Valentine had discovered the bodies of the two women when he and Piffkin entered the stable turned hellfire club in search of clothing for Daisy and Rose and the other women. Her ladyship’s throat had been neatly sliced, and the servant lay facedown beside the altar, a large knife in her back. She certainly did favor knives, this Exalted Ruler.
To the observer, it seemed the servant had dispatched her mistress, most probably on orders, and then, undoubtedly to her unhappy surprise, had been assisted from this mortal coil, as well.
Clearly the so-called Exalted One had been displeased to learn of Daisy’s escape. When that woman decided to cut her losses and run, thinking it better to fight another day, she didn’t believe in leaving any loose ends dangling behind her.
“Again, thank you, Mr. Redgrave,” the earl said, taking Valentine’s hand in both of his own as they stood outside the manor house and pumping it up and down mightily. “I always knew Chas’s braggadocio about all the women he bedded would do him no good, but I never suspected things would end this way. There’s always been suspicion his first wife also took her own life, you know. I’m only sorry you had to be visiting here at the time of this great tragedy, although you’ve been all that is kind. And discreet.”
“And will continue to be so, my lord, on my honor as a gentleman. I can only be glad I could be here for the children,” Valentine said, retrieving his hand. Mailer quite resembled his brother physically, but there the similarity ended. From the moment he’d ridden the ten miles to the earl’s estate several days previously, and met him and his wife, he’d known Lydia and William would be in good, loving hands. “I’ll be departing myself for London as soon as the equipage is brought round.”
The two men bowed to each other before the earl descended the few steps to his coach, where his wife and the children awaited inside.
“Goodbye, my prince!” Lydia called, leaning nearly halfway out the dropped window.
“One moment,” Valentine called up to the coachman. “I nearly forgot something.” He turned and stepped inside the doorway to take the large bouquet Piffkin handed him.
“My princess,” he said as he handed the bouquet up to a clearly delighted Lydia, and then stepped back to sweep her a courtly bow. William was too engrossed with his trio of caged frogs to even wave his farewells as the coach pulled away.
“You’ve ruined the young miss for all other gentlemen, you know,” Piffkin said from behind him. “She’s fated now to search the whole wide world for another one like you, doomed to failure, as there is, thank the Lord, only the one.”
“I do set a high standard, don’t I?” Valentine shot back, grinning as he stripped off the black mourning band that had encircled his upper arm and shoved it in his pocket. Now if Daisy could only be won as easily as Lydia. “You’re certain Luther is on his way?”
“He is. As soon as he’s satisfied the fires he laid have taken hold. You’re certain we aren’t setting off a conflagration?”
“Hardly. The bloody place is surrounded by rock,” Valentine pointed out as his coach pulled into the circular gravel drive, Twitchill up on the box, Robert and two other Redgrave outriders cantering along behind. “Fire worked for Simon, remember. Besides, can you think of a more fitting end for a hellfire club?”
“For the structure below the cliff, sir, or the entire Society?”
“Both. Ah, and here comes Luther. How is he faring after all the excitement, by the way?”
“After accepting the grateful thanks of those highly excitable Cyprians before seeing them off back to their London cribs, sir? I’d say his mum will find him a highly changed young man.”
“For the better, do you suppose?”
“Not for me to judge, sir. But he did mention a certain young barmaid at The Eagle, and how he thinks he knows now what she meant when she suggested he take her out walking, and then winked at him.”
Valentine threw back his head and laughed before walking over to open the door of the coach and let down the steps. He approached carefully. Rose clung to Daisy whenever a man was present, but she seemed to make exceptions for Valentine, who had rescued her, and Piffkin, who treated her as if she was the most innocent of lovely young damsels, addressing her as Miss Rose, and constantly appearing with gifts secured in the nearby village. Chocolates, sugarplums, pretty ribbons for a bonnet he discovered, on and on.
Valentine had teased the man, saying if Piffkin weren’t forty years Rose’s senior, he would have to ask him his intentions. And for the first time in his memory, his valet had demanded an apology.
“Ladies? Good morning to you both, and don’t you look fine as ninepence. And happy to be leaving the inn behind at last, I’m sure.”
