Kasey Michaels - [Redgraves 02] (21 page)

“You’ll be all right, Adam,” she encouraged him. “It was only an apple, and Dearborn didn’t throw it hard. Did you, Dearborn?”

“No, my lady. But, regrettably, the apple itself is hard. My deepest apologies, Mr. Collier.”

Still with one hand to his face, Adam sniffed, and told Kate he might meet with she and the marquis later, but he needed a lie-down. Then he toddled off in his red heels (had he an endless supply of the things?), already calling for his valet.

“Again, my lady, my apologies,” Dearborn said, sadly shaking his head. “Not really one of us, is he?”

“He’s one of something, though, Dearborn,” Kate told him, smiling. “We can only hope there are no more of him.”

Then she took a bite of the apple and headed for the kitchens for her half boots and then the greenhouse, thinking perhaps she wouldn’t brag to Simon about her brilliance with Adam just yet.

He was just walking toward her, followed by Liam toting four long metal poles last used to prop up a canopy meant to shade the ladies while they watched some impromptu horseracing event Gideon had put on the previous summer. Or so Liam reminded her when she asked.

“If you’ll hold on to Mr. Collier’s pole for him, please, Liam? He won’t be joining us quite yet, as he’s temporarily indisposed,” she told him as they headed back toward the area of the greenhouses. “And don’t you say anything, Simon, because he really is indisposed,” she added quietly. “Dearborn conked him in the eye with an apple.”

“Good on Dearborn,” Simon responded. “I won’t even ask why, as there are too many possible reasons to count.”

“One of them being Adam can’t catch apples any better than he can locate willing females. But he is beginning to realize what a monster his father was, and his mother, as well, I suppose. And their plans for him. I’m thinking of sending him to Jessica. He needs family about him now, don’t you think? We didn’t do that at first, in case the Society somehow figured out Gideon was their nemesis in London, but as nobody’s come chasing after them, it should be safe for Adam to be there.”

“And as welcome to the newlywed couple as the spring rain, I’m sure,” Simon pointed out wryly, handing over one of the poles. “We’ve already tried in a few areas, Liam and I, with no success, but if you look toward those trees, I believe you’ll see the ground leading up to it seems more like a faint trough than an even expanse of grass. Do you see it?”

Kate squinted into the distance. “No, I don’t think I see any— Oh, wait a moment. The ground is still wet there, isn’t it? As if last night’s rain collected in it. Do you suppose—?”

“I can’t be certain, no. But between the partial collapse, and the diverted stream—and then adding in the rain? It’s possible. Shall we try? But be careful.”

They began following on each side of the faint depression, Kate looking ahead, to see exactly where they were going. “It ends at a tree, Simon.”

“A young tree, and an old tunnel. My hope is that it continues on the other side of the plantings.”

Kate bit her lip. “You do realize, if it is the tunnel, and it does continue, it’s heading straight for the dower house?”

Simon took her hand and squeezed it. “I noticed. If we think it does, we’ll break off before we go that far, and tell Liam we were wrong, and the exercise was nothing more than a waste of time. Agreed?”

“You don’t trust Liam?”

“I don’t trust anyone, not right now. Except you, of course. Start probing with your pole, Kate, and then we’ll stop at the tree, look perplexed and I’ll send Liam and the poles on their way. We’ll continue our search from inside the dower house. For one, no one will see us, and secondly, it will be safer. One encounter with a cave-in is more than enough for me.”

The sun was warm, but Kate felt herself shivering. They were getting close, she and Simon. She could sense it. “Part of me wants to race to the house and get the key from Dearborn...and another part of me simply wants to run. Do you think we should send off messages to Gideon and Val? I doubt either would be happy if they weren’t in on the discovery...and even less happy knowing I may have seen things they wouldn’t want me to see.”

“
I
don’t want you to see whatever hell we might find. The difference is, I know you’ll discover a way to do it, anyway, and I’d rather be with you. Ah, we’re nearing the tree. Time to do some playacting.”

To fool Liam. But she trusted Liam. She trusted everyone on the estate. Except now, thanks to a few words from Simon, she didn’t. Her entire life was turning upside down.

“All right, Simon Knows-Everything Ravenbill, now what?” she asked loudly as she thrust her pole at him and jammed her fists on her hips. “I
told
you this was wrong. A tunnel would have to lead toward the shore. Any fool would know that. I knew we were chasing mare’s nests the moment you came up with this ridiculous plan.”

“Very nice, putting all the blame on me. I adore you,” he whispered, then went back at her: “Then if you’re so
brilliant,
why don’t you tell me your ideas? Oh, I remember now—you don’t have any, do you? Liam—take the poles, please, before I’m tempted to put them to use another way. As for you,
my lady,
I’ll see you at luncheon. Right now I’m going to take a ride, clear my head. And no, I do not desire your company!”

