If He's Dangerous

by Hannah Howell

  “What was that all about?” he asked Lorelei.

  “Oh, you will all be going home with a scarf,” she replied. “Aunt Gretchen knits all the day long. Once Papa teased her that she would set him into the poor house with the cost of the yarn she uses. She immediately learned how to spin her own and even how to dye it the color she wished it to be. Does very fine work, too. Sells some to the shops in town. Shares the profit with Papa since she uses his sheep and all. But she makes so many things that no one who comes to visit ever leaves without a scarf, or shawl, or something for a babe if they have one. Loves to tat as well, so your sister may well get a nice shawl or something instead of a warm scarf.”

  The Sunduns were eccentric, he decided. He had thought it was only the duke but now realized it ran in the blood. In a less obvious way, even Lorelei was a bit eccentric. That could be why he and his family were treated so calmly and welcomed by the duke. That was why she had not run screaming when she had seen him appear in her garden but had, instead, come looking for him. Argus was just about to ask Lorelei if she actually had an exact counting of how many relatives lived in the house when he felt something brush over his feet. He started to look beneath the table when Lorelei grabbed him by the arm.

  “Ignore it, please,” she whispered. “It is just Cornelius. Papa will deal with it.”

  A glance over at the children’s table revealed the man and woman seated there looking around. There were only five children at the table now. Argus was just deciding Lorelei was wrong to think the duke was aware of what was happening when the man calmly spoke between bites of his tender braised beef.

  “Cornelius, why are you beneath the table again?” the duke asked. “Do you think yourself a dog and have come to look for scraps?”

  A boy of about seven poked his head out from beneath the tablecloth. “No, Papa. I had to talk to you.”

  “You did not need to sneak about to ask for a meeting with me. What do you wish to talk about? We can meet in my library after the meal.”

  “I want to talk about what Mr. Pendleton and Mistress Baker were doing in the linen closet.”

  The duke’s hand hesitated only briefly before he put another piece of meat in his mouth and slowly chewed. “I suspect they were discussing their wedding plans.”

  “Oh.”

  Argus noticed that, although blushing fiercely, the woman seated with the children looked delighted. Assuming the man at the table was Pendleton, he looked as if he were about to be ill. Not a match made in heaven, he mused, but then the fool should have stayed out of the linen closet in a house that obviously swarmed with young eyes and ears.

  “Were you hoping I would toss them out?” asked the duke.

  Cornelius crawled out from beneath the table and stood by his father’s chair. “I thought you might.”

  “I would just hire another tutor and governess, Cornelius. You cannot get out of your lessons this way.”

  “May we still have a talk?”

  “About what?”

  “I think I may need the manly talk now.”

  “I will consider it. You will meet me in the library one hour after dinner is over. We will also talk about such things as telling the secrets of others simply to get what you want. Now, back to your seat. Unless, of course, you need to untie a few shoe ribbons beneath the table.”

  Argus choked on a laugh when the boy sighed and scrambled back under the table for a moment. The duke probably needed the quiet and peace of his library with such a large and mischievous brood. It reminded him a little of the Wherlocke warren in London.

  His belly nicely full of a very fine repast and his palate soothed by a glass of port with the duke, Argus strolled back to the gatehouse arm in arm with Olympia. He struggled to ignore the glint of disappointment in Lorelei’s fine eyes when he left, giving her only the most courteous of farewells. At the moment he could not concern himself with Lorelei’s feelings, despite his errant mind’s determination to do so and the pinch in his heart when he had seen that look in her eyes.

  Slowly falling back until he was certain he could speak with Olympia without his cousins overhearing every word, he said, “We need to talk before you leave tomorrow and this appears to be the only time we will have.”

  “It can wait until we can sit in the parlor,” she said.

  “No, for I can see that you are more than ready to seek your bed. Olympia, I know you will see a lot tomorrow. As you have said, the more violent the emotion or event, the more memories it leaves behind. I was there for a fortnight and when I was not being beaten, I was healing from the beating. I was also always cold for they left me with no clothes, no more than a rat-chewed blanket, hungry, and thirsty. They left me no food and water, or only the barest minimum to keep me alive. The wounds from the beatings were never treated so I lived in constant fear of infection. I was also chained to a nasty little bed in a room with no light unless you count the faint moonlight that reached into the tiny window or the lantern Cornick brought with him each time he visited.”

  “I knew it was bad, knew from the moment you disappeared,” she said as she stopped and hugged him. “I had not realized it was quite that bad.”

  “I was treated worse than some men treat their dogs,” he whispered, the pain and humiliation of it rising up in his memory. “Just before Lorelei rescued me, I had grown resigned in some ways. I could not fight off the big-fisted lads he brought with him and they protected themselves from my gift. They wore tinted spectacles and had strips of linen stuffed into their ears to dull the effect of both my eyes and my voice. Another such beating would kill me, of that I was absolutely sure. I was helpless, Olympia, and it is a feeling that can still leave me nauseous.”

  “And in your tiny man’s mind you believe that somehow you should have been able to be less helpless? How, with a sheet to cover your nakedness? A salve to spread on your wounds? You were chained, naked, and regularly beaten. For a fortnight! Many men would have tried desperately to give their captors what they wanted, but you did not.”

