“If I remember correctly, I was knocked from my mount after he bolted because of a shot fired directly in front of him.” Dante’s gaze narrowed as he saw her fidget nervously. “I take it you are familiar with my two would-be assassins?” he inquired smoothly.
“Oh, m’lord,” Rawley said quickly, lest more damage be done, “they didn’t mean any harm. Certainly not what happened. They only meant to frighten ye away from Camareigh. That was all,” Rawley reassured him, hoping he was a reasonable gentleman. “’Twas just a childish prank.”
“They?”
Rawley swallowed, wondering how it was she was having to explain all of the misunderstandings to this Dante Leighton. “’Twas young Lord Robin and his cousin, James Fletcher. They only thought to help,” she explained, thinking it wisest to clear the air right then. Besides, it would save His Grace the embarrassment of having to explain and apologize to the man.
“Help me into a grave, that is,” Dante said coldly. “Lord Robin? Ah, I do remember. Rhea’s young brother. She warned me that he was usually up to mischief of some kind or another,” Dante said reflectively, “but I had no idea how dangerous a youngster he was. I shall have to be on my guard in the future.”
Rawley bit her lip. “Ye needn’t worry, m’lord. Lord Robin was soundly disciplined by His Grace. I fear he’ll not be sittin’ down for a week of Sundays, nor will Master James. The general threatened to send him to his old sergeant major for some proper disciplining. Scared the poor lad half out of his mind, it did. Never heard such pleadin’ that he’d never do anythin’ bad again. Of course, we all knew that young James has been in love with Lady Rhea Claire since he’s been out of swaddlin’, so he couldn’t help himself, really he couldn’t.”
“I s’pose Conny was quite vocal in his defense of me?” Dante guessed.
“A bit more than vocal, m’lord,” Rawley admitted. “He and Lord Robin came to fisticuffs on the road, and that was when His Grace came along and broke them apart. Don’t know which one fared worse. Both have blackened eyes and swollen lips, not to mention teeth marks that’ll most likely become infected. His Grace, well, never seen him so angry as when he stormed into the house and had ye settled in here.”
Dante seemed genuinely startled. “Lucien Dominick personally saw that I was brought to Camareigh?” he asked in disbelief.
“Aye, says I’m to see t’yer every need, and that nothin’ was to ’appen t’ye while ye was a guest under his roof. He says that there has already been enough bloodshed and unhappiness caused by people tryin’ to take matters into their own hands, and just because a person isn’t likin’ the way things are, that doesn’t give them the right to try to change them—especially by foul means. Heard him sayin’ this to Her Grace and to the rest of the family, which included the Fletchers and Lord Robin. Madder’n some hornet, he was,” Rawley said with a shake of her grizzled head as she remembered all she had overheard.
Dante was astonished. Never had he thought to find an ally in the Duke of Camareigh. As he thought about it, he saw that he just might have to thank young Lord Robin for inadvertently assisting him in gaining access to Camareigh. And to his wife.
As though reading his thoughts, Rawley said, “Her ladyship’s been in here all night long. She’s been sittin’ by yer side since ye was brought in here, but His Grace ordered her to get some rest, to think of her child. He says not to worry, that ye would be safe here. He promised her.”
Dante smiled slightly. “That was one thing I always respected about Lucien Dominick. He was a gentleman, no matter what. Maybe I am not so unlucky in my choice of father-in-law?” he speculated, thinking that if he’d managed to gain some small support from the duke, then the duchess would be no problem at all.
“Aye, ye could do worse, m’lord. Of course, there is the duchess still,” Rawley said, once again reading his mind. That was a meeting she would like to witness!
“How is Rhea Claire? The journey from London was not too tiring for her?” Dante asked, wishing morning would come and he could hold her in his arms again.
“Oh, fine. Especially now that she is back home again. Reckon ye’ll both be stayin’ here awhile, now,” Rawley predicted slyly.
Dante raised a questioning brow. “Indeed? That is something we shall have to decide.”
