Maggie MacKeever (11 page)

Averil interrupted. “How did you learn of this?” he asked quietly.

“Jasper told me, but a few moments ago.” He had, in fact, whispered the information when Isolda’s attention was diverted. Loveday interpreted Averil’s expression correctly. “Do you think he should not have? I’ll not be well-wrapped in lamb’s wool.”

Averil thought it wise to withhold comment. “I’ve had your things moved to another room. You may remember it, having slept there as a child. The only entrance to it is through the door, and that has a stout bolt on it.”

Loveday remembered that Averil couldn’t have known of Jasper’s impending visit, and held her tongue. “It’s good of you to concern yourself,” she murmured.

“It’s my home, after all.” Averil strove for a lighter note. “Did you think I would abandon you to your fate, fair cousin?”

Loveday seized on the distraction gratefully. “Are we really cousins? I’d wondered about that.”

Averil smiled wickedly. “Don’t tease yourself. “The relationship isn’t close enough to throw a rub in our way.”

“Wretch!”

She tilted her head to study him. “What is it?” Averil asked irritably, his hand flying to his scar. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I was just thinking,” Loveday said serenely, “how very much you look like your grandfather, the late duke.”

Chapter 7

Loveday
arose early, and donned her riding
clothes. Instead of Jem’s breeches, she wore a proper habit of deep blue with a charming hat to match. She was wryly amused at herself; what had happened to the girl who blithely defied convention such a short time ago? It was ironic that her irascible parent should inadvertently be the one to make her finally conform to the proprieties.

She cherished few illusions about the society in which she lived: the very pranks that the
ton
found amusing in the Loveday Fairchild whose father, though reprehensible, was one of them, would be gravely criticized now that he was ruined. It angered her to think of how uncomfortable he must be. Loveday could not accord her sire the customary filial affection and respect—she had known him too long and too well for that—but she did not dislike him enough to rejoice in his fate. Even Jem, who had far greater cause for resentment than she, was incensed by Lord Fairchild’s need for an undignified departure from his native soil.

“But you must admit,” Jem had added bitterly, “it’s just like him to leave you holding the bag. You’re right, the townhouse will have to go. We’ll be able to keep the estate though, won’t we?”

Loveday, who had no idea of the sum of her father’s debts, blithely agreed. She knew Jem loved the lands as much as if he’d been Lord Fairchild’s legitimate son and consequently his heir. Jasper had agreed to handle the matter for her; Jasper had been remarkably equable ever since his arrival at Ballerfast, and Loveday strongly suspected his motives. There was no one in the castle who hadn’t capitulated to his charm, with the possible exception of Averil, though those two seemed thick as thieves of late.

“Curse the man!” she muttered, and set out for the stables. To her surprise, she found Averil there, waiting.

“You cannot mean that beast for me!” Loveday eyed her prospective mount with disfavor. “You must know that I have ridden since I was but a child!”

Averil thought that a little spirit was a fine thing, but not so early in the day. He’d had a wretched morning, and it didn’t promise to improve. Without a word, he took Loveday by the waist, paying scant heed to the stubborn expression on her face, and threw her into the saddle.

“Brute!”

“Mind your temper,” Averil advised. “And may I remind you that your wound has not yet healed? It wouldn’t do to open it.”

“Oh, very well. It’s too fine a day to come to blows. Can this beast be moved to trot, do you think? Or am I to be content with a walk?”

“A walk,” Averil replied firmly, as he mounted his own horse.

Loveday sighed. There had been no repeat of the attempts on her life, and she was becoming bored with enforced inactivity. Her company was suddenly much in demand, and though Loveday was shrewd enough to realize that the household had banded together to protect her, she sometimes wished she could be left alone. Only Dorcas retained her aloofness, and Loveday was grateful to her for that.

“Where are we going?” Averil was leading her down an unfamiliar path.

“I thought you might wish to see more of the estate,” he replied. “I’ve been up since dawn making my rounds.”

“And since you’ve been appointed my watchdog for the morning, I’m to accompany you?” Loveday grimaced. “I’m sorry for that. I really cannot take this too seriously, I’m afraid. Why should anyone wish to kill me? I don’t know anything that could possibly harm anyone.”

