The Viscount's Wicked Ways

by Anne Mallory

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  She gave her a strained smile. “Perhaps I shall. Thank you for telling me about your husband. I know it was painful. Perhaps it is something you should share with Thomas.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve tried before. He changes the subject or leaves when I broach the topic.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid will happen to me, too.”

  Caroline gave her hand a squeeze and stood with the plate. “Don’t wait too long to find out.”

  As it happened, Thomas sought her out later that day. He spoke as if nothing had occurred, and Patience wasn’t sure whether to follow his lead or force them to discuss things. She decided to follow his lead, and they had a long, if somewhat guarded discussion on literature, a neutral topic.

  On the one hand it was reassuring that he still wanted to spend time with her. On the other it was very frustrating to act as if having only one segment of their friendship would satisfy.

  The rational part of her brain forced her to feel things out before making a move. The idealistic part cried for the lost intimacy and rejoiced when his hand reached for her hair, before he suddenly remembered himself and dropped it back in his lap. Something broke inside her when his hand fell, but her idealism forced her to see it as a positive action only. She even dredged up a smile when they said good night.

  The next morning was a bit strained as the last shipment of materials was boxed and moved to the waiting carriages.

  It signified the end of the trip. The mood was tense. Mr. and Mrs. Tecking were sending veiled glances to one another, and Patience had noted that there had been a few tentative overtures by Mr. Tecking in the last couple of days. It was almost as if he were trying to make amends for the past. And Mrs. Tecking’s chair seemed to magically scoot closer to Mr. Tecking’s with each new meal, the lady always leaning in to close the distance further. Patience hoped they continued to work things out, for both of their sakes.

  As for the rest of them, Caroline wore a faraway expression. John looked frustrated. Samuel looked preoccupied, and Patience felt somber. Thomas seemed oddly caught between anticipation and anger.

  The last box was loaded onto the museum carts, and the castle servants began to disperse. Patience watched a servant stroll toward the castle with a sheaf of papers. She thought nothing of it until she saw Thomas’s eyes narrow. He walked briskly after the man, and Patience remembered Mrs. Tecking’s words about Henry’s interest in the shipment schedules and contents. She started after him, but was almost immediately waylaid by Jeremy.

  “Patience! Looking forward to coming home?”

  “Yes, of course, Jeremy.” She peered around him, watching as Thomas disappeared into the castle. “I’ll talk to you on Monday. I just need to—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He smiled. “Your work is done, there is no need to hie off to clean up.”

  “But—”

  “Besides, your father wants to know what you think of the new assignments.”

  “Tell him I’ll discuss them with him on Monday. I’m sorry, Jeremy, but I need to hurry. I’ll bake scones to make it up to you.”

  He looked baffled, but he gave her a wave as she scooted past him and nearly ran inside, her skirts slowing her a bit.

  She came to a stop in the entrance hall and motioned to a footman. “Do you know which way Lord Blackfield went?”

  “Aye, Miss, he went up the stairs.”

  “Thank you.” She rushed up the stairs and was lucky to find a maid at the top who pointed her down the left hall. A crash resounded through the hall, like something metal and heavy hitting the floor. She ran toward the sound.

  The door to John’s room was open. No, not John, please not John. She ran forward and as she reached the open door she caught the glint of steel right before she plowed into the man exiting the room.

  Chapter 22

  She stumbled back, catching a glimpse of cold eyes and set features before an arm steadied her. Her gaze collided with John’s, and fear momentarily gripped her. John had killed Thomas.

  “How could you?” she choked out.

  He looked momentarily confused, before a loud thump from across the hall drew their attention.

  “Stay here.”

  He dashed past her to the room across the hall. Another dull thump sounded, and John threw open the door.

  Patience gasped.

  There, lying on the floor, was Samuel, with Thomas standing over him, a trickle of blood dripping down his chin.

  John strode forward. “Samuel Simmons, I am taking you to London to be questioned about matters pertaining to both treason and theft.”

  Thomas wiped his chin and gave Patience a somewhat cocky grin. Perhaps murdering him wasn’t such a bad idea. But first…

  “John, what is going on?”

  He looked sheepish as he grabbed Samuel and hauled him to his feet. “My apologies, Patience. I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what? What is going on? How can you arrest anyone?”

  “Well, you see, I’ve been doing some work on the side, helping to recover stolen artifacts. With the full support of your father, of course,” he hastened to add. “A branch of the government asked me to look into the incidents here. Seems there’s been some trouble, and they were concerned there’d be more.”

  Well, that made sense. Somewhat. “And since when do you carry a pistol?”

  John had tied Samuel up by this time, and he grinned, holding the pistol up. “What, this old relic? I deal in weaponry, Patience. This pretty thing is only good for a collection.” He examined it. “Your father would kill me if I scratched it.”

  She frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were investigating?”

  “Well, I know you, Patience. You’d have wanted to help.” Seeing the outraged look on her face he hurried to explain. “Not that you aren’t a good partner. You’re great. The best. Really excellent. But you do get rather fantastic ideas sometimes, and…”

  That she was seriously considering doing him harm must have shown on her face because he pushed Samuel toward the door.

