A Heart in Jeopardy (17 page)

"Most everyone's abed, miss. Cook's up with one of her scullery maids, as is Jason, the footman, and Miss Jewitt. I saw her brewin' some tisane for Lady Lucy, sayin' her ladyship was havin' troubles sleepin' with the excitement. I said ye was, too, and ye hit upon a notion to go ridin' to finish tirin' ye out She seemed to unnerstand 'cause she deigned to unbend so far as to say as how fresh air might do the trick better'n her tisane."

"How clever of you, Betsy! I had thought to make my ride a secret, but this is even better. Now no one will be surprised if they do not see me for hours. Why don't you go visiting your mother today, say I said this was a good day. That way you will not be asked needless questions later and you shall not have to lie."

"Oh, dear, miss. I don't know as how I could. . . . But I'll think on somethin'. They'll learn naught from me, that I promise ye. Will ye be leavin' a note or anythin'?"

"Yes, I suppose I should, at least for Maria and the countess. While I write them, take this portmanteau down with you to the back door, then go out to the stable and order Lady Talavera saddled for me.... And thank you, Betsy, for everything. I'll meet you at the edge of the wood about twenty minutes after I've ridden out of the stable yard. Will that give you enough time to come back to collect the portmanteau from the back door and meet me?"

Betsy nodded.

"Good. Now hurry, go!"

Leona was five miles down the road on her way to Lion's Gate by the time the last of the nighttime mist burned away under the morning sun. Only faint traces of pink still glowed on the horizon, remnants of the vivid reds that streaked the sky as Leona accepted the portmanteau from Betsy's hand and buckled it to her saddle. She looked back then at Castle Marin, a pang of longing clutching her stomach. She ignored it and resolutely set her face north toward Lion's Gate.

She worried about her reception at Axminster and the ease with which she would be able to find a carriage to convey her the rest of her journey for she was unaccompanied.

The innkeeper named an outrageous price, but after only cursory dickering, Leona agreed. True to his word, the horses were swift and the driver capable, though the carriage was not nearly as well sprung as the Earl of Nevin's. Still, that did not prevent her from dozing, and it was around noon that the carriage drove into Crawfords Dean setting her down, at her request, at the Golden Goose Inn.

Mr. Tubbs was surprised to see her descend from the carriage, but he admirably kept his silence at a signal from her that she did not want her driver to overhear them. He led her into the private parlor, saw her comfortably settled with a bracing cup of tea, before he reluctantly agreed to sit down across from her to discuss the situation.

"Charlie's married, Mr. Tubbs."

"Charlie! I mean—Mr. Leonard! He's married?"

Leona nodded. "I just heard it last night. He's going to bring his bride to Lion's Gate soon. I came back ahead of Miss Sprockett to begin preparations."

Mr. Tubbs canted his head, his lips twisting. "I've known you for many a year, and that's a fact, Miss Leonard, and I can tell when you're not speaking clearly. There's more to your tale than you're saying. But I know my place. Just remember. You need help, you come to ol' Tom Tubbs right quick."

She laughed, misty-eyed. "Haven't I always?"

He grunted agreement, then drew his bulk out of the chair across from her. "I'll have Abraham fetch your Molly from the field and harness her to the trap. Be ready for you in a trice."

"Thank you. And thank you for taking care of her while I was gone."

Discomforted with her gratitude, he grumbled and shrugged, bringing a wide smile to Leona's mouth. It was good to be home.

The same thought came to her when she drove up before Rose Cottage. She sat still for a moment, studying the sturdy, thatch-roofed cottage. Plants around the house were beginning to show signs of green and red tips where buds formed. By summer's end, the house would be a brown and white island in a sea of riotous color. In the evening with the windows open, the most fragrant breeze would float inside the snug little house. It would be time for Maria to harvest her ingredients for the potpourris she enjoyed making.

If they still lived at Rose Cottage.

She sighed and lifted the reins, signaling Molly to move on toward the small shed in the back that served as her barn. With tired, aching arms she rubbed the horse down, saw that she had food and water, then went into the cottage.

