Patricia Rice (25 page)

A dangerous gleam leapt to Duncan’s eyes. “Fine, keep your
little secrets, Cass. I have other plans. Actually, you have done us both a favor
by running off. Rupert would have made me beg for every penny, but you will
not, will you, Cass? Once we have his wealth, we can be a happy family again,
maybe even rebuild the old mausoleum so you and Mother can live happily content
in the country as you prefer. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“What are you talking about, Duncan? I have no wealth, and I
see no chance of Rupert sharing his. What maggot do you have in your head now?”

Duncan shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Rupert
is something of a monster, I have found out. He enjoys killing. He enjoys women
too, so I never thought he would harm you, but I can see that he might be a
danger to you. You have not exactly got an obedient spirit, Cass.”

“I never pretended to have, dear brother,” she responded
sardonically. “So what is this leading up to?”

“Tell me where he is, and I will rid you of him.” Duncan was
tense and expectant.

“You are quite mad,” she finally announced. “It is much too
late to defend me. In all cases, even if you managed to win, you would be tried
for murder or exiled, as he is. Put the matter out of your mind. Why don’t you
help me put the farm back to work? There is money to be made here. We will not
be wealthy, but we will not starve.”

Excitement crept into her voice as she allowed her secret
hopes to creep out. If only he would accept this plan, they would be a real
family, like the Scheffings. The excitement withered quickly enough beneath
Duncan’s scorn.

“I’d rather starve.” He dismissed the offer out of hand. “You
are married to a wealthy man. Someone is bound to take exception to his
villainy sooner or later, and you will be a wealthy widow. Tell me where Rupert
is, and I shall see that it is much sooner than later.”

Cassandra stared at him in horror.

~*~

Lotta noticed the horse first. Coming from the field, she
had dawdled in the lane waiting for Jacob, and they had taken their time
returning to the house and their chores. She tugged at Jacob’s hand to halt
him.

“Who around here rides a nag like that?” she asked.

Jacob studied the object in question. “None that would admit
to it. A sorry hack, if you ask me.”

Lotta gave him a disdainful look. “And what would you know
of horses? You’ll be telling me next that you were a groom before you were a
valet.”

“Actually, I was in the army before I was a valet. Not
cavalry, mind you, but I’ve been around enough horses to recognize a sorry
specimen when I see one.”

“Who would ride a hired hack out here?”

Jacob gave her an impatient look. “Wouldn’t it be easier to
go inside and see?”

She turned on him as if he had lost all his wits. “Not if we
need to get away again, it won’t. Come, let’s go around the back and see if we
can hear their voices.”

Jacob led the way around the house to the kitchen door. Even
from here the angry argument in the front room could be heard. The pair
exchanged looks and crept through the kitchen.

“Duncan!” Lotta whispered, recognizing the enraged bellows.
She clutched Jacob’s arm and pulled him back. “I knew the devil would demand
his due.”

“You’d best warn his lordship. It won’t do to have him come
up unexpected.”

“Aye, I’ll warn his lordship to bring his pistols,” Lotta
replied grimly. “You go in there and see that my lady is protected. He’s a
brute when he’s angry like that.”

Jacob’s stoic expression shifted, but his voice reflected
only a solemn calm. “I’ll do as I can. Be quick, then.”

~*~

Cassandra looked up with relief when Jacob appeared
bearing a tray and a decanter. She had rather he kept the brandy out of Duncan’s
hands, but now that she was not alone, she felt safer.

“Thank you, Jacob. That was most thoughtful of you. My
brother is undoubtedly weary from his ride. Would you see that a room is
prepared for him?”

Duncan waited until the servant was gone before pouring the
brandy. “That was Rupert’s valet. Are you still going to insist you know
nothing of your husband’s whereabouts?”

Wearily Cassandra rose from the settee. “He came with me
when I left London. Think what you wish. I must see about dinner. Jacob will
show you to your room.”

By the time Lotta’s message reached Merrick, it was almost
dark. Setting his jaw, Wyatt approached the dowager countess in her salon.

“We need to make an evening call, Mother. It seems Lord
Eddings is in residence, and I have several things I need to discuss with him.
You can see that it would be more appropriate if you accompanied me to visit
with his sister while we talk business.”

