Truth about Leo (26 page)

“It's blasphemy!”

“Oh, hardly that, do you think?” Thom asked as she came around to stand with Dagmar.

“She's the daughter of a vicar,” Dagmar told Thom under her breath. “She was raised to believe that one should never take the Lord's name in vain, that you should give unto others, and that horses shouldn't be buried.”

Thom looked thoughtful. “Equine burials are a bit unusual, but I don't see anything ungodly about it.”

“Nor do I,” Dagmar said, thinking more about the subject. “The question is, who would want to kill a horse and put it in Louisa's coffin?”

“I doubt very much that the horse was sacrificed for this purpose.” Leo, who had been conferring quietly with Harry and Nick, glanced her way. “It appeared to be deceased for some time, so I suspect that whoever put it there simply paid a visit to the nearest knacker's yard and…er…acquired a suitable substitute for an actual human body.”

“At least now you have proof that Louisa didn't die,” Thom said, waving her hand in front of her. The air still reeked with the odor of the deceased horse.

“Indeed we do. And I believe it will be best for us to confront Dalton in the morning, before the burial takes place. We should leave now before someone starts singing bawdy tavern songs.” Leo's look at where Noble and Gillian were engaged in a passionate embrace was very pointed. “Or indulges in acts better suited to the bedchamber.”

Noble broke off the kiss and grinned at him. “We've yet to wake up an entire household with our antics, but I take your point. It's a wonder Gillian hasn't knocked down one of those vases over there.”

“I am not clumsy like that,” Gillian protested.

Noble just stared at her.

“All right, I am, but I've been very careful not to get near them. Besides, Plum is watching me. She wouldn't let me do something that would stir the house.”

“It's just a matter of time,” Noble said, taking her arm and escorting her toward the window. “Sooner or later, fate would catch up to you.”

Dagmar, who was wondering if Leo would kiss her with that much enthusiasm after they'd been married as long as Gillian and Noble, was about to ask him just that when suddenly Julia appeared to be struck with a fit of madness.

That was Dagmar's first thought when her companion let loose with a blood-curdling shriek from the window.

“It's the devil! The devil has come for us! He's come to punish us for our sins!” Julia screamed, rushing past Thom and Dagmar with her arms flailing in the air.

Everyone in the room froze at the sudden noise, too startled to move.

Behind Julia, a pale golden streak flashed, heading straight for her but veering at the last moment into the corner hidden by a small sofa. Julia screamed in horror and, in her desperate attempt to get away, spun around and ran right into Leo.

“What—” he started to say but was knocked off balance. Julia, her face a mask of terror, leaped over him, tripped, and clutched his arm to steady herself.

“No—” Dagmar managed to get out, watching helplessly as Leo, now seriously off balance, careened headfirst into the nearest of the two vases.

Time seemed to slow down to a standstill. Dagmar knew even before Leo's head connected with the vase that not only would it crash to the ground in an explosion of fine china, but that the impact would send Leo into the second vase as well.

Even as she opened her mouth to tell Julia that it was only a cat that had come in the window, no doubt drawn by the odor of the dead horse, Leo hit the vase with a painful crack, then half stumbled and half fell into the second one before hitting the ground himself. He rolled away, covering his head to protect it from the resulting shower of smashed china.

The noise was deafening. A cannon going off couldn't have pierced the slumbering house more effectively than the sound of two vases being smashed against the tile fireplace.

Dagmar started toward Leo even as the last few shards of shattered ceramics pinged on the tile. “Are you all right? Did you hurt your head? Oh, Leo, tell me you didn't hurt your poor shoulder.”

Leo groaned. “No, I'm not hurt, not seriously.”

“Well that's good,” she said, sighing as she carefully knelt next to him. “I won't worry, then.”

The look Leo shot her when he uncurled was more than a little wild. “No, you don't have anything to worry about. Mind you, the whole house—no, the entire neighborhood—is now alerted to our presence, but that's hardly anything to concern you.”

“Don't be rude,” Dagmar said, swatting him on his uninjured arm. “I meant regarding your wounds, as you well know. Julia, for heaven's sake, stop making that noise. No one is blaming you for making Leo crash into the vases and waking the whole house, not that I've heard anything, so perhaps they didn't hear—”

Just as the words left her mouth, a muted shout came from abovestairs, followed by an answering call from below them.

Dagmar sighed. “It was a good thought. Julia, please!”

