Patrica Rice (24 page)

Evan felt a wave of both pain and relief wash over him as the room broke out in a babble of angry voices once again. But this time, he was able to avert it. Giving the window another quick glance, he stepped forward and, with a voice that carried on the field of battle, announced, “I believe Captain Rollings has arrived. Shall I turn myself in now or wait until he is introduced to the company?”

* * * *

The almost ascetic features of the older man were reflected in the carriage window as he stared pensively out on the rolling moor. His blond hair had grown somewhat thin and receded with age, but his slender height and aristocratic features showed none of the ravages of time. His thin lips were pressed together as if in anger, but his companion disregarded the expression.

“After all these years, why are you doing this now? You said yourself you made a bundle on that last roll. Why grovel at their call when you don’t need to?”

The older man returned his attention to his son. Hugh was a well-looking lad of four and twenty, the dark locks he had inherited from his mother framing a face not quite handsome, but certainly striking. There had been very little wealth with which to spoil him, and certainly little in the way of attention or affection from either of his parents, but he had grown up passably enough despite this neglect. There might be hope for him yet.

Patiently, Robert explained, “Since I am in need of nothing, I am arriving at their request, not mine. I do not know what it is that they want, but I will not be the one groveling.”

“Well, it seems deuced odd that they acknowledge your existence after a score or more years. If it were not for mother’s insistence, I would not have joined you. We’ve lived without them all our lives. I, for one, have no need of them now.”

Hugh’s father suddenly looked weary, but his hands continued resting easily on his elegant walking stick. “Family and connections can be important. Your brother has already discovered that, to his grief. I’ll do what I can to make it easier for you. You should not have to continue paying for my mistakes.”

The young man grimaced irritably but did not belabor the point. “I don’t see why my cousin Gordon did not make the request himself. It’s deuced shabby of him to go through his fiancée’s brother.”

“My nephews were still in leading strings when last I saw them. I cannot know their minds. It could very well be a madcap notion of his fiancée’s. Women have strange fancies. You have only to consider your mother to know the truth of that.”

“Do not bring my mother into this. She has done the best she could, under the circumstances.”

Robert Griffin sighed. “Neither of us has ever done the best we could, but it is too late now to correct that. At least give me credit for having married her. I have yet to see her reasoning in refusing the name it cost me so much to give.’’

Hugh knew they had touched upon the one sensitive issue that still rankled after years of separation. His parents had kept different households since his birth, for excellent reasons on both their parts. The idea of two such self-centered, arrogant, irresponsible people living together was far beyond his limited ability to imagine.

Carefully, he voiced his opinion on the matter. “I do believe she was trying to protect you, sir. All the
ton
thinks her your former mistress. There is no credit in being leg-shackled to a common actress.”

Robert sent his younger son a skeptical look, then leaned back in his seat to consider the scenery once again. The damned fool woman in a fit of temper or passionate loyalty might have thought to protect him once, but it was at a high cost to his sons now. The time had come to rectify the mistake.

Trying not to hope, he cursed the miserable wilderness around them and gave no thought to the next few hours.

Chapter Eighteen

Captain Rollings let his gaze roam over the respectable occupants of the elegant drawing room. Scattered about on satin settees and velvet upholstery, illuminated by crystal lamps, protected from the dreary weather by silk-lined walls and brocade draperies, they possessed all the trappings of the wealth and indolence he craved. He could not believe half their tale, and his gaze strayed back to the one man who remained standing.

Damn Evan Griffin for making a bloody fool of him. An officer who bought his commission was no trained soldier. Captain Evan Griffin must have nine lives to have survived the war. Rollings swung his gaze to the pampered heir sprawling in the chair beside his fiancée, watching his every move. They were lying to him, he felt certain, but what was at the root of their lies he could not comprehend.

The captain disregarded the wily old earl entirely. He was too old to be of consequence, and his conniving days were past. The women he disregarded, too. The younger two were good to look upon, but his tastes ran to the lively miss back in town, not these fragile creatures. Women had no thoughts of their own, so he would find no truth there.

