed. “The girl insists on hovering over me.”
Victoria followed Sir Henry’s hobble across the room. “I don’t hover.”
“I wish I was still sailing those balmy West Indian waters. At least I never had a case of aches as I do in this chill.” He fumbled through the vials and bottles on the shelf. “Ah, here ’tis,” Sir Henry murmured. “My medicine.”
“What is it?” Victoria stepped forward with every intention off sniffing the contents.
“It’s mine, that’s what it is,” he said, taking a swig. “The finest Irish whiskey ever made. Now off with ye, girl. Go fetch your toddy and change your clothes. Your dress is damp, and I’m to bed. That young man over there has exhausted me.”
She stood in front of Sir Henry, suddenly wishing David was out of earshot. The past few days had made her emotional, and, as she pressed an affectionate kiss against his whiskers, she wanted to throw her arms around him. “Thank you, Sir Henry.”
“For what,” he murmured.
How would she ever explain the truth to him? “For worrying about me.”
He huffed a great show, but she knew he’d missed her, and in his roundabout way was trying not to show that he’d been worried. “Off with ye, Victoria.” He patted her arm, and she watched him limp back to his bed before she realized David was watching her.
Feeling exposed, she straightened. “I’ll see you in the morning, Sir Henry.”
Chapter 6
David stood aside, allowing Meg to pass into the corridor first. “Truly, I cannot believe what you did,” she whispered, sweeping past him and affording him a glimpse of her uptilted breasts impressed against the damp fabric of her bodice.
At once, he became interested in the rest of her attire and stepped back to look just as she swung around to face him, hand outstretched, dragging his gaze to her face.
“May I see the paper Sir Henry signed and gave to you?”
He withdrew the folded document from inside his waistcoat pocket. “As you wish.”
“Maybe you should have tried harder to lose at cards, David.”
“Me?” He laughed, astounded by the conclusion she’d drawn. “Sir Henry is a shark.”
He had not come here today to take an old man’s property from him, and as Victoria read the contract of sale Sir Henry had signed, David found he easily traded the direction of his thoughts for another. His glance dipped from her full lower lip to the damp blue gown Meg wore, settling on the sensual flair of her hips.
While
in captivity these past days, she had washed in his soap, and he could smell himself all over her. When he again contemplated those violet eyes that could say so much to a man, he found them narrowed on him.
“What can I say?” He shrugged off the carnal intrusion with the same lack of self-reproach as he did any other vice someone caught him committing. “You look nice all wet.”
“You’re a cad, David.” She refolded the document and tossed it at him. “I’ve not only allowed you to steal back into my life, but now I’ve abetted you into taking Sir Henry’s ancestral home. You were only supposed to pay the taxes. Now you own Rose Briar and all three thousand acres that surround it?”
“Meg—”
“How dare you charm yourself into the bosom of my family.”
David lowered his voice. “Do you think this is the proper place for this conversation? We’re supposed to like one another.”
“Oh dear. Have I been remiss in welcoming you into this family, Cousin David, Baron Donally of Chadwick just back from the jungles of central Africa?” She planted a dutiful kiss on his cheek and whispered against the shell of his ear. “Admittedly I was disappointed to learn that you had not been devoured by cannibals. My loss, dear cousin.”
He wrapped an arm around her back. “And yet I was saved the fate of countless others in my hunting party. Your loss is my gain.”
Her palms caught against his chest. “Let go of me, David.”
He smiled, reading her reaction to him in the rapid beat of her pulse at her neck. He liked that he could make her uncomfortable and agitated after she’d so effortlessly sucked his libido through every pore in his flesh. “I should show you my scars, colleen.”
“You’re still a tyrant,” she managed between clenched teeth. “You and your fake title go well together.”
“So does yours, Lady Munro,” he said against her hair.
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