“I didn't mean to!” Julia was babbling at Noble and Gillian, both of whom had caught her before she could run out of the room. “I never thought that Lord March would fall—but the devil was after me—my father was a vicar, and he'd never forgive me for being here tonight—if I'd known this was why dear Princess Dagmar had me released—but I never thought he'd fall. Those lovely, lovely vases!”

“Run!” Harry suddenly yelled, shoving Plum toward the window.

“What? Harry, what are you—”

“Run, woman, run! There's no need for you to be caught. Escape while you can!”

Noble looked thoughtfully at Gillian. She smiled. He offered his flask, and the two retired to the small sofa which was currently bearing the form of the golden cat.

“I am not going anywhere, you deranged man. Unhand me!”

“Maybe you should go with your aunt,” Nick said hesitantly to Thom. The look she gave him in return was filled with scorn. He shrugged. “I thought it was worth a try.”

“Hardly.”

“I don't suppose—” Leo started to say to Dagmar.

“No. We're partners, remember? Partners don't run away and leave their other half to face irate men who are bound to wonder why a bunch of people are standing around a coffin at three in the morning.” That gave Dagmar a moment's pause, and by the time Philip Dalton, armed with a dueling pistol and accompanied by two footmen and the butler, flung open the door to the sitting room, all of the room's occupants were on their knees, surrounding the coffin.

Philip Dalton stopped in the doorway, holding a candle high and staring in utter surprise.

I fear this will be the last time I am able to write to you, my beloved Dagmar. I know you will take excellent care of your dear father, and I trust that you will heed the words of wisdom I have shared with you. You have grown into a woman of intelligence, wit, and personal charm, and I am very proud to call you my daughter. Just remember that although I may not always be near you, I will watch you from above with a loving and indulgent eye. I love you, my dearest one. Be happy in all that you do.

—Your devoted mama

“Ah. Dalton.”

Leo rose from where he had been kneeling next to Dagmar. He decided quickly to brazen his way through the incident in hopes that Dalton would hesitate to make a scene in front of so many men of importance. “I'm sorry that the cat woke you.”

“Cat?” Dalton's face was without expression as he gazed from one person to another.

Leo held out his hand for Dagmar, who rose as graceful as a butterfly, her hand warm in his and that delicious sent of warm, willing woman—
his
warm, willing woman—wrapping itself around him in a way that guaranteed he'd have an erection for at least the next hour.

“Yes, the cat. A yellow one. I believe it's currently behind the corner sofa. It came in and knocked over your vases.”

“I do hope they weren't valuable,” Plum said, looking ruefully at the remains.

Dalton stared at her. “And you are?”

“My wife.” Harry helped Plum to her feet, then made a perfunctory bow as Leo introduced everyone.

“You're no doubt wondering what we're doing here,” Gillian said, then gave a little giggle. “I'd better let Plum tell you. Noble insists I'm a bit tipsy, which is ridiculous because I hold my liquor better than anyone I know. Besides, Plum is an author, so her explanation will be far more entertaining than anything I could come up with. Noble, stop squeezing me. I am not a rag doll.”

Leo felt a surge of pride in his wife. Not only was she
not
slightly inebriated, but she also kept her wits about her in time of need. She would be very helpful to his future missions, and more, she'd keep him entertained and enthralled with her quicksilver mind. “We came to pay our respects to your sister,” Leo said quickly, before Gillian could continue.

“You did that last evening,” Dalton answered and gestured at the people behind him. Most of them dispersed, leaving the butler and a footman, who, at a nod from his master, lit the candles in the room.

“Our friends wish to pay their respects, as well,” Leo said, trying to think of a reason for them to do so at three in the morning.

“Yes, we did. We heard so much about your late sister from Dagmar and Leo, we couldn't help but wish to offer up a few prayers of our own on her passing,” Plum said smoothly, elbowing Harry. “Didn't we?”

“Yes, yes, it's just as my wife says. Respects. Prayers.” Harry stifled a huge yawn. “Thought we'd get it over with sooner rather than later.”

“I am flattered, naturally,” Dalton said slowly, his gaze darting from person to person. “I will admit, however, to being curious about the time of day you chose to pay me such an honor. Would not later in the morning have sufficed?”

“No, it wouldn't,” Dagmar said just as Leo was about to babble something inane. She gave Dalton a long, placid look. “I'm a princess. Those of royal birth are, by nature, an eccentric people. My dearest father used to work all night on his scholarly pursuits and sleep during the day. He said his humors were in better alignment at night, and with that, I am in agreement. You wouldn't want me going about with disaligned humors, would you?”

