Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (41 page)

He had been harried. He had been in fear for his life.

They were coming for him and he’d known it…

There is no more time.

They’ve finally seen through my tricks. The last shipment just came in, and I’ve delayed them as long as I can, but now they insist on examining it for themselves.

Remember me, my dearest Silver. Remember the summer sun on the lavender and the sigh of the wind through our roses. Remember the good things and not how it all changed at the end.

They’ll be here soon, but I can play this bitter game no longer. I grow tired, sorely tired. Tonight I thought I saw my dear Sarah again. She stood beside the honeysuckle and beckoned to me, smiling just as she always did.

I knew then that it was my time.

So I will not fight them when they come. You and Bram are safe with Archibald and good, honest Tinker. I pray that they will keep you so until you discover these words.

A noise.

They’re coming.

No more time.

My dear girl, kiss Bram for me. Know always that I love you…

Silver stared out at the blurred landscape, shoving tears from her eyes.

Bram watched her anxiously. “What is it, Syl? Is it something about Luc?”

“It’s nothing, love. We’ll soon be home. Then everything will be fine.”
And I’ll find them, Father. I’ll find out why. And I’ll see that they don’t win this time! But I have to save someone I love first.

~ ~ ~

Ian Delamere’s eyes narrowed on the racing carriage.

“What’s wrong, Ian?” his sister asked. “You look like a dog with a flea.”

“I won’t stand for any granddaughter of
mine
talking in such an uncouth manner,” the duchess said, shooting India an irritated look.

Since India knew her grandmother’s irritation had as much to do with Silver’s leaving as anything
she
had said, the girl merely smiled. “Oh, pooh, Grandmama. It’s true and you know it. Ian’s been looking cross as a crab ever since he heard about Luc. And I don’t see why, for it’s the most
wonderful
news imaginable. I don’t care what he’s done or where he’s been. I don’t even care that he hasn’t come to us sooner. All I want is to have him back.”

“Well, boy?” The duchess looked at Ian. “Perhaps you’d better explain yourself.”

The tall cavalry officer nudged a bit of gravel about with the beautifully polished toe of one boot. “Did you happen to see the other sketch in that notebook of young Brandon’s?”

The duchess frowned. “No.”

“Well, I did,” Ian said tautly. “I’d recognize that long face and arrogant mouth anywhere. It was Damian Renwick. And what I want to know is how Luc has gotten himself involved with such a scoundrel as Renwick.”

India’s eyes widened. “This Renwick is not quite a nice person?”

Her brother snorted. “You might well say that!”

“It is all most wonderfully confusing, is it not?” India said happily. “But I think I’d better go change into something more practical.” She looked down at her elegant silk skirts with distaste.

“Not into any more of your brother’s breeches, you won’t, young lady!” The Duchess of Cranford’s eyes flashed. “Your mother and father might be away in Venice, but you’re under my authority now and you’ll please remember that. When I say
no
riding breeches, I mean just that.”

“I know you mean it, Grandmama.” India’s beautiful eyes flashed. “But I’m afraid I also mean it. Besides,” she added. “I have a feeling I’m going to need more practical dress.” She shot a significant glance at her brother, who was still staring down the drive. “Are you coming back in to finish your tea, Ian?”

“In a moment. I have to send a message to London first.”

“Do you know something else about this man Renwick, Ian?” The duchess was careful to delay her question until India had disappeared.

“His breeding is impeccable, but for all that there’s something not quite right about the fellow. I heard talk about him over in the Peninsula, and while one hears a great deal of talk, this seemed to have a grain of truth to it. The man is devilishly shady, in fact.”

“And you believe that Luc is somehow involved?”

“I cannot say, Grandmama. I simply have a bad feeling about all this.”

What Ian didn’t tell his grandmother was that he had had that sort of feeling only twice before in his life. Once had been just before he’d been ambushed and nearly killed in a mountain pass high in Spain. The other time had been just before he’d learned that his beloved older brother had vanished without a trace.

Ian was far too experienced a soldier to ignore these flashes of intuition. He decided to send off a query to an old military friend of his in London and see what he could find out about Lord Renwick.

