Ariadne's Diadem (16 page)

Suddenly uneasy, Mrs. Jenkins drew back sharply. It was the elderberry wine, she told herself. “You’ve had more than you should, Gwen Jenkins, so it’s bed for you,” she muttered to herself, then without further ado hurried up to her room on the next floor.

Chapter Seventeen

The sun was shining the following afternoon when Hugh and Kitty arrived at the White Boar, having spent the previous night at a hostelry high on the Cotswold Hills. Hens scattered before the horses’ hooves, and a tethered dog began to bark as the coachman brought the vehicle to a standstill. The hostelry commanded a fork in the road from Peterbury, one route swinging away toward Monmouth, and the other to Goodrich, which had a splendid ruined castle on a crag above the Wye. The inn was an unremarkable gray stone building, with a wide dusty area serving as a yard in front of the main entrance, but its accommodation was clean and comfortable. Later in the summer it would be frequented by sightseers eager for the fashionably picturesque scenery of the valley, but at the moment trade was so quiet that the appearance of a smart London traveling carriage was cause for the landlord himself to come out in greeting.

He was a tough ex-pugilist who had used the fruits of his considerable success to purchase the inn. His eyes were set close together above a broken nose, and he was very tall and broad, although his once hard muscle was now soft. He was all smiles as he wiped his hands on his apron, before opening the carriage door for Hugh to alight.

“Welcome to the White Boar, Mr. er...?”

“Oadby,” Hugh replied smoothly, for he and Kitty had already decided upon false identities, and Oadby in Leicestershire was her hometown.

Hugh glanced around, and then eyed the man. “I trust you have suitable accommodation for my sister and me?”

“Oh, indeed so, sir,” the landlord replied, glancing disbelievingly at Kitty. Sister? Pigs would swim down the Wye first! These two were a gentleman and his trollop, but if they paid well, who was he to care?

“We require two rooms, but adjacent, for Miss Oadby is afraid of intruders.” Hugh smarted a little, for he could read the man’s insolent thoughts. The original plan had been to pose as Mr. and Mrs. Oadby, but a quarrel during the latter part of the journey had led to Kitty’s taking umbrage and insisting upon separate rooms.

The landlord met his gaze. “Certainly, sir.”

“Are your best rooms available?”

“The second bedchamber is certainly available, sir, but the principal bedchamber itself will soon be required by Sir Thomas and Lady Fanhope.”

The Fanhopes? Hugh’s smile became fixed, and in the carriage Kitty gave a sharp intake of breath, for this was a circumstance neither of them could possibly have foreseen. The last thing they wanted was the arrival of someone who knew exactly who they were, especially one of Kitty’s most recent lovers!

Hugh cleared his throat. “When are they expected?”

“In a week’s time. I understand from Sir Thomas’s message that they will be en route for Bristol, from where they intend to take passage to America.”

Hugh recovered. “My sister and I will take the rooms in question, for we will have left before they arrive.” Until now he hadn’t decided exactly when and how to dispose of tiresome Anne Willowby, but the landlord’s information concentrated the mind most sharply. The Fanhopes had to be avoided at all costs, therefore the lady’s extinction had to be achieved swiftly, although how he would do it remained uncertain.

Hugh turned to hold his hand out to Kitty, but as she began to alight, the team moved forward a foot or so, and she lost her balance. With a squeal she fell heavily onto Hugh, who fell as well, and in a moment they were both sprawled in dust where the inn’s hens had more than left their mark. As the dismayed landlord helped them to their feet, a loud mocking bleat drifted from a stable door farther along the inn. Hugh turned to see a goat standing on its hind legs to peer out at the commotion, and from the way it bleated again, showing yellow teeth, he was certain it was laughing.

* * * *

Anne had no idea that her future husband had arrived in the vicinity, or that she was in danger from him. Troubled about her astonishing misconduct with Charles Danby, she avoided the servants all morning, and in the afternoon decided to go for a walk by the river. Putting on a blue-and-white gingham gown and a light shawl, she went downstairs in so preoccupied a mood that she didn’t see Mrs. Jenkins in the hall.

