Heart of Honor (7 page)

Then he tugged on the wide white stock stiffened with whalebone that encircled his powerful neck, gave a soft curse, and the illusion swiftly faded. He was Leif of Draugr, an illiterate barbarian, she reminded herself. The attraction she told herself she didn’t feel was merely a reaction to his startling good looks.

Still, when he stopped in front of her, when she found herself looking up into those blue, blue eyes, her heart gave an odd leap and started beating like rain on a roof.

“Do the garments please you, lady?”

She swallowed. “You look very…very…”

A corner of his mouth edged up. “You are pleased with my appearance. I can see it in your eyes. I had hoped that you would be.”

The man had no lack of conceit—that was for certain. “I think you look very…nice in your new clothes.” So nice, in fact, that she couldn’t stop staring. Which she continued to do even as Matthew and her father walked out of the drawing room.

Matthew took one look at Leif and started frowning. Her father’s gaze traveled from Matthew to her, followed her gaze to Leif, and he began to frown, as well.

Leif and Matthew seemed to be sizing each other up. There was something territorial in both men’s expression, each warning the other to stay away from the prize, which in this case seemed to be her. Leif stepped toward her and she quickly edged away.

She managed to muster a smile. “Matthew, you remember Mr. Draugr?”

Matthew seemed to be fighting for control. “How could I possibly forget?”

Leif’s jaw firmed. He hadn’t a clue what they were saying, but the look of disdain on Matthew’s face apparently said enough.

Her father cleared his throat. “Matthew dropped by to pay his respects, my dear. Why don’t the two of you go back to the drawing room and I’ll have Giles bring you some nice hot tea.”

Krista forced herself to smile. “That sounds like a very good notion.” Anything to escape the tension building between the men.

But Matthew shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long enough for tea. My fencing instructor is a highly impatient man. I just stopped by to extend an invitation. My father is hosting a small dinner party on Saturday next, and he has asked if you and the professor might be able to attend.”

The Earl of Lisemore was an extremely powerful man and one used to having his wishes obeyed. If she was seriously interested in Matthew, she had no choice but to accept the invitation.

Besides, she wanted to get to know the man who courted her. To do that, she needed to make at least some effort in that direction. “Father?”

“That is very kind of the earl,” the professor said. “Of course we would both be delighted to attend.”

“Fine. I’ll send my coach round to pick you up…say, seven o’clock Saturday night?”

Her father nodded.

“In the meantime, I would like a word with you in private, Professor Hart.”

Her father glanced at Leif and wearily nodded. “Let’s go into my study, shall we? If you will excuse us, my dear?” He excused himself to Leif, whose jaw seemed to tighten even more, and the two men disappeared down the hall.

“I do not like that man,” Leif said.

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know he wants you. He tries to hide it. I do not understand why.”

She had no idea whether or not Matthew desired her. Now that Leif had mentioned it, it bothered her that she hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Matthew is courting me,” she said, hoping she had translated the words in a way Leif would understand. “It is the custom here when a man is interested in a woman.”

“He has offered to pay the bride price your father set?”

“We are only getting to know each other. It is not yet time to speak of marriage.”

He grunted. “He is weak. You are a woman of strong needs. He is not the man for you.”

“Whether he is the right choice for me or not is none of your concern. Now, if you will excuse me…” She turned and started walking, then felt Leif’s hand close around her upper arm, stopping her progress and turning her to face him.

“You need a man of strength, Krista Hart, a man who knows how to handle you. You need a man like me.”

She pulled free of his hold. “You are arrogant and conceited, Leif Draugr, and the last sort of man I need!” She started walking again, and though he didn’t try to stop her, she heard his faint rumble of laughter as she started up the stairs.

Of all the nerve!

On the floor below, the study door opened and she heard her father speaking to Matthew as they walked down the hall. Krista ignored them. She was tired of men and their constant manipulations. Her father, her grandfather. Even Matthew. Leif might be audacious and far too bold, but at least he spoke his thoughts frankly.

As she opened the door to her bedroom, she wondered what Matthew had wanted to speak to her father about—then decided she really didn’t care.