He briefly considered Lord Thomas and his son but could not quite place them in the way of things. The older man appeared ready to burst a blood vessel, and the younger posed little threat. He was obviously no Corinthian and of little influence.

That left the twins. It was always the twins. Even now, seeing them together, he found it hard to believe they were so much alike. They had tricked him, but he was not exactly certain as to how yet. It didn’t matter. Time was growing short, and they had left him only this one opportunity. It wouldn’t be the same as nabbing the highwayman, but with the two of them alive, there was little else he could do.

He heartily regretted the murderous rage that had set these events in motion, but it was too late to turn back now.

Rollings nodded reluctantly, his gaze returning to the viscount and his fiancée on the settee. Miss Templeton didn’t appear too happy about being sent away. He had been of the opinion that all females preferred the fashionable districts of Bath to the isolation of Devon, but that was none of his concern.

“If the matter is as urgent as you say, my men and I will be ready within the hour, my lord.” Rollings made a formal bow to the earl.

“Good, good.” The old man rose to dismiss the young officer. “The gels will be waiting. I’ll have the carriage brought ’round.”

Rollings left the room, leaving a vacuum of silence behind. No one seemed pleased with the decisions made here today, but now that they were made, none dared risk further argument.

Daphne glanced at Evan, but he seemed a million miles away. She could only be content that he had been persuaded from making a confession of guilt. The captain had obviously believed very little of his story of his return from the dead, but that was of no consequence for the nonce. What mattered was putting an end to the danger to Gordon.

She wasn’t at all certain they had found a satisfactory conclusion to that problem. And it was obvious the twins weren’t happy about the earl’s decision to remain with them, thereby increasing the number of targets. But she had no influence in their argument. She could only agree to accompany Melanie to safety and hope for the best.

They decided for the sake of convenience and comfort it would be best to take only Daphne’s maid with them in Gordon’s landau. The rest of their baggage and Melanie’s maid could follow later.

While Melanie completed her packing, Daphne thought to take her aunt’s vehicle to gather up her belongings and Tillie’s, but the twins became adamant that she not travel without an escort. Since no one could agree on who that escort would be, it became obvious that she would have to wait for Captain Rollings to return with his men.

She had very little left to do. It would just be a matter of carrying down her trunk and listening to Tillie’s hysterics for not being given better notice. That was better than watching Gordon and Evan glaring at each other over so small a detail.

She listened in resignation as her father and Michael argued over whether they ought to follow in their carriage or stay to await Robert Griffin’s arrival, in whatever form it took.

To Daphne, the unknown uncle seemed more a character from a fanciful novel than a real person, and it was hard to believe in him. After all, she had been here over a month and there had been no incidents that she knew of.

Perhaps the twins were guilty of overactive imaginations. Their father’s death and Evan’s fall could easily have been accidents. That was much easier to believe than that one’s family might try to kill one.

But in the end, Daphne acquiesced quietly to being bundled into a carriage with Melanie and her trunk. She needed time to think, and it would be much easier without the pressure of the men pushing her this way and that.

Maybe when this was all over they would forget her indiscretion and let her live her own life, but she wasn’t at all certain that she even wanted that anymore. Evan’s caresses had awakened a longing inside her that she could no longer pretend didn’t exist. If she closed her eyes, she could feel him next to her now, and her imagination easily sketched in what might have happened had Gordon not arrived to stop them. She didn’t know the details of physical intimacy, but she could feel them inside herself, and she wasn’t certain she could live without them forever.

But those were scarcely suitable thoughts for a fashionable young lady on her way to Bath. Daphne kissed her father and brother’s cheeks in farewell, ignored Evan as he ignored her, accepted Gordon’s assist into the carriage, and wrapped her fingers primly in her lap as Captain Rollings inspected the carriage harness and supervised the loading. He had two of his men with him, apparently the only two capable of riding or fortunate enough to own horses.