“Well, unless I’m mistaken, m’lord, ye ain’t goin’ nowhere fast on that broken ankle of yours.”
For the first time since he had recovered consciousness, Dante became aware of the throbbing in his ankle. Frowning with disbelief, he started to throw off the comforter and swing his feet to the floor.
“I wouldn’t be doin’ that if I was ye, m’lord,” Rawley warned, thinking this Dante Leighton was a headstrong one for sure. “Seein’ how ye ain’t got no breeches on. Oh, don’t be mindin’ me, for I’ve seen just about everythin’ a man has to offer. Worked in a London brothel for a while, till I got bored, that is. But I was thinkin’ about your modesty, m’lord,” she warned him in that insultingly offhand fashion that left him feeling about as masculine as a lad still in the nursery. Dante, who over the years had come to heed good advice, hesitated long enough to feel the cool draft sneaking beneath the bedcovers and over his bare skin. Resettling himself against the pillows, he eyed the smug-looking Rawley with suspicion.
“You are certain it is broken?” he asked doubtfully, thinking the woman had yet to prove her worth to him.
“Aye. Seen enough broken bones in my day to know what I’m talkin’ about. Even that short, sour-faced man of yours, who hasn’t enough meat on his bones to feed a bird, agrees with me. Reckon he’s seen enough swollen and bruised flesh to know what he’s talkin’ about too,” Rawley grudgingly admitted, as if holding Dante personally responsible for the actions of Houston Kirby.
And at that precise moment, as if he’d been standing just outside listening for his cue, Kirby bustled into the room. Looking for all the world like a bird with ruffled feathers, the little steward cast an uneasy glance at the gaunt-faced woman who seemed to know so much and wasn’t in the least bit shy about letting a person know that she did.
Kirby sniffed in annoyance as he noted the empty goblet beside the captain’s bed, but he was too pleased to see the captain awake to question him about the noxious brew that this Rawley woman had prepared with such vigor, and had succeeded in getting the captain to down.
“How ye feelin’, m’lord?” he asked, thinking it best to be using the captain’s proper title now that they were among decent folk. His master would get better service that way, for one thing.
“Like hell,” Dante answered while he rubbed the back of his head.
“Not surprised, for ye took a fair crack to your head from that bough,” the little steward agreed.
“And apparently to my ankle as well.”
“Oh, already tried to get out of bed, did ye?” Kirby said, not at all surprised by his captain’s reckless actions, and having personally removed his captain’s breeches, he now eyed the stiff-backed Rawley with renewed interest.
“He didn’t get far,” Rawley felt obliged to declare, and despite her claims to the contrary, a pale pink was staining her thin cheeks.
“Well, glad to know that all of the sense wasn’t knocked out of ye, m’lord,” Kirby said with a chuckle as he placed his tray on the table beside the bed. “Brought ye some broth, me own special recipe,” Kirby informed him, feeling much better now that he was back in charge of the captain’s convalescence. “We’ll have ye back on your feet in no time at all.”
“Aye, that we will, m’lord. Now, if ye gentlemen will be excusin’ me, I’ll be about my usual duties,” Rawley said with a sniff that bettered any Kirby could have summoned. “Got to be tellin’ Lady Rhea Claire that ye’ve awakened.”
“Don’t disturb her,” Dante said sharply, halting the woman in her tracks as easily as if she’d been a member of his crew.
Rawley hesitated. She worked for the Dominicks, but this gentleman sounded so authoritative. And he was, after all, Lady Rhea Claire’s husband. His wishes would have to be followed. Besides which, he was right. Seeing how concerned he was about her ladyship, her opinion of Dante Leighton rose considerably. Just maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought.
“Very well, m’lord. Was thinkin’, myself, that it’d be better to let the young lady rest,” Rawley agreed.
“Interferin’, know-it-all woman,” Kirby grumbled as he watched Rawley leave the room.
“Have you seen Rhea Claire?” Dante asked.