He was a man and she was tired of men in general. Krista firmly closed her bedroom door.

Another day dawned. With a single dark glance, Leif sent the little valet, Henry, scurrying from the bedroom. He’d had a lesson yesterday on how to dress himself. There was nothing wrong with his brain. He was perfectly capable of putting on the outlandish clothing men wore in this place.

He smiled. Now, if Krista Hart wanted to assist him…He went hard just thinking of her soft pale fingers moving over his body, buttoning the front of his pleated white shirt, moving down to help him fasten his trousers.

His arousal strengthened. Mayhap if she were here to help him, he wouldn’t mind putting on the ridiculously uncomfortable garments quite so much.

He held up the white cotton drawers men wore, then tossed them away. He would wear the shirt and snug-fitting trousers, and the
waist-coat,
it was called, and also the burgundy
jacket,
but not the confining garments men here wore underneath. There was a limit to his tolerance and he had reached it.

He pulled on the shirt and closed the fastenings, then reached for the trousers. The clothes were uncomfortable, yet they fit him well enough, he supposed, and he had no choice but to wear them. He had to get along here, to make his way in this alien land he had stumbled upon. In truth, he planned to do far more than that.

He had defied his father in leaving the island, certain he would soon return. He had duties, responsibilities, and he never meant to shirk them. But a force beyond his control had driven him to see the world outside his home. For a while after his capture, he had believed he was wrong, that his death would be the only result of his leaving. But now he was free and a new world stretched before him. His adventure had finally begun and he meant to make the most of it.

And he was rapidly learning. The gods had blessed him in providing the professor as his teacher. Leif would learn all he needed to know to survive in this foreign world. And in time—he was determined—he would prosper.

He would earn the money to buy himself a ship to carry him back to his homeland. When that happened, he would not arrive as a pauper, a failure, but as a man who had flourished in this place called Eng-land.

He would make his father proud, make him see that his son had been right to leave.

He turned at the sound of a knock on his door. It had better not be that little son of a weasel, Henry. He had tried to tell the man he needed no more help putting on his clothes, but the man hadn’t understood, and Leif had finally tossed him out of the room on his skinny little arse.

He opened the door, but it was Krista who stood there, not Henry. She looked pretty today, as she always did, with her enticing womanly curves and shiny golden hair.

“My father wishes to see us in the study.”

He nodded, picked up the burgundy jacket the professor had told him it was customary to wear, and followed her out into the hall. He walked beside her down the staircase, pleased by her height, apparently uncommon in most of the women of this land, and thought how well her soft curves would fit with his larger, more solid frame.

“What is it the professor wishes?” he asked, just to keep his mind from straying in that direction.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

She seemed a little nervous and he wondered why. It occurred to him that mayhap the professor had decided it was time for him to leave, but Leif didn’t think so. Pax-ton seemed a man of his word, and they had bargained to learn from each other. Leif thought the man was equally pleased with the teaching he himself received.

Still, when he walked into the room called a
study,
taking Krista’s hand to guide her in behind him, he saw the professor frown. For the first time he worried what he would do if he was wrong and Pax-ton Hart had decided he must leave. Leif wasn’t ready for that yet. He needed more time, needed to learn more of the country’s language and customs before he could set off on his own.

As he moved toward a chair across from the professor, he wondered what fate the gods had in store for him this time.

Krista walked behind Leif, who led her into the study, still sure it was his right to walk in front. He let go of her hand, but the heat of his touch remained. As they approached the desk, her father rose from his chair and motioned for each of them to take a seat across from him.

“I have asked you both here for a reason.” The professor spoke Old Norse and seemed to be carefully choosing his words. “I have given this matter a great deal of thought, and yesterday Matthew Carlton’s remarks on the subject gave me even more food for thought.”

Though she and Leif were seated, her father remained standing, his expression a little too grave. “It is becoming more and more apparent that Leif’s presence here in our home is disrupting the household.”

Krista’s breath caught. Surely he wasn’t going to make the man leave. Leif wouldn’t be able to survive out there on his own. No one would understand him. He had no money, no place to stay. He would wind up in one of those horrible institutions.

