Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (11 page)

But he was safe.

No one in Kingsdon Cross knew that he was the owner of Waldon Hall, of course. Lucien Reede Tiberius Fitzgerald Delamere, the eldest son of the Duke of Devonham, had been very careful that they shouldn’t.

Even Waldon Hall’s prior owner believed that the buyer was a wealthy East India Company merchant just returned from India, a man of unstable health who wished to be left alone in his reclusive old age.

Yes, the secluded estate was the perfect hiding place. As he’d hoped, Luc had been undisturbed here. When he made his midnight forays, he moved in safety and secrecy through the estate’s dozen hidden entrances and tunnels. They had been one of the reasons Luc had finally settled upon the place. Its proximity to heath and high road had been the other.

This
was his home now, Luc told himself grimly. Not Swallow Hill, the magnificent Norfolk estate that had been his family’s principal seat for eight generations. Not the elegant town house in Berkeley Square. Not the hunting box in Scotland.

Waldon Hall would do well enough for Norfolk’s most notorious highwayman. Only Luc’s trusted companion Jonas knew the secret of the highwayman’s aristocratic past.

And Luc meant to see it
stayed
that way.

He pulled off his mask. A smile slid across his chiseled face as he thought about Silver St. Clair. The woman was trouble and no mistake.

But then Luc had always been a man who enjoyed trouble.

Swinging his cape over one shoulder, he tried to pinpoint exactly what it was about the woman that had put him so damnably on edge.

It wasn’t her guile, for she displayed none. It certainly wasn’t her female wiles. She had none of those and thank God for it. In truth, the hellion was as fresh and untutored as a schoolgirl. She’d even had the temerity to let him believe she was a simple servant girl.

Simple? No, there was nothing
simple
about Silver St. Clair, the highwayman thought ruefully.

She was all storm and fire. All unbridled heat when a man least expected it. And the combination was infinitely dangerous.

His blood surged thickly as he thought of how she had melted into his kiss upon the heath. How she had faced down that brute Sherringvale. Courage, he thought — and with it a blend of innocence and passion that was utterly addicting.

Muttering, the son of one of the richest men in England pushed open a door that led into the cellars of Waldon Hall. Tossing down cape and hat, he strode up the stairs to the house’s central wing.

He simply would not see her again. It would be difficult, but he would manage it. What he needed was a woman who was clever and jaded, someone who would help him forget Silver St. Clair. A woman of experience who knew enough not to become emotionally involved.

Luc stared at the row of hard-faced men and worldly-looking women lining the stairs. They were of indifferent quality as portraits go, nothing to compare with the generations of Delameres who glared proudly from the canvases in Swallow Hill’s vast gallery.

Somehow the thought of touching a worldly, bored female like one of those left Luc singularly unmoved.

Damned if
he
understood why. He’d known any number of women over the years.

Beautiful ones.

Witty ones.

Demure ones.

Vastly passionate ones.

But not a single one of them had
ever
affected him the way Silver St. Clair had in the short span of twenty-four hours.

The boy is next.

Bone tired, Silver paced back and forth from one conservatory wall to the other, watching sunset fade to twilight and twilight seep into full-fledged night.

All the while she tried not to think about what would come out of that night.

Somehow the day had passed. She had
made
it pass. The long hours of work and stubborn effort had helped to distract her from the last warning.

But never for long.

Who hated her so much to do this to her? Who wanted Lavender Close Farm so badly? And why? Was it someone in Kingsdon Cross, searching for the lost Millefleurs formula? Some perfumer from London, greedy for the wealth and success William St. Clair had once had?

Or was it someone more sinister, someone hinted at in her father’s diary? She didn’t know. Until she was certain, Silver decided to consider
everyone
her enemy.

She had just bent over her vials and distilling records when heavy boots thumped across the floor and Sir Charles Millbank pounded into the conservatory.

His face was flushed and he smelled of spirits. “I knew I’d find you here. Disgusting, if you ask me. Women are not fit to handle business matters or run their own establishments. It’s unnatural and unseemly, and I won’t permit it any longer, do you hear?”

“So you’ve said before, but I have absolutely no interest in your opinions!”

“But you
should.
You’ve creditors at your door and no way to transport your next lavender shipment to London, for none of the local men will work for you. Aye,
I’ve
seen to that,” Millbank snarled. “Unless you want to lose your farm to a stranger, I suggest you make an effort to be more amiable to me. Especially now that these unfortunate threats have begun against you.”

