Regina Scott (16 page)

“It is my pleasure,” he said, casting her a glance. The furrow between her eyes had faded. She descended with the usual bounce in her step. But after what she’d been through, he could not feel comfortable pressuring her for information about his brother now.

“What next?” she asked as they reached the bottom of the stair and she waved to the footman to come take the towel and basin.

Will watched the fellow hurry away with the items. “You might send someone to the village inn, see if any strangers have arrived in the past week.”

She nodded. “Excellent suggestion. I should have thought of that. And we can ask around the village as well. It’s generally fairly easy to spot a stranger in Evendale. Mrs. Dallsten Walcott is right—you are a clever fellow.”

Will chuckled. “I don’t think of it as clever so much as self-preservation.”

“I imagine that trait came in handy in the diplomatic corps.” She shifted on her feet as if she longed to pace, to run, and her skirts brushed his boots. “Jamie and I were sure some task of international significance kept you away, you know. You were chasing bandits in Corsica, fighting Barbary pirates, saving Egyptian antiquities from the French. You were quite the dashing hero.”

“A hero neither of you now need,” Will felt compelled to point out.

“Jamie needs you,” she temporized, but her usual direct gaze danced away from his. “He must. I needed my father when I was seventeen. Unfortunately he was already gone.”

Will touched her hand, and her gaze returned to his. “I’m sorry he wasn’t there when you needed him.”

“I had Adele,” she replied, but she didn’t move away from his touch. “And then my cousins and Claire and Imogene. But there comes a time when we must take responsibility for our own actions. Unfortunately I’m finding that difficult. You’ve seen how my family tends to swaddle me.”

He had, and he felt her rebellion each time. “They will learn,” he predicted.

“I can hope. But I shouldn’t complain. I know they care about me. My besetting sin is letting my emotions rule me. I like to think I’m moving beyond that, most days.”

Was that why her light dimmed at times? Was she consciously trying to snuff it out? But what a waste! Didn’t she know how much the rest of the world craved such joy? Indeed, if he remembered his Bible verses correctly, joy and love were signs of spiritual maturity.

“I hope,” he murmured, “that you will allow yourself to feel the joy you bring to others.”

Her eyes widened, drawing him in. He was suddenly aware how close she stood, how near her lips. She gazed up at him, a dimple appearing near the side of her mouth.

“You are very kind to me, Will,” she said. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Suddenly friendship seemed a pale and lifeless thing next to what he wanted from this woman. He could imagine days together, riding, laughing, working to improve their holdings, helping others in the valley take advantage of these new industries that were cropping up all over England. She would be the fire he had wished for; he could be the steadying force she wanted. He could envision growing old together. The hope was like spring water, wetting his thirsty heart.

He forced himself to drop his hand and step back. “I should go see about Jamie,” he said. “And I’ll give more thought about how to catch your thief.”

She snorted. “It’s not a thief, Will. I recognize the pattern. Everard House was broken into several times when I was either out or busy entertaining. A staff member would find a window unlatched, mud on a carpet no one had crossed. My personal things were moved about and not by me or my maid.”

She shuddered, and Will moved closer again to run a hand up her arm.

“It was an unsettling feeling,” she confessed. “I thought I’d left the problem behind in London. Apparently I was wrong.” She put her hand on his. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it, Will. I know it.”

Her touch brought a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d been seeking. He took her hand, bowed over it.

“I’m certain you’re right,” he said. “I shall see you in the morning. If you need anything before then, you have only to send word.”

As he straightened, he knew she’d never call for him. Indeed, he was beginning to realize he was the one who needed assistance, from her.

* * *

Samantha didn’t want to send Will home. Her entire family stood ready to help her, but his presence was more comforting, less judgmental. Still, she saw him to the door, waited until his horse was brought around. He kept the conversation light, as if he knew she could take no more right then. She smiled as he bowed over her hand again and couldn’t help her sigh of appreciation as he left.

“A very prepossessing gentleman,” Claire said.

Samantha turned to find her former sponsor descending the grand stair. Samantha had once dreamed of coming into Claire’s grace when she reached her majority. Though some of the lady’s languid movements came from a need to cushion an old leg injury, Claire was ever polished and contained. She had mastered the art of temperate behavior. She didn’t leap, didn’t raise her voice, rarely fell into the dismals. Samantha may have found her own style, but she’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that there was only one Claire.

“Yes, Lord Kendrick is a good friend,” Samantha agreed, going to meet her at the foot of the stair.

