A Love Laid Bare (14 page)

“So it was believed. A part of her boat was found
after she disappeared, and she was thought drowned.” Lady Merton
rose and went to sit at her dressing table. She gazed at him in the
mirror as she brushed out her long blond hair. “Richard, Lord
Halcombe—was understandably distraught.”

I’m sure you did your best to console the man. The
question is how willing he was to be consoled.
Jensen had
learned enough about Lord Halcombe to know he was not the
friendliest of men and gaining entrance to his household might
prove difficult. The wife was easier prey, he suspected, and the
sooner they met, the better for him. It was imperative he get into
Halcombe Manor.

“It sounds quite the ordeal. Did you know her well?
Before all this, I mean.”

“I barely knew her at all.” The viscountess frowned,
leaned closer to peer at her reflection, and then smoothed away the
lines on her forehead with one finger. “I suppose it
was
dreadful,” she said with a shrug that expressed her indifference.
“Everyone is making her out to be a heroine of sorts, although
I
think it shocking that she was careless enough to go off
in a sailboat like some rag-tailed boy.” She turned to face him.
“Although one might expect such behavior of so plebian a creature.
Why, she is not much more than a child!”

He sat up, feigning confusion. “I have not met Lord
Halcombe, but it seems unlikely that he would be enamored of a
schoolgirl.”

“Money,” the lady said with a short laugh. “What
else?” She swung around and began applying cream to her face. “I
think it best if you went to your own rooms now. My maid will be
coming to assist with my toilette.”

Jensen’s mouth tightened at the casual dismissal.
Annoyed, he stood and walked over to stand behind her. “I can help
you,” he said smoothly. He stroked the line of her jaw with his
thumb, and slid his fingers under her robe to trace the curve of
her breast.

“You would be too distracting.”

Her voice was cool, but the pulse in her neck
quickened. Satisfied by her reaction, he dropped his hands and
stepped back.

“As you wish…” Jensen walked over to retrieve his
banyan and left through the door connecting their bedchambers. It
was no secret in this household that they were lovers. He was sure
he was not the first to have her since her husband died—or before,
for that matter, although that was speculation.

He sent his valet off to order a bath and poured a
glass of brandy from the decanter that was kept readily available
in his room. This was a well-run establishment, he had to give the
lady that much credit, and she did not stint her guests. He was
after a lot more than the trinkets she occasionally bestowed on
him, however. He had to get his hands on that damn Legacy Folio,
and soon.

Sipping infrequently at his brandy, Jensen stared out
the window at the immaculate grounds below. Lady Halcombe was the
key. He did not know why she had returned to England, or what lies
she had told the earl, but he knew something about her activities
whilst in Portugal. The world of rare books and antique maps was a
small one, a chummy club of collectors and dealers, and as her
father before her, she was a member. The pretense she put about,
claiming that A. Nesbitt was Mr. Nesbitt’s distant cousin and heir,
appeared to have fooled most people. He was not one of them.

Did Lord Halcombe know? An interesting question and
one that needed answering at once. It may be that he could use it
to lean on her, but he’d try a friendly seduction first. According
to Victoria, the earl had married for money, but she had her own
reasons to portray him as locked into a marriage of convenience.
Better to make his own judgment and avoid assumptions
.

So, how to arrange a meeting with her ladyship?
Jensen was not about to wait until Victoria’s dinner party to begin
this campaign. Time was running out for his father—and for him. He
set aside his glass and turned his mind to planning an
accidental
meeting with Lady Halcombe—
tomorrow.

***

Jensen halted his horse at the top of the rise that
overlooked Halcombe Manor and studied the pale stone building with
interest. It appeared to be built around a square tower of darker
rough-hewn stones. The Ehlmans were an old family and Jensen
understood the title went back for centuries. Although the
additions were obvious to a discerning eye, somehow it all blended
into an attractive whole, even if it was a bit quaint for his
taste. Halcombe Manor was certainly nothing on the scale of some of
the grand estates he had visited here and in Europe, but it was a
solid property that appeared prosperous.