“How were the children when they left?” Daisy asked him as Rose treated him to a shy smile and then ducked her head so that her bonnet all but hid her face. She looked somewhat worn and tired, but there was no denying she was an exceptionally beautiful young woman.
“They’re anxious to live with their cousins. How’s...?” He indicated he meant Rose with a lift of his chin, rather than ask the question aloud. The questions. Was she all right? And, was she all right to travel with Piffkin and the maid Daisy had chosen from the Mailer household to accompany her to Redgrave Manor?
“We’re doing very well, thank you. I wanted to speak with you about our traveling arrangements, however. I don’t think—”
Rose put her hand on Daisy’s arm. When she spoke, Valentine always had to lean in close to hear her, as he did now. “Piffkin and I will do nicely together, really. And he assures me Cloris is a more than adequate chaperone. Please, Daisy, don’t fret about me. You’ve worried more than enough. It’s only for two days. Piffkin says there’s no more need to cry, that I’ve cried enough. We’ve all cried enough this past week, and Piffkin says once I’m at Redgrave Manor I can feel safe among friends and remember who I once was and once again am, and plan the rest of my life. Isn’t that right, Piffkin? I believe I said it all correctly.”
“Exactly so, Miss Rose. But if we’re to make our planned destination for this evening, we’d best be on our way.”
As Daisy frowned at her sister, Valentine held his breath. He’d never heard Piffkin’s name so many times in so few breaths; the man deserved a substantial rise in wages...perhaps even a kiss on top of his bald head.
“If you’re certain,” Daisy said at last. “I’ll see you tonight.” She leaned over to give her sister a kiss on the cheek followed by a fierce hug. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, Daisy.” Rose leaned across her sister and looked Valentine directly in the eye. “Thank you again for taking care of her, and for saving me and for—for everything Piffkin told me.”
Daisy looked to her sister, to Valentine and then back to Rose. “What
everything
has he told you?”
“Not now, Daisy,” Valentine interjected quickly, holding out his hand to her. “It’s time we were on our way. I doubt highly anyone is watching us after all this time, but lingering here still isn’t advisable.”
One more hug, one more exchange of kisses, and Daisy was standing beside Valentine on the gravel drive, smiling bravely as she waved at the departing coach, the outriders, including Luther, tagging behind, leading Charfield’s mount. Like the Exalted Leader, Valentine believed in leaving no loose ends untied.
“What
everything?
” she asked him, the brave smile hastily reformed into an inquiring frown.
“Uh-oh,” Valentine said instead of answering, shielding his eyes as he looked in the direction of the standing stones. “Smoke’s rising above the trees. It’s time we were gone.”
“Yes, but— Let go of my hand, Valentine. You’re all but dragging me. Good lord! What on earth is that thing over there? That’s my bag strapped to the back, isn’t it?”
“Along with one of mine, yes.”
“We—we’re going to ride in
that?
I’d rather cling to the top of your coach.”
Valentine nodded to the groom who was holding the bridle of one of the pair of showy bays in the traces of Charles Mailer’s ridiculous red racing curricle with its garish yellow wheels.
“A request from the earl. Since I arrived here with his brother and have no transport, I’ve been asked to deliver this horror to Tatt’s for their sale. There’s bound to be some young idiot who’ll think it all the crack. If you want to keep your face pressed into my shoulder the entire way to London, I’ll understand. I may never live it down, myself, if I’m seen up on this monstrosity.”
“London? But...but we’re going to your brother’s estate. We’re going to meet Rose at night, but just ride separately because the coach would be too crowded and Mr. Piffkin needs a seat of his own because of his...that is, at his age.”
“And I couldn’t see Cloris riding up with me, and you felt sorry for me because I’d have to ride alone. You forgot that part.”
“I did not forget that part. I
regret
that part. And stop grinning at me like the village idiot. We’re not going to London, Valentine. I can’t go to London, Rose expects me.”
“Piffkin and your sister seem to have established some sort of special relationship these past days—one I’ve learned not to question—and she obviously trusts him. He’s going to tell her we’ll be slightly delayed but will meet up with them at the Manor.”
“Delayed because of this
monstrosity?
I agree. I’d rather walk.”
He climbed up on the springy seat and the groom handed him the reins before assisting Daisy. A coin flipped to the groom, they were on their way. If neither of the showy horses broke down or stopped to admire their reflections in every stream they passed, Valentine believed they could be in Cavendish Square just after dark.
