Tempting the Marquess (8 page)

“Thank you for that astute observation, Katherine. Your ability to state the obvious by means of circuitous logic never ceases to amaze.”

She smiled warmly at him, undeterred by his rudeness. “After all these years, do you really think I will be put off by your foul temper? I only hope you can be persuaded to take a nap this afternoon along with Edward and Charlotte.”

“Grown men do not nap.”

“You will never stay awake tonight if you don’t get some sleep.”

“As I have no intention of staying up tonight, that should not pose a problem.”

“But we must show Olivia a proper Welsh Christmas.”

Jason glared at his stepmother.

“What makes a Welsh Christmas different from any other Christmas?” Miss Weston wanted to know.

“Everything,” Katherine answered, just as Jason said, “Nothing.”

“Don’t listen to him. There is nothing like Christmas in Wales. Once you have attended Plygain services, you will never be happy celebrating Christmas anywhere else.”

“Plug eye in?” Miss Weston repeated doubtfully. “It sounds most uncomfortable.”

“It is,” Jason quickly agreed.

“Oh, stop. He’s bamming you, my dear. Plygain is the Welsh word for daybreak, which is when the Christmas services are held.”

Her niece frowned. “You wish to go to church that early in the morning?”

Jason bit back a grin, schooling his face into a solemn expression. “As you said, most uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t feel like early morning because you don’t go to bed,” Katherine explained. “Everyone stays up late on Christmas Eve. We decorate the house, and Mrs. Maddoc makes the most delicious toffee.”

“That does sound fun,” Miss Weston conceded.

“And the service isn’t at all like what you are imagining. The sermon is very short and the rest of the time is taken up with carols.”

“They are all in Welsh, though, so I doubt you would enjoy it.” He tried to infuse the proper amount of regret into his voice. Not so much as to make her suspicious, but enough to persuade her that it would be a dreadful bore.

“Stuff and nonsense,” his stepmother insisted. “I don’t speak the language, and it has never hindered my enjoyment in the least. It is simply enchanting,” she assured her niece. She turned and regarded Jason thoughtfully. “I know I have allowed you to mope and sulk and hide yourself away these past years, but there is to be no more of that. Edward and Charlotte are old enough to attend this year, so you cannot use them as an excuse.”

“The cold isn’t good for Edward,” Jason protested.

“Then we shall take great care to ensure he is dressed warmly. There will be hot bricks and fur throws in the carriage, and we can bring them inside with us if need be.”

“I don’t like it,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think you would, but you have the whole day to reconcile yourself to it. By this evening I expect you to put on a good face.”

“Charles should be arriving today. He could escort you instead,” he suggested.

“No, it must be you. Edward will not enjoy himself if you don’t come, and neither will Charlotte.”

Katherine got to her feet. Jason made a move to rise, but she waved him down. She went to the sideboard and heaped food upon a plate, which she then set down, none too gently, in front of him.

“Eat,” she ordered. “Perhaps, if we are lucky, a full stomach will improve your disposition. Clear your plate, too, Olivia. We’ve a long day ahead of us.” She headed for the door.

“Leaving so soon?” Jason strove to look disappointed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back once I’ve seen to the
other
children.”

After she left the room, Jason was left alone with Miss Weston. They ate in silence for several minutes before he said, “It occurs to me that I never properly thanked you for your help last night.”

She looked up from her plate, her cheeks pink. “It was nothing,” she mumbled.

“On the contrary. You seem to have a gift with children.”

“I have four younger siblings,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Whom you love very much.”

“Of course!”

“My dear Miss Weston, there is no ‘of course’ about it. From what I understand, younger siblings are a great trial. If I had been forced to deal with all that fussing and crying, I don’t think I would ever want to see another child in my life.”

“I cannot believe that,” she protested.

“Like I said, you’ve a way with children. There’s an understanding there and a level of compassion rare these days.”

She squirmed in her seat.