He had gathered a surprising amount of information
about Lady Halcombe’s life, including her daily habits. Servants
inevitably talked, and given the unusual situation, gossip just now
was at a peak. Jensen grinned at the understatement. Yes, returning
from the grave counted as an extraordinary circumstance. And Lady
Halcombe had come back with a vengeance, too, if half the stories
he had heard were true. Dismissing servants, bringing in a new
housekeeper, hiring tradesmen and extra maids—oh, yes, she was
making her presence felt.

From all accounts, this was not her style prior to
her disappearance and he wondered what had changed her. Facing
death? Exile? Motherhood? More likely a combination of them all. It
only mattered to him insofar as making his prey more interesting
than a shy and nervous schoolgirl. Apparently one thing remained
unchanged—her habit of walking or riding every morning. This bit of
information had handily been obtained from idle talk at the local
public house.

Jensen touched his heel to his mount. Lady Halcombe’s
favorite path led through the copse that ran between the Halcombe
and Merton properties. What could be more natural than a guest of
Lady Merton’s riding there? If she traveled elsewhere, there was
always another day, but the sooner the better. He had to get
possession of the Folio.

Damn his father for getting him into this situation.
Jensen still had trouble believing the old man had been so
incredibly stupid as to steal the Legacy Folio from von Steffin’s
library. Greed and avarice were a dangerous combination. The
Count’s heir had no right to even call for an evaluation of the
library contents while the father lay on his deathbed. Now the
Count was miraculously recovered and might discover any day that
his precious treasure maps have disappeared.

Jensen’s mouth twisted with anger. Stealing the
Legacy was bad enough. Selling it to Halcombe’s father was
disastrous. If he had his way, both von Steffins—father and
son—would meet an untimely end. That way, once the Folio was in his
hands, it could be resold and the Jensen coffers would be so much
the richer.

Or preferably your own pocket. You can pay your
gambling debts and have a tidy sum left over. But first
…

When he reached the shaded lane that ran through the
wooded area between the manors, Jensen dismounted. He lifted one of
the gelding’s hoofs and pried loose the shoe, using the pliers he
had brought along solely for this purpose. He led the horse forward
a few paces. Satisfied that the evidence of lameness was adequate,
he pocketed the tool.

While it was enjoyably cool under the trees, he did
not have to wait long before hearing the clip-clop of several
horses. In all likelihood, Lady Halcombe had a groom with her. No
matter. His goal today was to make her acquaintance, not engage in
dalliance.

Jensen began walking toward the Merton estate, his
horse trailing behind him. He came to a stop and swung around when
the riders sounded close.

“Have you a problem, sir?”

The question came from a dark-haired woman on a
pretty, smallish chestnut mare, and Jensen assumed an expression of
rueful resignation. “My horse has a loose shoe, I’m sorry to say,
but no doubt a walk will do me good.”

The lady gave him a sympathetic smile. She
half-turned in the saddle and gestured to her companion. “Jim,
please take a look and see if there is anything to be done.”

“Very well, my lady.”

The stern-faced, middle-aged man examined Jensen and
frowned. He was distinctly unhappy about the request. Nevertheless
he dismounted to inspect the gelding’s hoof and shook his head.
“Nothing to be done without a blacksmith, madam.”

“Oh dear,” the woman said. She looked at Jensen.
“Have you far to go?”

Jensen moved closer and smiled up at the young woman.
“Not far. I am a guest at Merton House and the groom there informed
me that riding here was permitted. My apologies if I have
trespassed.”

“No, both estates allow access to this property.
Halcombe Manor neighbors the Merton land. I am Lady Halcombe.”

The lady’s smile had faded when he uttered the name
Merton. No love lost there, Jensen judged. He cast around for a way
to distance himself from any connection to Lady Merton. He did not
want to give the impression he was on intimate terms with the
viscountess.

“Paul Jensen, at your service,” he said with a slight
bow. “It is my misfortune that none of the other guests wished to
ride this morning, so I am alone and have no one to carry word of
my predicament.”

