A Good Rake is Hard to Find (23 page)

And having blown into the house like a cyclone, she tugged Johnson along behind her and disappeared up the stairs.

“A formidable lady, your aunt,” Lady Melisande said to Leonora as she and Freddy stepped into the entranceway.

“Indeed she is, Lady Melisande,” Leonora said with a wince. “I do apologize for her boldness. It was not my intention to—”

“Do not think of it, Miss Craven,” Gerard interrupted smoothly. “We have aunts of our own, do we not, Frederick?” He winked at his cousin as if to share the joke. “I should be shocked if your elderly relative had emerged from a carriage trip without a word of complaint.”

“Welcome to our home, Miss Craven,” Lady Melisande said with a smile that was not reflected in her eyes. “We are so pleased to have you here.”

“Indeed we are, Miss Craven,” Gerard said with a knowing smile. “Speaking of carriages, I heard about your accident in the park earlier this week. I am so pleased that neither you nor Lady Hermione was seriously hurt.”

Freddy tensed at his cousin's mention of the firecracker incident. He'd decided upon receiving the invitation to his cousin's country house that he would put off confronting Gerard about the incident. Especially in light of the possibility that it might have been intended for Lady Hermione and Leonora was just an innocent bystander. But he found himself wanting to bring up the topic now. Preferably with his fists.

Leonora, however, must have guessed the direction of his thoughts because he felt a pinch on his arm. “It was rather frightening, Sir Gerard,” she said now in a hearty tone. “But my friend and I escaped unscathed so all is well. I cannot imagine who would be so foolish as to set off a Chinese firecracker in the park like that. A very foolish person, it must have been. But there was no harm done. And fortunately my friend Lady Hermione is a skillful whip, so I was in good hands. Thank you for asking.”

She might very well have escaped without injury from the incident, Freddy thought grimly, but that did not mean that he was finished with the matter. In addition to finding some way to prove what happened to Jonathan, he also intended to find out if Gerard or one of his cronies had set out to scare Leonora and Lady Hermione.

“It was a great deal more serious than you are making it out to be, my dear,” he said to Leonora pointedly. “You might have been killed. A point I will make when I find the culprit, I can assure you.”

“How ferocious you sound, Lord Frederick,” said Lady Melisande with a titter. “I would have thought a bluestocking like Miss Craven would not abide such behavior from her betrothed. I was given to believe that followers of Miss Wollstonecraft did not find such protection necessary or desirable.”

Watching as their bags were carried inside by their maid and valet, Leonora held tight to Freddy's arm. “Miss Wollstonecraft does not suggest dispensing with gentlemen altogether, Lady Melisande,” she corrected gently. “She merely asks whether it would not be possible for them to be a bit more accepting when ladies attempt to partake of those activities that are generally ascribed to men.”

“Is that correct, Miss Craven?” Sir Gerard asked with a derisive laugh. “I thought it was getting rid of men altogether that Miss Wollstonecraft advocates. It seems to me that's what every lady I know who has partaken of that lady's writings has come away from her saying. I hope you do not intend to harm my cousin while you're both under my roof.”

“What are you suggesting, cousin?” Freddy's voice was harsh, and Gerard must have noticed it because he laughed.

“Listen to me,” Gerard said with unaccustomed sheepishness that made Freddy suspicious. “I sound like the writer of a gothic novel. Of course you do not mean to harm my cousin. I don't know how such an idea came to me.”

“You must be exhausted from your journey,” Lady Melisande said after an awkward pause. “Let me show you to your rooms.”

“I think you'll be quite pleased with them.” Sir Gerard sounded as if he were holding back mirth for some reason. “They overlook the park, which leads eventually to the cliff and the Channel.”

Freddy was suspicious, but played along and expressed pleasure at the notion while Leonora told a story about the first time she saw the sea. When they reached the narrow hallway their rooms led off from, he realized what his cousin's mirth was about.

He'd given them adjoining rooms.