“A friendship with a gentleman can never be overvalued,” Claire maintained as the two made their way toward the withdrawing room. “I’ve cherished a number of friends over the years. None more than Richard, of course.”

“I’m glad you and my cousin have become friends,” Samantha told her. “I know he missed you terribly when he thought you were lost to him.”

Her face softened, as if she’d missed him, too. The two had fallen in love young when Richard was still an impoverished second son, and Claire had chosen the supposedly safer path of marrying a wealthy viscount instead while Richard was away at sea seeking his fortune. Only when Samantha had needed a sponsor for her Season had Richard encountered the then-widowed Claire again.

“As my husband, Richard is my best, truest, friend,” she said now, pausing in the doorway of the withdrawing room. “But he and I were friends when we first met as well. I could talk to him about anything. It is a trait I still value.”

She preceded Samantha into the room, but Samantha found her mind too full for her body to move. She’d held off suitors, including Jamie, with the fact that they were merely friends. How odd to think of friendship as the vehicle to marriage.

Certainly her mother and father had not been friends. Besides Claire and Richard, her other cousins and their wives had not known each other long enough to have formed an abiding friendship before marrying.

Yet, did friendship need years to mature? Most of the friendships she’d made in London had been formed in a few weeks. Certainly she considered Will a friend, and she’d known him a little more than a week.

Was their friendship strong enough to endure her family secrets, her unbridled emotions? If not, could she call it a friendship at all?

And if it was strong enough, what did that mean to her carefully laid plans?

Chapter Sixteen

N
either her staff nor her cousins found any evidence of a break-in, and no one in the village had noticed a stranger nearby. Samantha couldn’t say she was surprised. As she’d told Will, the pattern was too like her last few weeks in London. Someone was intent on rifling through her possessions, growing bolder each time, following her even to the fells of Cumberland. She only wished she’d seen the horseman Will had mentioned, for very likely he was the culprit!

But what was he looking for? Why did he think she possessed it? Or was there some other reason he seemed intent on tormenting her?

“I’ve asked all the staff to be on the alert,” Jerome told her when she met her cousins in the library before dinner. She’d noticed they tended to congregate in that room, just as the ladies seemed to prefer the withdrawing room. The tall oak bookcases and gilt-edged tomes promised the wisdom of the ages. The well-padded armchairs offered rest. And the Oriental rug in the center of the room said that the owner had a sense of adventure as well. At times she thought she still smelled her father’s cologne, years after he’d left Dallsten Manor forever.

So she sat in his favorite chair, the tall-backed armchair by the fire and regarded her cousins. Jerome was seated behind the desk, even though that was no longer his place with her having the title. Richard sat opposite her, long legs pointed toward the hearth. Vaughn was pacing across the carpet.

“A shame we learned nothing from the London break-ins,” she told Jerome.

Richard’s snort answered for him. “Whoever is doing this is too good at hiding himself.”

“Agreed,” Jerome said. “The constables are aware of the matter and promised to keep an eye on the house while we’re away.”

“And that obviously won’t matter,” Richard added, “as the culprit has followed us here.”

Jerome spread his hands. “We don’t know that. It could be a coincidence. With the summer party nearly here, anyone passing through the valley might expect to be able to enter the manor without being questioned. Someone could be taking advantage of our vulnerability.”

Samantha wasn’t the only one who winced at the word. “I would prefer not to live in a fortified castle in order to feel secure,” she said.

“Nor should you have to,” Jerome assured her. “We will get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

She forced herself not to bristle. “You needn’t feel obliged. Lord Kendrick and I made inquiries this afternoon. I believe he can learn the truth.”

Jerome and Richard exchanged glances. She hated when they did that. It was a sure sign they knew more than she did and were trying to shield her.

“But you will want to focus on the summer party,” Jerome reminded her. “I apologize for not being more help to you before now. I can see it is a daunting task.”

“Whatever you need,” Richard put in, “consider it done.”

Only because being busy with the party kept her safely occupied elsewhere, she was sure. She thanked them for their trouble, but assured them she had the matter in hand.

She couldn’t help noticing, however, that Vaughn had not so much as paused in his pacing through the entire conversation. As her other two cousins went to collect their wives for dinner, Samantha stopped him in the library doorway.

“What do you know about all this?” she asked.

Vaughn raised his platinum brows. “Why do you single me out?”

“Because you said nothing when you are generally the first to offer an opinion,” she replied. “Is this something you and the Carpenter’s Club are investigating?”

At the name of the select London club he patronized, Vaughn stiffened. “If it is, I would not be at liberty to discuss the matter. Leave be, Samantha. Things will sort themselves out shortly.”