“What do
you
know about that?”

“Only what I’ve heard in town,” Millbank said coolly, “but it’s common knowledge that that fellow Tinker’s been trying to hire more workers. You won’t find any, of course. They’re all too afraid to come out here now.”

“I’m certain that delights
you.”

“Let’s just say that I’m hoping you’ll finally admit how foolish it was for you to undertake running Lavender Close yourself. Of course, I shall be more than happy to take over your responsibilities.” His pale eyes glittered. “Provided we reach an understanding as to how you will … repay me for those services.”

Silver knew
exactly
what sort of repayment Millbank had in mind. She glared at the leering intruder. “When snakes can sing! Until then you can fly to hell and toast your eyebrows!”

“Still stubborn, are you? I’m done with your teasing ways. You’re going to learn some respect!” Sir Charles jerked at his cravat. “Unless you submit to me in all that I command, you’re going to lose Lavender Close Farm and I’ll see that your bookish brother is sent away as well!”

Silver’s breath caught as she stared at Millbank’s angry red face.

She should have known the swine would come. Like a hungry wolf her brother-in-law could pick up the scent of any wounded creature’s pain. He’d been casting hungry looks in her direction for the last six months and more.

Silver had never been close to Jessica, her elder sister. She had died six years before, after being married barely six months. Silver had never told her sister that Millbank’s first proposal had been made to
her,
but sometimes Silver wondered if her sister hadn’t known a great deal more than she’d let on.

Silver had hoped that the passage of time would dull Millbank’s amatory interest.

But it hadn’t. Since her father’s death the man had come more and more often to visit Lavender Close under the guise of “checking on Silver’s welfare.”

His bulky shape cast a shadow over the conservatory floor. Silver could smell the stink of whisky clinging to his clothes.

“I suggest that you leave now.” Her voice was steady, she noted with relief. “Before you make an even greater fool of yourself than you already have.”

“So you think me a fool, do you?” Millbank’s eyes burned, lit by drink and lust.

“Spare me a Cheltenham drama.” Silver turned her back decisively and began cleaning a copper distilling vat.

All the while she kept her eye on the length of copper pipe standing against the wall.
Just in case.

“‘Tis you who’ll seem the fool, woman! Submit to me or see this place taken from you. I’ll put it up for auction to the highest bidder!”

Silver’s face held nothing but contempt as she glared back. “Submit? To
you
? I’d as soon set fire to my lavender and eat soot!”

Her brother-in-law loomed closer, his hot gaze burning over her. “I doubt that. You love these cursed fields far too well to part with them.” His fleshy lips curled. “And a damned unnatural thing it is for a woman too.”

Silver’s fingers inched toward the copper pipe. “I hardly think my business arrangements need concern you, Sir Charles. You had a chance to invest and you chose not to. You would never be involved in a business ‘run by a mere woman,’ I believe you said. In that case Lavender Close Farm can be of no interest to you.”

“Oh, but it is. For
you
are of interest to me. And I’ll have you, do you hear me? No one is going to interfere!”

“Go home,” Silver said brusquely. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.” Suddenly she was tired, infinitely tired. Her shoulders ached and her fingers burned.

The
last
thing she needed was Sir Charles Millbank enacting a scene here in the middle of her workroom. She had more important things to think of — such as where the next threat against the farm might come from.

“We’ll see who’s laughing, miss!” Beefy fingers speared into Silver’s hair, forcing her closer.

Damn the man! Silver took an angry breath and jerked away. She was going to have to hurt him. She didn’t like the thought, but he gave her no choice.

Her fingers found the gleaming length of copper. “For the last time, are you going to leave?”

Millbank laughed coldly. “You don’t get your way, Silver, my dear. Not
this
time,” he sneered. “Yes, I’ll see young Brandon is sent packing to a nice, harsh school. A place where the masters know how to mete out discipline to unruly little boys who prefer daydreaming to doing their lessons.”

“You wouldn’t
dare!”
Silver hissed. “He’s barely recovered from his last bout of lung contagion. A school like that would kill him!”

Her brother-in-law only laughed. “That’s hardly
my
problem. You should have been more agreeable to me when you had the chance.” His hot breath burned over her neck as he jerked her closer. “By God, I’ve wanted you for months and now I’m going to
have
you!”