“You're here, Miss Craven,” Lady Melisande said, flinging open the first door to reveal a prettily decorated room in rose tones. “And Lord Frederick, if you'll follow my husband, you're the next room down.”

“Is my aunt's room on this hall, as well?” Freddy heard Leonora ask before she disappeared into her room.

“She is in the other wing,” Gerard said, elbowing Freddy in his still sore ribs.

He hissed and Gerard made a face. “Don't tell me you're still smarting from that little episode the other day. I thought your man was supposed to be a dab hand at easing bruises and bumps.”

Since his valet was a former prizefighter, it was the truth, but Chester wasn't a miracle worker. Freddy didn't know of any tincture or cream that could erase a bruised rib. Aloud he said, “He does well enough, but I reinjured it.”

Gerard paused and then winked. Freddy really wished that his cousin would remove that particular action from his physical vocabulary. It was quite offputting.

“I'll bet I can guess how,” he said with no attempt to hide his insinuation.

A week in this man's company was going to leave him with either a thirst for blood or sore knuckles again from planting his cousin a facer. Either way, the outcome would not be good. Reminding himself that he and Leonora were here for reasons more important than his vendetta against his cousin, he reined in his temper.

Chuckling, he said, “I'll bet you can guess. Still, it doesn't make them hurt any less. So the less you poke at me the better, if you don't mind, old chap.”

Gerard laughed rather more than the situation warranted. “Say no more, coz. I'll refrain from touching you, though I can't speak for the other guests. There are some ladies I asked Melisande to add to the guest list who would be quite willing to rub soothing ointment where it hurts.”

Wondering how many women his cousin expected him to be bedding at a time, Freddy laughed along, vowing to warn Leonora not to think the worst if she saw him in a compromising position with another guest. He had a feeling that his cousin would think it endlessly amusing to set him up for all manner of embarrassing situations in an effort to sabotage his betrothal to Jonathan's sister. Anything to keep them from further investigating his death.

“My thanks for showing me to my room, Gerry,” he said aloud now, wanting to talk with Leonora before they were dragged into the party activities. “I think I'll wash off the travel dirt before dinner.”

Accepting his dismissal with surprising good grace, Gerard left him with a reminder that dinner was at eight so he'd better not let his “rest” last beyond that.

After a quick wash and a change of clothes, during which Freddy noted the location of the door joining his own dressing room to Leonora's, he stepped back out into the hallway and knocked on the door to her bedchamber, like the civilized person he was.

*   *   *

“I cannot believe they gave us adjoining rooms!” Leonora hissed when they were safe in the back garden where they wouldn't be overheard. “I know I'm a poet with a rather liberal reputation,” she went on, “but am I considered so bold that I would really embark upon an affair with my betrothed while we're at a house party?”

She'd thought it surprising that their rooms were side by side, while her chaperone was in a whole other wing, but when Leonora had discovered the doors that joined their rooms, she'd been aghast. “It's shocking, Frederick. Quite shocking.”

But he didn't seem nearly as overset by the situation as she was. Which was, in her experience, typical.

“I hate to be the one to disabuse you of the notion that house parties are always entirely proper, Leonora,” he said with raised brows, “but house parties are not always entirely proper.”

“I know some are improper,” Leonora protested with a moue of distaste. “But I never thought that I would be invited to such a one. I'm an unmarried lady, for goodness' sake. I brought a chaperone!”

“Yes, an elderly aunt who does not have the most sterling reputation for propriety herself. Or are you forgetting that she left you to attend my cousin's soiree alone with me?”

“That was different,” Leonora said dismissively. Aunt Hortense was perhaps not the highest stickler, but she wasn't entirely lost to all notions of proper behavior. She simply detested soirees. It was understandable that she would avoid them—even those where she was expected to chaperone—at all costs. Still, she did wonder just how scrupulous her aunt would be during their stay at South Haven. She had retired to her rooms immediately upon arriving. That didn't mean anything.

Did it?