It had a dank, musky odor to it. She wrinkled her nose and quickly went around the cottage throwing open windows. Upstairs in her small bedroom with its dormer window, she stood for a moment looking outside. Clouds were beginning to gather. Could be a storm before morning. She'd have to check on her wood supply.

She took off her hat and unbuttoned the closely fitted jacket of her riding habit, eager to take the outfit off. It felt like she'd been in it over twenty-four hours. She knew that wasn't possible, but she couldn't shake the feeling. She'd feel better for a change of clothes. Tiredly she flopped down on her bed next to her portmanteau. Humming a tuneless song, she opened the case and pulled out her dressing gown.

From its folds fell a glittering stream.

Leona froze, then very slowly she reached down to touch the pile of coruscating gems. It was a diamond and pearl necklace. With shock she realized that she recognized it. It was the heirloom suite of the Countess of Nevin!

A fine trembling kept Leona motionless, then she forced herself to reach down into her portmanteau to see what else might be found. Under a clean chemise were the earrings. Buried at the bottom, the tiara. She laid them out on her bed, staring at them. How did they end up in her possession? If someone found out she had them, she'd— It didn't bear thinking of.

But yes it did! Someone was definitely out to frame her for all the Deveraux ills! That person was clever, too. She had to get to Nigel. She had to explain!

It was then that the idea came to her. It was simple. She would hide the jewels, then ride to find Deveraux. Together they could set a trap for the would-be kidnappers cum jewel thieves. Yes, simple. But first she had to hide the jewels.

She dug in her small dresser until she found a clean scarf. Carefully she wrapped the jewelry in it, knotting the ends together securely. She looked around her room, searching for a secure hidey-hole. There was nowhere that a cursory search would not uncover. She glanced in Maria's room, but it was like hers. She went downstairs, roaming about the big room, poking in chests, around furniture, but nothing satisfied her. A rising frustration clawed at her. She tamped it down, refusing to let it cloud her thinking. She entered the large kitchen with its cupboards, pantries, and bake ovens. Again nothing satisfied her. Perhaps she was being too particular. Who would look, for example, at the bottom of a flour barrel or in the back of a bake oven? Still, she rejected those choices.

It was getting late. If she intended to attain Castle Marin before dark, she'd best decide quickly. She went back through the cottage and outside, circling the building. She thought briefly of burying the jewels, but discarded that notion for the ground was soft and would certainly show evidence of digging. Maria's work shed was a possibility, but still, it did not feel right. Helplessly she looked up at the cottage, her eyes roaming over it as if to ask its opinion of where she should sequester the jewels.

Her eyes stopped at the two dormer windows with their thatched overhangs. Critically she studied where the curving section of thatch met with the thatched porch roof that ran the length of the house. It was an unusual construction for thatch and caused untold complaints by the old querulous fellow who had repaired the roof for her before she and Maria moved into Rose Cottage. She remembered him warning that those angles invited birds to build their nests. And so they had at her window. But not at Maria's.

Leona ran back into the house and up the stairs to Maria's room. She pushed open the window. She tried to crane her neck to see that thatched meeting place, but she couldn't quite. Quickly she dragged the stool from Maria's dressing table to the window and stood on it.

Yes. There was a little niche there just big enough to fit the parcel of jewels into. But getting it there would be the problem. She leaned out the casement and reached under the window, her fingers feeling for the niche. She found it, and it felt dry enough. She transferred the jewels to her questing hand and carefully fit the scarf-wrapped parcel into the tiny space. She shoved it back as far as she could. Luckily she'd chosen a dark blue scarf so it didn't stand out badly. Quickly she climbed back in the room and shut the window. Just looking straight out, no glimpse of the scarf could be had. But she had to go outside and check.

Replacing the stool, Leona ran back down the stairs and outside, all the way to the narrow road that ran past Rose Cottage. She could see nothing. Slowly she walked forward, trying to spot the little cache. It was invisible, even from directly beneath it. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Quickly she rebuttoned her jacket, replaced her hat, and fetched her portmanteau. Then she closed all the windows and went outside to reharness Molly.

"Sorry, old girl, but this is an emergency!" she murmured as she backed the horse up to the small carriage.

