The Love Affair of an English Lord (16 page)

“I imagine there are ways.”

“She's worth the effort.”

“Let me do more to handle Edgar.”

“You've done enough,” Dominic said slowly, staring out at the moon-dappled stream. “I could not have survived without your help.”

“I'd cheerfully tear out his heart with my bare hands to avenge you if you would permit me.”

Dominic looked at Adrian with gratitude. Even in their younger years Adrian had always been an outcast to Dominic's traditional English lord. His friend had spent lonely years in India and foreign outposts as a mercenary when his father had sworn to disown him. No doubt Adrian would murder Edgar if he were allowed.

“The day may come.”

“Then let it be sooner rather than later,” Adrian replied. “It is repugnant to me to see you living like this while Edgar enjoys the fruits of his evil.”

Dominic's expression did not change. Somber, intense, determined. Adrian would do exactly the same thing in his place, and they both knew it. The bitter vagaries of life had rendered them each capable of unimaginable deeds. “I assume you haven't learned anything else about Edgar?”

“Not much that you didn't already know. He was bypassed at Corunna for a promotion by Wellington. He spoke rather rashly to the wrong men about it. It seems as if his defection to the Honourable East India Company was a reaction to being snubbed by his superiors. Then again, a man can pocket a tidy fortune by taking foreign prizes if he's willing to leave the regular army.” Adrian hesitated. “He could not have acted alone. Not with the kind of critical information he sold.”

“I know, but who helped him? Who?”

“I have no idea, but there are men who will want to find out. I'll do all I can before I meet my father, although I have limited contacts in London. Not everyone welcomes a mercenary home with open arms. In the meantime, enjoy this young lady with caution. I hope to God you can trust her.”

Dominic laughed quietly. “I have no choice.”

Adrian's smile was rueful. “I don't suppose we can send her away for a few months.”

“I wouldn't want to if I could.”

 

Chloe had no idea whether her aunt's ceremony in Dominic's bedchamber had “stirred him up” or scared him away. Or even if he had been the spectral rider whom Gwendolyn had seen in the woods that night. She doubted it.

Why would he risk being seen riding when he wished the world to believe him dead? Unless this was part of his elaborate scheme to expose Sir Edgar's treachery. Somehow Chloe thought that an aloof professional soldier like Sir Edgar would not be the type to fall for ghostly theatrics.

Still, if not Dominic, then who was the mysterious rider in the woods? Not Devon. Not Justin, whom Aunt Gwendolyn would have recognized. A friend visiting Edgar? A stranger passing through the village? Chloe burned with frustration that she could not contact Dominic directly to caution him.

He might as well have been truly dead. With every hour of silence that passed she began to fear that she would never see him again. He seemed to think that his quest for vengeance would protect him.

Over the next few days she thought about nothing but Dominic, what he planned to do. At church while the parson's thundering sermon startled the congregation of Chistlebury. Lying across her bed while by candlelight she worked on Brandon's code, sensing she was near a breakthrough. In the overgrown rose garden where she walked for hours on end in a futile attempt to lure her ghost into at least giving her a sign he was safe.

He was silent, uncommunicative, and when she wasn't angry at him for not contacting her, she worried that he had gotten into trouble and could not reach her. How would she know if he was lying helpless in his tunnel? It was wrong of him not to ease her anxiety.

More than once she was tempted to send for her brother Heath, a master of discretion, to help. Her promise to Dominic stopped her.

She understood that to a man like him, whose trust in virtually everyone had been destroyed, another betrayal might be the end of any tenderness that had survived in his heart. She would not dare violate his rigid Draconian Code. The passion of his honor was all he had left. It was a double-edged virtue she intuitively respected even if it exasperated her.

Still, she waited for him. She found herself awakening in the middle of the night, restless, smoldering with the urges he had aroused and left unfulfilled. Unable to go back to sleep, she would pace at her window to scour the misty woods for a sign of him.

Once or twice, just before dawn, she even waved her chemise at the woods to see if he would respond.

Four days later her subtle efforts to attract attention worked, although on the wrong man. Lord St. John called on her late one afternoon while she was exercising Ares in the apple orchard.

“Put that dog away, Chloe,” he said as he came up behind her. He was dressed in a white linen shirt and nankeen breeches, a wrinkled cape hanging over his broad shoulders. His boots were muddy and scuffed. “I can't even pretend to be romantic when I'm afraid the beast is going to take a bite out of my bum.”

Chloe laughed, tugging the dog's leash closer to her side. She had forgotten how boyishly simple Justin could be, how informal he was compared to the bucks in London who tried to impress her with their lineage and elegant clothes and only ended up looking like prissy fools.

“He hasn't bitten my bum once, for your information,” she added.

