Regina Scott (14 page)

But when she failed to catch sight of Haygood for most of the second day, she thought her duty as hostess demanded her to look in on him. Accordingly she left her cousins arguing over the placement of booths in the meadow and returned to the manor.

How busy the place was from what she remembered! As a child they had run short-staffed, except for the extra help brought in for the summer party her father had held each year. Now the manor swarmed with servants, all intent on making her visitors welcome.

Her cousins had brought their maids and valets plus the children’s nurses. Those hired from the village for the party hurried about, learning their roles. Vendors met on a daily basis with Mrs. Linton, Mrs. Dallsten Walcott or one of the Everards. Even Samantha was stopped three times with questions between the entry hall and the nearby muniment room.

She started into the musty space and leaned against the nearest bookshelf for a moment to catch her breath, leaving the door open behind her. The room was small, with no windows and only the single door, the better to protect the precious pages from heat and light. The occasional sconce along the wall provided enough glow to navigate the room. Bookshelves lined the walls and marched in solemn rows down the center, with cupboards interspaced for smaller items. She always felt as if she’d entered a graveyard, knowing so much of the information spoke of people long dead.

Now she walked down the flagstones of the center aisle to the middle of the room, where she knew a worktable sat. Surely that’s where she’d find Mr. Haygood. She kept her smile ready, but as she passed the last bookshelf, she found that the archivist’s seat was empty. A lamp stood burning on one corner of the table, and open ledgers showed that someone had been studying the estate records from about eight years ago, when she’d first ascended to the title. But of her guest there was no sign.

“Mr. Haygood?” she called, glancing around. No bearded face peered from behind a bookcase and no chipper voice answered her call. In fact, the muniment room was silent, as if the generations of Dallstens chronicled in the papers around her were holding their breaths.

Except one. Somewhere close-at-hand, a body sucked in some of the dry air and coughed. Samantha turned her head toward the sound. “Mr. Haygood?”

Still nothing.

Gooseflesh pimpled her arms. Someone was here with her, someone who did not want to be found. It might have been a servant intent on a moment’s break from the chaos of the manor and determined not to trouble her. Yet the silence felt heavy, vengeful.

The door shut with a thud.

Samantha jumped. Someone was trying to frighten her! She would not let them know they were doing a good job. She peered around the bookcase, but saw no one in the center aisle. The door seemed miles away.

“Mr. Haygood, if you are in here,” she demanded, “I insist that you to show yourself.”

The stillness mocked her.

She opened the drawer in the desk, felt around until her fingers closed on the folio knife. The little silver blade was used to cut open the leaves on new ledgers. Holding it in one hand, she crept along the aisle, gaze sweeping each row of bookshelves, breath jerking each time she saw the space empty. At last the door loomed before her, and she reached for the handle with her free hand.

Someone grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back into the room. Before she could cry out or use the knife, something heavy collided with her skull, and the world turned to blackness. The last thing she heard was the tinkle of the folio knife, hitting the stone floor a half second before she did.

Chapter Fourteen

“S
o what do you think, Lord Kendrick?” Mrs. Dallsten Walcott asked, holding up two swatches of fabric, “the lemon or the saffron for the tables?”

The two shades of yellow looked remarkably alike to him, but the gleam in her blue eyes told him the question was of immense importance to her. A quick glance confirmed that her daughter was too far away to save Will from having to answer the question. “I’m certain whichever you choose will be perfect,” he assured her.

“Well, of course,” she readily agreed, the fabric fluttering in the breeze where they stood on the meadow beside the manor. “But Lady Everard does not always agree with my advice.” She batted her lashes at Will. “I did encourage her to accept your son. I want you to know that.”

“How very kind of you,” Will said, suddenly quite glad Samantha kept her own counsel. “I’m certain if you put your question to Lady Everard, she would be only too glad to share her opinion on this issue as well.”

“Very likely,” she said. Then she frowned and glanced around, lowering the fabric. “And where has that girl gone off to this afternoon?”

Will seized the opportunity. “I’ll be delighted to find her for you. Excuse me.” He hurried off before she could argue.

What an undertaking! He shook his head as he detoured around the workmen erecting the last of the booths. When he’d first been assigned to the embassy in Constantinople, he’d had to assist in the planning of any number of events like the annual party to celebrate King George’s birthday. That had involved every member of the embassy staff, their families and any British subject who happened to be in the city at the time, with separate affairs for the local ruling class. The Everard summer party put the event to shame.

He hadn’t attended the party the past two years since his father’s death, but the other members of the gentry raved about the food, the music, the bonfire and the fireworks. Though the entire village was invited, everyone was on his or her best behavior, knowing that the couple completing the set in the dance was just as likely to be a titled lord and his wife as the local seamstress and her husband. For one night, as Samantha’s father Arthur Everard had intended, everyone could just relax and enjoy themselves.

But it appeared Lord Everard’s heir wasn’t allowed to relax in the meantime! She had been everywhere the past few days, from directing the booth construction to planning the order of the dances. Her energy never failed, her determination never faltered. A shame Lord Wellington didn’t have her in the Peninsula. He’d have beaten Napoleon long since!