Averil looked at her searchingly. “That day in the garden, I thought you may have begun to remember.” He did not add that he’d told no one of his suspicion, not even Isolda.

“Remember?” Loveday asked, surprised. “You could not have suspected that I recalled the actual event! Heavens, I’d have told the whole household if that were the case. It’s true that I can recall pieces of it, your father and grandfather for instance, but nothing of significance.”

“It will come to you.”

“I suppose so,” Loveday replied absently. “I’ve tried and tried, but to no avail.”

“Don’t force it,” Averil advised. “Tell me, what are your plans?”

Loveday, deep in thought, forgot to whom she spoke. “When I come into my independence, you mean? I hardly know. I had thought to set up housekeeping with Jem, who plans to purchase land of his own, but now I suppose I will try to keep my father’s estate from his creditors. It should belong to Jem; he has managed it for years.”

Averil reflected that Miss Fairchild certainly did not speak as if she were betrothed. “Very good of you. I credit that Assheton agrees to this scheme?” He had the pleasure of seeing the color mount to Loveday’s cheeks.

“But of course,” she replied with remarkable composure. “Why should he not? You must see that my father’s unfortunate circumstances have quite upset our plans.”

“I should think,” Averil said wickedly, “that his absence would be a definite boon. You may marry immediately now.”

“May I remind you that I am underage?”

“Give me credit for some wit, my girl! Assheton could easily overcome that minor detail.”

Loveday decided that anger might be her best defense. “How, pray tell? By flying with me to the border? How kind of you to remind me, sir, that I no longer have a reputation to consider!”

To her disgust, Averil burst into laughter. “Doing is rather too brown! Pray don’t insult me further by assuming I have no more hair than wit! You dreamed up this tale to divert my grandmother. Very well, I shan’t betray you.”

Speechless, Loveday dug her heels into her horse’s side. The beast turned its head and gazed at her reproachfully, but continued its decorous pace. Averil laughed again, softly, and Loveday frowned.

“Have you seen your lovely friend again?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject, then realized how improper her question was.

Averil seemed not at all surprised. “No, and I would be grateful, save that I suspect Theo is hatching further plans to discredit me with her. I wish he may succeed.”

“None of this would have happened had I allowed him to claim his winnings,” Loveday mused. “My father would still be cutting a fine figure in London, and Jem and I would not be here and involved in this wretched imbroglio.”

“It seems to me that your father and Theo are the ones at fault, not you.”

“Oh, heaven, I did not mean that I blame myself! How could I? Theo was my least favorite of all my papa’s cronies.” A sudden demon of mischief overtook her, and Loveday glanced provocatively at Averil from beneath lowered lashes. “Now had it been you who won me at play,” she said recklessly, “I might not have fled so quickly. I think we might have dealt well together, my lord!”

Loveday had underestimated the duke; in the space of a second he had pulled their horses to a halt. She wondered later what had prompted her to act as she had. “This is hardly the place,” she murmured as his hands grasped her shoulders.

Instead of the lover-like behavior that she half expected, Loveday found herself seized by two strong hands and shaken until the teeth rattled in her head. “Don’t come the coquette with me, my girl!” Averil growled, and released her abruptly.

Loveday gathered up her reins and thoughtfully surveyed the man who glowered at her, a cynical expression in his eyes. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “That was shocking in me.”

The ride back to the castle was conducted in an uncomfortable silence, each absorbed in thought. Averil was perplexed and couldn’t understand why Loveday had suddenly issued what seemed to him an open invitation; he’d thought her affections firmly fixed on Assheton, even though the betrothal was a sham. He was angry, too, at the response she aroused in him, for he had wanted nothing more than to throw her to the ground and take her there and then. He’d fancied himself immune to feminine charms, had chosen and discarded his various mistresses at whim, and he was damned if he understood how a mere dab of a girl could so move him. It only occurred to him after he stole a look at her ashen face that she might have been merely engaging in what she considered an amusing flirtation. He cursed himself for a fool.

As did Loveday, who ruefully remembered Jasper’s warning about playing with fire. Averil could not be expected to know that she and Jasper often indulged themselves with a provocative but meaningless flirtation, or that she’d expected him to react as Jasper did to her outrageous remarks. She’d expected laughter, not anger.