It would have helped matters, of course, if Silver St. Clair had divulged Luc’s whereabouts.

“Shall I follow her, Grandmama? It would be fast work for me to run the rascal to ground.”

The duchess sighed. “No, she was most adamant. It’s a point of honor with her — and with him, too, I suspect. But if Luc feels he cannot trust his own family, then what hope is there?” She took Ian’s arm. “Let us wait a day or two. I believe Miss St. Clair will come to us if she can. Or she will send Luc himself.”

If he’s
able
to come,
Ian thought grimly, wondering just what sort of damnable coil his dashing brother had gotten himself into this time.

~ ~ ~

They were just sitting down to an early dinner when a disturbance in the drive caught their attention. The duchess looked up in amazement a few minutes later as their white-haired butler burst into the dining room, his ancient, stooped body all atwitch.

“It’s
him,”
Jeffers cried, white eyebrows awry. “Out there. Right — right now!” The servant looked overwhelmed.

“Jeffers, have you been drinking again?” the duchess asked coldly.

“I most certainly have not, Your Grace. But I soon shall be. Oh, yes, we
all
shall be!” With this obscure utterance the butler flung open the door to the dining room.

A tall cloaked figure strode to the door. His boots were mud spattered, and his shoulders stooped with the strain of travel.

But there was no mistaking those fierce cheekbones or the sensual tilt to his full lips.

India was the first to find her voice. She stood swaying, one hand to her breast, blue eyes huge against her white face. “You’ve come!” she cried. “Oh, Luc, you great stupid man, you’ve finally come
home
to us!”

~ ~ ~

Hidden behind a row of towering willows, the stranger watched the coach race down the drive. An hour later he watched a single rider gallop toward the great house that dominated the valley.

He stared after the mounted rider, his fists locked, his dark eyes burning. He thought about the endless floggings he’d had to bear after his British prisoner’s escape. He thought about the jeers, the abuse, the disgrace.

But no more.

“Soon,
ferenghi,
you will be mine. Then there will be only happiness. My honor will be whole once more, and all my estates returned to me. But for you, my enemy, there will be
no
happiness.” The gold ornament glinted at his ear, bright against his wind-burned skin. “Laugh now, Englishman. For when I have you in my hands again, you will know nothing but tears. There will be no rest from the hell I bring you then.”

Yes, the trap was set.

The noose was drawn.

Soon the captain of the Dey’s elite personal guard would know the sweet, sweet taste of revenge.

He stood in the doorway, looking out over the room.

Nothing had changed.

The mullioned windows still gleamed like diamonds and the priceless old carpets still lay jewel-like in the pooled sunlight.

Swallow Hill.

This was his inheritance and he had denied it. This was his family and he had turned his back on them.

And now, despite all Luc’s vows, he was back. He knew that his return brought danger to them all, for there were men who would never relent until he was returned to them in captivity.

But he didn’t think of that now. All he could think of was the pain on his sister’s face and the shock on his brother’s.

“India,” he said softly. “You have grown up to be a true beauty. You blind my sight.”

His sister flung herself across the room and into his strong arms. He caught her shoulders and held her tight. She had never been far from his heart in all those years of desperation, the old bond still linking them somehow. Luc wondered just how much she’d felt of his own pain over those years.

As if in answer her head rose. Her eyes were full of tears. “I knew,” she said raggedly. “I knew you were alive — but in danger, gravest danger all the while. They told me not to hope, not to wait, but I
knew
they were wrong.”

Luc bent and planted a soft kiss against her titian hair. “You were right, my dear. Although it might have been better if you had given up just like everyone else.”

“Never,” she said fiercely, her fingers locked on his.

And then Ian was beside them, shocked and happy and utterly confused. “You buffle-brained cabbagehead,” he growled. “Where have you
been
for five years? Even for a hardened reprobate like you, that’s a little
too
long for a card game.”

Luc took a long, harsh breath, assailed by dark memories. “It’s a long story, Ian, and I’m tired from traveling. Good Lord, but you’ve grown. No need to ask how you’ve been keeping yourself, for it shows in the size of your shoulders.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “The Peninsula?”