  “Wait.” Thomas was staring murderously at Samuel. “You didn’t answer me, Sam. Why?”

  Samuel gave an unhappy laugh. “I didn’t want it to go this far, Thomas. But you left me no choice.”

  “Monster isn’t ready. The world isn’t ready.”

  “But I’m ready.” His voice was tight. “Ready for the money and the fame. Not all of us have the money and resources to play with toys,” he spit.

  “I don’t treat anything as a toy.”

  Samuel gave another unpleasant laugh. “Sure you do, Thomas. And you can. But you are holding the rest of us back.”

  Patience saw the pain cross Thomas’s face, and she felt a surge of anger on his behalf. “How can you say that? He gives all of you the opportunity to fulfill your dreams.”

  Samuel turned baleful eyes to her. “My dream is to retire a wealthy man, Miss Harrington, and live a life of luxury with a buxom woman or two. Do you know how much monster is worth, Miss Harrington? Do you?”

  “No,” she said simply.

  He looked straight at Thomas. “I trusted you.”

  Thomas stared back. “No, I trusted you. You betrayed all of us.”

  “You betrayed me first! We were partners. I should have had an equal say in the future of all the products. Everyone always has to bend to your dictates.”

  Thomas’s gaze remained steely. “You always had a say, but your vote is only one. You know there are only five men out of fifty who ever thought exposing the monster machinery was a good idea.”

  “You are wrong.”

  “Maybe so, but at least I’ll be able to sleep at night. Good-bye, Samuel. I’ll send a barrister to help you in London.”

  Their gazes remained locked. “Good-bye, Thomas.”

  John exchanged a worried glance with Patience and led Samuel from the room.

  The silence stretched. Thomas moved his jaw and winced.
Immediately, Patience moved toward him and held up a hand to his face.

  “He hit you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Will you?”

  Thomas didn’t hold her gaze. “We should go back downstairs.”

  She said nothing, just followed him from the room and down the hall. As they approached the steps she remembered the other man. “What about the footman?”

  He shook his head. “Just following orders. There is someone on your side relaying the information. He’s been taken care of, and if he hasn’t, John will do it.”

  “How long have you and John been working together?”

  He smirked, and she was pleased to see the expression. “Since right after he and Caroline talked. He became entangled in one of the traps while surreptitiously trying to fend off an attempt by one of the spies. We had a nice long talk after that. Good thing I came upon him instead of Samuel.” His expression darkened.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were working together? And how did you know that John wasn’t a spy?”

  “At first I didn’t know. Caroline tried to convince me he wasn’t, as did John himself, who, by the way, made me promise I wouldn’t tell you, I’m assuming for the reasons he just mentioned. Oh, and it was your father that set me straight about John.”

  She blinked. “My father?”

  “One of his men has been watching the grounds. Kept sending me anonymous notes each morning.”

  “The pink ones?”

  Thomas grinned. “Your father said they would drive you mad. He discovered a spy in his own ranks and warned me about it a few days ago. I was unsure as to who was sending me the notes before. Caroline had worked it out though, and she approached John.”

  “Dear Lord, is everyone in on everything but me?”

  His eyes turned briefly cold before he shook it off. “Obviously not. Samuel was an unpleasant surprise. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been. I didn’t want it to be one of my people. Samuel was the one investigating everyone—conveniently for him. And there were so many little clues. He was especially vindictive about your reputation and kept trying to convince me you were the spy.”

  All of a sudden she was unaccountably nervous. “So, you’ve spoken with my father?”

  He raised a brow. “Only through correspondence. Says he has heard a lot about me. That he sent you here hoping we might find common interests.”

  Her jaw dropped. They reached the ground floor, and she quickly closed her mouth as the curious gazes of the servants caught hers.

  “Are you saying my father was matchmaking?” she hissed.

  He looked amused. “No, he said we had similar interests in literature.”

  “Oh.” Embarrassment knew no bounds. “Well, we obviously wouldn’t be interested in antiquities together.”

  “Patience, about the antiquities—”

  A servant appeared at his elbow. “My lord? You are needed in the kitchens. Kenfield says it’s urgent.”

  Thomas nodded and waited for the servant to leave before turning back to Patience. “Can we talk later? Are you…are you willing?”

  She had never heard him so tentative. “Of course I am.” She smiled. “You know where to find me.”

  He tucked the perpetually loose strands of hair haloing her face behind her ears. “At least for the weekend.” His voice was solemn. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Patience decided to walk around the gardens to clear her head. It had been an exciting day, and it wasn’t noon yet and already she felt exhausted. She watched a lazy blue damselfly flit through the rose garden and a lacewing crawl across a leaf. She didn’t know what the talk Thomas wanted to have would revolve around, but she hoped it had to do with planning past the weekend.

  She returned to the castle after another half hour and headed for the front stairs. As she neared, she could hear the noise of guests even from down the hall. It sounded like a party had just arrived. She slowed her steps. Neither Caroline nor Thomas had said anything about people arriving.

