Silk and Shadows (26 page)

The Kafir had already poured two glasses of whiskey. He placed one in Ross's free hand, then settled down at the other end of the sofa. "Feel better now?"

"A little." Ross was pleased to see that Peregrine was going to have some lively bruises of his own, and even more pleased to see that his friend had dropped his maddening frivolity. Maybe now some sense could be gotten out of him. "I think it is time you were more specific about Charles Weldon's nameless vices. They will have to be impressive to justify what you did to Sara."

Peregrine slouched down, his head tilted back against the sofa, and his long legs stretched out before him. "Weldon owns a number of brothels and gaming hells, and patronizes them all," he said wearily. "His own favorite vice seems to be ravishing young virgins. He probably murdered his first wife, and he is part owner of several ships engaged in slave trading." He cocked an ironic eye at Ross. "There's more, but that should give you the general idea."

Ross was stunned into temporary silence. While he had never much liked Weldon, he had never imagined the man capable of such evil. "You can prove what you say?"

"Some of it. Not all. You can see my files if you like, though I warn you, they don't make pleasant reading."

Ross swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, welcoming its burn. Later he would want to see those files, but his friend's flat certainty was powerfully persuasive. "Are you sure about the slave trading? That has been illegal for over twenty years."

"Which is why it is very lucrative for those who still engage in-it," Peregrine said dryly. "The slave ships go mainly to the West Indies and South America, where disease creates a chronic shortage of labor."

After Ross came to terms with the information, his scholar's curiosity was aroused. "How did you learn so much about Weldon?"

"I made it my business to know," Peregrine said tersely.

"That's not much of an answer. What did he do to you that makes you so determined to bring him to justice?"

"That is bloody well none of your business." Peregrine's green eyes were bright and hard as emeralds. "Now will you agree that Weldon was an unsuitable husband for your cousin?"

"You've convinced me." Ross rubbed his aching side and decided that he hadn't broken any ribs when he had crashed into the desk. "How much of this did you tell Sara?"

The Kafir tossed back the last of his drink, then rose to pour more, bringing the bottle over and setting it on the end table. "Just about his first wife's death."

"Why didn't you tell her the rest?" Ross asked. "If she knew what Weldon is like, you wouldn't have had to resort to seduction to break the betrothal. That was a despicable thing to do."

"Sara is a strong and intelligent woman, but she has led a protected life. Would she have believed that a man of her social order, a friend of her father's, was capable of such wickedness?" Peregrine hesitated, at a rare loss for words. "And it's all so… so sordid. I didn't want to be the one to try to explain to her just how evil men can be."

"You underestimate my cousin. Sara considers it her duty to be well-informed and is not easily shocked." Ross cautiously removed the pad from his forehead and found that the bleeding had stopped. "Why do you want to marry her? Guilt?"

"I do not believe in guilt—it is an unproductive emotion." Peregrine hesitated again. "But I do regret that Sara was hurt by what happened, even though it was necessary.''

Ross sighed and handed his glass over to be refilled with whiskey. "At least in theory, marriage in this country is based on mutual affection, and for practical purposes it is until death do you part. Marrying Sara to save her from a scandal could be a disaster for both of you, especially her."

"Is this a polite English way of saying that you oppose a marriage?''

"I have grave doubts about the idea," Ross said bluntly. "Quite apart from cultural and religious differences, there is an unbreachable ethical abyss between you. About the most charitable thing I can say about your principles is that you believe that the end justifies the means."

"But of course." Peregrine raised his brows sardonically. "What other principles are there?"

"Sara believes in a higher standard," Ross said dryly. "It's called right and wrong."

"That is all very abstract. On the practical level where daily living takes place, Sara and I get along very well."

"Right and wrong aren't abstract to Sara." Ross saw from Peregrine's expression that the other man did not understand the point he was trying to make. Thank God for Sara's common sense; she would not let herself be pressured into a bad decision.

"I do have one principle," Peregrine said unexpectedly. "I try not to injure people unnecessarily."

"Not a bad principle as such things go," Ross allowed. "What bothers me is how you define what is 'necessary.' "

"Why haven't you married Sara yourself?" Peregrine asked in an abrupt change of subject. "First-cousin marriage is permitted in England, isn't it? You share the same ideas and values, and are obviously very close."