  “Perhaps. I certainly mistepped in my judgment of the bastard. But I tell you all this because it could be a very ugly lot of memories you see when you go there.”

  She stepped back, slipped her arm through his, and resumed walking toward the gatehouse. “I understand, but I will still go. Somewhere in that house may be a small scrap of memory that will tell us how to find this bastard and kill him.”

  “Ah, well, we should probably keep him alive long enough to tell us who his allies are,” he said, a little amused by his sister’s fierce words.

  “Fair enough. And then we will kill him and his allies.”

  “Making ourselves judge, jury, and executioner?”

  “It has to be done. If only Cornick dies, what is to stop his allies from finding more men to come hunting us? There are too many of us to keep a close guard on and most of them will never accept hiding away until this threat is ended in a slow, completely legal way. I would certainly have trouble doing that.” She sighed. “I know it is wrong to think such things, but this is the safety of our whole family we are concerned with. At least that is what I fear.”

  “I fear it as well, but we must still tread warily. We do not know who his allies are. If they are powerful people we could simply be putting an even larger target on our backs. And, of what good is it to kill but one of our enemies and then lose several of us to the hangman or exile?”

  Olympia grimaced. “Had not considered that. Then we take it slow for now. I believe, however, that the man will die. From the moment I knew you were in trouble, I knew the man who hurt you would die. But you are right to say it is best to try and find out who is his ally.” She glanced back at the main house and then gave Argus a sly smile. “A very nice family and a very beautiful rescuer.”

  Argus shook his head as they entered the gatehouse. “Get that matchmaking glint out of your eyes, Olympia. You know how I feel about marriage. Wherlockes, and Vaughns, are doomed to only suffer when they wed.�
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  “Oh? What of the marriages we have seen in recent years? Chloe’s, Penelope’s, and Alethea’s? Do any of them seem to be suffering?”

  “No, but then the abilities to see ghosts and have visions do not stir up as much fear and superstition as many of our others do. I also think they were very lucky. I am not a man to trust in luck when it comes to my own life.” Once inside the hall, he kissed her on the cheek. “Go to bed, Olympia. You will face a long, difficult day on the morrow and should be well rested.”

  When she sighed and went up the stairs, Argus stepped into the parlor, where he knew some fine brandy had been put out, only to find his cousins already enjoying some. “Do not become too accustomed to such riches,” he drawled as he poured himself a drink and sat down on the settee facing them.

  “Why? Because you plan to have this problem all solved within a few days?” asked Leopold, who slowly grinned. “Or because you mean to run as fast as you can as soon as you can to get out of reach of a pretty green-eyed lady?”

  Argus considered punching his cousin right in his bright straight teeth. It would be useless to argue the truth of those words, however. Worse, in the course of the argument he might expose the cowardice concerning Lorelei that was riding him hard at the moment. Instead, he just gave Leopold a cold smile and silently toasted him with his brandy.

  “Both.”

  Chapter 8

  “’Ware, Olympia.”

  Olympia paused a foot from the door of the deserted house where her brother had been held prisoner, and looked at Iago. “You sense that something is wrong?”

  “There is a very angry spirit here,” Iago said.

  “’Tis a sad-looking place. I am not surprised there is some disgruntled spirit wandering about here.”

  “Not disgruntled. Angry. Furiously angry.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “I do not think she has the skill to be so, no. And she died recently. A little over a week ago, just about the time Argus was being liberated.”

  “Damn.” Olympia dug around in the small bag of supplies she had brought with her, pulling out long strips of linen and a bottle of heavy scent. “Glad I thought to bring these.”

  “What is wrong?” asked Cyrus as he and Peter stepped up beside Olympia.

  Olympia looked at the two youths and sighed. “I think it might be best if you two stay right here. There is a body inside the house.” She nodded when they paled and stared wide-eyed at the door. “It has been in there only a little over a sennight, so it will not be looking or smelling very pretty.”

  “How do you know that? That there is someone dead in there?”

  “Lord Vaughn sees spirits. And, as for knowing it will be a foul mess in there, I fear I have seen a few bodies in my time.” She could see no fear of that news in their eyes and relaxed. “Argus did say that you knew about us, but I was not sure.”

  “Oh, yes, we know,” said Peter and he nodded. “We do because Sir Argus had to make Vale do as he wanted or she would have told the world and its mother that he was there. And the carriage driver who took all of us to Sundunmoor.” He looked at Iago. “You truly can see that someone died in there, m’lord?”

  “Yes,” replied Iago. “An old woman, and she is not happy about it. It was not age that killed her, either.”

  “Should we go and tell our father? He is the magistrate here.”

  “That would be helpful, but we do not need a lot of people here too quickly.”

  “We will just bring Papa back here,” Peter said even as he and Cyrus hurried back to their horses.

  Leopold watched the two youths as they rode away. “Such easy acceptance,” he murmured.