Ian nodded. “Ninety-fifth Foot.”

“How long?”

“Two years next month.”

A look passed between them. “Then I’m certain we’ll have much to speak of, little brother.” There was a hint of irony in Luc’s voice, for in truth Ian was only an inch shorter than Luc was.

“And what of
me?”
The Duchess of Cranford launched herself into the fray, her fragile hands clenched very tightly on her cane.
“Well,
you brute? Have you nothing to say to your grandmother?”

Luc released his siblings and moved toward the fragile old woman whose eyes were flashing imperiously at him. “Only that you look ravishing, Grandmama. And not a single day older than when I last saw you. Your gown is by Madame Grès, is it not? Extremely fetching. I see you have not lost your exquisite taste.”

“Rapscallion,” his grandmother said, her voice unsteady with tears. “But you’ll not talk your way around me this time. It’s answers I want! What the devil do you mean staying away and putting us through such torment?”

Ian rested one his arm on Luc’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll tell us in his own good time, Grandmama.”

Luc smiled wryly at his “little” brother. “Fighting my battles for me now, are you, Ian? I can remember when it was just the opposite.”

“You look like you can fight your own battles quite well,” Ian said frankly.

“And … Father? Mama? Tell me how they fare.”

“Quite well. Father is off in search of antiquities again and Mama insisted on going along to keep an eye on him.”

Luc’s breath hissed free in a sigh of relief. “I can’t quite believe it.” He passed a hand over his brow.

“We’ve
all
changed,” Ian said softly. “But come, you’ve half the dust of Norfolk on your boots. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll send Jeffers up with a tray.”

“Humph,” the duchess said. “The boy is not entitled to anything. Not after the deceit he’s worked on us!”

Luc shook his head. “You always were a dragon, Grandmama. I can still remember the time you caught me climbing the great oak beyond the meadow. I had purloined Father’s dueling pistol and was fending off a whole band of ravening savages, as I recall. I can still feel the mark of your bruises upon my backside.”

“No more than you deserved, boy. That dueling pistol was passed down through six generations of Delameres, and I barely managed to catch it before it fell into the pond.”

Luc’s eyes twinkled. “You always did have excellent reflexes. I suspect that you still do.”

“Just try me, boy.”

Luc opened his arms. After a moment she crumpled against him, her fragile form dwarfed by his. Luc circled her shoulders carefully, feeling how much she had changed in five years. There were new lines about her eyes and she was terribly frail.

The five years had affected
all
of them, Luc realized. It wasn’t only he who had suffered, and maybe the other kinds of pain were just as keen as what he had known. But for better or for worse it was over now. He was home again, the worst of the bridges crossed.

Whether he would stay, he did not know. For now this was enough.

He patted his grandmother’s shoulder and felt her pull back to look up at him. Her head barely reached the bottom of his chest.

“I’m
not
crying,” she said fiercely, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I
never
cry. Especially not for a ham-handed ingrate like you.”

“Of course you don’t, my dear.” Luc smiled inwardly, thinking of another woman who had used similar words and stolen his heart. “Well, where is she?”

A light of mischief entered the duchess’s eyes. “She?”

“Don’t toy with me, Grandmama. I want to know where Silver St. Clair is.”

“St. Clair?” The duchess made a great business of studying Ian and India. “Do you recall that name, my dears?”

Luc’s brother and sister were wise enough to stay out of this particular skirmish.

“Grandmama.” There was a clear threat in Luc’s tone.

“Oh, yes, I believe I recall the name now. A charming girl — a trifle headstrong, but then I never hold that against anyone. She
was
here, along with that ingenious brother of hers. Reminded me of your father at a similar age. Only,
he
was mad about antiquities, of course.”

“Grandmama!”

“Don’t growl at me, you great bear! I’m not in the least frightened by your threats. And that lovely young woman of yours is not here. She left, as it happens.”

“She did
what?”

India, smiling hugely, threw one arm around her brother. “She is really quite lovely, Luc. But tell me, have you had the Dream?”

Luc’s face took on a faint tinge of red. “Dream? I don’t know what you’re talking about, India.”

