Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series #1) (37 page)

“I’m not armed.” Blackmore glanced over his shoulder. “The
sheep are eating your flowers.”

James followed the turn of Blackmore’s head and finally
noticed over a dozen shaggy sheep foraging in the front lawn. My God, they were
beautiful. “Are those Devon Longhairs?”

“They are and I brought them for you as a peace offering.
Call him off, would you?”

“Mr. Rudd, the man brought sheep and not just any sheep,
Devon Longhairs,” pleaded James.

“Search him first,” Rudd insisted. “I told you, I ain’t
losing any more Lord Keanes on my watch.”

“Do you mind?” James asked Blackmore, eager to get a look
at the sheep he had only read about in livestock journals.

Blackmore rested his hands on his head and gazed at the
orange-tinged sky. “If you must.”

James patted the pockets of Blackmore’s overcoat which
wasn’t good enough for Rudd.

“Who works for whom?” Blackmore asked irritably when James
asked him to take off his boots and turn them upside down. Surprisingly,
Blackmore complied. “I suppose I deserve this,” he said as he yanked his boots
back on. “I heard of your marriage to Lady Keane. Apparently, I misunderstood
your interest.”

James shrugged. “And I misunderstood yours. Mr. Rudd, will
you excuse us. Lord Blackmore and I have some things to straighten out.”

Mr. Rudd narrowed his gaze on Blackmore. “Aye, my lord.
I’ll be within shouting distance.”

“Please forgive him. I have had a series of mishaps since
I’ve been at Eastlan. He’s only doing his job.”

“The Keane Curse?”

“I’ve taken care of that,” or so James hoped. He didn’t
trust Wesley, and though he had no proof of murder, he’d have him arrested on
the spot if he showed his face on Eastlan’s grounds ever again.

“Yes, I heard you have already started producing
replacements.”

“Who told you about that?” James’s response to Blackmore’s
good humor was quick and intense.

In reply to James’s angry question, Blackmore lifted his
hands in surrender.

“I only meant to congratulate you. I felt like even more
of an ass when a servant told me Lady Keane was carrying your child. If you
haven’t figured this fact out already, the servants know more about us than we
do ourselves.”

James tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had
plagued him all afternoon. “And there is more to the Keane Curse than mere
rumor. I didn’t intend to snap at you but I’m not used to being the center of
so much scrutiny.”

Blackmore laughed. “I can’t imagine living any other way.
I’m sure you heard that I have my own curse, or rather, I am my own curse.”

“You look somewhat sober at the moment.”

“I intend to change that shortly, but I wanted to
apologize for ruining your party. Ivy Templeton left Cornwall and I don’t
suppose she’ll be back.”

“And that makes you happy?” James strode to a group of
sheep nosing around a hedge dotted with red berries that he remembered might be
poisonous.

“No.” Blackmore shook his shaggy dark head. His long black
hair and eyes made him appear more of a wandering gypsy than an English
aristocrat. “Nothing makes me happy. Not even making her unhappy. But it’s a
long story. One I would never consider telling in my temporary state of
alertness.”

“No need. I understand well enough. Why the sheep?”

“You came to me for help and I turned you away. Not many
nobles take an actual interest in farming their land, and I’m glad to see that
you have. I bred these myself. I would be honored if you worked them into your herd.”

James examined the long curly wool of one of the sheep.
“Amazing. I will indeed work them into my herd. Thank you.”

“And if there is anything else I can do, please do not
hesitate to ask.” Blackmore held out his hand and James shook it.

 Help me round up the rest of the herd and over a glass of
cognac you can give me tips on breeding them with my stock.”

“Make it Irish whiskey and we have a deal.”

James shoved his hands in his pocket inordinately pleased
with this day. The sun slipped behind a stand of trees that marked the entrance
to Eastlan’s long drive, painting everything gold and pink. It seemed all of
his troubles had been solved except one. He curled his hand around the urgent
note he had forgotten about. Perhaps Blackmore could smooth the way with some
of James’s creditors while he recouped what Wesley had stolen. As far as James
could figure, Eastlan cost almost as much to run as he could hope to make. But,
he could be comfortable here.

He pulled the note from his pocket and opened it while
Blackmore urged a stubborn ram away from the hydrangea.