She took one last look at the cottage before she sped back toward the Golden Goose.

A raven perched on the roof, looked down aloofly as if to proclaim all before him his do-main.

Leona frowned and shook her finger up at him. "You leave that bundle alone, do you hear me?" she said severely.

At the sound of her voice the bird stretched his dark wings and took flight. Leona had to be content with that. She'd forgotten about a bird's possible inquisitiveness. She just hoped the bundle was too heavy and wedged in too tightly for one of those airborne marauders. There was no time to change the hiding place now. It would have to do.

Nigel Deveraux stared down at the casket of jewels. His man was right. The Countess of Nevin suite was missing. He swore violently and viciously. How could that have happened? He looked at his valet inquiringly, his blue eyes glittering dangerously behind his thick veil of lashes.

The man gulped. "I-I don't know, sir. When Miss Jewitt returned the casket last night, I placed it in your dressing room. This morning she brought me the sapphires Lady Lucy wore last night. When I went to put them away, it was then I noticed that the—that the diamond and pearl set was missing!"

"Did you leave my rooms at all last night or this morning?"

The man shuddered. "Y-yes," he admitted. "When Jason, the footman, came and told me of the to-do up at the keep, I stepped downstairs with him to the servants' hall to hear the news. But I was only gone fifteen minutes, sir! I swear to you! And... and then again, this morning, when I nipped down to the kitchen for some coffee. I'm quite partial to that beverage in the morning," he mumbled miserably.

Deveraux nodded. He closed the casket. "Did you check to see that the heirloom suite was still in the casket when you took the box from Miss Jewitt?"

"No, sir. She told me Lady Lucy chose the sapphires. I didn't think. . ."

"That's quite understandable. Go put these away. Afterward, tell Miss Jewitt I'd Like to see my sister when she wakes." He handed the man the casket then sat a moment in silence, his fingers absently drumming a rhythmic pattern on his desk as he considered the situation. What had the family done to spawn this unrelenting revenge? It could not be anything else. And not for a moment did he think that the disappearance of the jewels was unrelated to the other events.

The sharp sound of boots on marble roused him from his reverie. He looked up through the open library door to see Fitzhugh and Turcott crossing the hall toward the morning room. They were up early for a morning after a ball. It was only nine. And Fitzhugh was dressed! He shook his head in wonder and rose from his desk, slowly making his way toward the morning room to join them. In the hall he spied Keirsmyth descending the stairs. He paused to wait for him. Did the events of last evening leave them as troubled and unable to sleep as he? And now this! Jewelry theft!

"You appear distracted, Deveraux," the marques said, stopping him before the door to the morning room.

The corner's of Deveraux's mouth kicked up wryly. "Is it any wonder? Besides last night's events, this morning I discover that the Nevin jewelry suite is missing," he said in disgust.

Both of Keirsmyth's thin brows rose. "Am I to understand this is an important set for your family?"

"Yes. A tiara, necklace, and earring set of diamonds and pearls worn only by the current countess."

"Ahh, not the jewels that adorned your fair sister last night?"

"No, though they were in the same casket."

"And now this countess set is gone?"

Deveraux nodded.

Keirsmyth stared up at the ceiling for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he looked squarely at Deveraux as he pushed open the door. "And Miss Leonard, is she gone as well?" A cold shudder ripped through Deveraux, and a red haze swam before his eyes. He grabbed the marques's shoulder, halting him. "What are you implying?"

"I say, Dev— What's the to-do?" Fitzhugh said, hearing the last.

He ignored him, his jaw set and his eyes glittering dangerously out of a dark face as he continued to stare at the marques.

A slight, sneering smile curled up the comers of Keirsmyth's lips. "I take it you are not a hunter, Deveraux. You leap too quickly," he drawled.

Nigel's brow furrowed. He dropped his hand from Keirsmyth's arm. "You are not implying she is guilty, but that she is a victim?" he asked consideringly.

Keirsmyth inclined his head. "And an unwitting tool."

"What are you two nattering on about?" demanded Fitzhugh.