He seemed to think she would be satisfied with his answer. And that alone told her something was up.

She didn’t dare question him over dinner. He would never admit to skullduggery before witnesses. And as they ate he certainly gave no indication that his conscience tweaked him, joking with the rest of the family as he usually did. Oh, but it was maddening to think Vaughn knew the truth and refused to share it with her!

She tried to corner him again after dinner, but he neatly avoided her, scooping up Imogene and hurrying her off to the schoolroom with some tale about seeing to their sons. Breakfast was no better; he was up and out riding before she even reached the table, and hours earlier than he’d risen the other days he’d been in residence. She tried waiting at the stables for him, but a groom returned the horse saying that Lord Widmore was out on the meadow, inspecting the booths.

Samantha stalked out to the meadow in pursuit. However, Vaughn kept himself surrounded by his sons, his wife or, astonishingly, Prentice Haygood, none of whom she wanted to witness her conversation with her cousin. Oh, but Vaughn could be wily when he chose! Surely he knew he could not avoid her the entire time he was at Dallsten Manor. Unfortunately she wasn’t willing to wait him out.

She wished she had Will’s gift for diplomacy. He could have found a way through her cousin’s defenses, and very likely Vaughn would not notice until it was too late to hide his secrets. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. When Will arrived today, she’d ask him to approach Vaughn. He could speak to her cousin on her behalf, find out what was going on, one man to another. And then he could tell her everything.

She was out on the meadow, trying to convince Jerome and Richard to leave the workmen alone, when Will and Jamie rode up. Excusing herself, she hurried to greet them.

“I need your help,” she said to Will as soon as she’d sent Jamie off to deposit the horses in the stables. She linked arms with him and began a slow promenade about the meadow. Her cousins, their wives and Mrs. Dallsten Walcott were eying her with varying degrees of speculation, but she ignored them.

“I’d be delighted to be of assistance,” he said, and she could hear the curiosity in his voice.

Samantha squeezed his arm. “So you have said, many times. And I appreciate it even if I have not always expressed it properly.”

“Indeed,” Will said, facing forward, mouth twitching. “I believe the exact words were ‘I don’t need another hero in my life.’”

Samantha wrinkled her nose. “Yes, well, I don’t, actually, but I do need some assistance in something I lack on occasion. Diplomacy.”

“I see,” he said, laughter dancing in his voice. “And you think that I, being a former diplomat, might be able to help.”

“I’m sure of it.” She nodded to where Vaughn was lifting one of his sons down from a tree. “Vaughn knows something about this business yesterday.”

He didn’t miss a step, but she felt the tension in his arm. “You suspect he struck you after all?”

“Oh, heavens no! Vaughn would never hurt me! But he’s hiding something. I can tell. I was hoping he might be willing to confide in you.”

He cast her a glance from the corner of his eye. “So you’d like me to confront the man who might have killed my brother. In the name of diplomacy, of course.”

Samantha jerked to a stop. “Oh, Will. How thoughtless of me. Of course not! And Vaughn didn’t kill your brother. I know that for a fact.”

Will disengaged. “A fact, may I point out, that you refuse to share with me.”

There she went again—acting without thinking things through! Was there any wonder she suspected she’d make a terrible wife? “I’m so sorry. Never mind. I’ll find another way to learn the truth. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

She pulled away from him, but he caught her hand. “Samantha,” he started, when voices rose from the other side of the meadow.

“Oh, what now?” Samantha murmured.

Her cousins were swiftly approaching, with Jamie, Haygood and Jerome’s son close behind. They all came to stand in a ring surrounding her and Will.

“I believe we should test the course for the race,” Jerome said to Samantha, and she knew by the light in his blue eyes that the statement was not a request. “We need to be certain it will accommodate our plans for the party.”

As Will had been the one to lay out the course, she glanced his way.

“I’d be delighted to show you the course, Everard,” he said.

“Simply looking at it won’t tell him anything,” Jamie put in, then blushed as all gazes shifted to him. “By your leave, Father.”

“Very well,” Will said. “A few volunteers could test it.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Jamie said.

“I’ll race Lord Wentworth,” Justin piped up, then he glanced at his father. “May I, Papa?”

Jerome put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “A generous offer, but you’ve already beaten him twice at smack ball. Perhaps we should give someone else a chance.”

“I’ll race,” Vaughn said with studied nonchalance that fooled no one, Samantha was sure.

“Count me in,” Richard added. “Can’t let his lordship have all the fun. But there ought to be a prize.”

“Other than the delight of besting you?” Vaughn quipped.