Wesley’s Hutton’s painfully neat script stopped his heart.

He had Astra.

Astra pressed her face to the dirty window and peered into
the growing darkness. Lark would be beyond reason with worry, believing Astra
had been snatched by her troublesome little people. The first star of the night
struggled through the gloom and Astra found no comfort in the knowledge that
Wesley had likely lied to her about Melva’s condition. Speculation upon his
other misdeeds worried her more. Why had Astra not taken a closer look at her
daughter’s fears, no matter how silly she had thought them to be? Lark had a
better grasp of the dark secrets swirling about Eastlan than did her mother.

Astra banged on the closed door. “I’m hungry, Wesley,
please. I’m feeling faint.”

Even with her obvious imprisonment in Eastlan’s abandoned
Dowager house, Astra struggled to believe Wesley could have ever hurt Lowell.
But she had underestimated how desperate he had become. If she were not in such
turmoil over her second marriage, maybe she would have realized how out of
character the embezzlement had been. And perhaps if she had been less removed
from her first marriage, Lowell would still be alive.

When Wesley had led her down the lane to the abandoned
Dowager’s house, she had been so relieved that James had not betrayed their
secret place, the gazebo where she had fallen in love with him, that she had
eagerly followed Wesley into the deserted house and up into a dusty bedroom.

Once inside, Wesley closed and locked the door between
them, with only a curt, “I’m trying to protect you,” muffled through the wood.

That was hours ago and Astra did not know what she feared
more: being left here for days until a search would bring someone to the
abandoned cottage, or Wesley’s prompt return.

A click of the door startled her and fear squeezed her
throat. What if everything James claimed was true? What if Wesley was a
calculating murder masquerading as her devoted friend? Astra gripped her
stomach, fearing for her unborn child more than herself.

A shadow eased open the door. An obviously pregnant shadow
with flaming red hair that cut through the darkness with its own illumination.

Astra gasped.
My God, it was true.
The tray rattled
as Melva quickly deposited it on a table covered by a drop cloth. She hurried
to Astra’s side and took her arm.

“Are you well, ma’am? I wouldn’t have waited so long to
bring your tea and sandwiches but Mr. Hutton wished for me to wait for him
before I fetched you anything. He thought my condition might upset you. Here.
Please sit, my lady.”

Astra allowed Melva to guide her to a high-backed chair
Astra had uncovered earlier when exhaustion and worry had almost overtaken her.
The large four poster bed in the corner had been stripped of the mattress,
leaving nothing but bare slats.

Melva stood, her hand on her back, balancing the weight of
her swelling belly. She had to be no less than five months along and that was
being generous. No wonder Melva had been missing from Eastlan as of late. Her
uniform’s large white apron could only hide so much. Figuring the time
properly, James could not possibly be the father of Melva’s baby.

Melva noticed Astra’s stare even in the dark. She placed
both her hands protectively over her protruding stomach.

“Is Wesley the father?” Astra asked calmly. Her relief was
tainted by the confirmation that Wesley had been cruelly manipulating her,
playing on her darkest fears and deepest insecurities. Astra did not know
Wesley Hutton at all.

Melva grinned, almost against her will, and Astra realized
Melva was much younger than she had thought. No more than twenty at the most.
“Don’t you worry, ma’am. Mr. Hutton and I shall be away before the townsfolk
start to whisper that the baron has already fathered a brat on the wrong side
of the sheets.”

Astra squared her shoulders. “Oh, I’m not worried because
your child could not possibly belong to James. Are you five, perhaps six months
along? Your child was conceived at least a solid three months before James set
foot on English soil.”

Melva shrugged, unconcerned. “My kin are all big boned. Or
perhaps it’s twins. The country folk just like something to talk about. They don’t
care if it’s true.”

Astra felt the blood drain from her face and closed her
eyes, not caring if Melva was right. Truly, she just wanted to go home. “I am
supposed to be here to help you, not the other way around. Tell me what you
want of me. My daughter will be worried over my disappearance.”

Melva wiped her hands on the lacey half apron covering her
dark blue dress and poured Astra’s tea. “I don’t wish for your girl to be
troubled my lady, or you. I never thanked you for sending Cook’s bread and
pasties home to me mum. She loves them mightily. It always cheers her to know
you think of her.”