Keirsmyth looked across the room at him, seated leaning forward at the table with a loaded plate before him. Next to him, Turcott was actively engaged in shoving spoonfuls of food into his own mouth. "There appear to be more contretemps this morning to add to last evening's entertainment," he said blandly.

Fitzhugh threw him a disgusted look. He turned to Deveraux. "What's he saying?"

"The Nevin jewelry suite has been stolen, and I believe he's suggesting Miss Leonard is being framed."

The marques inclined his head in agreement. "There is, of course, the first step. . ."

"Which is?" Deveraux asked.

"To ascertain whether or not Miss Leonard is still in residence," he said languidly before taking a plate from the sideboard to load with food.

"O-o-o-u-u-t r-i-i-d-d-i-n'," mumbled Captain Turcott around a mouthful of food. He swallowed and dabbed his handkerchief to his mouth. "Not here now. Out riding. Leastwise, was at dawn."

"How do you know that?"

"Saw her. Some fool left my curtains open last night. When dawn started letting light into the room, I got up to close 'em. That's when I saw her on a beautiful dappled gray. One of yours, Dev?" He picked his fork up and shoved another bite of food in his mouth while he continued to regard Deveraux with interest.

"Yes," he admitted, distracted. He walked to the door to summon a footman. "Jason, would you ask the young person who does for Miss Leonard to step down here, please?"

"Betsy Snivel? She ain't here, sir. Said Miss Leonard told her to take the day off to visit her mother. Left a half hour ago.

"Who is taking her duties?"

"Couldn't say, sir. Shall I ask Mrs. Henry?"

"Please."

"I think you'll find the answer to be no one," suggested Keirsmyth as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Deveraux glared at him. "Well, what is it then? You're acting so damnably smug!"

He waved his hand languidly. "Not at all. It has simply occurred to me—as it should to you—that the kidnappers must have a confederate from within Castle Marin. A trusted one privy to all manner of discussions in the way only privileged retainers can be."

"That possibility had occurred to me," Deveraux admitted, scowling. He angrily grabbed up a cup and poured coffee for himself.

"Ergo, said servant takes all opportunities—gleaned from an attentive ear to his or her betters and their peers—to discredit Miss Leonard. Why? First, she spoiled the kidnappers' game by rescuing Lady Christiana. Second, the family—and in particular yourself—is showing signs of a decided partiality toward the gel. What better than a two-stroke revenge? Miss Leonard suffers for her crime against the kidnappers, and you and the family suffer to have your trust betrayed. Maybe henceforth you shall ever be wary without peace, uncertain who are your friends or enemies. An uncertain, distasteful life at that."

Deveraux nodded. "But to react to every stimulus, without complete planning, means what they have done has lately been impulsive?"

"Yes, and that I believe is the striking difference between their recent activities and Lady Christiana's kidnapping. A very telling difference, I might add."

Deveraux's eyes narrowed. "Rash action breeds mistakes. That was a lesson we learned well on the peninsula." Keirsmyth placidly sipped his coffee though a slight smile hovered at the edges of his lips.

" 'Pon rep, what's the difference?" Fitzhugh asked. "Appears to me what we need to discover is who knew the jewels would be in your dressing room, Dev .. ."

Keirsmyth sighed, stretching his long legs out before him. "I think you will find a large number knew. It was common practice, was it not? And servants do talk amongst themselves. Rather than discover what people do or do not know, perhaps tracing their activities would be more beneficial."

"Nigel, you wished to see me?" said a small voice from the door.

The men turned to see a pale Lady Lucy standing just inside the morning room. Fitzhugh surged to his feet, crossing to her side and leading her gently to a place at the table. She sat down gratefully.

"Egad, Lucy, you look like the devil."

"Such a kind brother you are."

"No. Looks like you should still be abed!"

"I should, but I cannot sleep, despite the tisanes and concoctions dear Sarah has made for me. My head is pounding, and my stomach feels like it's on the high seas. Still, I refuse to take laudanum. I do not like the stuff. I guess I am doomed to suffer," she said with a weak smile.

Deveraux grinned. "You always were full of pluck, little sister."