“Does my praise make you so uncomfortable then? I should think you must be accustomed to receiving compliments.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“I see.”

“It is difficult to take pleasure in your compliments, my lord, when I know the other bit is still to come.”

“The other bit?”

“The part where you insult me.”

Jason roared with laughter.

“It was not my intention to amuse you,” she sniffed.

“And yet you did. I find you unintentionally amusing. Could that be construed as an insult?” The thought set him off all over again.

“Edward slept through the night?”

Obviously Miss Weston had decided to change the subject. Fine. Jason was feeling magnanimous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

“Very nearly. He woke up thirsty at one point. You should thank me, Miss Weston. He wanted to wake you to hear the rest of your story, but I suggested he would do better to ask for a whole new story in the morning than half a story in the middle of the night. He agreed.”

“Clever,” she said approvingly.

“Yes, well, one does learn how to reason with children.”

“I was referring to Edward,” came the arch reply.

“Brava! And here I thought I was the only purveyor of the compliment-turned-insult.”

She flashed a quick grin. “I am a fast study.” Then her face turned serious. “Edward must have been quite young when you lost your wife.”

“Yes.” Jason turned his attention to his food.

“That must have been difficult for you.”

He made a noncommittal sound, partly because his mouth was full, but mostly because he had no wish to discuss Laura with her.

Miss Weston took the hint. “I have been thinking about Edward’s symptoms. He almost sounds as if he has a bad chest cold.”

“Edward does not suffer from a chest cold,” Jason bit out.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that he did. Clearly his condition is far more serious. But I wonder if some of the treatments for the lesser ailment might not benefit him? Did the doctor who saw Edward try any natural remedies?”

The quacksalver had not, but his housekeeper had thought up any number of cures over the years. Mrs. Maddoc was a good soul and quite devoted to Edward, but her notions of doctoring were unusual, to say the least. She hadn’t harmed anyone—yet—though he had once dumped one of her headache potions out his window, much to the detriment of the rosebush below.

When it came to his housekeeper, killed with kindness took on a whole new meaning. Jason found he was disappointed to learn that Miss Weston, who had seemed sensible—or at least as sensible as one could expect from a female—believed in such nonsense.

“I am not having my son walk thrice round a pig under the full moon, no matter how much it helped someone’s grandmother’s second cousin.”

Miss Weston regarded him quizzically. “ ‘Thrice round a pig’?”

“That’s what Mrs. Maddoc says.”

“I regret to say I have not yet had the pleasure of conversing with your housekeeper about the restorative powers of farm animals during the full moon.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Personally, I wouldn’t set much store in it.”

“I don’t.”

“Then we are in agreement on that score. Now, when I was in Scotland, I remember seeing some herbals and other works on domestic medicines. Might I look for some similar volumes in the library here?”

He nodded. “I don’t imagine you will find anything, but I will tell Gower it is safe to unlock the room.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Er, is it your usual practice to lock the library?”

“No,” he admitted.

Her lips pursed in an expression of annoyance. It was a sight he was becoming familiar with. “I see.”

“Miss Weston—”

She shook her head. “I cannot believe it. You actually locked your library against me.” Then suddenly, she began to laugh.

Jason was puzzled. “You’re not angry?”

“I was for a moment, but then I stopped to consider the sheer lunacy of such an action. Locking a room so that one of your guests doesn’t go about the rather menial task of organizing its contents. Why, it’s utter madness!”

“Since meeting you, madness is a condition with which I have become increasingly familiar. One has to wonder which of us is worse—you for taking on such a task or me for trying to stop you from doing it again. Ah, well, as Petrarch said:
Libri quosdam ad scientiam, quosdam ad insaniam deduxere
.”

She scowled. “An insult in a foreign language is still an insult.”

“Permit me to translate: Books lead some to knowledge, some to madness. Did you gain any particular knowledge while organizing the library, Miss Weston?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then madness it must be. You’ve been driven mad by books, and I have been driven mad by you.”