“Your mother was kind.” Astra took the tea from Melva
along with a puffed pastry she was sure she would be unable to eat. “She was
especially good to me in the first year of my marriage. How is it that I can
help you? I just want to return home before my daughter misses me.”

“My mother said kind things of you too.” Melva laughed.
“She’d not forgive me if she knew I had a part in causing you trouble. I didn’t
know you and the lord were special friends till I heard about the row in his
room between him and Lady Phillina.”

“It was not exactly a row.” Astra hated that her worst
fears concerning the household gossip were true. “But James is not the father
of your child, is he? Please tell me the truth, Melva. I love him and I need to
know how much I should guard my heart.” Though Astra already knew the truth, if
she could convince Melva to confide in her, perhaps she could also persuade her
to help her escape.

“You’ll be right enough, my lady.” Melva’s show of
sympathy fell away and she straightened. “You have seemed to land on your
slippered feet better than any serving girl I know.”

“Yes, I have been quite lucky. I realize other women who
found themselves in my position were not so fortunate.” Astra’s honesty was a
ploy to gain Melva’s trust, but her admission of something the entire village,
if not the entire West Country, suspected brought about an unexpected surge of
relief. Holding her secret, hiding her shame, had taken more effort than Astra
had ever realized. “And that’s why I came when another woman would surely
ignore a cry for help from her husband’s mistress. Please, Melva. I was never
unkind to you despite your relationship with James.”

Melva turned to the dishes. “More tea, my lady? I need to
gather up the crumbs. Wes—I mean Mr. Hutton does not like a mess left about. It
attracts rats.”

“What did he tell you? That he would take you with him?
That he needs money from James? He already has James’s money.” Astra rubbed her
head, answers to all her questions so obvious it began a throbbing behind her
eyes. “I fear he intends to harm James in hopes of inheriting Eastlan.”

“And why shouldn’t he? Lord Keane is only out for himself.
Wesley is the only one who ever took a care for me. Not even your fine husband.
I was no better than something to pass the time.”

Astra swallowed her panic for fear she might start to cry.
“James has always been kind to the servants,” was all she could think to say in
James’s defense.

Melva sauntered over and gathered the tray. “Might be he
preferred the manservants because he didn’t seem too interested in me ‘cept for
the wet kiss any bloke could give him. I believe a gent named Daniel had high
hopes of moving up to valet.”

Astra blinked, shocked at Melva’s assertion. “That’s not
true. I can assure you of that.”

Melva paused by the door. “I hope so for your sake. You
have your own little secret, don’t you, ma’am? Even a lady like yourself is
lucky to have found a gent to claim her second by-blow. A girl like me is
fortunate to get one chance. Two would be asking too much. It’d be bad luck,
you see.”

That Melva knew of the child Astra carried, perhaps
Eastlan’s heir, made Astra even more desperate. She had assumed she’d only been
speaking of Lark. “Please help me, Melva. You know Wesley is in love with me,
don’t you? He will leave you when he inherits Eastlan.”

The tray occupying her hands, Melva pushed open the door
with her hip and stepped out of the room. “I hope you are wrong, my lady. But
you see, folks like me don’t have many choices in life. I just do as I’m told.”

Melva closed the door and Astra knew she was doomed. She
had been a fool to believe Wesley would give up his plans if he discovered
Astra carried James’s child. Her only hope for herself and her baby was to pray
Wesley didn’t know of her condition. And for James, all she could do was pray.

***

James tore his gaze from the dilapidated dowager house to
scour the dark woods behind him. A shaft of moonlight fell on Blackmore’s
musket. James motioned him to lower his weapon. Locating Astra was his first
priority, killing Wesley Hutton his second. Wesley was too smart to keep her so
close to Eastlan. Of course, James knew Hutton had plans other than merely an
exchange of funds for Astra. Wesley didn’t want a ransom but to see James dead.
Knowing he was walking into an ambush didn’t frighten him as much as the fact
that Hutton had heard the rumors racing through the county and beyond. James
didn’t abide Astra’s theory that Wesley wouldn’t hurt her if he discovered she
was carrying his child and the potential heir to the St. Keynes barony. In
fact, he was positive the opposite was true.