“Hear, hear,” Plum said, nodding.
“As it happens, madam, I am also quite fond of horses,” Dalton said, taking them all by surprise. “There is a farmer near my estate who does nothing but tend to the mounts of my youth who are now in their elder years. I can assure you that although the coffin does, in fact, contain the remains of two unfortunate animals, their deaths were not by my doing or command. I simply purchased them from a knacker, along with two horses still alive who were doomed to a similar fate. The horses were past their prime but had great expression in their eyes, and I couldn’t bear to think of their future as wallpaper glue.”
“Really?” Thom stared at him for a moment, then flung herself forward and gave him a swift hug. “Oh, I’m so glad to know you saved those poor horses. I used to do the same, until Harry told me the stables were full and I couldn’t rescue any more until one of the former rescuees passed on.”
“At last count, we have eighteen broken-down nags eating their heads off at Rosse Abbey,” Harry said. “As well as seven donkeys, a mule that is in love with Plum, and a vast herd of canines of every shape and form.”
“The monkey Thom found died last summer,” Plum said sadly. “But the rest of the animal colony thrives. Except the cats keep eating the mice that Thom saves.”
“The nature of the universe is the nature of things that are,” Thom murmured before adding, “Marcus Aurelius. I always did like the Romans.”
“Leo…” Dagmar started to say, giving him a look that was all too easy to read.
“No monkeys,” he told her.
She pursed her lips, then reluctantly nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t be an effective use of subterfuge.”
“I’ll get you a lapdog if you like. All ladies of station have lapdogs.”
“I have three,” Gillian said. “Although they’re all massive and would crush you if they sat on your lap. Also, they emit odors. We’ve not been very successful in quelling that aspect of their personalities.”
“I have four,” Plum offered.
“Thirty-six,” Thom said.
Nick groaned.
“They don’t emit odors,” she reassured him. “Well, not frequently. Perhaps daily, but not like Gillian’s hounds.”
“Nothing emits like my hounds,” Gillian said with a touch of pride. “In a confined space they can take down a man in his prime.”
“As fascinating as this accounting is, might we return to the subject at hand?” Dalton glanced at the clock next to him. “I would like to get a little sleep before I have to attend my sister’s funeral.”
“One of her dogs might come in handy should we need to torture information from someone,” Dagmar told Leo in an undertone.
“I try to stay away from torturing people, but I will remember that as an option.” He eyed Dalton. “Now that the matter of the deceased horses is settled, would you mind telling us just why you wish people to believe your sister is dead? I take it she is not in that unfortunate state.”
“No, she is alive.” Dalton’s gaze slid around the room. “At the moment she’s on a ship on her way back to Italy.”
“She said she wanted to go back there,” Dagmar murmured, then shook her head and asked Dalton, “But why the pretense? Does Louisa not know that Julia has been confined, suspected of her murder? It took every ounce of energy Leo had in order to get the governor of the gaol to release Julia into our custody for a few hours. They insist that she is guilty, and without proof, we cannot prove her innocence. Louisa must return or, at the very least, make a statement that she is alive and well, so that Julia’s name will be cleared.”
Dalton’s eyes met Leo’s for a few moments. Leo understood the message in them and moved closer to his wife, his hand resting on her shoulder.
“We thought Louisa’s murder a fitting example of justice,” Dalton said slowly. “More specifically, the imprisonment of the woman who took from us the life of a very dear young man.”
Before the last word left his mouth, there was a flurry, and Julia rushed across the room, a wickedly long dagger glinting in her hands. Leo, who had been expecting a response of some form, leaped forward to intercept Julia before she could reach Dalton, and the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs and shiny, sharp dagger. Pain burst through him, radiating from his wounded shoulder in hot, sickening waves. He lay insensible for a moment, stunned by the impact, distantly aware of the sound of Julia screaming obscenities at him, his eyes focused on the blade of the dagger where it wavered over his face. He knew he was in danger, knew he had to move, knew without a doubt that in the next second, Julia would plunge that dagger into his neck and he’d never see Dagmar again, but before his brain could command his sluggish limbs to move, another cry sounded, this one higher and filled with righteous rage.
Julia was suddenly torn from him, and the dagger sent flying. Leo blinked up at the sight of Dagmar standing over him, panting with fury as she roared, “Are you mad? If you’ve harmed Leo, so help me, Julia, no bonds in the world will be strong enough to keep me from wreaking vengeance upon you!”
Nick and Dalton rushed forward when the companion lunged toward Dagmar, but they weren’t quick enough.
Leo was on his feet and in front of his wife before his brain could even process what was happening. Julia snarled something rude and would have stabbed him in the chest, but Leo’s training stood him in good stead. He snatched the dagger while jerking Julia forward, effectively throwing her off balance and straight into the arms of Nick and Dalton.
“That will be quite enough of that,” he said calmly, wondering all the while if his heart would ever slow down to a normal rhythm. It was pounding so loud he could hardly hear the others exclaim as they circled Julia.
He looked down at Dagmar. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life.”
