The Black Widow (7 page)

The redheaded Irishman delighted in playing the role of unlettered country bumpkin, especially when buying or selling horses, but Demetrius knew that despite outward appearances, Thomas Hennessey was not only the owner of a large Irish estate with a flourishing thoroughbred stud, but he had also been educated at Oxford and was married to the daughter of an English earl.

“Which means you will not be bidding against me today?”

“Certainly not if you’re looking to buy this sweet little thing. She’s not up to my weight, and certainly not up to yours, which makes me wonder if there is some truth to the rumors that are trotting around London. I’ve heard you’re planning to be hitched in tandem with a certain young lady, although I’d not have credited it. Still and all, if you’re buying a lady’s mount...”He let his voice trail off suggestively.

“Miss Prestwich does not ride,” Demetrius replied, deliberately ignoring the obviously more intriguing question of what his intentions were concerning the lady in question. He had no doubt that Hennessey could hold his tongue if need be, but on the other hand, Tattersall’s was not the place to hold a private discussion.

“Doesn’t ride? Now you have really piqued my curiosity.”

“Tell me, are you superstitious as well as curious?”

“As an Irishman born and bred, I would be denying my heritage were I not to believe in the little people—elves and fairies and leprechauns and the like. But if you are asking do I believe a certain young lady is afflicted with a fatal curse, then I must admit I would find it easier to believe that horses had wings.”

“I plan to exercise my horse early tomorrow in Hyde Park,” Demetrius said in an undertone.

Hennessey nodded his agreement to the proposed meeting, and Demetrius continued smoothly, “Actually, I did not come here to purchase a horse. My brother asked me to meet him, but I confess, he did not say whether he wishes to avail himself of my expert advice about horses or about women.”

* * * *

As it turned out, it was neither horses nor women, but gambling debts. “You’ve done what?”

“You needn’t shout. It is only one hundred and fifty pounds,” Collier said, his eyes not quite meeting Demetrius’s.

“Only? People have been thrown into debtors’ prison for owing less than that amount. Whatever possessed you to gamble with money you did not have?”

“Don’t lecture me, big brother. I have already berated myself thoroughly for being so gullible. I freely admit it was a stupid thing to do, although at the time it seemed as if it would be a sure thing.”

“A sure thing? Saints preserve us,” Demetrius muttered.

“I will pay you back when I get next quarter’s allowance. ‘‘

“And in the meantime, I am not to consider you a ‘hardened gamester,’ as you put it so nicely the other day?”

Collier’s expression became somewhat sulky. “Just tell me whether you will lend me the money or not, because if you refuse to oblige me in this, I shall have to look elsewhere.”

“Oh, I will be happy to lend you the money, but only under one condition.”

“What condition?”

“That you give up your rooms at the Albany and move back home.’’

The sulky expression was gone now, replaced by open anger. “Blast it all, Demetrius, I am not a child to be ordered about so. I am a man, and it is entirely my own decision where I live.”

Demetrius shrugged. “I could point out that running up debts that one does not have the means to pay off is not the mark of an adult, but I do not wish to prolong this discussion unduly. I have told you what your options are, so tell me your decision—do you wish me to lend you the money or not?”

Collier was obviously torn between the desire to reject Demetrius’s money and the strings attached to it, and the knowledge that he would doubtless have difficulty finding a friend his own age who had one hundred and fifty pounds to spare this close to the end of the quarter.

“Very well, I shall move back home,” he said finally, and Demetrius wrote out a bank draft on the spot.

After Collier departed, Demetrius proved himself just as foolish as his brother by outbidding Fabersham for the filly that would be perfect for Miss Meribe Prestwich ... if she could ride, which she could not.

London was obviously having an adverse affect on him, he admitted while arranging for his new horse to be delivered to his stable. Perhaps it was time to give up playing knight-errant and return to Devon before he did something even more rash.