Her eyes widened. "High praise indeed from my brother! But really, what is it you wanted?" She shook her head at the plate of pastry Fitzhugh held out to her, her face taking on a greenish cast

"I wanted to know if you took the Nevin jewelry suite out of the casket last night while you were going through it"

She looked at him queerly, her brow furrowing. "Of course I did. You saw me take the tiara out yourself before you left, remember? What is the matter?"

"Did you replace the jewels afterwards?"

"Yes, yes, of course I did! Or at least Sarah did," she amended, "before she carried it back to your rooms. Why? Don't tell me they are missing! How could you be so careless, Nigel?"

"Me? What?"

Keirsmyth laughed. "Very clever indeed are your enemies."

Deveraux frowned at him. He looked back at his sister.

"Would you ask Miss Jewitt to come down and see us, please?"

"Uh-hh!" murmured Lucy disgustedly, throwing her hands up in the air. "All right, but that better be all your questions for me for afterwards I'm going back to bed and the way I feel now I doubt I shall rise before tomorrow! You're all so sober and serious like this was a high court of law. All you're missing are your robes and wigs!"

"Lucy—" called Fitzhugh, running after her. He stopped at the base of the stairs, turned to look at the other gentlemen, and shrugged helplessly.

"Sir!" interrupted Jason. "This message just come for you from Axminster."

"Axminster? Give it here." He unfolded the note printed with the direction of an inn called
The Bird and Hound
at the top.

Mr. Deveraux,

By the time you receive this I shall be well on my way to Crawfords Dean. I know you fail to accept my concept of Duty. That has proven from the first a major obstacle to the possibility of any True Understanding between us.

It is why I am journeying back home. As Charlie is now married, it behooves me to prepare Lion's Gate for the arrival of its new mistress. I do not know when this might be, so it is best that I proceed instantly. I've left Lady Talavera in the hands of the proprietor of this inn. He promises to see to her return.

I'm sorry to leave in this dog-in-the-manger manner, however you have convinced me that I had no choice for you are not willing to listen to my requests to leave. Also, I fear for you all if I stay. Thus rears the ugly head of my duty once again.

I have left a note for Miss Sprockett telling her not to hurry back to Crawfords Dean on my account. She should enjoy her first holiday in years.

My best to your family. I remain with respect and affection,

Leona Leonard

"
Damnation
," Deveraux swore as he lowered the letter. In the region of his heart an icy hand clenched.

"May I see it?" inquired Keirsmyth.

Mutely Deveraux handed it to him. How could she run off like this? Did she misconstrue his anger last night? Did she feel it was all directed at her when in reality it was his fears for her that fanned the flames of his ire?

"Nigel!" called Lady Nevin from the top of the stairs. "Leona is gone! I have a note—"

"I know, Maman," he said, cutting her off. He walked to the base of the stairs. "I have one, too. And please lower your voice. We do not need to wake our other guests."

"Bah!"

Another door farther down the hall upstairs opened, letting out the sound of sobbing. "Oh-h, Lady Nevin! Lady Nev-vin!" cried Maria, coming out of the room.

Lady Nevin hurried toward Maria Sprockett, enfolding her in a warm embrace. "I know, I know. Leona's gone."

Maria sniffed and nodded, her handkerchief held up to her nose. She turned to allow Lady Nevin to lead her toward the stairs. Lady Lucy brushed past them. She ran down the stairs.

"Nigel! I've looked everywhere, and I've sent the other servants out as well, but it is the oddest thing. I can't find Sarah."

"Sarah Jewitt? Your dresser?"

She nodded. "I-I think something may have happened to her. I even checked her room. It's in great disarray—which is not like her at all! And worse, I think—I think there's blood on the bed!"

"Miss Leonard! Is something amiss? What is it, lass?" Mr. Tubbs called out as he ran out of the inn while wiping his hands on his leather apron.

Leona pulled Molly to a stop and tossed the reins to one of the Golden Goose's ostlers. "I need a horse, Mr. Tubbs. The fastest one you've got!" She jumped out of the small carriage, dragging her portmanteau with her. It bumped heavily against her shins. She stumbled and grimaced at the sharp pain.