  “You must stay the evening, at least.” Caroline’s voice was pleasant, but neutral.

  “That is so kind of you, Lady Caroline. We would love to. We were just commenting in the carriage about how gracious a hostess you are. And Lord Blackfield, is he in residence? We were so hoping to say hello to both of you.” The woman, whoever she was, certainly didn’t waste any time.

  Patience froze at the drawing room entrance as the women came into view. There were three women, an older woman, a pretty young debutante, and a rather plain companion. Two men stood to their side. The debutante was the one who held Patience frozen to the spot. Their eyes met, and the woman practically glittered with glee.

  Celeste Finchford, one of society’s darlings. She had taken malicious pleasure in Patience’s fate, as it reflected well on Celeste in the hallowed halls of society when she made a cutting comment about those less fortunate socially. Patience waited (and prayed) for the day Celeste would receive her due. Maliciousness had a way of striking those who wielded it.

  Lady Caroline smiled and motioned for Patience to join them.

  She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked inside. All she needed to do was relax, just as Thomas had coached.

  “May I introduce Miss Harrington,” Caroline said, introducing the five travelers in turn. All of them cast her glances ranging from disapproval from the older woman and a sneer from Celeste, to a downright leer from one of the “gentlemen.”

  Patience nodded and said nothing, remembering Thomas’s advice that if she had nothing to add, silence was best. That polite interest was her asset. These people played the social game, one that she wanted no part of. She finally understood why Thomas had been adamant that she wasn’t being dishonest if she were quiet and polite.

  “It’s so lovely to see you, Miss Harrington,” Celeste said, eyes fluttering. “Where have you been keeping yourself these past weeks?”

  Patience sat in a plum chintz chair, pausing to arrange her skirts before she could spit out her story. “Oh, here and there, Miss Finchford. I was saddened to miss the end of the season. I heard your ball was a marvelous success.”

  Celeste’s eyes narrowed a bit at the lack of provided ammunition. “It was but a small party,” she simpered, feigned humility in every motion of her body. She smiled at Caroline. “We would have loved to have had you attend Lady Caroline.”

  Caroline smiled. “We were sorry to have missed it. There was a prior engagement here that we could not break. Perhaps next season?”

  “Of course,” Celeste demurred.

  Kenfield signaled from the drawing room doors, and Lady Caroline stood. “I will be but a moment. I need to give instructions to the staff concerning your stay. Lord Blackfield has been notified of your arrival as well.”

  Caroline moved from sight, and Celeste turned to Patience. “Are you planning to return next season, Miss Harrington? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Patience forced a smile and picked up the teacup Caroline had set out for her before leaving. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Finchford.”

  Celeste’s brows knitted noticeably. Patience nearly cheered her small victory, but instead maintained her smile, a smile that had suddenly become real.

  “When did you arrive?”

  Patience debated how to answer, choosing to sip her tea while deciding. “Three weeks ago.”

  “You’ve been here three weeks, without a chaperone?” Celeste’s voice was aghast, but couldn’t quite cover her excitement.

  Patience waved a hand and chuckled. “Oh, most assuredly not, Miss Finchford.”

  Celeste leaned forward, waiting for her to continue. Patience smiled and sipped her tea.

  “And?”

  “Yes, Miss Finchford?”

  Celeste’s eyes narrowed, and the older woman she was traveling with coughed to stop Celeste from responding. The older woman joined the conversation turned interrogation.

 
; “Have you enjoyed your stay at the castle, Miss Harrington?”

  “It has been delightful. Lady Caroline has been a most gracious hostess.” She almost couldn’t hold back a shout of glee as Celeste’s mien darkened in frustration. She had just reminded her that she was besmirching Lady Caroline by referring to anything improper in the household.

  A cough interrupted the silence. Patience turned to see Kenfield hovering in the doorway. “Pardon me, ladies, gentlemen, but Miss Harrington’s presence is being requested. There is a small emergency with one of her traveling companions.”

  Patience gave Kenfield a smile and excused herself. She could feel Celeste’s eyes burning a hole in her back, and she had never felt quite so good about the feeling.

  As soon as she rounded the corner with the butler he stopped her. She looked at him expectantly, taking in his apologetic gaze.

  “There is no emergency, is there, Kenfield?”

  “My apologies, Miss, no there is not. Lady Caroline did specify to excuse you if she hadn’t returned in ten minutes.”

  Patience felt a rush of warmth for Caroline’s thoughtfulness, even if she had been managing to hold her own. She thanked Kenfield, who returned to the hall. She was about to head for the stairs when she saw Thomas stride into the drawing room. Now this might prove interesting.

  On slippered feet, Patience sneaked back to the drawing room, keeping her back against the wall to listen without being seen. Kenfield raised a brow from his position by the great doors, and Patience gave him a toothy smile. Morbid curiosity caused her to eavesdrop, although if Thomas fell under Celeste’s spell, morbid wouldn’t begin to describe what her thoughts would become.

  “Lord Blackfield, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Celeste gushed.

  “Indeed. I see you’ve met one of my guests.”

  “Miss Harrington? I hate to bear bad news, my lord, but—”