Dalton stared at her for a moment. “Er…”

“No, of course he doesn't want that,” Leo said smoothly, giving her a grin and a conspiratorial squeeze around her waist. “No one would want you disaligned in any manner. I do apologize for waking the house, though. Our intentions were purely to pay our respects and depart without anyone being the wiser.”

Dalton's pale eyes settled on him, and in them, Leo read equal parts awareness, suspicion, and anger.

“You may leave,” Dalton said, dismissing his remaining servants. “We won't have any further need of you tonight.” He waited until the door closed behind the two men, then strode over to the fireplace, casually examining the remains of the vases before leaning an elbow on the mantel and saying in a drawl, “It would appear that you have gained some knowledge that I would rather have kept private. Shall we discuss the situation, or would it throw the princess's humors into disarray?”

“I think you'll find that Dagmar's humors are up to such a conversation.” Leo held out a chair for his wife, who sat with an air of controlled excitement. He gave her an approving squeeze of the shoulder before facing Dalton. Thom, Plum, and Gillian took a seat on the cat sofa, while Dagmar's companion huddled in the corner. The men lined up behind the women. The room had the air of a courtroom, something that Dalton was evidently aware of because he glanced at the six others with a wry little smile. “I see we have jury and crown's prosecutor. But no judge?”

“I am a princess,” Dagmar repeated, giving him a beatific smile. “I am above such petty things in life as prejudice or untoward bias.”

Leo choked. Dagmar punched him in the thigh and held on to her smile.

“Then by all means, Your Highness—”

“Your Serene Highness,” Plum, Thom, and Gillian said together.

Dagmar beamed at them.

“I beg your pardon.
Your
Serene
Highness
will naturally be ideally suited for the role of judge.” Dalton made her a bow.

“He does sarcasm very well, don't you think?” Dagmar asked Leo. “I don't do it at all well. Is that something you can teach me, along with prevarication?”

“I shall endeavor to do so. I live in anticipation of hearing you be sarcastic.” He faced Dalton. “Would you mind telling us why there is a dead horse—”

“Parts of a dead horse. Or rather, parts of multiple dead horses,” Thom interrupted.

“—in the coffin supposed to contain the remains of your sister?”

“And just why did you kill two innocent horses?” Thom demanded, getting to her feet. Nick said something in her ear.

“No, I will not sit down and let Leo handle this. I've always had a great love for horses, and two of them, two beautiful, noble creatures were ruthlessly murdered because of this man. I don't hold with that sort of thing, and I'm certainly not going to let it pass without protest and a demand for justice.”

“Hear, hear,” Plum said, nodding.

“As it happens, madam, I am also quite fond of horses,” Dalton said, taking them all by surprise. “There is a farmer near my estate who does nothing but tend to the mounts of my youth who are now in their elder years. I can assure you that although the coffin does, in fact, contain the remains of two unfortunate animals, their deaths were not by my doing or command. I simply purchased them from a knacker, along with two horses still alive who were doomed to a similar fate. The horses were past their prime but had great expression in their eyes, and I couldn't bear to think of their future as wallpaper glue.”

“Really?” Thom stared at him for a moment, then flung herself forward and gave him a swift hug. “Oh, I'm so glad to know you saved those poor horses. I used to do the same, until Harry told me the stables were full and I couldn't rescue any more until one of the former rescuees passed on.”

“At last count, we have eighteen broken-down nags eating their heads off at Rosse Abbey,” Harry said. “As well as seven donkeys, a mule that is in love with Plum, and a vast herd of canines of every shape and form.”

“The monkey Thom found died last summer,” Plum said sadly. “But the rest of the animal colony thrives. Except the cats keep eating the mice that Thom saves.”

“The nature of the universe is the nature of things that are,” Thom murmured before adding, “Marcus Aurelius. I always did like the Romans.”

“Leo…” Dagmar started to say, giving him a look that was all too easy to read.

“No monkeys,” he told her.

She pursed her lips, then reluctantly nodded. “I suppose it wouldn't be an effective use of subterfuge.”

“I'll get you a lapdog if you like. All ladies of station have lapdogs.”

“I have three,” Gillian said. “Although they're all massive and would crush you if they sat on your lap. Also, they emit odors. We've not been very successful in quelling that aspect of their personalities.”

“I have four,” Plum offered.

“Thirty-six,” Thom said.

Nick groaned.

“They don't emit odors,” she reassured him. “Well, not frequently. Perhaps daily, but not like Gillian's hounds.”

“Nothing emits like my hounds,” Gillian said with a touch of pride. “In a confined space they can take down a man in his prime.”