“Of course you do, you great looby. The Delamere
Dream.
The dream all Delameres have the night after they meet their true love. Mother told us that the spirit of the first Delamere ancestor on English soil was betrayed in love and died most unhappily. Don’t you remember? Because of his unhappiness he always appears in a dream to alert his descendants that they have just met the one who will be the love of their life. That way they won’t make the same mistake that he did.”

Luc’s flush had grown more noticeable. “I don’t know anything about such nonsense.”

“Of course you do. You’re blushing like a schoolboy! Can’t you see it, Ian?”

The gray-eyed soldier took pity on his brother and gave India’s hair a playful tug. “No, I can’t, minx. It’s just your imagination, that’s all.”

“It is not! Oh, you wretched men all stick together. Grandmama,
you
see it, don’t you?”

The Duchess of Cranford pursued her lips, studying her eldest grandchild. She was not going to let the boy off the hook yet. “Perhaps.”

“Blast it, Grandmama, where did she go?”

“Miss St. Clair went back to Kingsdon Cross.”

“She did
what?”

“Really, my love, you are starting to repeat yourself. Miss St. Clair insisted on leaving as soon as she could. She told me she had important information for you.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Two hours, I expect.”

“The reckless little fool.” A frown hardened Luc’s face. “I must go.”

The duchess began to protest, but Ian touched her arm. “Luc knows what he has to do, Grandmama. I think you’d best ask Cook to pack a satchel of food for him to take on the road.”

“Humph.” The duchess glared at Luc. “I suppose I must. But you’d better not stay away from us for
another
five years, you rascal!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But Luc’s smile did not quite extend to his eyes. His thoughts were already before him, racing along the road to Kingsdon Cross.

“There’s one other thing you should know.” Ian’s voice was low. “Miss St. Clair’s brother had a notebook with him. Among other things it had a sketch of you in it, which is how we managed to connect you with the pair. But there was another drawing in the book.” Ian’s eyes hardened. “Damian Renwick’s.”

Luc cursed.

“I suspect it had something to do with the incident in King’s Lynn when we saw the farm wagon nearly run them down.”

“Renwick, drive a farm wagon?” Luc shook his head. “Not bloody likely.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that. It was over by the time we found her, and the man had fled. Perhaps I should have pushed the pair harder for information, but I confess that I was not thinking quite clearly when I found the notebook.” Ian studied Luc. “You see, I had just realized that my older brother was
not
dead, as I’d long supposed him to be.”

Luc’s mouth hardened. “I … am dreadfully sorry. For all of you. But I’m not saying I wouldn’t do the same thing over again. There are reasons, Ian, things that I still need to think through.”

“There is no need to explain,” Ian said gruffly. “I’m sure you had the best of reasons for doing what you did. Only next time try not to underestimate your family, you great fool.”

India rose and put her hand on Luc’s cheek. “But there’s not going to
be
a next time. Surely, there isn’t, Luc.”

“I sincerely hope not, my dear.” Luc’s voice was grim even as he tried to reassure her. “But I must warn you that since the first moment of meeting Miss Silver St. Clair, my life seems to have slid entirely out of my control.”

~ ~ ~

Luc thought about those words again and again on the long, dusty trip from Swallow Hill south to Kingsdon Cross. They weren’t true, of course. He
did
have control. But Silver had shattered so many of his old beliefs, turned his life topsy-turvy and his heart inside out, that sometimes he
felt
out of control.

But he wouldn’t give up the feeling for the world, Luc decided. And he was going to do whatever it took to protect the incorrigible female from any further danger.

Whether she
liked
it or not.

~ ~ ~

Luc’s boots were streaked with mud and his face lined with weariness when he raced up the sloping hill to Lavender Close three hours later. He slid from the saddle and made his way directly to the conservatory workrooms. When he came to the threshold, he felt something cold and malevolent brush over his spine.

Shelves were tossed in a sprawl, tables overturned, and plants scattered everywhere. Dirt lined the floor and water lay in puddles along one wall.

Fear gripped him. “Silver?”

A groan came from behind a potted pine.

Tinker!