“Surely you can’t mean for Leif to leave,” she said to her father in English.

“Hear me out, dearest. Though Leif is learning very rapidly, he is not yet ready for life here in the city. As soon as arrangements can be made, I am taking him to Heartland.” It was the family estate in Kent. “There, we will be undisturbed by the dictates of society. I will be able to give Leif my complete attention and be able to study him in return.”

Krista felt a sweeping relief.

“What is he saying?” Leif asked, a worried look on his face.

“Father is taking you out of the city, to a place where you will be able to study and learn without being disturbed.”

“It is for the best, Leif,” the professor said to him. “You will like it at Heartland and you will have all the time you need to study and learn.”

“You are worried about your daughter. You know that I desire her.”

Krista’s cheeks grew warm. “We don’t speak that way here, Leif,” she said to him softly. “Those sorts of thoughts are kept to oneself.”

“The way your friend Mat-thew does? I will not pretend I do not want you.”

Krista looked away from the intensity of his gaze, her heart beating oddly.

“It’s all right, Leif,” her father said gently. “You have been honest in your interest in my daughter. I can find no fault in that. Still, I believe this is the right thing to do. If you wish to learn, you will travel with me to Heartland.”

Leif said nothing for several moments, then he nodded. “Mayhap you are right. There is much to distract me here. I will go with you. There are many things for me to learn and I am blessed by the gods that you have agreed to teach me.” His gaze moved to Krista. “When I have learned what is needed, I will return.”

There was something in those blue eyes, something that made soft heat curl in her stomach. It was ridiculous. The man had no money, no future. He couldn’t read or write or even speak English. Still, there was something about him….

“Father is right,” she said to Leif, suddenly grateful the decision had been made. “It will be far easier for you to learn once you are out in the country. And I think that you will like it. The air is clear and the grass is green. Perhaps it will seem more like your home.”

And she could get her own life back to normal, as it hadn’t been since the day she had seen Leif of Draugr Island at the circus.

Finished imparting his news, her father excused her from the study, and she rose to leave while the men prepared to continue the day’s work. Krista escaped out into the hall and closed the door, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Leif would be gone. Her life would be hers once more.

For the first time in days, she was able to focus her mind on work.

T
he weeks slid past, April turning to May, summer approaching, the afternoons growing warm and then hot as June slipped into July. Subscriptions to the gazette were increasing each week and the money was pouring in.

In the months since Leif and her father had left the city,
Heart to Heart
had become the most successful ladies’ magazine in London. With Coralee’s help, Krista had worked hard to build up readership, and her efforts had truly paid off.

And the long hours she spent at work kept her from missing her father. She was used to his companionship and advice. Even the presence of her aunt Abigail, who had volunteered to act as chaperone while the professor worked with his pupil in the country, couldn’t fill the void of his absence.

Krista told herself she didn’t miss Leif Draugr in the least. The man was outrageous. He was rude and outspoken and without the slightest manners. He lived in a far different world, one he would eventually return to, and the fact that she could still recall the heat of his kisses only made her more determined to forget him.

Still, she eagerly awaited the arrival of her father’s letters, which always praised Leif’s uncommon aptitude for learning and extolled his many virtues. She recalled a portion of the first she had received.

Each letter relayed Leif’s progress, and her father was learning about Leif’s culture, as well.

Every letter turned Krista’s thoughts to Leif, and for days afterward, she wondered about him. She missed the sound of male voices in the house and told herself it was simply that she missed her father.

Fortunately, Aunt Abby kept her from getting bored. She was Krista’s mother’s sister, Lady Abigail Chapman Brooks, the widow of a once-prominent London barrister. Aunt Abby now lived in a lovely country manor house in Oxfordshire, but came to London for the Season every year. She was forty-eight years old, with silver streaks in her once-blond hair and a lithe figure that still drew longing glances from men.

Aunt Abby was vivacious and charming, a sparkling presence who lived life to the fullest, which was perhaps good for Krista, since her aunt forced her into the social whirl she generally avoided.

“But we
must
go to Lord Stafford’s ball, darling,” Aunt Abby said of the occasion coming up at week’s end. “It is going to be
the
party of the Season.”