“Nor I yours! You’re as useless as Adam!” she called after him as he stomped off. He really was getting much better at this playacting business. “I’m sorry, Liam, you know how my temper can get the best of me. But, honestly, I have to do all the thinking for the three of us. Which reminds me. Did you ask your grandfather about the construction of the west wing? Are there any hidden passageways or anything of the sort?”

“I’m that sorry. Just the hidey-holes to peek at folks, my lady, and you said you already knew about those. He laughs about those all the time, that he does, but not when Da is about, as he thinks that’s none of our business. Da just says the earl isn’t a patch on your da and granda, begging your pardon.”

Kate was taken aback. “Now what do you suppose he means by that?”

Liam bowed his head, as if only realizing he’d spoken out of turn. “He don’t say, my lady, and I don’t ask. Powerful temper he has.”

“Then certainly don’t ask,” Kate assured him. “Your family has been on the estate for a long time, hasn’t it?”

Liam nodded fiercely. “Back and back, my lady, all the way since your granda and mine were lads together right here at the Manor, Granda says. I’ll be goin’ now, if that’s all right?”

Kate waved him on his way before turning back toward the house. She really would have enjoyed a ride, and some time alone with Simon, but they’d have to keep to their playacting now more than ever.

She stopped on the way to pick a beautiful white rosebud and one already fully bloomed, and smiled at them as she drew in their scent. Both were beautiful, but she believed she liked the fully bloomed one best.

And then her smile faded as she thought about the golden roses of the Society, and immediately dropped both blooms into the dirt. She knew what was right, and what was wrong, and that the blooms were innocent. In time, with Simon’s help, perhaps she could look at them again and see only the beauty.

She turned to look back to where she and Liam had been standing, with a silent appeal to her brain for a change of subject. She’d think about Liam, and what he’d told her. His family had lived at the Manor for at least three generations. And although she knew them as the Cooper family, Liam itself was a Scottish name. Just like his father, Hugh. Just like his grandfather, Angus, who’d grown up as her grandfather’s friend and companion.

Scottish names all.

Just like the Royal House of Stuart.

Perhaps Trixie wasn’t the only one who knew more than she was telling....

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
T
WASN
’
T
THAT
difficult to locate the spot Ainsley Becket had left his mount the previous evening, thanks to the rain. He’d come alone, from wherever he’d ridden from, wherever he’d disappeared back to as the rain kept pouring down. It was equally simple to follow the tracks, the clumps of sodden earth his mount’s hooves had displaced, until they reached the tradesman’s gate.

The question was, who had opened the gate to him, although Simon felt fairly certain no one would ever know that particular piece of information until and unless Becket volunteered it. That gate was open now as a tarp-covered wagon made its way through after fairly effectively destroying the trail Simon had been following while pretending not to be doing more than enjoying a solitary ride.

Once through the gates, he guided Hector to the side of the gravel lane, but followed its direction, sure Becket wouldn’t have kept his mount on the gravel, either. The last things he would have needed last night were a sprained foreleg or a thrown shoe, and he had to have been traveling fast the moment he was free of the Manor grounds.

And there it was; the telltale clumps of thrown earth, evidence left behind like a trail of breadcrumbs for Simon to follow. It was almost too easy.

He’d studied a map he’d found in the library, and knew what lay ahead of him. He doubted Ainsley Becket lived cheek-by-jowl with what could be curious neighbors in any of the towns or villages along the coast. Especially since he’d admitted he rarely spoke with what could be termed outsiders. No, the man enjoyed his privacy, clearly. And the sea. Once a man loves the sea, he never strays far from it.

That left Romney Marsh. Smugglers’ Heaven. Where else would the man who termed himself a protector of others reside? How else could he have discovered the smuggling taking place on Redgrave land?

Really, it was just a matter of putting all the pieces together.

Turning Hector in the direction of the coast, he zigged and zagged his way to the shoreline, figuring it the safer if slower route, staying away from the lanes, roadways and the recently completed Royal Military Canal. Martello towers seemed to have been unevenly spaced along the shoreline as if placed at random. But, mostly, he saw waving marsh grass and multitudes of sheep, all laid out in front of him in this nearly flat, harshly beautiful world.

Church spires dotted the landscape in the distance, but Simon knew if he attempted to make his way guided inland only by them he could soon find himself hopelessly lost. He needed to keep the shoreline in view. That presented other problems. Would the beaches welcome a man on horseback, or would they stretch ahead in fits and starts, causing him constant detours as he had to pick his way?

And one thing more. In this flat, unfamiliar land, he and Hector would be visible long before he knew what, or whom, he was riding toward.

He pulled out his timepiece. How much time did he have before Kate would be champing at the bit to inspect the dower house? He smiled as he replaced the pocket watch.
Five minutes, at the most.