“Then he's not dangerous, only stupid,” he said, a sparkle in his eyes. “If I were your dog, I'd—”

He stepped toward her. Their gazes locked, and Chloe realized with a pang of alarm that he was working up the courage to kiss her. She wasn't shocked by the prospect, no one could see them in the high-walled garden, but Ares suddenly sprang into a half crouch and growled.

Justin emitted a yelp of mock alarm and jumped back behind a gnarled apple tree. “Hey! That wasn't my bum he's snarling at. That was another part of my anatomy I cherish even more dearly.”

Chloe bit her bottom lip in amusement. “Do you think I might start a new fashion for chaperones?”

“Do you think you could tie him up so I can talk to you without fear of castration?” Justin asked half jokingly.

“Don't let my aunt hear you using such frank language.”

He grinned. “Your aunt was the one who sent me out to find you.”

Chloe glanced in surprise at the house. “She did?”

“My parents have invited you and your family to come to supper at our house tonight. Tell me you'll accept.” He took her hand and brought her fingertips to his lips. “Please, Chloe, please. I shall throw myself in the stream if you don't.”

Chloe felt a sudden impatience to be by herself again. What was wrong with her? Not long ago she had found Justin good fun. Why did she keep comparing him to a shadow lover who represented everything she should resist? Why did he suddenly seem like an overgrown schoolboy and not a man? Specifically a dark, intense, and disconcerting one. “I really will have to ask my aunt—”

“Chloe!” her aunt called out from the parlor window. “Ask Justin if we are expected at six or seven this evening.”

He chuckled. “Well, there's your answer.” He kissed her knuckles before he released her hand. “Leave the beast behind tonight if you don't mind. I aim to take a nibble of you myself.”

Chloe watched him swagger out of the garden, his wrinkled cape twisting around his waist. When he reached the gate, he stopped to blow her another kiss. She raised her hand to wave back only to be distracted by the sound of Ares whining low in his throat.

She laughed as he tugged eagerly against the leash. “Stop it, Ares. You aren't going to eat Justin or anyone else for that matter. You'll have to behave—”

She broke off, slowly lifting her head. The dog was not facing in Justin's direction at all but toward the woods. As if he recognized someone she could not see.

“Stratfield?” she whispered, her pulse accelerating. “Dominic, is that you?”

She ran to the far end of the orchard, Ares bounding at her side, but there was nothing to arouse suspicion in the woods that she could see. The peaceful shadows looked undisturbed. She couldn't hear even a leaf rustle, only the hopeful pounding of her own heart. Whoever had been there was gone.

Ares sat obediently at her side.

Pamela began shouting at her from the house. “Have you seen my new gloves, Chloe? I hope that dog of yours didn't eat them.”

She released her breath. “Damn you, Dominic,” she said into the silence that mocked her disappointment. “Damn you, you devil.”

Chapter 14

Supper with Justin's parents proved to be an awkward affair. Chloe kept sensing that they disapproved of their son's interest in her, and their few veiled remarks made it clear that in their view a lady from London might not find country life to her liking at all.

Justin tried to apologize by making fun of them, and stole a kiss from Chloe in the hall when it was time for her to go home. “Are you angry at me, Chloe?”

She wasn't angry at him. She didn't feel much for Justin one way or the other; her mind just kept straying to other matters. How could she explain she had fallen in love with a man he thought was buried in a grave? She could hardly believe it herself.

“You seem so preoccupied lately,” he said as he drew away from her.

Her aunt overheard this last comment, approaching them after her husband had wrapped her in her heavy woolen cloak. “The girls are afraid of the ghost.”

Uncle Humphrey ushered his harem outside. “Rubbish. Chloe has her feet firmly planted on the ground. I wish I could say the same of my wife.”

 

Chloe did not feel as if her feet were planted on the ground at all. All throughout the ride home she kept searching the moonlit wayside and leafy hedgerows for the least sign that Dominic was still alive and haunting the area. When a lone cloaked horseman appeared at the fork in the road to block their way, she went still, willing the carriage to stop.

The elderly coachman halted the vehicle in obvious annoyance. For an instant Chloe convinced herself that the mysterious rider in the road was Dominic. She glimpsed in the stark, shadowy angles of his face the image she had been willing to appear. She leaned toward the door in anticipation. Her heart raced with hope even though she knew it was unlikely he'd reveal himself in such a dramatic fashion.

The resemblance to Dominic was, unfortunately, only an illusion of night and bloodlines. Her hopes sank as the rider's features came into sharper focus. The chiseled planes of Dominic's face blurred and became those of the last man on earth she would want to meet at night.

This could not be a good omen.

Sir Edgar patrolling alone in the dark. What was he up to? What had he been looking for?

Her uncle voiced his own disapproval from the carriage window. “My God, Sir Edgar, I could have shot you for a highwayman.”

