by Laura Landon
“Such a lovely place, Radburn Oaks.” Lady Carlisle’s words drifted off on a wistful ribbon of memory that seemed to carry her with it. But it was something else entirely that had snagged Millicent’s attention.
“Your mother spent time in France?” Millicent asked Radburn. This news surprised her. Could there possibly be a connection?
Millicent shifted her gaze to connect with Barnaby and found a look of surprise on his face, too.
“Did you enjoy France?” Barnaby asked.
“Not especially,” Radburn answered. He avoided eye contact as he reached into one of the baskets and retrieved a bottle of light Rhennish wine and four glasses. He opened the bottle and poured a little in each goblet. Then he sat back on the blanket and took a glass for himself. He swirled it expertly, enjoying its bouquet. “The lifestyle is much different in France than it is here.”
“Different?” Lady Carlisle asked. “How so?”
“Oh, I cannot explain, exactly.” He took a swallow of his wine. “More . . . tumultuous, perhaps. Or unsettled.”
“What a strange thing to say,” Lady Carlisle answered. “I never thought of France in those terms. I thought it was a country of gaiety and raucous abandon.”
“Oh, it is that, too,” Radburn added. He finished the wine in his glass and rose to his feet. “Enough of France, my lady. Would you care to walk along the stream? Would you and Mr. Compton care to join us, Millicent?”
“Not at the moment, if you don’t mind, Marcus,” Millicent answered. “I’d like to sit and enjoy the view here. We can take a walk along the stream after our luncheon. But please, Elizabeth,” Millicent said, addressing Lady Carlisle by her Christian name as she’d requested, “you must see it from that perspective. The view is breathtaking. One of the jewels of his estate. Marcus is very pleased with it, as well he should be.”
“If you insist,” Lady Carlisle said, accepting Radburn’s hand to rise to her feet.
“By all means. Reggie and I will stay here and guard the basket.”
Barnaby waited until Radburn and Lady Carlisle were out of sight, then he reached for her hand and helped her to her feet.
“I think the basket will survive on its own,” he said, with a cock of his head indicating they might take a stroll. When he extended his arm, she looped her arm through his and walked with him in the opposite direction from the one Marcus and Elizabeth had taken.
“What do you think, Barnaby?”
“About Radburn, you mean?”
“Yes. Did you know he’d lived in France?”
“No.”
“Do you think there’s a connection to his time in France and the munitions that are rumored to be shipped to France?”
Barnaby shook his head. “I don’t know.”
They took a few more steps in silence, then Millicent stopped and looked at him. “Something bothered me all night.”
Barnaby wrapped his arm around Millicent’s waist and brought her closer. “What’s that?”
“Why would Radburn start a fire to kill my family, then rush in to save Polly and Thomas like they say he did?”
“I don’t know. The same question has bothered me, too.”
“Do you have an answer?”
“No. Not unless he wasn’t responsible for the fire.”
His statement shocked her. Millicent needed time to digest what he said. He seemed able to look at an issue from all sides, whereas she had a penchant for interpreting things according to her own agenda. She needed to consider that likelihood. “Do you think that’s possible?”
Barnaby didn’t answer. He just stared ahead.
“He loves her, you know,” Millicent said without explanation.
“I wondered if you were aware of that.”
“How could I not be aware of it? The sparks when they look at each other nearly set the room afire.” Millicent released Barnaby’s arm and walked to the edge of the stream and looked into the water that gently churned as it traveled downstream. “Why did he offer for me? Elizabeth has been widowed long enough that he could have offered for her.”
When Barnaby didn’t put forth an answer, she turned to demand one from him. “What are you thinking?”
He reached for her hand and held it. His flesh was warm through her glove, and a rushing of emotion swirled through her.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, maybe the fire that killed your parents was his fault, and maybe it wasn’t.” He rolled his head back as he thought it through. “If he did set the fire, he marries you thinking to secure the property. If he didn’t start the fire, he marries you out of…guilt?”