Still, all that busyness had prevented an opportunity for a quiet chat. Now was as good a time as any to see if she was free. Someone had to have taken her direction.

Will first tried Vaughn, who with his impish twin sons was attempting to advise the puppet master on a more exciting play for the children. They had not seen Samantha recently. He approached Adele, who was walking the perimeter of the meadow as if intent on making sure the space was sufficiently large, but she had no knowledge of her former charge either. He appealed to Jamie, who was closer to the house and attempting to marshal a fishing expedition for Jerome’s two sons. Will wasn’t surprised when his son had an answer.

“She retired to the manor about a quarter hour ago,” he said, trying to coax a worm into a jar without touching the slimy creature. Will wasn’t sure how well his son’s reticence boded for their fishing plans, but he thanked Jamie and headed for Dallsten Manor.

The footman on duty near the front door offered to find her for him. Will refused. The staff already looked harried, and the party was still four days away. He had no desire to add to their burden. And he had every wish to find her alone so he could talk to her about his brother’s death.

“If you’ll just point out her direction,” he told the footman, “I’ll find her myself.”

“She was going that way, my lord,” the servant replied, indicating the rightmost corridor leading off the entry hall. “I believe she might have been making for the muniment room. It’s to the right when you cross under the stairs and the first door on your left.”

It took only a moment to find the room, but Will hesitated at the closed door. Much as he wanted a moment alone with Samantha, he knew the muniment room was unlikely to provide it. Prentice Haygood had stated his intentions of working there until he’d laid out Samantha’s lineage. If she’d come here, she most likely meant to talk with him, and the man had made it plain he desperately wanted a word alone with her. Was he even now down on bended knee, gazing up into her deep brown eyes, pledging his undying devotion?

If he was, a part of Will was more than ready to barge in. The other part, his diplomatic side, cautioned restraint. Samantha would not thank him if she had decided to accept her swain’s suit after all.

On the other hand, if she’d decided to send the fellow packing, she’d no doubt be delighted at the interruption.

Will raised a hand and knocked. “Lady Everard? Haygood? Are you there?”

No one answered.

Odd. Perhaps the footman had been mistaken, and the muniment room had not been Samantha’s destination. Yet shouldn’t Haygood have answered? Had something happened to the would-be scholar?

Will took hold of the latch and pushed open the door.

The sight over the threshold froze his blood. Samantha lay on her side, head cushioned from the stone floor by her arm. Her eyes were closed, her body unmoving. A few feet away Haygood lay in a similar fashion, arm outstretched as if he’d been reaching for her when he fell.

Will crouched beside Samantha, felt at her wrist and blew out a breath when her pulse tapped against his fingers.
Thank You, Lord!
Rising, he shouted out the door. “Help! Quickly! Your mistress has been hurt.”

The cries and pounding feet answering his call told him he would soon have all the assistance he needed.

He knelt back at Samantha’s side, gently touched her cheek. Her skin was like warm silk against his fingers.

“Samantha,” he murmured, surprised by the choke in his voice, “can you hear me?”

Out of the corner of his eye Will saw the footman who had directed him skid to a stop in the doorway. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Will replied. “I found them like this. See to Mr. Haygood, will you?”

The footman hurried to comply.

Beside Will, Samantha stirred. Her eyes opened, blinked, fixed on him, and relief washed over him as he saw recognition brighten her gaze.

“Well,” she said, obviously surprised, and she levered herself up on her elbow. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Will assured her, hand on her arm to steady her. He wanted to hug her close once more, cradle her in safety, but behind him he heard more exclamations as additional servants crowded the doorway.

Samantha put her other hand to her head as if the side pained her. “I came to the muniment room to look in on Mr. Haygood. I thought the room was empty until I heard someone breathing.” She shuddered as if the memory chilled her, then winced. “When I tried to leave, someone struck me.”

Anger surged inside him, but a groan to his left told him Haygood had woken as well.

“Lady Everard!” Haygood cried, crawling toward her on hands and knees. “Please, tell me you are all right!”

“I think so,” she answered. “Although my head is pounding.”

Will wanted to pound the person who had done this. Who would have dared to strike her? Was it some sort of accident or did someone intend to harm her? Was that why he’d seen an outrider following her before her relatives came, to ensure her protection? Was she not safe in her own home, surrounded by family?

“And what of you, Haygood?” he demanded. “What explanation do you have for all this?”

Her suitor blanched. “You cannot think that I would...that I could...” He held out a hand beseechingly toward Samantha. “Dear Lady Everard, you know that I would never harm you!”

“Of course you wouldn’t, Mr. Haygood,” she assured him.

Will wasn’t so certain. “Then I suggest you explain yourself, sir. How did we come to find you here like this?”

Haygood sucked in his chubby cheeks. “Of course. Anything to help. I had stepped out to...pluck a rose, by your leave.”

“A rose?” Will interrupted. “What rose?”

Haygood turned as red as the flower.