“As fascinating as this accounting is, might we return to the subject at hand?” Dalton glanced at the clock next to him. “I would like to get a little sleep before I have to attend my sister's funeral.”

“One of her dogs might come in handy should we need to torture information from someone,” Dagmar told Leo in an undertone.

“I try to stay away from torturing people, but I will remember that as an option.” He eyed Dalton. “Now that the matter of the deceased horses is settled, would you mind telling us just why you wish people to believe your sister is dead? I take it she is not in that unfortunate state.”

“No, she is alive.” Dalton's gaze slid around the room. “At the moment she's on a ship on her way back to Italy.”

“She said she wanted to go back there,” Dagmar murmured, then shook her head and asked Dalton, “But why the pretense? Does Louisa not know that Julia has been confined, suspected of her murder? It took every ounce of energy Leo had in order to get the governor of the gaol to release Julia into our custody for a few hours. They insist that she is guilty, and without proof, we cannot prove her innocence. Louisa must return or, at the very least, make a statement that she is alive and well, so that Julia's name will be cleared.”

Dalton's eyes met Leo's for a few moments. Leo understood the message in them and moved closer to his wife, his hand resting on her shoulder.

“We thought Louisa's murder a fitting example of justice,” Dalton said slowly. “More specifically, the imprisonment of the woman who took from us the life of a very dear young man.”

Before the last word left his mouth, there was a flurry, and Julia rushed across the room, a wickedly long dagger glinting in her hands. Leo, who had been expecting a response of some form, leaped forward to intercept Julia before she could reach Dalton, and the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs and shiny, sharp dagger. Pain burst through him, radiating from his wounded shoulder in hot, sickening waves. He lay insensible for a moment, stunned by the impact, distantly aware of the sound of Julia screaming obscenities at him, his eyes focused on the blade of the dagger where it wavered over his face. He knew he was in danger, knew he had to move, knew without a doubt that in the next second, Julia would plunge that dagger into his neck and he'd never see Dagmar again, but before his brain could command his sluggish limbs to move, another cry sounded, this one higher and filled with righteous rage.

Julia was suddenly torn from him, and the dagger sent flying. Leo blinked up at the sight of Dagmar standing over him, panting with fury as she roared, “Are you mad? If you've harmed Leo, so help me, Julia, no bonds in the world will be strong enough to keep me from wreaking vengeance upon you!”

Nick and Dalton rushed forward when the companion lunged toward Dagmar, but they weren't quick enough.

Leo was on his feet and in front of his wife before his brain could even process what was happening. Julia snarled something rude and would have stabbed him in the chest, but Leo's training stood him in good stead. He snatched the dagger while jerking Julia forward, effectively throwing her off balance and straight into the arms of Nick and Dalton.

“That will be quite enough of that,” he said calmly, wondering all the while if his heart would ever slow down to a normal rhythm. It was pounding so loud he could hardly hear the others exclaim as they circled Julia.

He looked down at Dagmar. “That's the second time you've saved my life.”

“I'm a princess,” she said loftily, as if he needed reminding. “Saving handsome men from certain death is what we do best. That and waving gracefully to crowds. Have you ever seen me wave? My mother taught me. I'll wave for you sometime, but right now, I'm thinking seriously of swooning.”

He put his arm around her, swiftly searching her for signs of injury. “Did Julia strike you while I was befuddled? I didn't think she got close enough to you to touch you, but I was knocked silly for a few seconds—”

“I don't wish to swoon for my own sake, Leo. When I saw Julia with that dagger over your head, the thought that she might kill you flashed through my mind, and I just knew I'd never survive such an event. My heart would break, and I'd die right there with you. At least then we'd be together in spirit.”

Her eyes were misty with tears and love, and he thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful in all his days.

“I prefer to be together in body and soul,” he said against her lips, taking advantage of an aborted attempt by Julia to escape out the window to kiss Dagmar the way he'd been wanting to kiss her for the last half hour.

“Plum gave me a copy of her book,” she said five minutes later, when she managed to catch enough breath to speak. He was light-headed with desire and need and overwhelming love for the woman in his arms, and couldn't stir his brain to actual speech, so he contented himself with simply holding her and listening to her lovely voice. “Do you know that there's a connubial calisthenic in it entitled ‘The Princess and the Jouster'? It involves a man who stands with, as Plum puts it, his lance couched, and the princess seated on the edge of a balcony—or small table, in this case—and a judicious use of a neckcloth. It sounded very interesting, and as I am a princess, and you could well be a valiant knight since you are an earl, I thought—”