No matter how many lame excuses Krista managed to come up with, her aunt always seemed to persuade her.

“And remember, Matthew Carlton will likely be attending.”

“I suppose he will be. He usually enjoys those sorts of affairs.”

One of her aunt’s silver-blond eyebrows went up. “You don’t sound particularly enthused. Considering the man is one of the most eligible bachelors in London, I should think you would feel fortunate to be the woman who has captured his interest.”

She
was
fortunate, she supposed. Matthew had the qualities every woman wanted in a man. He was kind, considerate, intelligent. And the soirees, balls and house parties her aunt insisted she attend gave Krista the chance she had been seeking to get to know him.

With her father away, Matthew was even more attentive than he usually was, and as July faded into August, she spent more and more evenings in his company, chaperoned by her aunt, of course. Earlier tonight, she and Aunt Abby had attended a melodrama with Matthew and his older brother, Phillip, Baron Argyle, and his wife, Gretchen, enjoying the production from their father’s opulent box at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.

Though the play had been well-done, Krista was tired from the lengthy performance, her dark-blue silk gown a little wrinkled, her curls beginning to droop against her bare shoulders. Matthew looked none the worse for wear, and when they arrived at her town house, he surprised her by asking if he might come in for a brandy.

Aunt Abby, tireless as always, immediately agreed. “Of course you may come in. I should have invited you myself. We would love to have your company all to ourselves.”

They sat in the drawing room for a while, making polite conversation, while Krista worked to stifle a yawn behind her hand. Then Matthew suggested the two of them go out on the terrace for a breath of fresh air. As they stepped through the French doors, she caught a glimpse of Aunt Abby peering through the curtains, very properly playing the role of chaperone, though Krista and Matthew both pretended not to see.

“I enjoyed the evening, Matthew,” she said, fighting another yawn. “Thank you for inviting me.”

A light breeze ruffled his thick brown hair. He gave her a warm, soft smile. “I hope to share a lifetime of evenings with you, Krista.”

She glanced away. Lately, Matthew had hinted more and more at marriage, and she told herself that was exactly what she wanted. It was time she settled down. Her grandfather had known for some time that Matthew was courting her, and he was pushing hard for the match. She owed it to him and to her family, owed it to herself.

She knew she was too tall to attract most men, and far too independent. There was no line of suitors standing outside her door. If things didn’t work out with Matthew, she might wind up a spinster and she certainly didn’t want that. She wanted children as much as any woman, and apparently Matthew wanted a family, as well.

She managed to smile at him, saw the subtle shift in his expression, the determined look that came into his eyes, but had no idea what it meant. Shock held her immobile when Matthew went down on bended knee in front of her on the terrace and took hold of her white-gloved hand.

“You must know how I feel about you, Krista. You must know that I care for you deeply. We’re good together, you and I. We can make a wonderful life together. Marry me, Krista. Make me the happiest man in London.”

Her hand trembled in his. Standing there in front of him, she told herself that the time had come at last. She might have wished for a week or two to consider his offer, but she knew she had already held him at bay as long as she dared. She didn’t think she was in love with him, and he had never said those words to her, but they had a great deal in common and she liked him. Marriages were often based on far less.

Krista swallowed, gave him an uncertain smile. “I would be honored to become your wife, Matthew.”

He rose to his feet, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “You won’t be sorry, darling, I promise you. We’re going to be very happy.” He took her in his arms and kissed her, and Krista prayed to feel at least some of the fire she had felt the night Leif Draugr had kissed her. Instead, there was merely a pleasant, warm sensation that seemed closer to affection than love.

“We’ll need to tell our families.”

She nodded. “I’ll write to my father on the morrow.”

Matthew beamed. “I’ll speak to Mother and Father, tell them the news. I know how excited they’re going to be.” He smiled. “You’ve made me a very happy man, Krista.” Matthew kissed her again, more gently this time.

They walked back into the house and relayed the news to Aunt Abby, whose eyes twinkled conspiratorially when she glanced at Matthew. Krista’s fiancé was smiling. Aunt Abby was happy.