“Guilt?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he knew your father was alarmed over something and he didn’t do anything to help? I don’t know. I’m just fishing for an answer here. Tell me what your father said in his letter to you. Tell me as much as you can remember.”
“He told me not to return to Cliffside, to stay away because it wasn’t safe.”
“Did he tell you why it wasn’t safe?”
“No, only that whatever was wrong had something to do with the Earl of Radburn.”
Deep furrows etched his forehead. Millicent knew he had a thought but was keeping it to himself. “What?” she asked.
“I was simply wondering if your brother knew why your father was concerned.”
“If Father confided in anyone, it would be Thomas. There was little that Father didn’t share with him.”
“I think I should pay Thomas a visit tonight, then.”
“Will you take me with you?”
He wanted to refuse. Millicent could see the reluctance on his face. She also saw the exact moment he changed his mind.
“Very well. I’ll stop for you when I’m sure the house has gone to sleep. Perhaps you can occupy your sister so I can speak to your brother in private.”
Millicent nodded, then took Barnaby’s arm when he offered it.
“We’d best return before Radburn and Lady Carlisle come back and find us gone.”
It wasn’t long after they returned that Lord Radburn and Lady Carlisle emerged from a cove of trees and joined them.
“You’re just in time,” Millicent said, reaching into one of the baskets the staff had delivered. There was a loaf of freshly baked bread alongside slices of cold ham, as well as several kinds of pastries. When she had them laid out on the blanket, she handed out plates and utensils. The four of them helped themselves to the fare and topped their meal off with another bottle of fine wine from Radburn’s cellar.
They spoke of nothing in particular, but eventually the conversation turned to the upcoming wedding.
“Have you heard from your mother, Marcus? When will Lady Charlotte arrive?”
“I think in a day or two. She’ll want to have a bit of time to make all the last-minute decisions.” He turned to Millicent. “Prepare yourself, my dear. Mother will either descend prepared to meddle in everything. Including our wedding, or be simply too preoccupied to care. One never knows.”
Millicent smiled, but knew meeting Radburn’s mother wouldn’t be easy. She doubted it would be easy even if she were serious about marrying the woman’s son. But knowing that she had no intention of becoming the future Lady Radburn would make it all the harder.
Before anyone could say anything more, Radburn’s man of business walked toward them. “Excuse me,” Radburn said when he saw him. “I think I am wanted. Please, continue to enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Millicent watched Radburn walk away. He stopped a moment to speak with Barnaby, then took his leave with Silas Armor. Barnaby set about directing the servants who had arrived with Armor to retrieve the picnic trappings. When Radburn was out of sight, Millicent turned to Lady Carlisle. “Are you acquainted with Radburn’s mother?”
“Yes. Although I didn’t know her as well as I knew Radburn’s father. I only saw her occasionally when she would come to spend
a short time in London.”
“Is Radburn close to his mother?”
“Yes. At least, he used to be.”
“Are you suggesting they aren’t as close as they once were?” Barnaby asked as he reached between them to retrieve their wine glasses.
Lady Carlisle looked as though she just realized she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “Oh, it’s nothing. I spoke out of turn.”
“I’d appreciate knowing what concerns you have.”
She hesitated before she answered. “Yes, I suppose you have a right to know.” Lady Carlisle took a sip of her wine, then lowered her glass to her lap. “Marcus’s parents’ relationship was always tumultuous.”
“They didn’t get along, then.” Millicent said.
“That’s a mild description of their attitude toward each other. When Marcus was still a young man, Lady Charlotte took him away to France. Lord Radburn was furious, as you might imagine, and demanded his wife return their son. Eventually, the two worked out a compromise where Marcus lived in France with his mother part of the year and with his father in England the rest of the year.”
Lady Carlisle lowered her gaze to her lap. “We spent a good deal of time together when he was with his father. He was very unhappy and would come to visit nearly every day. He once told me he missed his father and England when he was in France and wished he could live here all the time.”