“My aunt's chaperonage or lack thereof notwithstanding, I suppose I didn't have a choice.” She sobered, thinking of their true reason for being there. “I came to learn more about what happened to my brother. To see if there is some way to glean information from the rest of the club members. So, if my reputation is ruined in the process, I will gladly endure it so that I can tell my father who it was that killed his only son.”

At the mention of Jonathan, Freddy's expression grew serious. “I won't let them ruin your reputation,” he said with a frown. “If anyone speaks a word about any impropriety between us, I'll just make him regret it.”

“And what if that doesn't help?” she asked, her mind thinking about the connecting doors upstairs. “What if we are compromised?”

“Leonora,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I said I'd marry you and I will. We are betrothed to be married, and though it began as a sham, it's quite real to me. If something happens that makes it necessary for us to marry sooner rather than later, I will certainly do it.”

At his declaration she tried to pull away, but Freddy refused to let her go. She wasn't prepared to argue about the truth or falseness of their betrothal just now. Talking that out would mean telling him the truth about her inability to conceive. Something she had to keep from him lest he decide to marry her out of some misguided desire to see her taken care of, to marry her anyway.

“Listen to me,” Freddy said, his voice low, his eyes intent on hers. “I won't let you martyr yourself on your brother's grave. We will work to find out who killed him. Because that's what Jonathan would have wanted. He'd want his killer brought to justice. But he would not want his only sister to sacrifice her name and reputation in an effort to do so.”

When she would have spoken, he stopped her with a finger to her lips. “I know you feel on some level that you are obligated to find out who did him in. And I understand that. But let me do what I can to protect you. He was one of my dearest friends and I was unable to save him. Let me, if possible, save you in his stead.”

“It's not the same thing,” she protested, jerking away from him. And this time, he let her go. She walked a short distance to the edge of the garden, which overlooked a stand of trees. “You have done quite enough for us both,” she said, shaking her head, as if trying to free her mind from some invisible tether. “I cannot trap you into marriage in addition to leading you into danger.”

“You're too damned noble for your own good,” he said in exasperation. “Perhaps you have forgot it's my cousin we are trying to prove is a killer. And that twice now he's threatened you, and perhaps even attempted to kill you by throwing an explosive at you.”

He swore and ran a restless hand over the back of his neck. “Let me protect you, Leonora. I'm a grown man. I don't need you to fight my battles for me. Or worse, shield me from myself lest I do something you see as recklessly noble.”

She stared at him for a moment. He was right about protecting him. He just didn't know what it was she was actually shielding him from.

“And if at the end of this madness we decide that it would be best if we went our separate ways?” she asked, half hoping, half dreading what his answer would be.

But she should have known that he'd evade the question.

“If we get to the end of this party without some evidence to prove my cousin killed your brother,” he said firmly, “then I promise that I will not force you to marry me.”

There was much that was left unsaid in his declaration. He didn't promise not to use persuasion to win her over—only force. And he had already proven himself too honorable for that. And what if they found evidence against Gerard, but it wasn't enough to bring him before the magistrate?

She rather thought his promise was merely a sop to calm her before she brought the suspicions of the house down around their ears.

And, to her shame, he wasn't wrong to offer it.

“Very well,” she said with a nod, hoping she conveyed more poise than she felt. “I think now we should go in search of the rest of the party.”

She began to walk back the way they'd come, but Freddy stopped her. “I think you should know,” he said, “that I believe the reason we've been given adjoining rooms is not necessarily because this party is particularly unseemly—though it certainly does appear that way. I believe the true reason, however, is that my cousin wishes to ascertain just how real our pretend betrothal is.”

As his words sank in, Leonora felt a wave of anger sweep through her. “So, it's a test? I thought it was uncommon for betrothed couples to…” She waved her hand in the air to fill in the verbal blank. “Is it not?”

“Having only been betrothed to one lady in my life,” he said with a raised brow, “I cannot speak to that. I do know that my cousin knows my reputation as…”—he coughed and Leonora saw that his ears were turning red—“a rake, and has determined that I am the sort of man who would insist upon anticipating my marriage vows.”