Lady Halcombe’s expression lightened. “I was not
aware that Lady Merton was having a house party. It is a pity the
others left you to your own devices today.” She paused, eyes
narrowed in thought, then smiled. “We are closer to the Manor than
Merton House, Mr. Jensen. If you wish, you can walk home with us
and borrow one of our horses. A groom can bring your horse over
later.”

Jensen smiled, hiding his relief. This was much
better than simply meeting Lady Halcombe. It not only gave him a
chance to talk to her, but also provided an excuse to call at the
Manor again. “That is most kind of you, my lady. I will gladly
accept the offer.” He glanced at his now-dusty high black boots.
“These boots, while comfortable when riding, were not intended for
strolling about.”

A smile lit her face. “No, it does seem that a
gentleman’s footwear is not always practical.”

Jensen laughed and took the reins of his horse from
the disgruntled groom, who remounted and watched Jensen with
obvious disapproval. Ignoring it, he walked beside Lady Halcombe,
conversing about the area’s attractions, and carefully avoiding any
mention of his hostess. He did not want to lie further about fellow
guests. There were none at present, although some few would be
arriving within the next several days. Fortunately, Victoria was
too well versed in deception to allow anyone outside her household
to
know
she had a lover, whatever their suspicions might be,
and her servants were unusually discreet.

The discomfort of his boots was more fact than
fiction by the time they reached Halcombe Manor. Jensen’s effort to
hide a slight limp was unsuccessful, much to his chagrin. The copse
may have been closer to Halcombe Manor than to Merton House, but
not by much.

“If you prefer a carriage instead of going back to
Merton on horseback, I will have one readied,” Lady Halcombe said
as they approached the stable yard.

Jensen shook his head, and smiled. “The loan of a
horse is sufficient. I appreciate your generosity and will see that
the animal is returned promptly.”

She waited for a groom to come forward and help her
dismount. Aware of the watchful eyes of a half-dozen servants,
Jensen made no attempt to assist her, although he was not averse to
closer contact with the lady. Her handsome riding habit outlined a
trim body not lacking in womanly curves.

“Good day, sir. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Lady
Halcombe settled her skirts and held out her hand

Jensen gripped it gently in his and bowed. “The
pleasure is mine, my lady. Thank you.”

He watched her as she walked swiftly toward the
house. The plan was begun and the first step taken.

“Your mount, Mr. Jensen.”

Jensen turned to see a sour-faced Jim standing behind
him holding the reins of a decent looking hack. “I’ll have one of
Merton’s grooms return him and lead my horse back,” he said, and
passed the man a coin.

Jensen adjusted the stirrups, mounted and rode away.
The lady was carefully guarded, it seemed. Whether to hem her in or
to keep others out was not yet clear. Given her decidedly firm
chin, he had a feeling the lady had a mind of her own.

Jensen would have been dismayed to know Frances had
all but forgotten him by the time she reached the house. He had
made little impression on her, being too blond and conventionally
handsome for her taste—an Adonis, she believed the
ton
would
label him, with only a rather charming accent to lift him from the
ordinary. Besides, being a guest of Lady Merton’s was not a
recommendation, and he
was
responsible for cutting short her
ride.

Frances stopped by the nursery en route to her
bedchamber. There was no sign of Nancy or Flora, which meant
naptime continued. The child woke so early that by mid-morning she
was sleepy. This fitted nicely into Frances’ self-imposed schedule.
There were often disruptions, but she managed to get outdoors for
an hour most mornings.

The nursery suite had been the first to be thoroughly
cleaned, repainted, and refurnished, including Flora’s bedchamber
and the room assigned to Nancy. Frances glanced around the play
area with a sense of satisfaction, pleased with the bright, airy
surroundings. The toys that had withstood the vigours of several
generations of Ehlmans were neatly aligned on shelves and a
colourful rug covered the wide-planked floor.

Her attention caught by a cloth rabbit she had not
seen before, Frances perched on the window seat and held the animal
up to look into its whimsical face. Halcombe again, she guessed. In
the past ten days Richard had bestowed a half-dozen new toys on his
daughter. Frances laid the rabbit on her lap and idly stroked one
of the long, floppy ears.