Lady Merrick sniffed superciliously. “I can see nothing of
the sort. I daresay she entertains single gentlemen every night of the week. I
have nothing to say to her.”

“I had not realized you had grown so bored with the country,
Mother,” Wyatt replied. “It is past time that I set you up with a house in
town. You should have mentioned it much sooner. Perhaps Lady Cassandra could
make recommendations as to the most fashionable streets. I have not kept up
with them myself.”

The implied threat brought her nose up a little higher, but
the countess knew when her bluff was called. “Very well, have the carriage
brought around. I will not travel in that flimsy rig you gad about in.”

Cassandra gasped in surprise when Wyatt appeared at her door
with Lady Merrick on his arm, but she held her curiosity and graciously
beckoned the countess to the cushion beside her on the settee. Since Duncan had
appropriated the only other chair in the room, she had an anxious moment in
placing Wyatt, but he solved the dilemma.

“So sorry to intrude at this hour, my lady. I did not
realize you had company, but this is a fortuitous occurrence. While my mother
speaks to you of her reason for visiting, perhaps I can persuade your brother
to speak privately with me for a moment on a matter of business?”

Cassandra panicked as she contemplated all the things that
might be said between brother and lover. Duncan was looking bored and irritable
and ready to entertain the notion of baiting Merrick.

She gestured to the servant waiting in the doorway. “You
cannot think of deserting us for business at this hour of the evening, my lord.
Jacob, bring a chair for his lordship, please.”

Wyatt appeared ready to object, but Cassandra turned gaily
to the disapproving countess. “Men are such a trial, always business, I vow. We
must take a stern stand on these matters, mustn’t we? Shall you have some tea?
I understand you play whist very well. I have so longed for a good game.
Perhaps we could persuade our men to a challenge?”

She knew Duncan was already sizing up his opponents and
wondering how much he could cheat them of, but she saw no other option. She
wouldn’t have Merrick harmed.

Merrick nodded in agreement and let her run the show. He
concealed his amusement at his mother’s obvious approval of Cassandra’s
handling of the cards. The women stayed several points ahead of the men, but he
couldn’t catch Cassandra flagrantly cheating. For that matter, he couldn’t see
Duncan using any sleight of hand either. For a brief few hours it almost felt
as if they were meeting as families should meet.

Admittedly, he could not imagine a more preposterous
combination of relations, but if it could work for one evening, it could work
for many.

Just as Wyatt had almost come to terms with the family scene,
Duncan smacked his hand against the table. The marquess had been imbibing
steadily, but his lack of control had not surfaced until now.

“Cass, that deuce went out at the beginning! You swore you’d
use none of your tricks with me. It’s an easy few shillings. What’s a few
shillings to you and your toplofty friends?”

Cassandra gave a discreet signal to the hovering servant and
spread her cards on the table. Without any apparent connection between gesture
and action, Jacob spilled the brandy in a golden waterfall over her brother’s
lap. At the same time, Cassandra rose and held out her hand to the countess.

“I believe we have trounced them enough for one evening, my
lady.” Ignoring Duncan’s screams and curses as he danced back from the table
and flailed drunkenly, she turned to Merrick, who had risen when she did. “I
thank you for your company, my lord. It has been a pleasant evening. I do hope
you will bring Lady Merrick again sometime. We will give you an opportunity to
beat us. Perhaps we could set a handicap?”

The dowager gaped in astonishment as the servant made every
appearance of removing Duncan’s saturated trousers right there and then. She
gulped, stepped back, stared with horror at Cassandra’s outstretched hand and
bright smile, then out of pure inbred courtesy accepted the offered hand and
smiled perfunctorily.

“Of course, my dear, anytime. It has been a delightful
evening. Come, Wyatt, we must go.”

Cassandra followed them to the door, ignoring the brawl
escalating behind her. As he left, Merrick bent over her hand and in a whisper
murmured, “Shall I come back?”

For a moment, Cassandra clung to his hand. More than
anything, she wanted Wyatt’s strength while she endured Duncan’s company. She
didn’t want to be alone tonight, but she had done this to herself. She had
wanted independence. Summoning her courage, she met his gaze squarely.