“Did his mother return when Marcus’s father died?” Barnaby asked.
Lady Carlisle shook her head. “Marcus came to take care of the Radburn holdings, but Lady Charlotte remained in France, though she occasionally came to visit. Marcus mentioned once that he thought perhaps his mother was attached to a gentleman in France. But he didn’t know who. She never spoke of it.”
Barnaby nodded and moved away, giving the women privacy in hopes it would encourage Lady Carlisle to be as forthcoming as possible.
Millicent took her cue from Barnaby and subtly prompted Lady Carlisle to continue. “Perhaps that’s why Lord Radburn doesn’t feel as close to his mother as he once did. It’s possible he doesn’t approve of his mother’s paramour.”
“That is no doubt one reason. I’m sure it would bother him if he didn’t approve of the man to whom she’s formed an attachment.”
“It sounds as if you have other concerns,” Millicent said when Lady Carlisle stopped to take another sip of her wine. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”
Lady Carlisle’s eyes lowered, and her cheeks blushed a warm shade of red. She was clearly uncomfortable. “Just be prepared to . . . that is . . . oh dear, I’m making a mess of this.”
“Not at all, Elizabeth. But I’m concerned that you seem worried. If there’s anything at all I—”
“No! No, no,” Lady Carlisle interrupted. “Not worried. More . . . cautious, I should say. About . . . the emeralds.”
Millicent’s hand went instinctively to her neck where she’d worn Radburn’s emeralds—upon his insistence—to the party he’d thrown to introduce her to his friends.
“What about them?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.
“Oh, my dear, you really do need to know, so you can protect them, of course.” Lady Carlisle took a deep breath and leaned closer. “So you can protect Marcus.”
It would take more than a little tête-à-tête for her to feel sympathetic, much less protective, of Marcus. Millicent cocked her head in an inquisitive gesture, hoping by her silence to encourage more information from the woman.
“Protect Radburn?”
“Yes. And his mother, too,” Lady Carlisle responded, looking even more ill at ease. “From him,” she whispered. “From Lady Charlotte’s lover.”
“You see,” she hurried on, “Radburn always intended the emeralds as a gift for . . . his bride, which of course you know, but, well, what you don’t know is that there is an emerald tiara, as well as earbobs and a bracelet that match.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, how magnificent that must be. But I haven’t seen them—only the necklace.”
“Because they were stolen!” she whispered dramatically. “It caused a tremendous scandal when they disappeared.” Lady Carlisle rushed on with her story. “The only reason the necklace wasn’t taken as well is because Radburn had . . . lent it to me. I . . . we . . . I mean to say, but that is another matter.” Her quiet cough covered what looked to be momentary embarrassment. “Radburn says the French gendarmes were called when Lady Charlotte realized they’d been stolen, and all the guests were searched, but nothing was found.”
“What a terrible loss!” Such finery was beyond Millicent’s imagining. And then to lose it would be truly devastating.
“But they’re not lost,” Elizabeth whispered. “They’re in a bank vault in Switzerland. In a secure box.” She looked to the side rather furtively. “A box leased under the name Lady Charlotte Radburn.”
The woman’s words sank in slowly, but no matter how hard she tried, Millicent couldn’t believe that Radburn’s mother would have orchestrated the theft.
Millicent tried to fill in the gaps in Elizabeth’s story, but couldn’t. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, then continued. “Marcus is being blackmailed.”
“Blackmailed?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“By whom?”
“By Lady Charlotte’s lover.”
“Do you know his name?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Phillippe Roseneau.”
. . .
Millicent had not been aware that Barnaby had come close enough to overhear their conversation, but at the mention of Roseneau’s name, the glass of wine in his hand dropped to the ground.
“Who did you say it was?” His voice was hard, his words a demand.
“Monsieur Phillippe Roseneau.”