“Aye, lookin’ as pretty as ever, even though worried half out of her mind about ye,” Kirby informed Dante as he handed the captain the steaming bowl of broth.
“Am I correct in understanding that His Grace saw that I arrived at Camareigh safely?” Dante asked, still doubting his good fortune.
“Aye, helped lift ye into the coach himself, he did,” Kirby said. “Thought at first he’d come to finish ye off, but surprised me by lendin’ a hand. A real fine gentleman, he is.”
“Have you met the duchess yet?” Dante asked as he took a spoonful of broth. When the little steward remained silent, he glanced up curiously and had his third surprise of the night. Kirby was actually blushing with embarrassment. Never before had Dante seen the little man looking so uncomfortable, even distressed. “What is wrong?”
“Nothin’.”
“Come now, Kirby,” Dante invited the other man’s confidence, “you can tell me, can’t you? You didn’t get in an argument with the woman, did you? Lord, that would do it. I had hoped to greet Rhea’s mother on a cordial note.”
“Oh, no, ’twasn’t anythin’ like that,” Kirby sighed. “Her Grace is the loveliest, most beautiful and kind lady I’ve ever laid eyes on. An angel, she is, m’lord. I can see that Lady Rhea takes after her, yes indeed.”
Dante stared, incredulous. Never had Kirby seemed so impressed by a woman. The only two women Dante ever had known the steward to accept had been Rhea Claire and Dante’s mother, Elayne.
“Why, you old sea dog,” Dante murmured affectionately, and Kirby glanced up gratefully, knowing the captain would say naught of this to a living soul. “I am sorry I did not have the pleasure of meeting this paragon.”
“Ye did, only ye was unconscious at the time,” Kirby told a startled Dante. “Oh, don’t worry. Ye was decent. They’d just brought ye in and laid ye on the bed when she and Lady Rhea Claire came in. Her Grace was tryin’ to calm the young lady down, for ye was lookin’ pretty poorly. Thought ye was dead, she did. Never seen such an upset young lady. Reckon she still loves ye,” Kirby said, sounding as if he had yet to approve of the relationship.
Dante relaxed against the pillows, feeling far better than he had since crossing bows with young Lord Robin Dominick and the other far from friendly young fellow.
“Wouldn’t be lookin’ so pleased if I was ye. We’ve still a long way to go before we’re accepted by this family,” Kirby advised.
“Did Her Grace say anything?”
Kirby sniffed. “Stood here beside your bed for a while, eyein’ ye good. Don’t reckon them bonny eyes missed a thing about ye, m’lord. Can’t say, though, they was exactly friendly, or admirin’,” Kirby said, taking the empty bowl.
“If she was of a mind similar to her young son’s, then I am surprised she didn’t whack me on the head while I lay unconscious,” Dante said, yawning sleepily. “Are you certain she did not have a pistol tucked away in her shawl?”
“Ye wouldn’t be sayin’ that if ye could have seen that sweet face. Why, I don’t s’pose there could be a less bloodthirsty person alive. Her Grace, bein’ so small and dainty, struck me as a gentle and kindhearted lady who’d probably faint dead away at the sight of a pistol, much less know how to use one,” Kirby defended her fiercely.
“Rhea looked sweet and innocent enough at first, yet she nearly set afire our treasure map,” the captain of the Sea Dragon reminded the little steward. Dante Leighton yawned again, his eyelids feeling heavy as he made himself more comfortable against the pillows Kirby had just plumped beneath his shoulders.
“Ye’re feelin’ pretty smart about gettin’ into Camareigh, ain’t ye, m’lord?” the little steward demanded with a suspicious glint in his eye, for the captain wasn’t above pulling a trick or two if he thought it would help him achieve his aims. “If I hadn’t seen ye knocked from that horse with my own eyes and seen that bump on your head and an ankle twice its size, I would be suspectin’ ye of bein’ up to one of your deceptions.”
The Marquis of Jacqobi opened a lazy eye. “’Tis a pity I didn’t think of it before that fire-eating brother of Rhea’s did, for I would not have been quite so excessive. A sprained ankle at the most,” Dante declared, thinking he would have to have a word with Robin Dominick. Either that or develop eyes in the back of his head.