“It won’t do,” she answered, then turned away before he
could see the tears in her eyes.

“Who is that man out in the bushes?” Lotta whispered as
she hurried in the back door with her basket of eggs.

Jacob glanced uneasily out the window. “I don’t know. He’s
been there most of the night. Ugly big brute, ain’t he?”

“Should we tell Cass? She has so much on her mind...”

Jacob shook his head. “We’ll keep an eye on him. The
marquess won’t be lingering, I’ll be bound. We’ll see if this brute goes with
him.”

Angry voices carried down from the upper story, and Lotta
grabbed a tray and a teapot. “They’re at it already. I didn’t think his
royal-pain-in-the-arse would be up so early after last night.”

“He’ll be wanting to get away, I suspect.” Jacob shot Lotta’s
full figure a quick look. “You stay away from him.”

Lotta flashed a smile. “After all these years, don’t you
think I’ve learned a trick or two?” In flagrant imitation of her mistress, she
tossed her hair and flounced out, a smile plastered on her face.

“You touch one single thing in this house and I’ll break it
over your head before I let you have it! They’re not mine to give away. Now,
leave off, Duncan.” Cassandra smacked her brother’s hand away from the lovely
watercolor that Merrick had given her. He had said it was just a silly memento
he had picked up on his Grand Tour, but she could tell from the way Duncan was
eyeing it now that it had much more worth than that.

“I never begrudged you the coin to live, Cass. Now that I’m
a little short of the ready, it wouldn’t hurt to part with a bauble or two. Did
you come away with no jewelry at all? That was very shortsighted of you.”

Cassandra stamped her foot and flung a pillow at him. “Nothing,
nothing at all! Shall I give you my gowns to sell? Would that make you happy,
Duncan? I came here in rags. Shall you reduce me to rags again?”

The pillow missed Duncan and hit the door just as Lotta
entered with the tea tray. She screamed and bobbled the tray and almost had it
under control when Duncan turned abruptly to brush by her.

“Out of my way, slut.” He shoved past, careless of the
teetering tray.

Emitting a feigned squeal, Lotta let the tray tilt. The
teapot and its steaming contents tumbled in a scalding cascade down the
marquess’s trousers while she cried and carried on and filled the air with her
protestations of apology.

Jacob was up the stairs in an instant, his lanky frame
seeming to stretch and tower like a malevolent giant as he burst in upon the
scene. Already near tears, Cassandra could scarcely hold back her laughter as
Duncan yelped, Lotta continued shrieking, and Jacob added his highly vivid
invectives to the melee.

Scalded, Duncan cursed and fought with his trousers while
Jacob rescued the remains of the tray. Clasping her robe closed, Cassandra gasped
soothing phrases, but she was shaking too hard with laughter to make herself
heard. She would have to reward her servants somehow. Duncan would think twice
before intruding on her peace again.

To the conspirators’ surprise, a crash sounded below and
heavy footsteps bounded up the stairs. Duncan had his shirttails down to his
knees and his trousers about his ankles when the intruder burst through the
door, nearly knocking Jacob into his lordship’s shoulders.

This time Cassandra screamed in truth as she spotted the
great pistol in the stranger’s hand. Lotta’s cries instantly halted. Raising
her tray, the maid slammed it down against the stranger’s hand.

The pistol exploded into the floor, the air reeked with
sulfur and smoke, and the angry giant howled as he grabbed his bruised
knuckles.

With the echoes of gunfire still ringing in their ears, no one
heard the pounding of boots upon the stairs. Merrick and Bertie burst through
the open doorway, brandishing whips and riding crops, then halted to survey the
chaos in Cassandra’s bedchamber.

Cassandra, hair a riot about her shoulders, tears streaming
down her cheeks, clutched her robe while she tugged a terrified Lotta from the
hulking farmer’s angry howls. The men’s gazes then traveled to Duncan’s
half-clad form as he and Jacob fought to overwhelm the intruder.

Raising one eyebrow at this bedlam, Merrick raised his
eyebrow at an astonished Bertie. “I do believe we have just witnessed a circus
rehearsal, old boy. Do you wish to tame the lions while I congratulate the
lovely rope-walkers?”