Daphne tried to remember the conversation she had overheard once on the differences between infantry and cavalry, but she could only remember the young ladies of her acquaintance exclaiming over the dashing uniforms of the Hussars. Evan had been a Hussar, she knew, but she had never seen him in uniform.

She didn’t think Captain Rollings’s uniform was that of a cavalry man, and she remembered Evan saying the soldiers who hunted him didn’t have mounts. Perhaps Gordon had offered part of his stable for the soldiers’ use. Captain Rollings had evidently brought his own horse, for she remembered his chase of the highwayman.

These ruminations carried Daphne through the final farewells. If she thought only neutral thoughts, she could get through this without a tear. She really didn’t think she would ever come back, but that was one of those things she had to try not to think about. She lifted her lace mitten in a last wave from the window as the carriage jolted into motion.

She tried to memorize their faces as they stood there on the stone steps, watching the carriage drive off. Evan stood aloof, his arms crossed forbiddingly across his wide chest, a black frown between his eyebrows.

Gordon stood beside the earl, lending his arm in support. Whatever his expression, it was not so easily visible as Evan’s frown.

Michael stood with hands in pockets beside his father, who held a large handkerchief to his nose. Daphne smiled at that. Perhaps her father wasn’t quite so bad as she once had painted him. They might deal well with each other now that he realized she was no longer a child and had no intention of becoming an invalid for his sake.

As the carriage rolled down the drive and into the lane, she looked for the bold uniform of Captain Rollings, but he obviously rode on ahead. She had heard the others ordered to ride behind, and she did not envy them their position behind the mud-spattering wheels of the vehicle. Perhaps they would ride far behind.

Melanie looked solemn as she stared at the seat before them, and her voice was less than its usual exuberant tone when she spoke. “Will you tell me what is happening? I am so tired of being treated as a baby.”

It really ought to be one of the family doing the explaining, but the earl had refused to accompany them as originally planned. And Melanie really had a right to know some of the story. How much, was the problem. Daphne turned her attention to this problem and away from her own, and haltingly set out on explanations of events she wasn’t at all certain she understood or believed herself.

The carriage pulled to the side to allow another vehicle to pass by in the narrow lane. Both Daphne and Melanie glanced up in surprise for few others in the area possessed carriages and those few seldom had need to come this way. The vehicle looked little more than a hired hackney with the curtains drawn, and they could only speculate on the occupants. Daphne felt a qualm of fear but steadied it by telling herself that a dangerous murderer was unlikely to drive up to the gate in broad daylight in a hired coach.

The carriage traveled faster now, as if the small delay had put them behind schedule. Daphne winced as a wheel hit a rut washed out by the rain, throwing her against the window. She had gradually overcome her fear of carriages, but not of speed, and she clenched her fingers nervously. Such haste was not only unnecessary, but dangerous.

Drawing a deep breath to summon her courage, she beat her umbrella against the driver’s door for attention. This was as bad as riding with her father’s Wild Willie. The two old men were devoted to each other, and they were quite likely to die together if her father didn’t pension the coachman off.

The carriage only slid into another muddy rut and lurched and drove on, the driver heedless of her angry rap. Daphne pursed her lips, planning the stiff scold she would deliver once they reached Aunt Agatha’s. She might as well take William on as to continue at this pace.

When they rolled right past the drive to Aunt Agatha’s, Daphne flew into a rage. This was the outside of enough! Melanie stared as Daphne beat furiously at the driver’s door, then tried to unfasten the window so she might give vent to her fury. The carriage jostled and rocked so, she was only thrown back into her seat for her efforts.

Melanie attempted to reassure. “Captain Rollings will see the error shortly and come back for us. He must have ridden on ahead and the driver did not see where he went.”

Daphne shook her head. “Gordon’s driver knows the way as well as I do. And he does not treat his equipage with such contempt. There is something wrong here, but I cannot know what.”