Emerald Garden (28 page)

“Of course.” The housekeeper hastened off.

The room fell silent.

Pointedly, Bentley cleared his throat. “My lord, I believe Herbert and I are both in need of fortification. Thus, if you can manage on your own for a while, he and I will retire to the dining room to enjoy a brandy.”

“Go ahead.”

“The dining room?” Herbert scratched his head. “But there’s plenty of brandy right here in the sittin’ room.”

“Yes, but ’tis of questionable quality. Not a very good year for brandy, I suppose.” Bentley’s tone was clipped.

“Brandy is brandy. Besides, I want to stay with Miss …”

“Impossible. The entire sitting-room supply is being exchanged for a more suitable vintage.” The butler’s glare could fry an egg. “Therefore it must remain intact. Now, shall we?”

Bentley removed one hand from behind his back—only long enough to steer Herbert through the doorway. Glancing over his shoulder at Quentin, he raised his eyes to the heavens, then exited, shutting the door firmly in his wake.

Brandi bit her lip, stifling the laughter she knew would intensify the throbbing in her head. “I believe Bentley is picking up a bit of my tactlessness, my lord,” she murmured. “That was done with a decided lack of finesse.”

Unsmiling, Quentin leaned forward, brushing each corner of Brandi’s mouth with his. “Is the pain bad?”

“It smarts.” She reached up, wrapping her arms loosely about Quentin’s neck. “I’m glad you’re here.” She sighed. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you until now.”

Emotion clouded Quentin’s eyes. “I’m going to pour you a drink. I want you to finish every drop. Is that understood?”

“Very well.”

Rising, he crossed over to the sideboard, pouring a healthy portion of brandy into a goblet.

Brandi watched him as he made his way back to her side. “Tell me, my lord, isn’t that from the supply of questionable vintage?”

This time her jest had its desired effect.

A flicker of humor darted across Quentin’s face. “The very one. But, for our purposes, it will do.” He sank down beside her, anchoring her head with one hand, easing her into a half-sitting position. “It will alleviate the pain. Now sip slowly,” he instructed, pressing the glass to her lips.

Brandi nodded, taking a tentative sip, then shuddering. “ ’Tis just as well to use this inferior bottle for my medicinal needs,” she told him, making a face. “An exceptional vintage would be wasted. I loathe the taste.”

“Pity. Because you’re going to finish every last drop.”

“Yes, sir, Captain Steel.” With a martyred look, Brandi complied, grumbling her displeasure after every sip.

“Excellent.” Quentin set down the empty glass. “You can stop muttering. Your torment is over. Now just lie still and let the brandy do its job.” He lowered her back to the sofa.

“You’re an unfeeling tyrant, you know,” she murmured, sinking into the cushions.

One dark brow rose. “This coming from the hoyden who brutally chastised me and accused me of being a bloody fool?”

A smile touched Brandi’s lips, her lashes drifting to her cheeks. “You are a bloody fool.” She yawned. “Did you hear what I said before? I missed you.”

“I heard you.” Quentin brushed tendrils of hair from her brow.

“And?”

Tenderly, he caressed her cheek. “And what?”

“And, aren’t you going to answer me?”

“Are you certain you want me to? I should think you’d be reluctant to hear my reply after the shambles you made of my pride.”

Brandi forced her lids open, all the vulnerability in the world reflected in her eyes. “I’m certain. Please, Quentin, answer me. Quickly. I need to know what you’re thinking.” She fought the warm languor already spreading through her limbs. “And what you’re feeling.”

“Still so impatient. And so frank. My honest, impulsive Sunbeam. No matter what turmoil the world inflicts, you’re the one precious facet that remains untouched. Thank God.”

Brandi’s breath caught in her throat.

“I missed you every moment I was gone,” Quentin breathed, giving her the answer they both sought. “But unlike you, I realized it. Constantly. Every second that ticked by I wanted nothing more than to race home to Emerald Manor and hold you in my arms.” He twined a burnished strand around his finger. “You’ll be pleased to learn that my obtuseness has vanished. I can now supply you not only with the correct answers but with the proper questions as well. Now, is that a satisfactory reply?”

“Most definitely, my lord.” Tears shimmered on Brandi’s lashes. “In fact, should this all be a dream—should it happen that I am badly hurt and presently unconscious—I’d prefer never to be awakened.”

“I’ll see if that can be arranged,” Quentin replied soberly. “But, in my experience, pounding heads and bloody wounds are clear signs of consciousness.”

