Barbara Metzger (35 page)

Lord Rensdale would have gone home, but Lord Marden discouraged him from that. If that groom wanted to get rid of the entire Renslow family, Ian warned, he’d follow Rensdale back to Derby and kill him along the way, when he was unprotected and unsuspecting. Or else, the Runner put in, Alfie Brown might go after Lady Rensdale, when he discovered she was carrying another heir to the name and title. They sent an army of former soldiers to guard the estate, without telling Lady Rensdale, naturally.

Another troop circled Maddox House day and night. Troy could not set foot or crutch out of doors, not as far as the garden, not without an armed escort or footmen patrolling the vicinity. If he left the grounds, Lord Marden went with him. Rensdale refused to leave the house at all, lest he be set upon again. As for Athena, she seldom went farther than the park across the street with the dog, and never noticed how many veterans and servants were standing about. She had too much on her mind.

She missed him. She missed her brother, too, who was too busy with Ian and his lessons and his exercising to need her company. Lady Dorothy was also too busy, although Athena did not want to know precisely with what, or with whom, Doro was so occupied. Lady Marden was out with Uncle Barnaby, when she was not resting from her exertions. Describing the fire to all of her friends was almost as exhausting to the dowager as avoiding the workmen and extra maids.

Athena had all the organizing chores completed, and the house well on its way to being restored. She had her new clothes completed and in her wardrobe, and she had nowhere to go. She told Hull they were not receiving until the house was repaired, and she did not pay any calls. She was bored and she was lonely, and she was sick at heart that her lovely marriage had not lasted through an entire day. But she was right, she told herself. That had to count for something, although it did not warm her bed at night or send chills down her spine or make her toes tingle. Nothing but her husband had that power, which made her madder still, and sadder.

*

Ian was not by nature a patient man. He thought he was doing amazingly well not to hound Bow Street for news of the search, and he thought he was magnanimous to let his wife have her way while he slept in a monk’s cell. He slept in the earl’s bedchamber, of course, but it was getting smaller and colder and emptier every night he knew Athena was on the other side of that blasted door. He was married, by heaven, to a woman he loved and desired. Why was he sleeping alone?

His patience and passion warred for three whole nights. Pride won.

On the following day, Ian waited in the hall for his wife’s maid to leave, then he stepped into the countess’s chamber.

Athena had to catch herself before a welcoming smile burst across her face. Ian looked so handsome, so big and strong and determined. He carried a bouquet of violets.

“We are married,” he said from the doorway.

“Yes.”

“We have to come to some kind of terms.”

“Yes.”

“We cannot do that while you are avoiding me.”

“No.”

“Will you speak with me?”

“Yes.”

“May I come in?”

“No. I doubt we would get much talking done.”

She was right. Ian moved to his second plan. “I thought we might go on a picnic. The day is fine, your brother is well used to his new mare and itching for a longer ride, and I need to show you what happened the day of that duel. I need to see for myself, too. I was too concerned with getting Troy home then to make a careful look. Carswell and Doro have agreed to come, and your uncle and my mother said they would enjoy a carriage ride, although they do not know our direction. The fewer people who do, the better, so don’t mention our destination to your maid. Not that I do not trust her, but discretion is called for until we know precisely what did happen. Will you come with us?”

She really wanted to go, to find out the truth, but agreeing might seem like forgiving, conceding, condoning his behavior. On the other hand, Athena had been cooped in the house for ages, it felt. Ian looked so hopeful, so eager, and the day was indeed perfect for a picnic: clear, but not hot. She was torn.

“If you don’t come, how can you know I won’t use your brother for target practice?” he asked, a smile on his face. It was the smile that convinced her. Goodness, how she loved his smile, so bright and endearing and slightly lopsided, that she had to smile back. “Yes, I would like to, but I shall travel with your mother and my uncle.”

“They will not thank you, you know. I shall take my curricle if you would rather drive than ride.”

“Will you let me take the ribbons?”

“Hell, no—That is, perhaps, after the pair has worked out the fidgets, and when the road is clear and we are out of London proper. Besides, that is blackmail.”