“I’m a princess,” she said loftily, as if he needed reminding. “Saving handsome men from certain death is what we do best. That and waving gracefully to crowds. Have you ever seen me wave? My mother taught me. I’ll wave for you sometime, but right now, I’m thinking seriously of swooning.”
He put his arm around her, swiftly searching her for signs of injury. “Did Julia strike you while I was befuddled? I didn’t think she got close enough to you to touch you, but I was knocked silly for a few seconds—”
“I don’t wish to swoon for my own sake, Leo. When I saw Julia with that dagger over your head, the thought that she might kill you flashed through my mind, and I just knew I’d never survive such an event. My heart would break, and I’d die right there with you. At least then we’d be together in spirit.”
Her eyes were misty with tears and love, and he thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in all his days.
“I prefer to be together in body and soul,” he said against her lips, taking advantage of an aborted attempt by Julia to escape out the window to kiss Dagmar the way he’d been wanting to kiss her for the last half hour.
“Plum gave me a copy of her book,” she said five minutes later, when she managed to catch enough breath to speak. He was light-headed with desire and need and overwhelming love for the woman in his arms, and couldn’t stir his brain to actual speech, so he contented himself with simply holding her and listening to her lovely voice. “Do you know that there’s a connubial calisthenic in it entitled ‘The Princess and the Jouster’? It involves a man who stands with, as Plum puts it, his lance couched, and the princess seated on the edge of a balcony—or small table, in this case—and a judicious use of a neckcloth. It sounded very interesting, and as I am a princess, and you could well be a valiant knight since you are an earl, I thought—”
“Yes,” he said, kissing her, both of them oblivious to the hissing and screaming Julia as Nick, Harry, and Dalton hauled her from the room. “We’ll try it tonight. Or later this morning. Or perhaps in five minutes if you keep looking at me like that.�
��
She laughed and kissed the side of his mouth. “You do know you’re going to have to explain how you knew that Julia was mad.”
A little pinch of sadness marred the perfect moment, but he simply gave her a pat on her delicious ass and said, “I didn’t think you’d let me off that easily. Oh, hell, she’s loose again. If you will excuse me, my darling?”
“Go and catch her,” Dagmar said, releasing her hold on him. “But be gentle, Leo. She’s obviously not quite right in the head.”
Leo had a feeling that truer words had never been spoken.
Eighteen
“The choice is yours. I can make long, vigorous, and inventive—if you wish for me to look at that book Plum gave you—love to you, or I can answer your questions.”
Leo stood in the doorway to the bedroom that Plum had given them, having first exacted promises that they would only visit that room and no others on the floor, lest they encounter infected children or servants.
“And even then,” Plum had said at the time, plumping up a pillow absently as she glanced around the room, “I have dire suspicions that you’ll come down with the chicken pox, so I’ve made sure that there are marigolds next to your bed and sandalwood oil at hand. Just rub it on your exposed surfaces.”
Dagmar had been confused by such orders. “Will it keep us from becoming infected?”
“I assume so. The doctor has us rubbing the oil on the children’s rashes, and marigolds are said to be a good protection against such things. It certainly can’t hurt!”
There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she promised Plum that they wouldn’t so much as touch any other door on that floor, and unpacked her meager belongings.
An hour after that, the sun had risen, and she was tucked into bed, exhausted from the night’s activities but not wishing to go to sleep without Leo. As if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened and Leo entered, looking just as tired but so incredibly wonderful that Dagmar flung back the bed linens and was halfway out of the bed before she realize that she couldn’t just leap on him.
“You waited up for me?” Leo looked surprised. “You should have gone to sleep.”
“Of course I waited for you. For one, I wish to hear what happened to Julia, but also, I wish to seduce you again, and I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”
That’s when Leo gave her the choice: lovemaking or answers to her questions.
“Could you not answer my questions while I seduce you?” she asked hopefully, sitting on her heels while he began to disrobe. She very much liked watching him do so. There was an elegance about him, a grace despite the stifled movements of his wounded shoulder that never failed to send little shivers of delight down her back.
He stood on one leg while pulling off a boot, giving her a long look. “My darling wife, the second you touch me, all thoughts but what I’d like to do to your soft, silken flesh leave my mind. The answer is no, I would not be able to tell you what happened and make love to you. I’m lucky my brain works at all when you are unclothed. Speaking of which, what is that monstrosity you are wearing?”
She looked down at the linen night rail. “It’s the same one I’ve worn every night, Leo. I don’t see what you find so monstrous about it now.”
“The monstrous part is that you haven’t taken it off yet, and you did so on other nights. Do so promptly, please.”
She started to remove the night rail, but deep knowledge of herself had her hesitating then retying the ribbon at the neck before sliding off the bed to pad over to one of the two chairs before the fire. “You’re right, I don’t think we can combine answers with connubial experiences. You’d better answer my questions first, then I will be a princess in a balcony, and you can be a jouster with a couched lance, and we will both enjoy ourselves so well that we’ll forget how to speak.”
“Agreed,” Leo said, stripping off his clothes.