“Good.” Brandi reached up, lay her palm against his jaw. “Quentin?”

“Hmm?”

“Before we talk—which I know we must, before you begin shouting so fiercely that all but Bentley flee Emerald Manor …” She yawned again. “And before this brandy makes me so silly I won’t be able to savor the memory—before all that, would you kiss me?” Her fingers stroked his nape. “After which, I won’t mind your shouting nearly so much.”

Ever so gently, Quentin’s arms slipped beneath her, cradling her head to silence the pain. Then, he bent forward, taking her lips in a soft, beautiful, eloquent caress that Brandi felt to the tips of her toes.

“Not just one kiss,” she protested, when he would have drawn back. “I want more.”

A chuckle, part joy, part relief, rumbled from Quentin’s chest. “Don’t you always?” He kissed her again, molding the softness of her mouth to his, taking her tongue in a breathtaking whisper of a motion.

Brandi responded by sliding her hands beneath his coat, stroking the length of his back through the fine material of his shirt.

Her touch seemed to strike a chord of emotion deep inside him. “Christ, I was terrified,” he murmured against her parted lips. “The thought of you being hurt—or worse …”

“I’m fine,” Brandi assured him, her voice slurring a bit. “I wasn’t even frightened. I didn’t have time to be.” Her lids fluttered. “I don’t want to sleep,” she protested, fighting the effects of the brandy. “I want to kiss.” Her lashes swept her cheeks. “I love when you kiss me. It feels like heaven.” Another yawn. “Besides, if we kiss forever, I never have to tell you about Townsbourne or about my plan.” Her arms slid to her sides, her voice trailing off. “Or about my visit to Mr. Hendrick’s office yesterday …”

She was asleep.

Quentin was not.

“Hendrick’s office?” He jerked upright. “What visit to …” Seeing Brandi was asleep, he realized she couldn’t provide him with answers.

But he intended to get them.

“Bentley.” Quentin stalked into the dining room. “We need to talk. Herbert,” he continued, still glaring at Bentley, “would you excuse us?”

“Is Miss Brandi all right?” Herbert demanded.

“She’s fine. In fact, she’s sleeping. Mrs. Collins is with her now. Feel free to peek into the sitting room on your way out.”

“All right.” Herbert placed his glass on the table, ill at ease but obviously determined to speak his mind. “Forgive me, my lord, but I was wonderin’—I’ll be workin’ at the gazebo. Would you mind sendin’ for me when Miss Brandi wakes up? I’d like to see her—if she’s feelin’ well enough.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all. I’m sure Brandi will want to see you, too …
after
she and I have had a chance to talk.”

“Of course, sir.” Responding to Quentin’s unmistakable cue, Herbert made a hasty retreat.

Bentley waited until they were alone. “What is upsetting you, my lord?” he calmly inquired.

“I think you should tell me. Before she drifted off, Brandi muttered something about visiting Hendrick’s office yesterday. Would you care to enlighten me as to what visit she’s referring to?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Bentley frowned. “The only trip Miss Brandi made yesterday to which I can attest is the one I made with her to Townsbourne. And I’ve already relayed to you all the details and findings associated with that particular visit. As for Mr. Hendrick’s office …” The butler pursed his lips. “ ’Tis possible that’s where Miss Brandi went when she abandoned Herbert and stole off to London.”

Quentin’s fists clenched at his sides. “I cannot believe this. I’ve been away only a few bloody days. And in that amount of time, Brandi has persuaded my trusted butler to accompany her on a jaunt I expressly asked her not to make without me, discovered a hidden ledger that could possibly endanger her life, and eluded my sleeping gardener to sneak off for an afternoon in London, where she apparently met with my solicitor about Lord knows what.”

“If you’ll forgive me, sir, what you expressly forbade Miss Brandi to do was to travel to Townsbourne alone—which, in fact, she did not. You also requested that she wait one day before she acted—which she did. Therefore, neither she nor I disobeyed your instructions. As for her trip to Mr. Hendrick’s office, I assume it concerned the allegedly life-threatening ledger to which you just referred—a ledger that, if my fruitless visit to Allonshire is any indication, is no more perilous than any other ordinary document. And last, Herbert is a fine, hard-working man. He just happens to require a fair amount of sleep. Not to sound immodest, my lord, but I believe I’ve spoiled you with my unique ability to perform splendidly on little or no rest. Most people do require an occasional respite.”

Quentin shot him a look. “Are you quite finished proclaiming your virtues?”

“Quite, sir.”