  “I think we can thank the duke for that,” said Olympia. “From what little I learned at that dinner last night, His Grace’s door is open to all his relatives and many of the young roam free there. I think the Duke of Sundunmoor is a very good man and a man of reason, if just a little odd.” She shared a grin with her cousins but quickly grew serious again as she handed each man a heavily scented strip of cloth. “It appears he has passed that reason and calm on to a great many of his relatives. Now, let us be done with this.”

  The stench of death hit them the moment they opened the door. Olympia left the door wide open and breathed through her nose until nearly all she could smell was the strong perfume on the cloth she wore tied around her nose and mouth. It did not take long to find the body and it took only a cursory examination to know exactly how the old woman died. Olympia left Iago to gather what information he could from the enraged ghost and, with Leopold and Bened at her heels, she made her way to the place where her brother had been held captive and beaten.

  Olympia entered the damp, dark prison where Argus had been kept captive and nearly fell to her knees. It was not just the sight of the chain that had locked him in place, the pitiful dirty bed he had been forced to stay on, or the single chair where his captor had sat as Argus was beaten that stabbed her to the heart. The memories of his abuse were so clear that she feared she would be ill. When Leopold wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him and struggled to regain the strength to seek out the information they needed.

  “They kept him here, chained, naked, nearly starving, always thirsty, and alone in the dark,” she whispered. “How could we not know how he suffered?”

  “We knew he was in trouble, Olympia. I believe the warnings started not long after he was dragged in here. We just could not find him.” Leopold looked around. “Argus is a very strong man, but, I think, he is damned lucky that girl found him when she did.” When Olympia pulled away from him and straightened up, he asked, “Did you say he was naked?”

  “That is what he told me when we talked last night, and I suspect I will soon read it in the dark memories that are crowding this room.”

  “So that is what happened to Lady Lorelei’s shawl.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you not recall what she told us when we arrived? She said she thought Argus was naught but a dream or some vision brought on by spending too much time in the sun, but he had taken her shawl away with him when he faded from sight. She no longer had it. It is why she believed in what she had seen and heard enough to send for us and search for him.”

  For just a moment the vicious memories of Argus’s imprisonment faded back into the shadows. Olympia stared at Leopold, who just grinned. Bened did the same. She shook her head and laughed softly.

  “So, the duke’s daughter not only saw Argus in all his manly glory in her father’s rose garden, she then went out and hunted him down. If that became known, those two would be standing before an altar faster than one could say the word naked.”

  “Yes, and get that idea right out of your head,” ordered Leopold. “Argus is a man who must walk to that altar willingly. I think it would be best for Lady Lorelei if he did so as well. For her own peace of mind, if naught else. I also believe it will happen without any help from you.”

  “Aye,” agreed Bened. “So do I.”

  “Have you seen something?” asked Olympia.

  “No vision or dream if that is what you are asking,” replied Leopold. “I just know it.”

  “They are a perfect match,” said Bened. “She knows it. He is still fighting it.”

  “But Argus has always said that he would never marry,” said Olympia. “Until recently, every marriage he ever saw was an utter failure that made everyone concerned miserable. Our own parents included. I will admit that when I first saw Lady Lorelei, I thought she would be perfect for Argus, but I still believe that some sort of nudge will be needed to make him open his eyes and see it, too.”

  “Nudging is fine,” said Leopold. “Easily done. We just make certain that they are alone together as often as possible. That will plant the seeds and grow the bond.” He frowned. “Argus will still fight, but something will make him surrender. I do not know what, however. I only know that he will face a crisis of the heart and it will end his battle
against what he wants but thinks he cannot have. Now, let us get this miserable chore done with.”

  Olympia nodded and began to study the memories of all her brother had suffered at Cornick’s hands. The room was filled with the energies from those confrontations. By the time she was done all she wanted to do was find some place very private, curl up, and weep. She accepted Leopold’s assistance up the stairs and out of that dark place where her brother had suffered so much. The moment they stepped out of the kitchens and headed to the room where they had left Iago, Olympia doubted she would find that time alone any time soon. Young Cyrus and Peter, both looking as if they were holding the contents of their stomachs in by sheer will alone, stood outside the parlor door. Someone inside the room was speaking quietly with Iago. The magistrate had arrived.

  After introductions were made, Squire Dunn looked down at the body again. “That is Old Belle. Thought herself a witch. Did a lot of wandering about. She was knowledgeable about her herbs, though did not always deal in the ones meant for healing. Nearly got herself hanged two years back when a man died. She had sold the angry wife a potion. Wife confessed in the end. Said the old woman’s potion had not worked and so she had made her own. Old Belle was crafty enough to talk her way out of being hanged for trying to help a wife kill her husband.”

  “The man who did this did not give her the chance,” said Iago.

  Olympia watched Iago and Squire Dunn talk and realized that the squire was not troubled in the least by the fact that Iago claimed to be talking to a ghost. It truly was as if the easy nature of the duke ran in the blood of his whole family.

  “Who owns this house?” asked Iago.

  “It belongs to a Mr. Wendall. Fellow lives in London.” The wry tone of the squire’s voice revealed his contempt of that arrangement. “Takes the profits from the land’s bounty but does not care to live here or spend a groat on the old place. Rumor has it that he is looking to sell it.”