“I was merely testing to see how much you wanted my company.”

His smile turned into a grin that was half leer. “If you let me come in, I could show you.”

She shut the door in his face. “I will be ready in half an hour.”

Perhaps she should have ridden after all. She had not been on a horse in ages, though, and never on one of the caliber of Marden’s stables. Furthermore, she had neglected to order a new habit, and did not want to embarrass herself or Ian on either count. Now she was sitting with her thigh pressed against his on the narrow driving seat, feeling his firm, hard muscles move with the coach’s sway. Oh, dear. She had to fan herself, despite the cool breeze in her face. He shifted slightly closer, the cad, knowing how he was affecting her. He just grinned, enjoying the day and the ride and his horses—and her. She grinned back and held onto her bonnet as he set the pair to a ground-eating gallop.

When they reached a clearing, he had the footmen who had followed in another coach unload the picnic supplies and the growling dog, and take up positions surrounding the party, after they, the grooms, and the mounted guards were sure no one had followed, and the area was safe. The servants would eat later. The dog would eat when she wanted, as usual.

They set out blankets and baskets, and chairs for Lady Marden and Athena’s uncle. They unpacked covered dishes kept warm with bricks, and bottles chilled with wet towels. Cook had prepared enough food for three times their number, and Athena had to laugh, recalling the picnics she was used to, with a blanket, a loaf of bread and some cheese in a sack. This was more of an al fresco feast.

The food, the day, the company, were all superb, and Athena could forget the real nature of the outing. She could forget her doubts about Ian, too, while he was letting Troy hold forth about his mare, laughing with his family and friends, feeding Roma the choicest bits of food, feeding Athena the plumpest strawberries. He insisted on putting them into her mouth, saying her gown was too pretty to chance stains, although she might have eaten more neatly without his nearness.

After the luncheon, Lady Marden declared herself in need of a nap under the nearby trees. The captain thought he might join her, to keep a watch, he said. Troy remounted, and the others walked behind his horse farther into the clearing.

“Here’s the place,” Carswell said when they had reached familiar level ground, with the trees bordering the field. “We were positioned about here.”

Ian took his place, and Carswell took Paige’s. Doro was sent to stand in the surgeon’s stead, while Athena went with Troy and the dog to try to find where he had been watching atop his horse. While they waited for the Renslows to call out that they were ready, Ian raised his gun in Carswell’s direction.

“About my sister…” he began.

Carswell laughed. “Good thing that pistol isn’t loaded, eh?”

“Someone is trying to do away with my wife’s family. Do you really think I would carry an unloaded weapon?”

Carswell stopped laughing on the instant. His face paled. “You wouldn’t. You swore!”

“Oh, I would not aim to kill,” Ian said, lowering the muzzle of the pistol. “I would just make sure you could not dishonor another respectable female.”

Carswell threw his hands in the air. “Nothing dishonorable about my intentions, I swear. I asked her. She’s thinking about it. You know how females are.”

Ian did. He shouted to his sister: “If you don’t marry him, I’ll have to shoot the dastard.”

“He wants a big, fancy wedding, one Mother would adore.”

“What do you want?” he called over.

“Gretna Green, with no fuss.”

Ian turned back to his friend. “You heard her. Scotland it is. Athena and I will go along as chaperones as soon as things are safe. We never did have a honeymoon, you know, so I doubt you’ll mind us, but the old tabbies would mind if we were not along. Then we can let Mother throw a ball in your honor at Maddox House, the biggest one the
ton
has ever seen. Does that satisfy everyone?”

“I’m game if you’ll lower the gun,” Carswell answered, and Doro nodded her agreement. “Unless you have any objections, Ian?”

“My only objection is the blasted delay to find a would-be killer. Troy, have you found the place yet?”

Troy wasn’t sure, but the dog was snuffling around a trampled area under a tree. Too much time had gone by, and rain, for her to recognize her master’s scent, but Athena thought dark patches on the bare dirt might be blood. “We think so,” she yelled back across the clearing.