“Good. Then can we get back to the issue at hand?”

“I assume you mean Miss Brandi’s trip to London?”

“Excellent assumption.” Quentin began to pace.

“I assure you, sir, Miss Brandi made no mention of an intended excursion to Mr. Hendrick’s office. I have no idea what prompted the immediacy of her trip. Frankly, when I left for Berkshire, she seemed perfectly willing to await my return before taking further steps.”

“She seemed willing to await your return—you mean, much like she was willing to await mine?” Quentin cocked a derisive brow in Bentley’s direction.

“I see your point, my lord.”

“So do I—a bit too late.” Quentin stalked the length of the dining room, his demeanor grim as he mentally assembled the pieces of the last few days’ puzzle. “Hell, Bentley, we were both fools. You and I should know better than to believe Brandi could—
would
—stay put. She’s as restless as a firefly and equally unable to remain still. Worse, she plunges headlong into a situation, giving no thought to the possible repercussions. My guess is that some brilliant notion entered her clever, reckless mind—one she deemed important enough to act upon. Now ’tis up to us to determine what that notion was and what were its consequences.” He halted, meeting Bentley’s anxious expression. “And if those consequences had anything to do with today’s allegedly accidental shooting.”

“Shall I prepare a missive for Mr. Hendrick, sir?”

“No.” Quentin shook his head adamantly. “I don’t want to meet with Ellard until I know precisely what he and Brandi discussed. Although, God help me, knowing Brandi as I do, I’m sure her intention was to get to as many of the men named in Ardsley’s ledger as she could.”

“At the risk of fueling your outrage, my lord, the idea is a sound one.”

“For us to explore, yes. For Brandi, no.” Quentin scowled. “You’re sure Smithers knew absolutely nothing? He’d heard no gossip that could be construed as even remotely suspicious?”

“Quite sure, sir. He is on the friendliest of terms with the valets of all four Berkshire gentlemen listed in the viscount’s ledger. Not one of their financial circumstances has altered in the past several months.”

“That leaves eight men unaccounted for,” Quentin reminded him. “Any one of whom could be our culprit. Damn it. I’ve got to get a look at Ardsley’s ledger.”

“I recalled nearly every name on that list for you, sir.”

“That’s not good enough. I need
all
the names. I also need to view them alongside their corresponding figures in order to come to any reasonable conclusion. In short, I need to examine the ledger itself.”

“I see your point, sir. And inspecting the ledger should present no problem. Miss Brandi took it with her when we left Townsbourne. I assume she’s secured it at Emerald Manor.”

“Unless she gave it to Hendrick.”

“I never thought of that.” Bentley frowned. “What will you do if that proves to be the case?”

“I’ll ride to London and speak with Ellard—which I’m certain I’ll have to do anyway, given that Brandi has doubtless involved him in whatever scheme she’s devised.”

“I don’t know whether or not this will affect your plans, sir, but Master Desmond received a late-night missive from Mr. Hendrick.”

Quentin’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t happen to know the contents of the missive, would you?”

“Not precisely, no. But, according to Sanders, Master Desmond read the note, then muttered something about meeting with Mr. Hendrick late this afternoon.”

“At Colverton?”

“No. In London.”

“Ah, so my brother is going to London. And we can both guess what Hendrick penned to prompt that excursion.”

“You’re suggesting that Mr. Hendrick notified Master Desmond of Miss Brandi’s visit,” Bentley supplied.

“Without a doubt. Poor Ellard must have been shocked speechless when Brandi appeared at his office without either a chaperon or her faithful guardian. I’m certain he finished composing that missive to Desmond before her carriage left his door.” Comprehension glinted in Quentin’s eyes. “Well, at least that explains why Desmond hasn’t rushed to Brandi’s side. He must be en route to London, in which case he doesn’t even know of the accident.”

“It’s probable he doesn’t know of the shooting,” Bentley concurred. “But not because he’s en route to Town. I don’t expect that Master Desmond will be taking his leave for several hours now.”

“Then where was he when you arrived at Colverton with the news?”

“Abed, my lord.” Bentley gave an indignant sniff. “Sanders attempted to awaken him, but to no avail. With the precarious state of Miss Brandi’s health, I was not about to waste time administering doses of reviving black coffee. Hence, I advised Sanders to relay the news to Master Desmond when he managed to lift his head from the pillow. Which, based upon the hour at which he staggered to his bedchamber last night”—Bentley extracted his timepiece, confirming that the noon hour had come and gone—“should be sometime around one o’clock.”