Silver’s fingers clenched on the pipe. She reviewed her uncle’s instructions about the places that a gentleman found most vulnerable to attack.

She was just preparing to deliver a crippling blow to Millbank’s nether regions when a hard voice thundered through the conservatory.

“I much regret to contradict you, Millbank, but all you’re going to do now is take your hands off the woman.” Low and lethal, the words snapped from the shadows. Blackwood stood unmoving, tall and tense, a line of stark, unrelieved black from boots to mask to rakish hat.

But darkest of all was the fury in his eyes.

Silver’s breath caught at the sight of him. His rage was nearly palpable. Didn’t he know she could take care of herself?

Sir Charles took an unconscious step backward. “By — by whose order, sir?”

A pistol glinted suddenly, silver against gloves of blackest leather. “By the order of the Lord of Blackwood,” came the silken reply.

Millbank seemed to shrivel. “B-Blackwood? By God, you’ve got a nerve. But the magistrate will soon show you some manners!”

The shadowed figure by the door gave a low laugh and sauntered closer. “Carlisle? Our hardworking magistrate is only just returned from London. It appears that he cut short his trip and is right now sound asleep in his parlor, cup-shot from too much fine French brandy at the last inn he visited. So you see, Lord Carlisle will be no help to you or anyone else this night, Millbank.” The highwayman’s pistol leveled. “Now I believe I told you to release the lady.”

“Lady?” Millbank sneered. “Her? Hardly a lady.”

Black moved upon black. Hard fingers circled Millbank’s neck and cold metal locked against his throat. “Take back those words.”

“I — I—”

One hammer cocked home, then the other.

“All right, damn it. I do. I
do!”

“Now apologize. To the
lady.”

Sir Charles turned a muddy shade of crimson. “To
her
? Be damned if I will!”

The loaded chambers slid up his throat and wedged beneath his flabby chin. “Very well, damn it! The wench ain’t worth my life. I make you my regrets,” he said curtly.

The highwayman’s eyes were flecked with fire. “Louder. I do not believe the
lady
heard you.”

“I make you my regrets. My lady.” Millbank repeated the words icily.

“Very good. That will do for now, I think. You may remove your person from my presence. I find you intolerably offensive.”

Millbank’s fists clenched and unclenched atop his protuberant waist.

“You had something else to say?” The highwayman’s voice held a silky warning.

Millbank swallowed and shook his head.

“Very good. In that case the door is over there. See yourself out.”

With a muttered oath the baronet stumbled off. Sullen curses filled the air, then trailed away as he floundered off into the darkness.

Silver didn’t move. Words failed her as she stared at the masked figure draped against the doorway. “It was — good of you to help me. Not that I needed it, of course.” With a shaky laugh she held up the length of copper pipe.

The highwayman slid his pistol back into the pocket of his cape. “Very inventive of you. Still, I am glad I was about.” The amber eyes narrowed. “Has he done this before?”

Silver shoved back a wayward strand of hair. Now that Sir Charles was routed, she felt an odd weakness in her knees. “Never before. Not like this, at least. But why are you here?”

Behind the mask the amber eyes studied her. “It seems that I could not stay away. I count myself honored to have been at hand. To serve you will always be an honor,
mignonne.”

The heat in his eyes made Silver tremble. She didn’t want his help. It was dangerous to accept help from anyone. And
this
man left her feeling far too restless and giddy for comfort.

She frowned at him. “Did you reconsider my business offer?”

“No.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”

“He’ll come back eventually, you know. A man like that always does. How will you protect yourself next time?”

Silver shrugged, finding it hard to think with his eyes upon her, with his tall, lean body draped against the door only inches away. She turned away, her cheeks hectic with color.

“What is it,
mignonne?”

“I … nothing.”

“Did he harm you? Was I too late? By God, I’ll strangle the man if he—”

“No,” Silver said quickly. “He did nothing more than thunder out a few orders and twitch about like a dog with fleas.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to forget the ugly leer on Millbank’s face.

“He’s dangerous. Remember that.”

For a moment his anger was palpable. It left Silver shaken. There was a darkness to him, a hardness that set him apart from other men.

From
civilized
men, at least.

Which was exactly why she’d wanted his help. But he wouldn’t give it, so that was that. “I’ll manage,” she said coolly.