Sally MacKenzie Bundle (23 page)

He would have to put distance between himself and Charlotte as well. She was standing with Lady Felicity, waiting for Lord Andrew to help her into another carriage. He had purposely not gone to assist her. If Lady Dunlee saw the two of them together…. He was not certain he could hide his feelings when he touched Charlotte, even with so mundane a contact as taking her gloved hand to steady her on the carriage steps.

She glanced over, caught him watching her, and blushed.

Damn, it was a very good thing Lady Dunlee was already closed away in her carriage. He glanced back. Fortunately she was too well bred to hang out the window and gawk.

He would definitely need to stay far away from both women this afternoon. But this evening, after the house party had retired for the night….

God, Charlotte had been just as passionate as he had hoped. Last night had been amazing. Perfect. Each coupling had been better than the last. She learned so quickly, was so eager. By morning, she’d even begun to take the lead. He’d hated to leave her, but at least he could console himself that there was tonight and every night for the rest of the house party.

Nell touched him on the sleeve. “I think everything is in order, Edward. The servants have gone ahead and should be setting up for the picnic. Sir George and I will take Lord Botton and join her grace, Lady Felicity, and Lord Andrew in their carriage—I don’t trust those three together. You can do your duty and ride with Mr. Dodsworth.”

“Very well.” He could tolerate fifteen minutes of horse talk. “But whatever do you suspect the duchess of doing?”

“I am not as concerned with her as I am with Lady Felicity and Lord Andrew. But she
is
Lady Felicity’s bosom-friend. If Lady Felicity is up to something, chances are the duchess is involved.”

“No, I am certain you are mistaken.”

Nell put her hand on his arm. “Edward, do not forget—the duchess is Hartford’s wife, and Hartford is still very much alive.”

“Of course. I am in no danger of forgetting that fact. What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing. But I am your cousin. I know you—and I know what it is like to want and not be able to have. I am fortunate Lady Gaston is not possessive of her husband. I do not think Hartford is similarly inclined.”

“Hartford is an old fool.”

“Perhaps. But he is a duke and proud. I would not put it past him to insist on a duel if he felt his honor slighted.”

“I am not afraid of him.”

“I did not think you were. But it cannot reflect well on you to fight a man twice your age, even if you win. And if you kill him, a duke and Charlotte’s husband….” Nell squeezed his arm. “I just do not want to see you backed into a corner from which there is no gracious way out.”

He covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything foolish. I promise.”

She smiled slightly, a touch of melancholy in her voice. “Love is often foolish, Edward.”

Robbie half listened to Meg and Parks argue about garden design. At least, that’s what he thought the discussion was about. He was making no attempt to follow the conversation closely. He employed a perfectly competent head gardener at each of his estates and he let the man do his job. Of course, if any of his men took to torturing the bushes into the odd arrangements Tynweith favored, they would be looking for new employment in short order. He had no patience with obscene shrubbery.

He glanced at Parks. His friend was more animated than he’d seen him in years. And Meg was equally passionate. The two should make a match of it. They would bore anyone else to madness.

Speaking of bores…. Thank God Dodsworth was sitting on the other side of the carriage. Parks served as a wall—a hedge, more appropriately—between them. Dunlee and Tynweith had to suffer the detailed description of that palace Dodsworth was planning for his blasted horses.

He watched the trees bowl by. They should be at the castle shortly. He hoped Lizzie had taken his words to heart and would stay near Lady Beatrice or Meg. He would keep an eye on her, of course, but she’d made it abundantly clear last night she would not welcome his company.

Why did he always say the wrong thing to her these days? Hell, he didn’t know what the right thing was anymore. Surely she saw that she’d not behaved sensibly in sitting by herself in the drawing room or going off on a ramble with only Meg as a companion?

It was clear she was in danger. Take that billiard game, for instance. God, that had been torture. He hated having to be in such proximity to Felicity. To seek her company voluntarily had tied his stomach in knots—especially after his close escape just the other day. How she could face him so calmly after she’d crawled naked into his bed was a mystery. The girl was brazen, utterly brazen. It was impossible to guess what such a creature would do. The rules of polite society were obviously beyond her ken.