Richard waved a hand. “You do that entirely too often as it is.”

“I know,” Claire offered, strolling closer from where she and Adele had been measuring the space they intended to drape in bunting. “What if the winner were to receive a kiss from the lady of his choice?”

“That’s no prize,” Justin scoffed, making a face.

Samantha hid a smile as Vaughn patted his head. “Depends on the lady, my lad.” His gaze sought out Imogene, who blushed.

Haygood cleared his throat. “I do believe I’ll join you, if someone could supply me with a horse.”

Oh, no! Samantha was fairly certain whose kiss he’d claim if he won. She edged closer to Richard.

“Make sure he gets old Treacle,” she murmured, remembering the slowest horse in the stables.

“Done,” Richard murmured back.

With the gentlemen agreed, they all repaired to the stables to have their respective horses saddled. Samantha joined Adele, Mrs. Dallsten Walcott, Claire, Imogene, Vaughn’s sons and Justin at the stone fence along the stretch of road that would serve as the racetrack for the party. The traffic was generally light on the country lane, but a servant was dispatched to either end to prevent wagons or carriages from colliding with the riders.

The racers cantered down the drive from the stables and took up their positions in a line across the road. Jerome, on a mare as black as his hair, was the farthest away, his look determined as he patted the horse’s neck. Vaughn’s mouth was turned up in one corner, his gaze on the finish line a quarter mile away. Jamie’s horse was prancing with its rider’s excitement; Richard’s stood as calm as he was.

Haygood, closest to her, was so pale she thought he might be ill. Her conscience tweaked her. He could not know his horse stood no chance of throwing him. It also stood no chance of winning. Samantha put both hands on the top of the fence and pressed herself close.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said to Haygood. “You were injured only yesterday. Use that as your excuse. I will still consider you my friend.”

His smile flashed a moment before disappearing under a frown. “Nonsense. I’m a gentleman of my word.”

The pride was so heavy she knew nothing she could say would dissuade him. Samantha pulled back with a nod. “Very well, then. Do your best.”

Vaughn’s horse stamped its feet impatiently. “Start us off, Cousin,” he ordered Samantha, eyes narrowed on the distance.

Mrs. Dallsten Walcott hurried forward and pressed her lace-edged handkerchief into Samantha’s grip. “Good luck,” she said, but Samantha rather thought her chaperone was speaking to her instead of the gentlemen.

Samantha crossed to the side of the road a little ahead of them, where they could all see her, and raised the handkerchief. “When I release this,” she said, “fly. Three—two—one...” She dropped the cloth.

The horses shot forward. And one flew past her.

She recognized the dappled gray horse, the bottle-green coat on the rider. Will had entered the lists. He pounded past Haygood, left Jamie in the dust. Samantha ran back to the fence to get a better look as the lane turned toward Kendrick Hall. His horse’s neck was stretched, its feet a blur. He tore past Richard, overtook Jerome in the blink of an eye and began to close on Vaughn.

“Come on, come on.” Samantha didn’t realize the encouragement had come from her mouth until Claire glanced her way with a smile. Very likely her cousin’s wife thought she was cheering for Vaughn. Likely she should have been.

But she found herself holding her breath as Will edged past her cousin and flashed through the finish.

“Well done!” Imogene cried, clapping, and the other women followed suit. Justin and the twins were jumping up and down and waving their hands as the riders ambled back in their direction.

“I believe,” Vaughn told Samantha as he passed her, “that this track is suitable for a race.”

“And I believe,” Imogene added with a grin to Samantha, “that the winner is owed a kiss!”

Samantha thought her heart must be pounding harder than the horses’ hooves as Will rode past the fence to the cheers of the boys and drew up near Samantha. A servant came forward to take the reins. He threw his leg over the horse and slid from the saddle.

Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips as he approached.

“I’ve come to claim my reward,” he said.

Her smile felt tight. “Of course.” She held out her hand, noticed it was trembling and stiffened her fingers.

He glanced at her hand quizzically, then pulled her into his arms.

In the eight years since she’d come out, more than one gentleman had stolen a kiss. She’d laughed them off, ordered them to desist and in one case threatened to find her sword or call her cousins. Somehow she didn’t think Will would be so easily dissuaded.

And she found she had no interest in dissuading him. The warmth of his embrace, the firm pressure of his lips, made her feel as if her blood had turned to bubbles lighter than air. It wasn’t his horse that could fly but her! Her emotions tumbled over each other, threatening to sweep her away.

No! Never that!

Samantha pushed her hands against his chest, forced him to break the kiss.