Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (52 page)

His auburn-haired wife emerged from the carriage at that moment and cut him off. “No, lay the blame where it’s due, my love. It was all my fault. I couldn’t sleep a wink until I knew whether the jaded earl had finally succumbed to parson’s mousetrap.”

“By that bit of cant, you mean am I married?”

“Of course.” The viscountess gave him a questioning look. “Well, are you?”

Morland sighed. “Not quite. In spite of all my best efforts, I might add.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s a damnable mess too. Actually, I’m glad you’ve come. But let’s go inside before we discuss it, shall we? It’s … rather complicated.”

~ ~ ~

 “You have no doubt that they weren’t poachers?” The viscount’s face was grave as he accepted a glass of burgundy from Morland several minutes later.

The sun spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking rolling green lawns. Off in the distance the silver curve of the sea shimmered faintly. It was a scene of infinite peace and unmatched beauty.

And it was horribly at odds with the chilling incident of danger that Morland had just described.

“No doubt whatsoever. We haven’t had poachers at Sevenoaks for ages, not since my father began dispensing game according to a formal arrangement by household. No, those two were no poachers.”

“It appears to be a good thing that we came,” Ravenhurst said grimly. “What do you want us to do?”

“For now, nothing. Just keep your eyes open, if you would. And I don’t wish for Chessy to know any more than she already does. It would only upset her.”

The viscountess started to say something, but her husband silenced her with a telling look. As she saw that the earl was longing to have a private conversation with her husband, Tess came gracefully to her feet. “No doubt you’re wishing me at Jericho, and I don’t blame you. I must look frightful after that journey.”

Morland took her hand, raising it for a kiss. “You look, Tess, just as you always do. Perfectly lovely.”

Behind them the viscount cleared his throat dryly.

“So sorry to disturb your dalliance, old man, but I really do wish you’d stop pawing my wife.”

Tess laughed. “Oh, don’t mind him, Tony. He’s been too bored for words since we set foot in London. This outing is precisely what he needs. But when do I get to meet her? Chessy, that is.”

“She’s resting now. The bullet ran shallow, thank goodness, but she needs to keep off that leg for a day or two. I promise I’ll take you to her first thing.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my lord. And now, since you two are obviously wishing for a private coze, I’ll be off.” She gave a mischievous smile. “I think I’ll find that young lad and see what trouble we can stir up.”

After she left, Ravenhurst sat back and steepled his fingers. “Now I believe you had better tell me the story again, my dear fellow. And this time don’t leave out the worst of it.”

~ ~ ~

The valley was blue with dusk when Chessy began to toss in the grip of laudanum dreams. She moved restlessly, caught in visions of glittering
ton
balls that dissolved into screams as men on horseback plunged onto the dance floor, rifles leveled.

The room was deeply shadowed. A single candle burned on the gilt table beside her bed.

Playing through an open window, the wind set the damask curtains to a slow flutter.

And then a low click. The faint hiss of wood upon stone.

Beside the fireplace a narrow panel opened, and a shadowed figure stepped into the half-light. For a second candlelight gleamed off hair of lustrous bronze.

But Chessy did not see, caught in a place of dreams. Not even when he came toward the bed did she rouse.

“Lovely,” he said. “And more of a temptation than I imagined.”

His hands fell, gently playing over the creamy skin above the lace of her peignoir. “Yes,
very
lovely. Louisa will be devilishly jealous.”

At his light touch, Chessy’s lips moved and she tossed restlessly.

For long moments he simply watched her, his eyes darkened to cold and soulless slits. And then he touched her again. This time he found the taut crimson crests beneath the filmy lace.

He circled them slowly, flicking them with cool enjoyment.

He felt the first flush of lust, and that, too, amused him.

“Intriguing.” Andrew Langford, the very much
alive
Duke of Morland, felt his mouth curve up in a thin smile. “And this time, my dear brother, I have every intention of finishing what I start.”

The message came shortly after daybreak.

Morland was just falling asleep after taking his turn at watch outside Chessy’s room when James Cameron tapped at his door.

The older man’s face was grave when he entered. “One of the grooms has just ridden in from Dedham. They’ve found two men that answer your description. The magistrate, Mr. Buxted, is holding them until you can get there. But he has sent word that he won’t be able to hold them very long.”

Morland threw back the covers and began tossing on his clothes. “Two, did you say? Have they given any information?”

“The usual evasions, according to the groom.” Cameron looked uncertain. “Shall I go with you? This man Ravenhurst looks competent enough to watch things here, if you’d like my company.”

“Better not. Ravenhurst doesn’t know this place as well as you do.”

Cameron nodded grimly. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.”

“You and Elizabeth haven’t told her yet, I take it.”

Cameron shook his head. “We’ve decided to wait until”—he looked grim—“until later.”

Morland dressed quickly and slung several items into a leather satchel. At the door he turned. “See that the duchess and children stay out of this, too, won’t y
ou,
Jamie? I’ve enlisted the aid of that plucky young fellow from London who has done errands for me on occasion. You can rely on him.”

“I’ll keep them all on a short rein, that you can be sure of.”