Well, she’d been wretchedly mistaken. Perhaps Jem was right in considering Jasper’s influence unfortunate, but it was much too late for Loveday to assume dieaway airs. And perhaps Jasper too was correct, in assuming she was more strongly attracted to Averil than she was willing to admit.

They reached the castle without mishap. Loveday was searching for something to say, something that would re-establish the easy camaraderie between them, when Averil helped her to dismount.

His hands lingered on her waist. She looked up at him, an inquiring expression in her amber eyes.

Averil cursed himself again, and kissed her. Loveday found herself comparing that kiss to Jasper’s, and concluded that she liked them equally well. When he finally released her, she stumbled, and was horrified to hear Samson’s cackling laugh. She spun around to see him leering at them. Beside Samson stood Hilary, his pleasant features grim.

“Take some men and go see to the bridge,” Averil said abruptly. “There’s been some damage done.”

“The bridge?” Loveday struggled for composure. Hilary, his usual impassive expression again in place, echoed her question.

“It’s ready to collapse.”

Loveday was puzzled. “But I ride across it every morning! It was perfectly all right a few days ago.”

Averil gave her a long and curiously impersonal look. “Yes,” he said. “Fortunately I went that way myself, much earlier.”

“Oh, no,” whispered Loveday. “Not again.”

* * * *

Jasper waylaid her in the corridor, and escorted her firmly into her room. She knew the house would soon buzz with Samson’s report of Averil’s embrace, and she told herself she didn’t care. She looked serenely at Jasper, knew that he would come to the wrong conclusion, and assured herself that she didn’t mind that either. He’d doubtless congratulate himself on guessing her sentiments aright, and wish her joy.

“Damnation!” she muttered. Jasper raised one eyebrow and regarded her quizzically.

“A warm welcome for your affianced husband, my love?” he remarked. “Or did you not enjoy your ride?”

“I liked it tolerably well,” she retorted. “It’s a pity you could not join us.”

“Horrors! Arise at the crack of dawn to traipse around the countryside on some ignoble beast?” Loveday laughed reluctantly, for Jasper was far from the lazy dilettante he pretended to be, and he smiled at her. “You’ll be pleased to know that my father is much amused by this bumblebath of yours.” He drew a letter from his pocket. “He says I am to advise him if we require assistance. His man rode out with this today.”

Loveday was delighted. Jasper’s father, who had been Sylvester to Loveday as long as she could remember, though he surveyed the rest of the world from behind a staggering display of titles, lands, and other badges of rank, was one of her best-loved friends. “How is he?” she asked. “And Phyllida?”

“Read for yourself.” Jasper handed her the letter. “He seems much relieved that Phyllida’s husband is at last coming to claim her and the children.” He watched with amusement as Loveday scanned the letter eagerly.

“He seems to have laughed himself into stitches,” Loveday commented. “Which is a great relief to me. I should have been woebegone had he been unhappy with me.”

“What’s this?” Jasper asked, with no little surprise. “Surely you did not expect him to lecture you? He’s a knowing one, is my sire. There’s no need to worry yourself about that gentleman.”

“Jasper, I’m at wit’s end!”

“Never say so!” protested her companion. “And you such a clever girl.”

“Was that a compliment?” Loveday inquired, with a sparkle in her eye.

“You malign me! I’ve no penchant for idle flattery.”

“This is pointless, Jasper. I’ve made a rare mess of it. I don’t
mean
to fall into scrapes, or to make a byword of myself!”

“What has caused you such low spirits? Things could be in a worse case, you know.”

“How? Isolda and I almost came to cuffs the other day. I fobbed her off, but I know she suspects me of shamming it.” Loveday sighed. “I don’t mean to be boring on about it! You know I am very much obliged to you for your help.”

“Come out of the mopes!” Jasper advised. “Things will turn out right.”

Loveday did not appear at all convinced, and Jasper cast about in his mind for a diversion. “My father sent this, too,” he added, and took from his pocket a jeweler’s case. “He seemed to think it would add credence to our tale.” Loveday watched bemused as he slipped an ornate betrothal ring onto her finger. “It fits. He thought it might.”