Drowsily, Dante stared into the flames, fascinated by their flickering lights. When next he woke, Rhea Claire was sitting in the rose silk chair, and the fire was but a few glowing cinders.
“Little daffadilly,” he murmured.
“Dante!” she cried in relief as she jumped to her feet.
“I’ve not been forgotten?” he asked as she sat down gently on the edge of the bed, her violet eyes searching his face for any sign of fever.
“Did you really think I could?” Her sweet smile changed to a different kind when she felt his arms sliding around her waist. He pulled her against his bare chest.
“I’ve missed you, Rhea,” Dante whispered against the softness of her golden hair. “I haven’t been truly warm since you left my bed.”
“’Tis just as well then that we are reunited, for winter is coming quickly,” Rhea said, sounding so practical that Dante winced, but before he could complain of the cold welcome, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his, taking the initiative away from him.
“I may be invalided because of this damned accident, but I’ve not lost my male instinct, no matter how unimpressed this Rawley woman is,” Dante said, his breath warm against her mouth.
Rhea laughed softly. “So you have met our Rawley?”
“Not only Rawley, but also some foul concoction called a ‘special treat,’” Dante informed her with an injured look. “I still believe the woman meant to do me in. Now, that is carrying loyalty too far.” Dante grinned.
“My poor sweetheart,” Rhea said. After all, she had been brought up on Mrs. Taylor’s Special Treat.
“I shall expect very loving care from you if I am to recover,” he warned her.
Rhea’s smile faded and her eyes clouded. “Dante, I—I do not know what to say. How can I explain my brother? He was acting out of love for me. Can you find it in your heart to forgive him? I could not bear it if you and Robin did not like one another,” Rhea told him, pleading. To her vast relief, Dante smiled. How could he condemn in another the same passion he himself felt for Rhea? He knew that he, too, could not be held accountable for his actions should anything threaten his beloved.
“You are not angry?”
“I was, but perhaps not anymore. If he would allow me, I could commiserate with this Robin about the pains and joys of loving you,” Dante admitted.
Rhea rested her head against Dante’s shoulder, beginning to hope that all would be well now that Dante had arrived at Camareigh.
Nine
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
—Isaac Watts
“Now, where did that mischief-maker get to?” Kirby demanded of no one in particular as he stomped along the corridor. Glancing up, he encountered the haughty, cold stares of countless, nameless Dominick ancestors gracing the walls of the Long Gallery, and he slowed his pace and proceeded more circumspectly, for it never was wise to disturb the dead.
Not over an hour past he had seen the orange and white tabby being chased from the kitchen by a broom-wielding scullery maid. And upon investigating further, being prepared even to come to the miserable feline’s defense should it come to that, he had found, instead, the kitchen in an uproar with the staff threatening to mutiny.
The cook, despite being tiny, was raising hell while swinging a frying pan like so much gossamer. Mrs. Peacham was in charge of an incredible domain of copper pots and pans, newly washed china, and fats dripping from savory-smelling meats roasted on spits in the giant stone hearth which occupied the whole south end of the kitchen. Steam rose from countless kettles and black iron pots, and drying herbs, hanging in bunches from the rafters, added their spicy scents to the room.
Much to Kirby’s chagrin, though not his surprise, a thieving tomcat known by the name of Jamaica had sneaked into the room and, undetected until too late, licked clean a plate of freshly baked salmon, followed by a selection of kidneys and bacon. He had even managed to take a bite from a slice of beef. All of his meal had been destined for the family’s breakfast.
Kirby was muttering under his breath as he left the Long Gallery and turned toward the south wing and the rooms belonging to the Dominick family and their guests. Dante was in one of those rooms, and Kirby decided that was where Jamaica had ended up. No one would dare skin an inch of fur from that feline’s back while he enjoyed the protection of the captain.
Dark Before the Rising Sun Page 19