Sir Edgar nodded in apology, sitting straight-backed on his horse. “You need remember that the villain who murdered my nephew has not been caught.”

On closer inspection Chloe wondered how she could have mistaken him for Dominic. She couldn't detect the tiniest hint of passion in Edgar's eyes, not a speck of warmth.

“Do you hope to find him single-handedly?” Aunt Gwendolyn asked, her voice a trifle aloof. She had not forgiven him his dislike of dogs.

“The local authorities have proven rather unhelpful, Lady Dewhurst,” he replied in a polite tone. “Their investigations have led them to the conclusion that my nephew was killed by a stranger to the area, quite possibly a deranged soldier. As there have been rumors of suspicious activity in the woods at night, my gamekeeper and I have decided to do our own investigating.”

“How brave of you,” Chloe murmured, her fingers curling tightly inside her gloves. Brave was hardly the word. What was he looking for this late at night? Did he suspect Dominic was not dead? Or had her ghost begun to lay his trap?

Edgar glanced down at her, a smile hovering on his thin lips. “I should wish my land a safe place for young ladies to stroll and take the air.”

“And to exercise their dogs,” Aunt Gwendolyn added, politely challenging him.

He laughed as if to concede defeat. “Of course.”

A minute later the carriage was rumbling down the road, passing under the gentle rise of Stratfield Hall. Chloe stared out the window as if she could see through the dark gray stones into the very heart of the house. She sighed wistfully as her aunt and uncle began to bicker and the great house disappeared from view.

Dominic, if I ever see you again, I may kill you myself . . . Where are you?

 

Lord Devon Boscastle was waiting in the parlor for everyone to come home from the supper party. Tall and arresting, he was dressed in a black greatcoat, pantaloons, and polished Hessian boots, his thick black hair windblown, his blue eyes brimming with good spirits.

At first, in the firelight, he so resembled her older brother Heath that Chloe's heart took a plunge. He's found out about Dominic and me, she thought in panic. Or something awful has happened at home. Why else would he appear to the family without warning?

Then he turned, and she recognized Devon by his diabolical grin. She backed into the sofa to sink down in relief. Her nerves seemed so on edge these days that she expected the worst every time she turned around. Aunt Gwendolyn and Pamela quickly covered their own pleased surprise with warm hugs and welcoming chatter. Women had fallen in love with Chloe's brothers from their first days on earth in the Boscastle nursery when their blue eyes had stolen the nursemaids' hearts. Who else but Devon could be forgiven for holding up a carriage as a prank?

“Have no fear, everyone,” he said, looking pointedly at Chloe over his aunt's shoulder. “I've only come to say a proper good-bye before I return to the bosom of the family. I have paid my penance potting orchids and am ready to be unleashed again upon the world.”

Chloe studied him fondly. He looked more at ease with himself than he'd seemed in months. “Is everything cleared up in Chelsea?” She was of course referring to his debacle debut as a highwayman.

He gave her a pained smile. “Yes. I owe Gray a debt that he shall probably never let me forget. I'll do my best to convince him it's time for you to come home, too. The pair of us have rusticated long enough.”

Time to come home. Chloe's heart turned cold at the thought. Only a short while ago she'd been desperate to escape Chistlebury. Now she was determined to stay, no matter what she had to do. Nothing could make her abandon Dominic in the middle of his crisis. Who would have imagined how her life would change in the course of a few weeks? How the focus of her world would shift. Harder still to imagine was what the future would bring, and whether Dominic's dark quest for revenge would succeed.

 

At that same moment, in the same house, Dominic was waiting impatiently inside her room for Chloe to retire for the evening. He'd fought with himself for hours before breaking down and climbing through the window into the closet.

He knew it was a risk. He knew Adrian would throw up his hands in despair at his irrational behavior. But Dominic had stayed away from her as long as he could stand it. He had to see her again if only for a few minutes. She gave him strength and an emotional foundation besides hatred to anchor him. He was obsessed with her, insane for her company, for the sight of her. He wanted to hear her laugh, to hold her again.

She had been taunting him for days with her subtle little methods to draw him to her. Yes, he appreciated her attempts at discretion. No, he could not resist her, waving her chemise from her window like some impertinent Circe luring a sailor to his doom.

Not that he needed any reminders of her existence or her appeal. When he was not wholly absorbed in watching Edgar, he was thinking about Chloe, about how much he wanted to see her again. He could not believe how desperately he craved her when they had been together only a few stolen hours.

He leaned against the windowsill and stared outside. Where the devil
was
she? Her room was a tribute to female vanity—stockings, fans, shoes strewn about as if she had tried on every article of clothing she owned to make the perfect impression.

But on whom?

His black eyebrows rose in displeasure. Was her scandalous corset missing? No. There was the provocative garment on the wardrobe floor, and a bloody good thing for her, too. If Chloe was going to model that for any man, it would be him and him alone.