At least now they were moving, and Daisy was entirely too sensible to attempt to jump down from the seat. It was time for the truth.
“We’ll be delayed because we’re going shopping. At my expense, as it’s my idea. No, my demand. Fetching as your gowns may be to those with a discerning eye, I think you and Rose will be more comfortable at Redgrave Manor clad in gowns less reminiscent of the schoolroom or, for her, the months of her captivity. I know my grandmother’s always said a woman can never be the worse for a few new gowns and fripperies. In fact, I’m going to put Trixie in charge of you, so I hope you’ve sufficiently regained your stamina. I believe she often points her parasol at her coachman and shouts
charge
when her destination is Bond Street.”
“That’s highly amusing, even intriguing, but I won’t be distracted. If you’re set on emptying your pockets, there must be a village near your brother’s estate where I can easily find materials to make up new gowns for both Rose and me. I’m a fairly accomplished seamstress. I made this gown myself, just recently.”
He looked over at the gown. White collar tight around her throat, long sleeves with white turned-back cuffs. Buttons running down the front of the thing, and large pockets in which governesses often carried stubs of chalk, small slates, a short ruler and an extra linen square in case one of her runny-nosed charges hadn’t thought to provide her own. She probably had made extra collars and cuffs, for whenever one set needed washing. Eminently practical. “Very, um...well sewn. It’s brown.”
“Yes, brown. A perfectly acceptable color for a governess. Thank you for thinking of Rose, and I agree she should be rid of anything having to do with these last months, but I really don’t see a trip to London as necessary.”
“I do. Oh, and there’s no more need for these.” He reached over and relieved her of her spectacles, tossing them over his shoulder, onto the roadway. “You haven’t figured this out yet, have you, my genius?”
“Apparently I have not.” She sat very straight on the seat, looking forward. “Enlighten me.”
“I want to introduce my fiancée to my grandmother. There’d be the devil to pay if she isn’t the first to know. Other than Piffkin, of course, who has already wished us happiness. You don’t really think you and I would be riding unaccompanied in this circus wagon of a curricle otherwise, do you?”
There was a silence so solid Valentine had been told it at least metaphorically could be sliced with a knife. There was a silence so portentous one might feel the need to bow one’s head in prayer. There was a silence so eerie that same person might not be able to resist turning himself about to see who or what might be sneaking up behind him on tiptoe.
And then there was Daisy’s silence, that beat them all hollow.
“Daisy?”
She turned her head toward the scenery beside the road.
“I should have proposed, shouldn’t I? Done the down-on-one-knee business and the rest of it? Kate will have my head on a platter, as she’s always saying we Redgraves are the most unromantical people on earth. But God knows you’re a practical sort, and it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’ve kissed you, more than once. That’s enough in itself. And then that night, the filmy— Your, how do I put this? Your unfortunate
déshabillé?
Marriage is the only sensible solution.”
She mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, but her tone wasn’t promising.
“Pardon me?”
“I said, if that’s the case then I shall marry Mr. Piffkin, as Luther is too young. It’s not as if you’re the only one who saw my
unfortunate déshabillé.
There’s no great need for you to be the one to make such an obvious sacrifice
.
”
“I can’t see your face, but that last was said with a sneer, wasn’t it?”
At last she turned to face him.
“A terrible sneer, yes, you should rejoice you missed it. At least I’m not half-hearted, nor am I hiding behind some sort of silly society rules and conventions. And...and if I am to be considered compromised, what should Rose be doing? Taking herself to a nunnery for the remainder of her days?”
“Because of what the Society did to her? Why should she be punished for what they did?”
“Exactly. A few kisses to one side, why should we be punished for what the Society attempted to do to me? Or with me. Or whatever it was they planned.”
“I’m fairly certain they planned to parade you in front of me, and then give me some dastardly deed to carry out, something they’d thought up when they still believed I wanted to be one of them. I think they simply amended the plan wherein I commit the same dastardly deed in order to have you back or you’d pay the consequences. To be frank, I believe they may have suggested a virgin sacrifice or some such rot. In a way, Daisy, you should be flattered the Society thought I held you so high in my regard. So being married to me would be a punishment?”