The housekeeper, who was suffering a little from the aftereffects of the further glasses of elderberry wine she’d taken after discovering the strange business of the disappearing nad, was polishing a table. The nad was where it should be this morning, and the housekeeper put the whole thing down to alcohol, but she knew that the empty brandy glass had been only too real. Something had to be said to Anne. But what? It was very delicate. When she saw her young mistress coming downstairs, she decided to seize the moment.

“Begging your pardon. Miss Anne, but may I have a private word with you?” she said.

Anne gave a start, for she hadn’t realized anyone was there. “A-a word? Yes, of course. What is it? Is something wrong?”

“That may be for you to say. Miss Anne,” Mrs. Jenkins replied quietly.

“Me? I don’t understand.”

“Well, unless you have taken to consuming Mr. Willowby’s cognac...?”

The glass! Anne had forgotten all about it.

The housekeeper drew a long breath. “The kitchen intruder wasn’t the only stranger here last night, was he? Mr. Danby was here as well.”

Anne couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, Miss Anne, what
were
you thinking of?”

“I didn’t know what to do, Mrs. Jenkins. I’d told him that it would be in order for him to call again, and that he did so when I was alone in the house put me in some difficulty.”

“Maybe it did, but I’ll warrant there was nothing accidental about his arrival. He
knew
you were alone.”

“Knew? What are you suggesting?”

“That Mr. Charles Danby is definitely
not
a gentleman. Miss Anne, I must warn you against him. I may be only a servant, and therefore presumptuous in speaking my mind at all, but for all that he says he is a man of the law, it is my opinion that Mr. Danby is not to be trusted in any way at all.”

“You’re very free with such a sweeping judgment, Mrs. Jenkins.”

“I have the evidence before me. His manner toward you since arriving has been too forward by far, and I cannot help but be aware that he puts you all of a fluster. You were like an open book to me that first night when he took his leave, and now I learn that he has been here again. It will not do. Miss Anne. You are to be the Duchess of Wroxford, and the duke is about to come here, so no hint of scandal must touch upon you.”

“You think I do not know that?” Anne turned away slightly, gripping the handrail as she struggled to recoup her lost composure. She’d hoped that last night’s visit would remain a secret.

“I’ve been giving his motives considerable thought. At first I wondered if he was simply intent upon seduction for seduction’s sake, but then I discounted that because if his activities were discovered, his firm would lose the duke as a client, and a junior partner would very swiftly be thrown out on his handsome ear. That leaves another motive entirely for his persistence. I’m sorry, my dear, but the only conclusion I can reach is that you are being tested to see if you are indeed suitable to be a duchess.”

Anne’s dismay was complete, for was that not exactly what she herself had thought?

Mrs. Jenkins searched her face. “You’ve gone very pale, my dear. Could it be that Mr. Danby took liberties last night?”

“Oh, Mrs. Jenkins, please don’t ask,” Anne whispered, close to tears.

The housekeeper put a concerned hand on her arm. “Did he...? I mean, you didn’t...?”

“I am still chaste, if you is what you fear to put into words,” Anne replied, mastering her emotions sufficiently to speak levelly.

“But something happened, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Miss Anne...”

“It will not happen again, for I have told him so. I have also told him that he will not be received in future unless he sends word in advance, so that I may have you in attendance at all times.”

“You would have done better to forbid him to come at all.”

“I cannot do that, for he is here in connection with my betrothal. Oh, Mrs. Jenkins, whether or not he is false-hearted, I would find it very easy to love him.” Anne’s eyes shone with tears, and she gathered her gingham skirts to hurry across the hall and out into the courtyard, leaving the housekeeper to gaze sadly after her.

Anne hardly realized her decision to go into the maze. It wasn’t until the cool shade of the high hedges made her pull her shawl closer that she knew, but she walked on anyway, and at last the maze splayed back to reveal the rotunda—and the statue. As she gazed at the latter, she knew why her subconscious had brought her here. The marble figure was so like Charles Danby that it drew her like a moth to a candle.

Gervase was very aware of her the moment she appeared, and when he saw the way she looked at his face, he was again afraid she had guessed the truth. If she looked at his hand and saw the scratch Mog had left, she
would
know! His marble heart tightened as she studied him intensely for a moment, before going to sit on the stone bench. His initial relief was almost immediately swamped by further apprehension, for his clothes—only too recognizable as Charles Danby’s—were hidden in the thick ivy growing all over the bench. Had he concealed them well enough? His only consolation was that at least Sylvanus was nowhere to be seen, for the faun was sleeping in the temple, having only come to the rotunda briefly just before the dawn in order to acquaint Gervase with his success with Penelope—for success he had certainly had.