* * * *

Although the day was overcast, the park was crowded, and shortly after they entered Hyde Park, Meribe was asking herself why she had ever thought her situation might have changed since the last time she had walked along Rotten Row. Had she been secretly hoping that Lord Thorverton’s efforts might already have convinced people that she was not all that dangerous?

If so, it had clearly been wishful thinking, because the stares were still quite rude and the people moved out of her path just as rapidly as they had done when she had come here in the beginning of April. After that first expedition, she had decided that nothing would induce her to repeat the experience.

So why had she given in to Hester’s importunities? With Jane, their abigail, feeling too poorly to walk in the park today, Hester could just as easily have stayed home for once, rather than persuading Meribe to accompany her.

“Look over there—Lord Thorverton is just driving through the gate,” Hester now said in a sharp voice. “Although I must say I am not surprised to see him. He manages to turn up wherever we go. I begin to suspect that you are secretly sending him notes informing him in advance of all our plans.”

“Hester! That is a terrible accusation to make. I would never dream of behaving in such a brazen manner. How can you even suggest such a thing?”

“Well, perhaps you have not, but the only other explanation is that he has set one of his servants to spy on us. Well, this time his deviousness is not going to benefit him in the slightest.” Hester grabbed Meribe’s arm and began to hustle her along the path away from the approaching carriage.

“Release my arm,” Meribe hissed, pulling back. “You are only making us conspicuous by charging along at such a reckless pace.”

“I? It is not me everyone is staring at. And if you do not wish to be gawked at, you should have stayed home today. I could have brought one of the other maids in your place.”

Which was not at all what Hester had asserted earlier when she had insisted that she would be utterly cast down if Meribe refused this one tiny favor. But at least her sister now moderated her pace somewhat, for which Meribe was thankful. “Oh, Hester, must we always quarrel?”

“As long as you keep seeing that man, we must.”

“What do you have against Lord Thorverton?”

“I strongly suspect he is playing you for a fool. Everyone knows that Diana Fairgrove broke his heart when she eloped with Lord Hazelmore. You delude yourself if you think Lord Thorverton will marry an insignificant little nobody like you after he has been betrothed to such a beauty. After all, if it were not for the fact that all your suitors have met untimely ends, you would be quite overlooked by society.’’

Meribe dug in her heels and stopped so abruptly she managed to pull her arm free from her sister’s grasp. “You go too far this time,” she said in a choked voice.

Turning around, she began to walk as quickly as possible in the opposite direction, her only intention being to put as much distance between herself and her sister as possible. The tears in her eyes made it difficult to see where she was going, so it must have been fate that led her directly past Lord Thorverton’s carriage, which was stalled behind another phaeton and two landaus.

“Good afternoon, Miss Prestwich,” he said politely, his familiar voice halting her headlong flight. “Would you care to join me for a turn around the park?”

About to make her usual excuses, Meribe abruptly changed her mind. The opportunity to spend a little time with a person who did not fuss and crab at her—with someone who seemed actually to enjoy her company—was too tempting to refuse.

Amid murmurs and gasps from the passersby, she allowed his groom, who had sprung down from the back of the phaeton, to assist her into the carriage. Then he stepped back out of the way, and Lord Thorverton flicked the reins, and the carriage moved forward, albeit slowly since the crush of vehicles was too great to permit sustained progress.

“Something has upset you,” he said in a low voice.

Surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with the tip of her glove, Meribe was grateful that he was looking at his horses and not at her. She did not want him to gain the erroneous impression that she was by nature a watering pot.

“It was nothing, really. My sister sometimes ...” She could not think of a tactful way to say that Hester’s barbed comments sometimes cut to the quick, but Lord Thorverton nodded anyway, understanding what she meant without needing her to finish the sentence. It was one of the things that made him such an easy person to converse with.

“Do you know,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “it is not always easy being the elder brother or sister. I imagine my younger brother sometimes finds me every bit as aggravating as you do your sister.’’

Now, that was plainly a taradiddle. Lord Thorverton was so easygoing, so kindhearted, so ... so amiable that he could never say anything unkind to anyone, especially not to his own brother. Although—she sneaked a peek at him—she had to admit that when he became angry about an injustice, he could look truly formidable.