Krista couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t feel happier herself.

The deed was done. Her decision was made. By this time next year, Krista would be a married woman.

First thing the following morning, she penned a letter to her father relaying the news, and two days later, received a note from him in reply, giving her and Matthew his blessing and heartiest congratulations. She knew she should tell her grandfather—and she would, she told herself. Sometime very soon.

But a date for the wedding had not yet been discussed, and she and Matthew agreed that their engagement should not be officially announced until her father returned from the country. As the days crept past, Krista discovered she was glad for the delay. Since the night she had accepted Matthew’s proposal, she had been besieged by doubts.

And lately, to add to her uncertainties, the problems at
Heart to Heart
had begun to grow worse.

Standing next to Coralee beside the heavy Stanhope printing press, she thought of the number of threatening notes she had received since her father’s departure—seven, including the one she had found in her mailbox that morning and now held in her hand.

“So what does this one say?” Corrie asked, trying to read the note over Krista’s shoulder.

She handed the slip of paper to her friend. “It is pretty much the same as the last one.”

Corrie read the note aloud. “‘You have had your last warning. Now you will reap the trouble you have sown.’” She looked up, moving a cluster of dark-copper curls beside her ear. “I don’t think the handwriting is the same as on the last one.”

Krista walked into her office and over to her desk. Opening the left-hand drawer, she pulled out the small stack of notes she had received in the past several weeks.

The message on top read,
Spawn of the devil. Cease your meddling or suffer the consequences.
It was the last one to have been delivered, pinned to
Heart to Heart
’s front door.

Krista shuffled through the stack. “All of the handwriting seems to be different. It appears we have an army of dissenters out there.”

“Or at least that is what they wish us to think.”

“The handwriting is different, but several of the warnings seemed to be connected.” She handed the notes to Corrie.

Two were in protest of the articles Krista had written in regard to needed improvements in the city sewage and water systems, controversial because of the expense. Several others dealt with the editorial campaign she had started after her father left, favoring a bill called the Mines Act. The bill, if passed, would prohibit all females, and boys under the age of ten, from working underground in the mines. Since children played a large role in the work force, it was highly unpopular with mine owners.

In fact, a man named Lawrence Burton, the primary shareholder in the Consolidated Mining Company, had been particularly outspoken in the matter, but of course, he wasn’t the only one.

Coralee looked down at the message received just that morning. “None of these notes are good, but somehow this one sounds more ominous than the others.”

Krista smiled. “Oh, I don’t know…‘Spawn of the devil’ certainly had a nasty ring to it.”

Her friend laughed. “It is past time we called in the authorities, Krista. We need to send these notes to the police. Perhaps they can discover who is behind the threats.”

“So far that is all they have been, and as you say, the handwriting isn’t even the same, which means they must have come from different people. I can’t imagine where the authorities would begin to look for the guilty parties.”

“Still, I think you should consider it.”

Krista made no reply. She had enough problems without bringing in the police.

Or at least that was what she thought as she left the gazette that night for home.

In the morning, when she found the back rooms of
Heart to Heart
nothing more than a heap of smoldering soot and blackened ash, she realized she had made a mistake.

Krista arrived early that morning in front of the three-story brick building that housed the offices of
Heart to Heart.
On her way, she had had Mr. Skinner, the coachman, stop in Grosvenor Square to pick up Coralee, which she had been doing on occasion of late.

Krista was saying something to her friend when she spotted the bright-red fire wagon pulled by a pair of big gray draft horses sitting in the alley behind the building. Throwing open the carriage door before the conveyance had completely rolled to a stop, she quickly descended the stairs and rushed toward the scene.

Corrie followed close on her heels. “Good heavens!”

The fire was mostly out, Krista could see, remnants of white smoke trailing upward where a team of firemen doused the back rooms of the office with a heavy stream of water. But the damage was fairly extensive. She prayed it hadn’t got into the main portion of the building where the printing press sat.

“Ye’ll have ta stay back, miss,” said a burly man with thick red hair who seemed to be in charge. “Fer yer own safety.”

“My name is Krista Hart. This is my place of business. Can you tell me what happened?”