Ross ran his fingers through his disordered hair. There were several answers to his friend's question, some of which he had no intention of discussing. Choosing the most basic reason, he said, "We're too much alike. I told you that our mothers were twins, but did I mention that they were identical? As children, Sara and I both made mistakes about which mama duchess was our own. Very confusing. We grew up like brother and sister, and that is the kind of love we have for each other. In fact, I feel far closer to her than to my real brother.''

"I have yet to meet your brother. Are you estranged?"

"Not exactly. Lord Kilburn is actually my half brother. He's almost twenty years older than I, and the heir to the dukedom. He and his mother's family objected to my father remarrying because more children would reduce Kilburn's inheritance." Ross shrugged. "He's already rich as Croesus, but there's no reasoning with greed. My brother keeps his distance, and I keep mine. It's better that way."

"Families seem like the very devil," his friend observed. "I count myself lucky not to have one."

Ross gave him a quizzical glance. "What about your family in Kafiristan?"

For a moment Peregrine seemed off balance. Then he said blandly, "Relatives who are five thousand miles away do not count because they can cause no trouble." He stood and stretched, wincing a little as bruised muscles complained. "I imagine that Weldon is already halfway to London, and that your guests are busy speculating about what happened under their very noses. It will be the better part of tact if I spend the night at Sulgrave. After all, it's only half an hour away."

Ross groaned, thinking of the social chaos that lay ahead. "Coward."

"True." His friend gave him a seraphic smile. "But it is also true that my absence will simplify the situation. When I call on Sara in the morning, I'll be discreet about it."

"I'll turn everything over to Mother. She'll have all of the houseguests gone by noon tomorrow, and thinking themselves privileged to be the objects of her solicitude."

Peregrine brushed his coat, restoring superficial neatness. "Am I forgiven my transgressions—not the ones against Sara, but against you?"

Ross's mouth quirked. "Does my good opinion matter to you?"

Peregrine considered. "It seems to."

Ross smiled reluctantly and got to his feet. "Then I suppose you're forgiven. But next time, why not just speak up rather than crashing around like a Greek Fury?"

"What a novel thought. It sounds quite boring." Peregrine flashed a brief smile, then left the library.

Ross sank back into the sofa, not yet ready to face the world outside. Thank God his mother was here to smooth things over. And though it had seemed unfortunate at the time, he was glad that a flare-up of gout had prevented his father from making the trip. No sense in upsetting the old boy unnecessarily.

Briefly he considered going to Sara's room to see how she was, but he discarded the idea. She had been quite emphatic about being left alone, and they had always respected each other's privacy.

He tried to imagine Sara married to his friend. On the face of it, the idea was ridiculous, but perhaps it might work. If anyone could break a wild hawk like Peregrine to the hand, it would be Sara. In her gentle way, she was every bit as stubborn as he was.

And now that Ross thought back, he realized that Sara had subtly changed since meeting Peregrine. As a girl, she had been full of bright laughter, until the accident that had nearly taken her life. It had taken discipline and indomitable will to survive and learn to walk again, and somewhere along the way, Sara had lost her capacity for joy. Perhaps, with Peregrine, she might find it again.

Sara managed to reach her bedroom without being observed by other guests, then dismissed her maid with the comment that she was suffering from a touch of the headache and wanted to retire early. Finally alone, she sank into the deep wing chair, drawing her legs up and pulling her dressing gown tight in a vain attempt to warm her chilled soul. She had the weak, shaky feeling common after a near-accident, and when her eyes closed, she saw horrified faces staring at her. She heard Charles's furious condemnation, and flinched away from her father's anger and disappointment.

But mostly she saw Peregrine, handsome as the devil and just as untrustworthy. He had not been surprised when they were discovered; Sara had sensed some other emotion, perhaps excitement or satisfaction, but definitely not surprise. Instantly she had known, with a certainty beyond logic, that Peregrine had arranged the interruption. Ross had looked guilty and furious as well as shocked, but it had not been Sara he was angry with. Probably Peregrine had made him an involuntary accomplice, for Sara knew that Ross would never knowingly have done anything to humiliate her.

But why in the name of heaven would Peregrine do such a thing? She couldn't believe that he would stoop to ruining her from casual malice. And while it would be flattering to think that he was madly in love with her and had arranged the scene as a desperate bid to win her, Sara didn't believe it. Peregrine had been far more surprised by his impulsive proposal than he had been by being caught kissing her.

Having made the offer, he was prepared to stand by it. But why? And God help her, what was Sara to do? While she had been attracted to him from the first, she had believed that marriage was out of the question. That had been a sorrowful thought, but it was one that she had understood and accepted.