Luckily he had never become angry at her, and she could only pray that circumstances would never force her to feel the brunt of his wrath.

Glancing at the carriage approaching them, Meribe was caught totally off-guard by the sight of Lady Hazelmore, who waved gaily at them, or rather, she was waving and smiling at Lord Thorverton while ignoring Meribe as if they had never been introduced—as if she had never come to the Prestwich residence and poured her heart out to Meribe.

Perhaps it was the deliberate slight that made Meribe ask the question that had been nagging at her for days, ever since she had heard the tale of the broken betrothal ... or perhaps it was pure jealousy that Lord Thorverton had just now politely tipped his hat to the other woman. Whatever her motive, as soon as the other carriage was safely past them, Meribe heard herself blurt out the question she had never intended to ask.

“Was your heart truly broken?”

Lord Thorverton looked down at her, his expression enigmatic. “My heart?”

Even though she would have preferred to jump down out of the carriage and run away, she said with the best display of boldness that she could muster, “Lady Hazelmore paid me a visit a few days ago and told me the whole story of your betrothal and her subsequent elopement. ‘‘

“She did what?” Clearly Lord Thorverton was as astonished as she herself had been. “Why on earth would she do something like that?’’

“I am sure I could not say what her true motives were,” Meribe answered, unaccountably feeling a little miffed that he had not immediately asserted that his heart was still completely intact. “In any case, she told me she felt it was her duty to warn me that you are merely trifling with my affections—that you will never actually marry me.”

“You did not tell her about our plan, did you?” he asked, intentionally—or so it seemed to her—ignoring the much more interesting question of whether or not his heart had been broken.

“As a matter of fact, I did not tell her anything. Unlike some people, I am quite able to control my tongue,” Meribe said rather crossly, deliberately overlooking the fact that her tongue had been running away with her ever since she joined Lord Thorverton in his carriage.

“I am relieved to hear that,” he said. “I should hate to think my exertions on your behalf were all for naught.’’

It was common knowledge back in Norfolk that Meribe’s disposition was quite even. She had never been given to displays of temper like her older sister. Right now, however, Meribe realized that a few well-chosen oaths would go a long way toward relieving her aggravation—aggravation caused both directly and indirectly by the man seated beside her.

Instead, remembering her aunt’s frequent admonitions to behave in a ladylike manner at all times, Meribe contented herself with saying, “We were not discussing your efforts to disprove the curse. The question that I asked—and which you have not yet answered—is whether or not your heart was broken.”

And secondarily, she said to herself, some of us were wondering what your intentions are. But she knew the answer to that. He had made it clear from the beginning that he was merely being gallant—that he was not smitten by her charms, which Hester had just insisted were nonexistent.

He grinned, then actually chuckled. “Without wishing to say anything derogatory about someone I have been acquainted with since childhood, not a day has gone by since then that I have not been grateful to a merciful providence for my narrow escape.”

There was no way she could doubt that he was telling the truth—there was too much boyish glee in his smile to think he was merely attempting to conceal a broken heart. She could not keep a similar smile from her own face, and the rest of the drive around the park was spent discussing quite amiably the news he had received from Devon about his stud.

* * * *

It must have been an evil fairy that had inspired Lady Letitia to invite Lady Thorverton to take a turn around the park in her carriage. Although Dorothea could be a pleasant-enough companion in the normal course of events, she was really a most disagreeable woman when things did not fall out according to her wishes. And it had become immediately—but unfortunately not immediately enough—obvious to Lady Letitia that her companion was most definitely having an off day.

Instead of showing proper appreciation for the honor of sitting beside Lady Letitia, Dorothea was casting fulminating looks at her son, whose carriage was but a short distance ahead of them.

“Control yourself, Dorothea, if you please. You look as if you are ready to throw yourself in front of your son’s phaeton, which is a bit too dramatic even for you. Are you so set on having your son remain a bachelor?”