But Anne didn’t notice anything as she clasped her hands in her lap and continued to gaze at the statue. She knew she should turn her back completely on her feelings for Charles Danby. He had awakened emotions she had never experienced before, and awakened them so passionately it was as if she had slumbered her life away until now. If only things were different, and she could not only be sure of his character and intentions, but have been at liberty last night to declare her true feelings; if only she could be sitting here now, waiting for him to come openly to her. But things
weren’t
different, and it was best if she forgot all about him, and certainly best if Mrs. Jenkins remained present at all times should he decide to call again. She prayed her trust would not be broken, and that if nothing else, Charles Danby would stand by his promise not to say anything of what took place last night.

She continued to gaze at the statue, taking in the lean but muscular body, slender hips, and well-shaped legs. And taking in too that part of the male body that had pressed so ardently against her when she’d been in Charles Danby’s arms last night! She’d felt wonderful, and to have given herself completely would have been to enjoy the perfect initiation— well, almost, for to lie with him in a wheat field beneath the summer sun would be the most perfect initiation of all... She lowered her glance. Was it really possible to feel this way about someone who was as false as Mrs. Jenkins feared? Could one’s heart be so misguided?

With a sad sigh she got up, but as she passed the statue, she halted to put a hand to Gervase’s cold face. “I wish you
were
my wickedly handsome lawyer,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss his marble mouth. There were tears in her eyes, and suddenly she linked her arms around his neck and kissed his lips more ardently. She pressed against him, remembering the joy of being embraced by a flesh-and-blood lover.

Imprisoned in marble, he ached to return the embrace, but was unable to do anything except feel the sweet yearning in her lips. If only she would whisper more, if only she would say the three words that would release him! Say them!
Say them!

But after clinging to him for a long moment, she gradually became mistress of herself again and slowly drew back and left the maze.

As Gervase looked helplessly after her, he felt as if his marble heart were breaking.

Chapter Eighteen

Hugh wasted no time about making his first visit to Llandower. He hired a horse at the White Boar, and after asking directions of an ostler, set off along the winding country road that was flanked by sweet meadows and hawthorn hedges that frothed with white blossom. He hardly glanced at the beautiful scenery; indeed he might have been in the dingiest quarter of the port of London for all the notice he took. He was preoccupied with how he was going to dispose of his unwanted bride, but as he at last rode across the Peterbury road bridge over the Wye, his own words to Kitty suddenly echoed in his head.
I’m going to make you the Duchess of Wroxford, and if I have to drown Anne Willowby in the River Wye in order to do it, then I will.
He reined in to gaze at the shining water, and a cold smile played briefly about his lips as he rode on. Yes, a simple drowning would do very well!

* * * *

Anne was writing to her parents in the study when a highly flustered Mrs. Jenkins came upstairs to tell her who had called. Anne was hugely dismayed to be caught at such a disadvantage. She had intended to be elegantly turned out for Hugh’s first call, but instead of sending word ahead, he had just arrived at the door! There was no time to change out of the simple blue-and-white gingham into something more suitable for receiving a duke, so all she could hope was that she wouldn’t create too provincial an impression. Taking a deep breath to steady nerves that were suddenly all over the place, she went downstairs with the housekeeper.

Her first impression on seeing Hugh’s tall figure in the hall was that he bore an astonishing and welcome resemblance to Charles Danby, although on drawing nearer she realized it was only superficial. However, she liked him well enough simply because he reminded her of the lawyer, so that when he smiled warmly and drew her hands to his lips as if they were friends already, she was sure they could get along together. He didn’t seem to notice her country gown or the simple way she’d attended to her hair, for he looked intently into her eyes when she spoke, and was gifted with the sort of easy conversation that removed all hint of awkwardness. Yes, she thought with relief, she would be able to get on well enough with Hugh Mowbray, but the thought was detached, lacking the fire and emotion that from the outset had marked her dealings with Charles Danby; Hugh kissed her hand politely, Charles scorched her very skin.