Simon looked wistfully into the distance. For now at least, the Marsh and Ainsley Becket could keep their secrets. “Come on, Hector, I have a feeling our mistress is looking for us.”

They made it back to surroundings now familiar to him before a lone rider walked his horse out of a small copse of trees twenty yards ahead and halted, blocking the hard-packed dirt trail. “Good morning, Commander,” the man said, lifting his bent leg and resting it across the pommel, as if to show he meant no harm and expected none in return. “He said you were the inquisitive sort.”

Simon accepted the hint and reined in the stallion no more than five feet away. The man was young, in his late twenties perhaps, but somehow the possessor of what Simon’s grandmother would have termed an
old soul.
It was all there, in his eyes. “I thought it was easy, and that I was brilliant. Now I see I’ve been led around by my own arrogance, following a trail perfectly laid out for me. My congratulations.” He chanced a look over his shoulder. “I’ve been watched the entire time?”

“Going and coming, yes. If you’ve been fretting about aligning yourself with an amateur, consider us wondering the same thing in return. But you did the wise thing, Commander. You satisfied your curiosity, somewhat, and then decided to give us the courtesy of not having to tie you up somewhere until we’re finished here.”

Simon laughed softly. “You overestimate me, sir. Curiosity almost won. It was fear of a lady’s wrath that sees me returning here, rather than risking the dangers of the Marsh. My compliments to Mr. Becket. Please tell him I much enjoyed our conversation last night and look forward to continuing it at some other time. And that I value his trust in me and have from this moment forgotten his name.”

“Courtland Becket,” the man said with a slight inclination of his head, clearly returning gift for gift. “Now you can forget that, as well, as after tomorrow night we will not meet again.”

“Have we met? I don’t recall.” Simon tried another smile, and this time Courtland Becket returned the gesture.

“He said you were solid. It’s comforting to know he hasn’t lost his keen eye. Jacko, however, frets like an old woman, you understand.” Courtland swung his leg over and down, neatly finding the stirrup. “Good luck with the lady.”

“Thank you. I’ll need it.”

Simon watched as Becket rode off. By the time he was halfway down the hill he was joined by another rider, and by the time they plunged into the trees bordering the West Run, there were four horsesmen riding in single file, slipping into the trees via a narrow path he hadn’t seen.

“Sonofabitch...”

He’d been watched from the moment he left the Manor stables to the time he’d stopped, rethought what he was doing. And all the way back again. First the Redgrave servants popping up from behind the shrubbery, and now Becket’s men. And all without him noticing. It was rather lowering.

Simon decided he much preferred the sea. At least you could make out approaching sails a good mile away.

By the time he’d left Hector at the stables and made his way across the wide lawn, Kate was waiting for him, tossing a ball for four of the dogs to chase, while the one called Tubby sat beside her, tongue lolling, his short, fat tail thumping up and down on the lawn.
Probably reliving old chases; at some point we all have to retire to the sidelines with our memories—a good reason to make sure those memories are pleasant, and entertain you, rather than haunt you each night under the covers.

“Enjoy your ride?” she asked as she wrestled the wet ball from one of the hound’s mouths and gave it a last toss before they dropped into step with each other, heading in the opposite direction. Only Tubby followed. “You rat.”

He brushed the back of his hand against hers. “I’ll say this for you, Kate, at least you don’t keep a man hanging, waiting for the ax to fall. Do you feel better now?”

“I was wearing this same riding habit when I walked into the breakfast room, remember?”

“True. But after our public argument, I could hardly ask if you wished to go riding, now could I?”

“I know. I playacted my way into a box I couldn’t get out of, didn’t I? At least it gave me time to read the post, and took the liberty of opening one addressed to Valentine. It had already been sitting for days, and I was curious, in case the contents had something to do with...you know. However, it would seem Trixie is on her way here.”

Simon looked quizzically at Kate. She didn’t seem overjoyed to tell him the news. “Is she now.”

“Yes, and I’m worried. Richard Borders—he’s a friend of Jessica’s and now Trixie’s—wrote that she’s not well, although she won’t admit it. Two funerals, Simon. She dragged herself to a pair of funerals. No wonder she’s not feeling her usual self. But—”

“Yes? But?”

“But there was more. Richard passed along Trixie’s request I be
removed
to stay with Gideon and Jessica. She learned I’m looking for the journals, and she
demands
my absence, and that Valentine wait until she arrives before continuing any search.” Kate turned hurt eyes on Simon. “She’s treating me as if I’m a child. She’s
never
treated me as if I’m a child, even when I was.”

“I see. And from this you’re deducing—?”

“I don’t know. It has to be the journals. What could be worse than the journals?”

Simon had his own thoughts on that, but wisely kept them to himself. He slid his arm around Kate’s shoulders. “So, are you giving up the search?”