“Where is she?” he muttered.

He'd heard the carriage rattle home almost two hours ago. Hiding behind the door, he had waited and waited for Chloe to come up to her room, but something, or someone, was keeping her downstairs.

He hated not knowing where she was. He had seen Edgar ride from Stratfield Hall earlier in the evening and wondered if it were possible that his uncle and Chloe were together in the parlor. He hadn't noticed anyone else riding from his estate, but a visitor could have arrived before he climbed the tree to her room. He should have thought to check the stable. The problem was that she was the only thing he could think about.

Ares lifted his head toward the window, releasing a soft growl of warning.

Dominic drew back the curtain with a scowl as he recognized the fair-haired masculine figure standing under the tree. “Not again,” he said in disgust.

“Chloe!” Justin called up in a ridiculously seductive voice. “Don't hide from me, you little flirt. I see your pretty shape behind those curtains.”

“If you see a pretty shape,” Dominic muttered to himself, “then you need a good pair of spectacles, you moron.”

“Are you playing coy, Chloe? You weren't coy at dinner when I fed you that cake.”

Dominic grunted. So
that
was where she had spent the evening, being spoon-fed by this colossal fool. He folded his arms across his chest and glared daggers at the window as the revealing one-sided conversation went on.

“I won't go away until you talk to me, Chloe,” Justin whispered loudly. “I want to know you're not upset with me for stealing that kiss in the hallway.” He paused. “Although it did seem to me you enjoyed it. All the ladies in Chistlebury enjoy my kisses.”

Kiss in the hallway? Dominic's jaw hardened as he envisioned the passionate Lady Chloe locked in the embrace of Chistlebury's fair-haired Lothario. No doubt he was the only person in the village who did not think Chloe and Justin were a delightful match. Being dead, however, he would likely not be allowed a say in the matter.

On impulse he raised his voice to a warbling soprano and sang through the curtains, “Go home to your mother, Justin. I've had all I can take of you for one night.”

Justin blinked owlishly up at the window. “What in heaven's name happened to your voice, Chloe? You sound so queer. Are you taking sick again? Do you think it might be catching?”

“Yes. Yes. I'm sick, dear,” Dominic trilled, fluttering his fingers out the window. “I'm sure it must be horribly contagious.”

“You didn't seem sick when I kissed you, and anyway I'm as healthy as a horse. Let me look at you just once before I leave.”

“Ooh, gracious, no, Justin, you naughty thing! I've just gotten into my nightrail. I'm really not decent at all.”

Justin clutched his hand to his heart in melodramatic angst. “I refuse to budge until I'm allowed one last look.” He broke into a boyish grin. “Pamela said you have some interesting garments in your trunk.”

Dominic gritted his teeth. “If you bring everyone outside with your antics, it will be your last look, I swear to God.”

Justin stamped his foot in a feigned display of temper. “I shan't go. I shall throw a great big nasty tantrum until you give in. Anyway, your aunt likes me.”

“Well, I don't,” Dominic said under his breath. It was insulting, honestly. Did Chloe really find this annoying infant attractive? She had kissed the fool?

“What, Chloe? Oh, come on. One peek is all I ask for pleasant dreams. It won't hurt anything.”

“Oh, hell,” Dominic said, snatching a frilly night cap from one of Chloe's trunks. Jamming it down low on his forehead, he reached for a pink silk shawl and threw it on over his wide shoulders.

“I'm waiting, Chloe,” Justin whispered in a petulant voice.

Dominic smiled with evil intent, poked his head through the curtains like a turtle, and disappeared just as quickly back into the room. “There. Are you happy now?”

“That was cheating, Chloe,” Justin complained. “I couldn't see anything but a big pink blur.”

“Sweet dreams, Justin,” he muttered, yanking the curtains together.

Dominic pulled off the cap and shawl, turning his head. Footsteps sounded lightly in the hall outside Chloe's bedchamber. The doorknob turned, and he heard her grumbling in annoyance about uncouth country houses as she pushed repeatedly against the warped doorframe.

He stood in the dressing closet, suddenly unsure of himself, of how she would react, of what excuse he could give to explain his presence. The truth of his need, his hunger, might frighten her. He knew it frightened him. He could not promise her anything. Not the future her family desired for her. Not a sweet courtship. Not a future at all for that matter.

He could offer her nothing but trouble.

 

As Chloe opened the door, a chill slid down her back. Someone was in her room. Not Devon, whom she had left downstairs with her uncle. Not just the dog, who seemed to have taken a fancy to her bed. The fine hairs of her nape stirred in awareness. She felt her heart beat harder with a delicious anticipation. She was almost afraid to hope. She couldn't bear it if she was disappointed again.