Seeing Cameron’s grim look, Morland recalled that Cameron was a tough campaigner in his own way. Instinct told Morland there was no one better to stay and keep an eye on things. He only hoped that his instinct was right. “Ravenhurst and I will be at the King’s Arms in Dedham, should you need us. We ought to return by midday. If difficulties arise, we’ll send a message.”

Cameron caught him in the threshold, one hand to the earl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. I’ll keep her safe, I promise.”

~ ~ ~

Somewhere between dreams and waking, he was there again. His hand stirred her cheek, and he shook her briskly.

“Chessy, wake up. It’s important.”

She opened her eyes. He was holding a candle that cast flecks of gold onto his bronze hair.

“T-Tony? What—”

“I need your help. Wake up, my dear.”

She blinked as realization returned. “Help? What sort of—oh, no, it’s not—”

His face was grave. “I’m afraid it’s Elspeth. There’s been an accident. She’s been asking for you.”

Chessy sat up, her face white. “Elspeth,” she said softly. She came swiftly to her feet. “I’ll be ready as soon as I can.” She turned, already working at the buttons of her nightgown.

In her distraction she did not notice how the azure eyes followed her, avid and very chill.

Morland and Ravenhurst clattered over the wooden bridge across the sleepy Stour and thundered into Dedham. Through the town they flew, dodging coaches and carts, past the church with its pinnacled tower, past the mill and the old timber-framed inn.

Dust rose around them like smoke as Morland turned toward his friend. “There is it, just across the street. The magistrate said he would wait for me there.”

Ravenhurst nodded as his friend slid from his horse. “You go on. I’ll see to a groom for the horses.”

Morland strode into the King’s Arms, only to find the taproom empty. So were the entrance hall and the coffee room.

“Publican!” he shouted, tossing open the doors to several other rooms, all equally empty.

A door opened at the back of the establishment. A short, balding man with flour-strewn fingers came hurrying down the corridor. “It’s myself as is publican, and Samuel Jones it is to you. What would yourself be wishing?”

“The magistrate—where is he?”

“Magistrate?”

“Hurry man, it’s a matter of urgency!”

The publican scratched his gleaming pate, leaving white clumps in his wake. “Squire Buxted, d’you mean?”

“That’s the one. Where is he?”

The publican looked bewildered. “Not to contradict you—er, your lordship.” Belatedly the landlord had recognized the Earl of Morland. “But I fear it’s a different magistrate you’re seeking.”

“What do you mean, man? Where is Buxted?”

The landlord shook his head in confusion. “Squire Buxted has been abed with the lung sickness for six months now. No, my lord, it’s no urgent business he’ll be tending to. Not for a long time.”

Morland stiffened as he caught the first scent of betrayal. “And the blacksmith? You have no smithy with a cell for holding criminals?”

“Blacksmith? Why, Dedham’s had no smith for five years. Not since Thaxton and his two sons upped and hired themselves to America. But why—”

Morland did not wait for the questions to come. It had all been planned, he realized, all a careful trick so that he would be away from Sevenoaks when—

Cursing long and graphically, he ran back into the street.

But he had a terrible premonition that he was already too late.

~ ~ ~

They passed no one as they hurried out, for it was still some minutes before dawn.

“How did it happen?” Chessy asked urgently. “Was it another of her nightmares?”

The man beside her slanted her a sharp look. “So she’s told you of those? You must be very nigh in her affections.”

“She needed someone to talk to and I happened to be there, that’s all.”

“I see.” A sharp sidelong frown. “Can’t you manage to go any faster?”

Chessy bit her lips against the pain at her ankle. “Of course. But where is she?”

Her companion took her arm and helped her up over a steep incline. “She’s in a shepherd’s cottage across the valley. She’s always loved the old mill and the tulip fields there. Apparently she was upset and tried
to
run away. Then she fell in the dark, and—” He sighed and patted her arm. “The doctor is already there, but—we had better hurry,” he added tightly.

“Is Jeremy there too?”

“Jeremy? Of course. He was the one who found her, in fact.”

“The poor child.” Chessy winced as she stumbled on an exposed tree root.

Morland’s grip tightened as he hurried her along. From the lower stretches of the lawn a groom appeared. Morland studied him for a moment, then jerked his head sharply, motioning the man up toward the house.

It hit Chessy then—some still, small voice that whispered something was wrong. It was many things and nothing at all. It was the way he had looked at her, sidelong and impassive. It was the way his hand gripped her elbow, hard and impersonal.

It was his lips, locked and unwavering.

And then, from the house behind her, she heard a shout.

“Chessy, no!”

She turned, frowning as she saw her father charging over the lawn. “Father? Why—”

Hard fingers bit into her arm. The next moment, she was jerked sharply forward.

“What are you doing? Why are we—”

Then she felt it, the cold point of steel nestled hard and lethal against her breast.

“You—you’re not Tony.” She swallowed as the puzzle pieces slid together with a snap. “You—you’re the
other
one. You’re his—”

“Twin,” he finished for her. “Andrew Langford, Duke of Morland.” The bronze brow slanted up. “Congratulations, my dear. I was wondering when you would finally realize. I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended that it took you so long. My brother and I are a great deal alike, of course, but—” He shrugged and hauled her roughly over the uneven ground.