“I can’t. Remember, Trixie doesn’t know Barry’s body has gone missing. I certainly haven’t forgotten
that.
What if she has decided we’ll succeed with or without her, and agrees to show us the entrance to some cave or tunnel, and we stumble over his body? Richard writes she’s ill. God, Simon, that could kill her. She could arrive today, tomorrow, I don’t know how long ago Richard’s letter was sent. We have to move faster now than ever. Thank God we’re close.”

“We think we’re close. Do you have the key?”

She touched the pocket of her riding skirt. “I do.”

“And Consuela? You seem to be missing your shadow, both at breakfast and now.”

“Ah, you noticed. She won’t admit it, but she ate too much last night. She’s tucked into the cot in my dressing room, vowing she’ll never eat turbot again, moaning over and over,
Mi estómago está al revés.
She’s truly miserable.”

“If my stomach was upside down, I’d be none too happy myself. I imagine she begged you to remain indoors and you assured her you’d do just that.”

Kate shrugged. “It would have been cruel to tell her we’re going to the dower house. I was only being considerate.”

“If I could lift the top of your head and peer in at your brains, they’d be twisted in a corkscrew, wouldn’t they? But never mind.” Simon took her hand and squeezed it, not giving a damn about how many Redgrave servants might be watching from behind every bush and tree. “Kate? Are you quite sure you’re ready for this? What we might find?”

“No. I don’t want to see any of it, even while I’m praying the journals are somewhere in there. I suppose you’d say I’m being corkscrewed again. But to show you I can be cautious if I must be, I’d even thought of summoning Gideon before we begin our search, let the two of you conduct it without me. Except that we’re running out of time now, with Trixie on her way.”

They’d reached the door to the dower house. “Tubby, you stay out here,” she ordered, turning the key in the lock. “Simon, you only saw everything in the dark. Please don’t be too shocked.”

“Now that sounds ominous.” Simon let go of Kate’s hand and slowly walked into the foyer he’d first been through in absolute, dustcover darkness, nearly unable to take in the sight in front of him in one encompassing glance. His plans up until that moment consisted of nothing more than closing the door and taking Kate in his arms to kiss her senseless.

But he couldn’t tear his amazed gaze away from what unfolded now in front of him.

The three-story, dome-topped area was resplendent with ivory marble and gold leaf. The large, round center table mimicked the ivory and gold. The golden sculpture atop it that of a nearly life-size nude woman with her arms stretched up toward the enormous crystal chandelier.

Kate was looking at her toes, as if embarrassed, which he could certainly understand; he was fairly embarrassed himself. “I sneaked in earlier and removed the dustcovers both here and in the drawing room for you. I doubt you need to see anything else. This is probably where the Society, um...held their parties?”

Parties?

“I didn’t want to show this to you, and neither did Valentine, or else he would have while he was here, wouldn’t he? It wasn’t something you had to know, or at least we didn’t think so. But if the tunnel truly leads here? Don’t look at me like that, Simon.”

Kate still didn’t understand. She spoke as if she did, used all the right words, pretended to be worldly and knowing, but her mind couldn’t possibly grasp all the evil that went on here at Redgrave Manor during her grandfather’s and father’s time. Possibly directly below their feet, or in some tunnel or cave that had its beginnings here.

Because this dower house, this place, in all its subtly erotic beauty, could, in fact, be only the antechamber to a hell beyond Kate’s comprehension.

He peeked into what had to be a ground-floor drawing room, to see the theme repeated. It was beautiful. It was understated. There was art and statues everywhere, men and women both in various innocuous poses, all of them with nary a marble drape or fig leaf in sight. It could have been the setting for a refined Roman orgy.

Kate came up behind him. “You want to know something strange, Simon? When I used to sneak in here behind the maids, all I could do was giggle as I watched them with their eyes closed and heads averted as they used their feather dusters on...you know. But now, after last night...I see all of this, and it’s not at all silly or amusing. Today I find it all quite...disturbing. How strange, that one night could make such a difference. Tubby! I said to stay outside.” She retreated to the door and opened it a crack. “Go on, shoo.”

Simon was looking toward the staircase now. “Do I want to know what the bedchamber we were in last night looks like beyond the bed?”

“Probably not, no. Nor would you wish to see Trixie’s bedchamber in town, or the statues lining the curved staircase to the main floor. My grandfather had the decorating of both residences done years and years before he and Trixie married. She never changed anything, as she finds it amusing to live up to the reputation of being one of those scandalous Redgraves.”

Simon glanced around once more. “Something like this should certainly accomplish that for her.”

“Please stop looking. Although, as I said, she’s never shown any interest in moving to the dower house. I wonder what she’ll do now that Jessica will be taking over the role of hostess. Tubby!” She shut the door and they followed the dog back into the drawing room. “Honestly, he’s usually better behaved. He knows no dogs are allowed in here.”