Millicent heard Barnaby curse under his breath.
“Poor Marcus is beside himself with worry. Because if he doesn’t meet Roseneau’s demands, the blackguard is going to lead the gendarmerie to the tiara, which will, of course, completely destroy Lady Radburn’s reputation in French society. And of course no doubt in London. And she doesn’t even know it. All she knows is that the jewels have been stolen.”
“How do you know this?” Millicent asked.
Elizabeth looked embarrassed. “Marcus and I have always been very close. There is little I don’t know about him.”
That explained much.
Millicent lifted her head, and her gaze locked with Barnaby’s. She didn’t know Phillippe Roseneau’s connection to Barnaby, but it was obvious that they had a past, and that it was more than adversarial. And Lady Charlotte Radburn was an unknowing pawn in Roseneau’s blackmail of Marcus. One misstep, and the woman’s life would be in ruins. All because of the demands of the scurrilous rogue with whom she was infatuated.
Millicent shivered. With a flash of understanding, she knew why Radburn had proposed marriage when he loved another woman. Why they were here playing out this charade.
It was Roseneau—not Radburn— who wanted her estate. Her beautiful coastline with its honeycomb of caves. He wanted Cliffside.
And he was blackmailing Radburn with his mother’s reputation to get it.
Chapter 16
The house was finally quiet. Barnaby held Millicent’s hand as he led the way through the hidden passageway to where Thomas and Polly were living. He knew she was anxious to see her brother and sister again, and so was he. He had several questions he wanted to ask Millicent’s brother. Most importantly, he needed to know if the late Lord Renfrew had shared the source of the danger he thought they were in.
Barnaby slowed when they neared the door and reached for the knob. The door opened, and Millicent’s young sister raced across the room and flew into her sister’s arms.
“I knew you would come,” Polly cried, hugging Millicent and not letting her go. “I told Thomas you’d be here tonight. Didn’t I, Thomas?”
“Yes, Polly. You did.”
Millicent looked at her brother. “How are you?”
Renfrew turned his head so the scarred side of his face wasn’t exposed. “We’re fine. Aren’t we, poppet?”
“Yes. Lord Radburn brought me more books to read, and some for Thomas, too. Thomas is getting better, aren’t you, Thomas? You can stay up nearly the entire morning before you have to rest.”
Barnaby noticed several things about Millicent’s brother that indicated he was not entirely healed. The most obvious were the dark circles beneath Lord Renfrew’s eyes, which hinted at a lack of sleep which was probably caused from severe pain that kept him awake. Also, the fact that Lord Renfrew had a tendency to turn his head so the right side of his face wasn’t in view indicated he hadn’t come to terms with his disfigurement.
Another observation caused Barnaby some concern. The fire that destroyed Cliffside happened more than a year ago. If Lord Renfrew was still recovering, he must have sustained injuries far beyond the ones that had left is face so badly scarred. A slight limp was noticeable when he walked, and Barnaby wondered what other injuries continued to plague him.
These questions and more made Barnaby anxious to speak with Lord Renfrew alone. “You mentioned you have several new books, Miss Pauline. Would you like to show your sister what you received?”
“Oh yes. Do you want to see them, Millie?”
“I’d love to.”
“They’re in here.” Polly rose from her chair and rushed to the door that led to their private quarters.
Millicent gave Barnaby a look that said she understood his motives and would occupy her sister while he spoke with her brother. She rose, then followed her sister through the door.
“I wondered what excuse you were going to use to talk to me alone,” Renfrew said when the door closed behind Millicent and Polly.
“I’m that obvious?” Barnaby asked.
“No, not obvious, but there’s something about you that makes me think you’re not who and what you say you are.”
“I’m not aware that I mentioned what I am,” Barnaby said, rising to fill two glasses from a decanter on a side table. Radburn no doubt kept a decanter of liquor there for medicinal use when Renfrew needed it for the pain.