“Another hit, my lord. You are in fine form this morning. I shall have to tell Aunt Kate her concerns were unfounded.” She rose.

“I didn’t mean—” he began.

“It doesn’t matter. May I look in the library or not?”

“Yes, of course. Come, we’ll go see Gower right now.”

He’d had a lucky escape. He had been about to tell her his words weren’t meant as an insult. She
was
driving him to madness, but not because she angered him.

Just the opposite.

And therein lay his problem.

When he arrived late that afternoon, Livvy found, to her very great surprise, that Sir Charles Avery seemed a most respectable young man. He was probably in his mid-twenties, which would put him around her older brother’s age, but he had a far more mature manner than Henry possessed or would likely ever possess. Sir Charles was an attractive man, as well. He was by no means as good-looking as his brother-in-law, but his boyish face was quite appealing. She had no doubt he had a good many lady friends in London.

The smattering of Sir Charles’s exploits that had made their way into Laura’s diary painted the picture of a charming wastrel. The type of man who was really still a boy, thinking only of his own pleasure, with no thought to future consequences. And Livvy had read enough novels to know that when one dealt with charming wastrels, there were always future consequences.

She had imagined he’d grown into a hardened gambler in the intervening years, drawn further into London’s seedy underworld, his sister no longer there to rescue him. Instead she was met with chestnut curls and a round, almost cherubic face. He was so very different from her expectations, she found herself staring. He gave her a friendly smile and she saw in his sparkling green eyes a measure of masculine appreciation.

Livvy blushed.

“Jace,” Sir Charles called out. “Who is this delightful creature? Surely she’s been imprisoned here, for no maiden would consent to share your company.”

Olivia laughed.

The marquess frowned.

“Charles, this is Miss Weston. She’s Katherine’s niece.” His voice held a hint of warning. “Miss Weston, this is my brother-in-law, Sir Charles Avery.”

“Uncle Chas!”

Edward appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Edward!” Sir Charles’s genuine delight in seeing his nephew further improved Olivia’s opinion of him. Edward raced down the stairs and his uncle caught him up in a big hug, spinning him about.

“Careful, Charles,” the marquess cautioned.

Sir Charles set Edward down and ruffled the boy’s hair. “No harm done. Now, where are the ladies of the family? This welcome feels quite incomplete without them!”

“Here we are.” Her aunt glided down the stairs, almost seeming to float. Her aunt had an abundance of these feminine graces, though unfortunately they did not seem to be the sort of thing that manifested itself in families, like cleft chins or dimples.

As if to prove her point, Charlotte tripped on the bottom stair and would have gone sprawling on the floor—which Olivia knew from experience was rather hard and unforgiving—had Sir Charles not quickly stepped forward and caught her. He tossed her up over his head, making Charlotte squeal with delight.

“Hello, poppet!”

He set her down gently, then turned to Olivia’s aunt.

“My lady.” He turned a leg and made a courtly bow. “Still as beautiful as ever.”

“Charles, you are a shameless flirt,” Lady Sheldon declared, “but I wouldn’t have you any other way. Someone must pander to the vanity of old women. Come here, dear boy, and give me a proper hug.”

Olivia could tell that her aunt was truly fond of Sir Charles. Had Charles repented and been forgiven? The marquess didn’t seem the forgiving sort, and though Charles wasn’t responsible for Laura’s death, her final diary entry mentioned an early-morning meeting, on Charles’s behalf, in the park with a “Lord V” on Charles’s behalf. Her riding accident must have happened on the way either to or from this assignation. This was all most curious. A mystery, one might even say. A mysterious man in a haunted castle—perhaps she’d have an adventure after all.

Aunt Kate held out a hand toward Livvy. “You met my niece?”

“I did indeed. I know it’s shocking my brother- in-law remembered his manners long enough to make the introductions.”