Ian raised his pistol again, as if he was going to fire in the sky, deloping. Then he moved the gun down, in a line with Carswell’s head, and then to the left, toward the trees. “There. That would have been where the ball bit the tree. My Mantons aim true, without pulling to the right or the left.”

“I see the spot,” Athena called, headed in the direction of his aim.

They all followed. “What are we looking for?” Lady Dorothy wanted to know.

Ian was looking up at the trees. “There ought to be a mark on the trunk of one of them if the ball ricocheted into Troy.”

There was a scar on one of the trees, but not from a passing blow. The trunk had a hole in it, with a lead ball still embedded in the bark.

“I didn’t shoot him, Attie!” Ian yelled. “I did not shoot your brother!” He was so relieved and excited he picked her up, right off her feet, and twirled her around until she was dizzy. “I shot a tree!”

Athena was giddy from the spin and the kiss Ian had finished it with. He’d still lied to her, but that seemed irrelevant now. His happiness, and his arms around her were all that mattered…until she had a moment to think, while the others gathered around, watching Carswell extract the ball with his pocket-knife. She pushed Ian away. “If you didn’t shoot him, then, by accident or mischance, who did?”

“Why, that groom of yours who ran off after the horses, of course. He told Macelmore some story of finding Troy gone when he got back, but likely he intended to keep going, until he realized the cub would live. Then he went after Rensdale. When that did not work, he tried to kill both of them at one time with the fires at Maddox House.”

“Alfie Brown? My father’s illegitimate son? Why?”

“We’ll know that when we find him.”

Athena looked around, at the secluded clearing and the thick stand of trees where any evildoer could be lurking. Then she kicked Ian in the shin. “You knew he shot Troy, and is out to kill all of us, yet you brought my brother out here, in the open?”

“With mounted guards and armed footmen. And I made certain we were not followed out of town.”

She kicked him again.

“Ouch. What’s that for?”

“For not telling me all three crimes were connected, or that you suspected Alfie. For not, by heaven, telling me the truth!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Love conquers all. Doesn’t it?

—Anonymous

Love cannot tame a shark, soften a rock, or stop the wind. It needs help.

—Mrs. Anonymous

Athena came down to dinner and stayed afterward to play a hand of cards. She beat Troy at chess, and played to a draw with Ian. Her bedroom door, however, stayed locked.

She came to breakfast, helped Ian’s mother answer her correspondence, and went shopping for bridal clothes with Lady Dorothy. She visited a naval hospital with her uncle, a museum with Mr. Carswell, and an at-home of two ladies who claimed to have known her mother. She rode in the park early for practice, and drove there late with Ian, at the fashionable hour. But her door stayed locked.

They attended the theater, a dinner, and church. He brought her flowers and books and a high-bred mare. He tried apologizing again, only to be told that he simply did not understand. She was right, he did not understand, but he comprehended well enough the fact that the blasted door was going to stay locked. His patience had worn so thin you could see through it.

“How long, my lady? How long are you going to deny us both the pleasure we seek? You cannot deny you want to share my bed, for I have seen the way you blush when I brush against you, and the way your breathing comes faster if I sit too close. Why, every time I admire that ruby pendant between your breasts, I could swear I see them tightening for my touch. Your body remembers how good I made you feel, Attie, and it wants to join with mine.”

She was blushing furiously now, happy they were at the opera where no one could see. Otherwise they would think she was wearing as much face paint as Lady Dorothy. She pretended to study the program, moving sideways in her seat so their shoulders could not touch, lest her traitorous body give away more of her secrets.

Ian took her hand before she moved so far that she fell off the chair. “We can overcome our differences between the sheets, for we had so much in common there, didn’t we?”

“We would not talk.”

“Of course we would, sooner or later. We are talking now, are we not?”

“No, you are trying to seduce me. That is not conversation.”

He stroked her hand, his thumb making circles on her palm. She could feel the heat through her glove, and pulled her hand away.

“I would be within my prerogatives to claim my marital rights, you know.”

“You would not. You promised.”

“But if you already distrust me, if you do not believe my word, why should I bother to keep any of my promises?”