And Lord Andrew was just as bad. Worse. It was one thing for a woman to try to trap a man into marriage, but quite another for a man to prey on a naïve young miss.
That
was reprehensible. The blackguard had been so damn sneaky. He’d managed to make every brush against Lizzie look accidental.

He should have thrashed the bastard right there by the billiard table.

He scowled at the innocent landscape. He felt so damn powerless. If Lizzie were his wife, he would have clear rights to protect her from any kind of insult. But she was not—could never be—his wife. And now she was not even his friend.

Why had she ripped up at him like that when he’d walked her to her room? He had only spoken the truth.

“Lord Tynweith,” Meg said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Robbie looked away from the window. What momentous question could have caused Meg to focus on something other than vegetation?

“Yes, Miss Peterson?” Tynweith smiled politely.

“Lady Elizabeth and I were in need of exercise yesterday and walked over to the castle.”

“I see. I hope you won’t find today’s outing sadly flat then.”

“No, of course not.” Meg shook her head, then paused and smoothed her skirt. “We didn’t have much time to look around, but we did stumble on something that caused us some consternation.”

“Really? I am sorry. What was the problem?”

“Your dungeon, Lord Tynweith. Did you know that it is most unusual?”

Tynweith raised an eyebrow. “You have frequented many dungeons, Miss Peterson? I do find that surprising.”

“Now see here—” Parks began.

Meg frowned back at him, stopping him cold. Then she frowned at Tynweith. “No, of course I have not frequented many—any—dungeons. Why do you say so?”

“Well, one supposes that one must know what is usual in dungeons to find a particular one unusual.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “All right, Lord Tynweith, let me say instead that we found your dungeon quite unsettling.”

“Dungeons are not designed to be comfortable places, Miss Peterson. At least this one has not been occupied for centuries.”

“There I believe you are wrong, my lord. Not only did it appear your dungeon had been used recently, it looked as if it were being employed to torture people. There were manacles on the walls, whips on the table, and other odd, distasteful looking objects lying about. What do you think of that?”

Tynweith closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I think I need to speak to some people at the local inn, Miss Peterson.”

“Well, I certainly hope you do so. A sturdy lock might also be in order.”

“Perhaps you are correct.”

“I’d say so, Tynweith.” Lord Dunlee frowned. “Don’t want any heinous activities occurring on your estate. Could prove awkward, don’t you know.”

“More than awkward, Tynweith.” There was a note of anger in Parks’s voice. “I trust the ladies will not be able to view this dungeon on our outing today?”

“I will definitely warn them against venturing in that direction, and I will send a locksmith up after we return.”

“Good. We wouldn’t want their tender sensibilities lacerated.”

“No indeed.” Lord Dunlee nodded in agreement.

Mr. Dodsworth was curiously silent. Robbie examined the man as the carriage pulled to a stop. He looked extremely eager to exit the coach. Extremely eager and extremely red.

Who would have thought boring old Dodsworth might know any use for a whip other than to get a horse to go?

Chapter Thirteen

Lizzie watched Lord Dunlee and Lord Botton disappear into the tower. For some reason, she did not think they were headed up the stairs to view the battlements.

“It’s too bad Tynweith had the lawn mowed,” Meg said. “I’m certain he destroyed some lovely plant specimens.”

“He couldn’t very well hold a picnic in the weeds we saw here yesterday.” Lizzie frowned. “I can’t believe you mentioned the dungeon to him.”

“Of course I did, and it was a good thing, too. I don’t believe he was aware the place was being used for nefarious purposes. He said he would send out a locksmith when we return to put a stop to the business.”

“Did he happen to say what the nefarious purposes were? Surely he didn’t think the local people were being tortured?”

Sir George and Tynweith had just come out of the tower. They were sniggering.

“No, he did not say, but he wasn’t shocked. I got the impression this had happened before. He appeared to believe people at the inn were using the room without his permission.”

“Hmm.” Now Robbie and Parks were going in. Surely
they
were headed for the battlements?

The only two men who had not rushed to examine something in the tower were Lord Andrew and Mr. Dodsworth. Lord Andrew was in the middle of what appeared to be an intense conversation with Lady Felicity. They were standing well beyond the eavesdropping range of Lady Dunlee—Lizzie could almost taste her frustration.