Lord Sheldon scowled.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Weston. Now we shall finally be able to make up a game of whist. We’ve tried to induce Dimpsey to play, but he refuses. I assume his massive self is lurking around here somewhere?”

“Right you are, Sir Charles.” Aunt Kate’s butler walked into the room.

Dimpsey was another mystery, though she doubted any of them would ever understand him. He had the look of a prizefighter, the manners of a gentleman, the stealth of a jungle cat, and the uncanny ability to appear at just the right time.

“Good to see you again,” Sir Charles said as Dimpsey came closer.

“You too, sir.” Dimpsey grinned. “And before you go asking me again, you still can’t afford me.”

Sir Charles gave a mournful sigh. “I suppose Jason already offered you a king’s ransom?”

Aunt Kate gave her stepson a playful swat on the arm. “Will you stop trying to hire my butler out from under my nose? He’s devoted to me, aren’t you, Dimpsey?”

“Aye, my lady. You and Lady Charlotte.” He winked. “I don’t know how the two of you would manage without me.”

“I’d scold you for impertinence if it weren’t so true.”

Dimpsey held out his hands. “Now, Master Edward, Lady Charlotte, I promised I’d take you out to look for holly and ivy and mistletoe to decorate with tonight, didn’t I? Very well, then, let’s go up to the nursery and get you both bundled up. I don’t fancy having a pair of sick bairns on my hands come Christmas morning.”

He hustled the children up the stairs, each of them perfectly obedient and charmed to do whatever he asked.

The marquess watched them go, his face a mixture of awe and skepticism. “There’s something not quite human about that man.”

“Yes,” Lady Sheldon said fondly. “He truly is much more than a butler.”

“That’s just it,” the marquess continued. “He’s not just a good butler. He’s also an excellent valet, and when he decides to set foot in the kitchen, his food is so good you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. Now I find he’s on nursery duty as well. . . .” He shook his head and turned back to the company at hand. “Charles, you’ve been given your usual room.”

“Dare I hope it is close to Miss Weston’s?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Olivia blushed.

Her aunt laughed. “Charles, you devil, mind your tongue.”

Lord Sheldon looked cross. “As it happens, Miss Weston is in the Marchioness’s Chambers, so don’t even think of trying anything improper.”

“Yes, Lord Proper.” Sir Charles saluted. “Well, I shall head upstairs to dust off the dirt of the roads and make myself presentable. When is dinner?”

“Seven,” Lord Sheldon replied.

“Then I shall see you all in the drawing room at half past six,” he said decidedly.

Men, Livvy had observed, had a distinct aversion to missing any sort of edible offering. Her older brother, Henry, could only be counted on to be on time for meals.

“I think I’ll go to my chamber as well,” Olivia said. She wanted to look over Laura’s diary and see if there was anything she had missed about Sir Charles. He was so amiable; he hardly seemed capable of racking up vast amounts of debt, but appearances could be deceiving. Her preferred reading material might not be educational in the conventional sense, but the novels were vastly informative about sinister characters and nefarious deeds.

Had Sir Charles mended his ways after his sister’s death? Was he the amiable young man he looked to be? Or was his easy conduct a mask for his true nature?

Perhaps Charles had known exactly what he was doing when he begged his sister for help. He might even have lured her into committing a crime. She didn’t know the identity of “Lord V” or what might have transpired at their meeting. . . .

But she was getting ahead of herself. In this setting, it was sometimes difficult to remember that she was not the gothic heroine of her dreams, but ordinary Miss Olivia Weston. Just because she was ordinary, that did not mean she could not engage in a bit of discreet detective work. And if the suspect proved innocent, that was all to the good.

She had never been able to resist a good mystery. Her love of puzzles had started her on her current path and her journey would not be complete until she had unraveled every last knot, including her Gordian marquess. She had solved his riddles, clue by clue, and now she had to solve the riddle of him. He was infinitely more complicated than his poorly penned verses, but there was more than a brooch at stake. She was only just beginning to realize how much more and what price she might be forced to pay.