Samantha touched Will’s arm, drawing his attention to her. “I believe he means the necessary,” she murmured.

Haygood tugged at his rumpled cravat. “Yes, just so, thank you. When I returned, I found Lady Everard lying on the floor. Of course I bent to help her, and someone struck me from behind.” He touched the back of his head and grimaced.

“A thief,” one of the servants offered from the doorway, and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

“In the muniment room?” Will questioned. “What would he want in here?”

“You might be surprised.” Samantha attempted to rise and Will helped her up, arm around her waist. He would never understand how someone so determined could weigh so little.

“Easy,” he cautioned her. As he helped her take a step, his foot hit something. He heard the object skitter away across the stone.

Before he could look to see what it was, Haygood scrambled to his feet as well.

“Yes, please, Lady Everard,” he begged. “You mustn’t exert yourself after such a trial.” He glanced around at the people in the doorway. “Does anyone have any vinaigrette?”

Will couldn’t help wondering whether he wanted some of the strong smelling salts for Samantha or himself.

Samantha would have none of it. “I assure you, I’m fine,” she insisted, though she stayed close to Will as she gazed at her assembled staff.

“Search the house,” she ordered them. “I want to know if anything is missing. Chevers, speak to each member of my family, make sure no one else was accosted. Warren, alert the nursery.”

“Right away, Lady Everard,” the two footmen cried before dashing off.

She held out a hand to Haygood, who clung to it. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Haygood. I regret that you should have been injured in my home. Mrs. Linton, if you’d be so good as to send for the physician and Mr. Haygood’s valet to attend him.”

“No need,” he insisted, gaze fervent. “I’m more concerned about you.”

So was Will. He could feel her trembling against him. Was she more injured than she’d claimed? Terrified by this intrusion to her home? Everything in him shouted to protect her, to keep her safe.

But when she spoke, he realized it wasn’t pain or fear that moved her. It was anger.

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, pulling away from Will as if to prove it. “Thank you both for your concern. But this incident requires immediate investigation. I will allow no one to threaten my family. Thank you, but I will take matters from here.”

* * *

What arrogance, what gall! Samantha trembled with the very knowledge of it. Someone had invaded her home, again! Some horrid person had used her father’s marvelous summer party as an excuse for villainy. It was monstrous!

“Go to the stables,” she ordered the remaining staff who were trailing after her as she strode from the muniment room. “See if there’s a stray horse. He’d want to get away quickly.” She stopped to eye the young man they’d hired from the village as an extra footman. “Find the gamekeeper and have him look through the woods as well.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” he cried before hurrying off with the others.

One more man stood ready to assist, and she wasn’t surprised to find Will beside her. Haygood had suffered Mrs. Linton to lead him upstairs, still protesting that he didn’t need the services of a physician.

“You should lie down,” Will said.

She glared at him. “I’m no exotic bloom raised in your conservatory, my lord. I grew up in this climate, and I assure you I know how to thrive in it.”

He inclined his head, keeping his distance as if he feared she had a fencing foil hidden behind her. “I’m certain you’re up to the challenge. But you insisted that a physician see to Haygood. Your injury would seem to require similar care.”

The dull ache in her head agreed with him. Her anger did not.
Be with me now, Father. You know what I must do.

“I’m fine,” she told Will. “If you wish to be of assistance, ride for the physician yourself. I’m sure Mr. Haygood will thank you for it in the end.”

Instead he closed the distance to her side. “Haygood can wait. I’m more concerned about you. Look at me.”

She bristled at the order but met him gaze for gaze. He studied her, jaw tense, eyes searching.

“Your pupils look fine,” he reported as if he were the physician. “No sign of a concussion. Does your head hurt?”

“Nothing I cannot manage,” Samantha replied. Indeed the hardest things to manage at the moment were the emotions surging through her, and having him regard her that way was not helping. She attempted to turn away from him, but he angled his body to block her path.

“Then help me determine who did this,” he said. “You’re certain you saw nothing? A sleeve? A boot as you fell?”

“What are you doing?” Samantha demanded, fingers clamping to the soft muslin of her gown. “This is my home, Lord Kendrick. This is my problem. I am perfectly capable of solving it.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, “or I wouldn’t have found you on the floor. Where was your bodyguard?”

The question penetrated the red mist that seemed to have enveloped her, and her hands fell. “Bodyguard? What are you talking about?”

He glanced around the entry hall as if expecting to find a burly servant lurking in a corner. “When you left Kendrick Hall last Monday, I saw an outrider following you. Was he not a servant or hired man?”

“No,” she assured him, stomach tightening. “No. It seems someone has been watching me even here.” She ought to feel chilled by the prospect, she knew, but her anger had the upper hand, and she wanted to lash out, demand satisfaction. If only she knew who owed it to her!

“Forgive me,” he said. “I should have mentioned it before now. I simply thought you had the protection you needed.”

He thought she needed protection? Now her heart was pounding harder than her head. Did he consider her so feeble or dimwitted that she could not care for herself? Was that why he continued to offer assistance?