Dagmar stared. Merciful heavens, he was a fine, fine man. And he was hers! All hers. No other woman could have him. Until the end of her days, he would be available for her to seduce and try out things from Plum’s book and make hoarse with shouting out her name while he climaxed. That thought filled her with great satisfaction and no little amount of sexual anticipation.
“Fair warning my equally fair damsel: if you continue to stare at me in that manner, I won’t be able to stop from scooping you up and taking you over to that bed where I will acquaint you with a few connubial calisthenics of my own design.”
She reached out and wrapped one hand around his penis, while caressing his testicles with the other.
Leo made a gargled noise.
“It really is such a strange body part. So hot and hard, yet the skin covering it is very smooth and silky, and slides delightfully. Do you enjoy the sliding, Leo? I much enjoy it. Look, I can do this with that bit right there.”
Leo sucked in a vast quantity of air, probably half of what was available in the room. “Yes,” he said in a strained voice that had an odd squeaking tone to it. “Yes, I enjoy the sliding.”
“I’m so pleased to know that. Now, about Julia—oh, are you sensitive there? My apologies—you suspected her, didn’t you? I can tell you did because you weren’t at all surprised when Mr. Dalton accused her of being the woman he was looking for.”
“Dagmar.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re holding my balls.”
“Yes, I know. They’re very soft and warm too, although not at all hard.” She gave them a friendly little squeeze, not enough to hurt, but enough to let them know she approved of them. “I think they’re rather charming, although I still feel that they must get in your way at times. How do you sit in a saddle without them being squished?”
“Very carefully. If you don’t release me in the next two seconds, I will strip that repugnant garment from your delightfully wanton body and allow my lustful plans free rein, and I can assure you that I have many, many lustful plans.”
Dagmar weighed her desire to indulge his lustful plans with her need for answers and decided that as much as she wanted to seduce Leo—and by turn, allow him to seduce her—she really did want to know how it was that Julia could be the person that Leo thought she was.
She released his testicles and gave a fond pat to his penis before sitting in the chair opposite. “Very well, we shall delay my seduction of you until after you have explained how Julia can be someone that I’m quite sure she isn’t.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Really?” Dagmar thought for a moment. “There are times when I am convinced that English is the most awkward language ever. What I meant is that I don’t understand how Julia can be an evil woman when she’s been Mama’s companion—and then mine—for as long as I can recall.”
Leo took a deep breath but managed to bring his obviously rampant desires under control. He sat in the chair opposite her. “I will never understand how your mind works,” he told her.
“Good. Proceed.”
Leo sat, looking perfectly at ease despite the fact that he was naked and very erect in the genital department. “Where do you wish me to start?”
“Philip Dalton. He wanted Julia blamed for Louisa’s death, but how did he make us think it happened when it really didn’t?”
“The key, as I mentioned earlier, was the way he separated us from Louisa and kept us away from her supposed corpse. I don’t know if he investigated the Roman remains the day before we visited it, but I suspect he did. He knew you would be drawn to the bodies, and no doubt realized that it offered a perfect stage to perform his drama. Louisa was left with your companion, since neither woman wanted to see skeletons, while the rest of us were at the opposite end of the room. He managed to conveniently kick the plank aside so that we couldn’t accompany him to rescue his sister. Then he covered her up so that no one could see her and insisted that I get you away from the scene before we coul
d examine the body. I am in little doubt that the doctor we were sent to find had either no chance to see Louisa’s body or his silence was bought.”
“That was very clever of Mr. Dalton,” Dagmar said thoughtfully, remembering the scene. It all fit. “You know, I think they knew who Julia was from the very start. There’s no other way to explain why Louisa took such a dislike to her from the very start, and the claims of dreams and of being attacked could be manufactured. Oh!”
“Oh?”
Insight flooded her. “The salt! I know what was wrong with it. Louisa claimed that morning that Julia had written a threatening note to her and included a bit of salt inside the letter, but there was no salt on the paper. None whatsoever, and you know that at least a few grains would have remained clinging to the paper.”
Leo nodded. “I didn’t think of that, but you’re absolutely right.”
“So all the rest of Louisa’s claims about Julia—”
“Manufactured to set the scene wherein we’d believe that Julia had a grudge against her.”
“It’s so cold-blooded.” Dagmar thought for a moment. “And Julia setting her cap at Philip Dalton?”
“You know her better than I do. Is that something she would do?”
Dagmar found it painful to consider her friend with such suspicion, but she couldn’t help but feeling it likely. “Perhaps. If she truly is the person you say she is, then perhaps she thought she could engage his affections in order to better her station, although I’m not convinced, Leo.”
“I know you’re not. I think, however, once you hear what I have to say, you may change your mind.”
“Very well.” Dagmar sat back, her hands clasped together. “We have dispensed with Philip Dalton and can now turn our attention to Julia. When was it that you came to suspect that my Julia was Margaret Prothero?”
“A few days ago. It just seemed to make sense.”
“Not even in the least little bit does it make sense,” Dagmar argued. “She isn’t at all the sort of person to kill someone.”
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