Mr. Dodsworth was standing by himself, watching Miss Hyde and Mrs. Larson put the finishing touches on the picnic preparations. His color was fluctuating oddly, reddening whenever more gentlemen entered the tower.

“Where is Lord Peter? I don’t think I’ve seen him since yesterday.” Meg snorted. “Not that I’ve missed him. I wish he’d go back to London.”

“Well, you’ve gotten your wish. Lady Dunlee reported on the way over that he went back to Town. Said he had pressing business there, though she doubted that explanation. Petticoat business is what she said.”

Robbie and Parks came out with Lord Dunlee and Lord Botton.

“Oh good. There’s Mr. Parker-Roth.” Meg grabbed Lizzie’s arm and tugged her toward the group. “I want him to look at some plants I found. I think I may have stumbled across the castle’s herb garden.”

The men had stopped a distance away. Lord Botton was gesturing in an extremely animated manner.

“I tell you,” he said as Lizzie and Meg came within earshot, “don’t dismiss it until you’ve tried it. The switch—”

“Ladies, how lovely to see you.” Robbie spoke quickly and loudly.

“What?” Lord Botton looked quite taken aback to be so rudely interrupted until he glanced over his shoulder at Lizzie and Meg. Then he turned an interesting shade of red and bowed slightly. “Oh, yes, lovely, um, indeed. Lovely day, isn’t it? Lovely castle.”

Lizzie nodded. All the gentlemen had a reddish hue to their complexions.

“What are you switching?” Meg asked.

“Conversational topics, Miss Peterson,” Parks said. “Do you have a subject to suggest?”

Meg’s face lit up. “Actually, I do. I’ve found an interesting clump of vegetation by what I believe was once the castle’s kitchen. I think there may be a number of non-native species of herbs in the collection.”

“Fascinating. However, I suspect that is a topic which will not hold the attention of everyone present.”

“It won’t?”

Lizzie covered her smile. Lord Botton was staring at Meg as if she were some exotic beast.

“Meg,” Lizzie said, “you
know
you’re prone to bore people once you get going.”

Meg smiled slightly. “Perhaps.”

“Why don’t you and Miss Peterson go investigate these plants, Parks?” Robbie said. “I’m well enough acquainted with Miss Peterson to know she will suffer greatly if she cannot discuss this botanic bounty immediately.”

“Very well. I confess I
would
like to see the specimens.” Parks offered Meg his arm.

“Yes, do go enjoy yourselves.” Lord Botton watched them walk off, then shook his head. “Plants!” His tone left little doubt as to his feelings. “I believe I shall have a word with Lady Beatrice. Coming, Dunlee? I see Lady Bea is chatting with your charming wife and daughter.”

“Yes, um, I think I’ll just trot over and speak to Dodsworth. He looks a bit lonely at the moment.”

Lord Botton nodded. “Good idea. You might ask him about technique—which he prefers.”

“I am not interested in switch—” Lord Dunlee looked at Lizzie and coughed. “That is, I’m not interested in, um, er…. Perhaps I
will
join you, LordBotton.”

“Splendid. If you’ll excuse us, Westbrooke, Lady Elizabeth?”

“Certainly. Don’t let us keep you.” Lizzie watched them make their way across the castle yard. She looked back at Robbie. His expression was guarded.

“Shall I escort you to your chaperone?”

Lizzie drew breath to tell him she most definitely did
not
want to be escorted anywhere and he could very well stop trying to act like a big brother, but she stopped before she uttered the first word. She saw the determination in his eyes. No matter what she said, he was going to do what he thought was right.

It was annoying, it was maddening, but it was endearing, too.

“Aren’t you afraid I might learn what Lord Botton was so keen to discuss?”

Robbie’s ears turned red. His face assumed a mulish expression. She could see he was not in the mood to be teased. And she was only partially teasing. She had not forgiven him for his highhandedness last night.

“Why don’t you escort me over to Meg and Parks?” A gust of wind tried to steal her bonnet and sent the servants scurrying to protect the place settings. She looked up—the storm clouds were much closer. “It looks as if the weather may not wait on Lord Tynweith’s convenience.”