To Love a Wicked Lord (4 page)

Perhaps that was the real reason why grandfather had insisted his wife accompany Pippa on her journey. Grandmother was suddenly happier than Pippa had ever seen her: giddy and vain, flirting with every attractive gentleman she met, regardless of age. Had she been like that at home lately? If so, it must have hurt grandfather to see the love of
his life diminish, if she, indeed, was diminishing. Or maybe he only wanted Pippa's opinion on the matter. Grandfather moved in mysterious ways. She'd have to listen more closely to her grandmother to know how her mind was working now. But tonight she had to listen most closely to Lord Montrose.

It was true she'd got herself up like a lady on her way to a grand ball. She knew the gown flattered her to the point that even she caught her breath when she'd seen her reflection. It had been designed to show off her curves. But he didn't have to know that this was her newest and best gown. And in truth, where else could she wear it? She wasn't invited to dances and balls anymore. She was an engaged woman whose fiancé had disappeared. She didn't know if she was expected to mourn or to go into seclusion any more than her friends did. She wasn't available, and so she couldn't dance or flirt because then she'd seem to be fishing for unattached gentlemen. So she was left to herself except for the occasional invitation to tea.

And, she admitted, she wanted to see Montrose's reaction to her tonight. Surely, he couldn't remain unmoved. If he continued to be snide and sarcastic, she'd know that he simply didn't like females. If he made up to her, he'd be a cad. She froze as a new
thought came to her. Maybe he was married! She felt weird relief, and vague disappointment.

But whether he was a woman hater, a cad, or a married man, she likely wouldn't see him again soon, and so she'd not experience that curious tug toward him coupled with the urge to flee from him. She didn't know if that pleased her or not.

“Come, Grandmamma,” she said. “He'll be sure to say something unpleasant if we're late.”

Her grandmother rose. “Not to me, my dear,” she said.

Pippa took her arm and looked down at her. That was when she noticed that her grandmother had a dusting of rouge on her wrinkled cheeks, a smudge of blacking above both eyelids, and a glaze of color on her lips.

“Grandmother!” she said. “You're wearing paint!”

Her grandmother winked a sooty eyelid. “I'm not so old as to forget how to make up to my best advantage. It was all the rage in my youth. I gave it up because your grandfather never noticed after we were wed, so what was the point? You know, my love,” she said, peering up at Pippa, “you could do with a pinch of color in your face too. Lord Montrose looks like a judge of female beauty. You do want him to notice, don't you? Why else would you have worn your grandest gown?”

Pippa swallowed her answer.

“There,” her grandmother said. “Now you're nice and pink. Shall we go?”

They made their way down the stair to the downstairs dining room. The place smelled of antique wood, polish, woodsmoke from many hearths, and the lingering scents of dinners long past. It was oddly homey and comforting, but Pippa couldn't see the point to staying on here much longer. That meant she'd go home and remain in seclusion. It made her want to scream or saddle a horse and ride off into the night. She'd seldom felt so powerless.

Pippa steeled herself for the coming encounter. Maybe she'd discover it would all be over soon: Noel found, her future restored. She doubted it, though. She didn't want to creep home in defeat, whatever happened. She'd started on an adventure and was loath to end it however it was to end.

Whatever news the bored nobleman had to share and whichever attitude he chose to display while doing so, Pippa promised herself she'd deal with it. And yet when she and her grandmother entered the private dining room, Pippa was startled by the sight of Lord Montrose's unexpected, warm, welcoming, and glad smile.

T
he flickering candles on the dining table's top, the glow of the wall sconces, and the gleaming light from the lamps made the private dining room at the inn look snug and inviting, as did Lord Montrose's welcoming smile. He was casually and yet very well dressed, in hues of gold and brown. The fashionably tightly fitted clothes showed he had a lean muscled frame as well as excellent taste in clothing. In all, Pippa thought darkly, tonight he looked almost unspeakably handsome, and she was sure he knew it. For once, she didn't know quite what to say. She ducked a bow and used the moment to try to interpret the sudden, unusual warmth she'd seen on his face when she'd appeared in the doorway.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, bowing to them in return. “Please have a seat. I've taken the liberty
of ordering dinner. The desert is said to be delicious, but I've even tastier news for you.”

Pippa straightened instantly. “You found him!” she cried.

“Not quite, not yet,” he said as he pulled out a chair for her grandmother. “But soon. I'm on the trail.”

“Tell us, please,” Pippa said, taking her own seat and gazing up at him with delight.

He hesitated.

“Oh, please don't make us wait until after dinner,” she pleaded. “I won't be able to eat a bite until I know.”

“I didn't mean to make you giddy with my success,” he said as he too sat. “Because it isn't quite that. But I've heard news of him and will follow that trail. In short,” he went on before she could ask more, “I heard that a fellow resembling him was here, and left. I hear he's gone to Brighton. I don't know if that was your man, but there's no trace of him left here so that's where I'm bound next.”

“Brighton?” Lady Carstairs asked eagerly. “You mean the old village of Brighthelmstone? Oh, but wonderful. That was what they used to call it. It was a charming fishing village. The waters there were said to be quite as good for you as they are
here. The king used to go there for his health. And then, in eighty-seven, our prince finally transformed it with the completion of his monstrous erection.”

Pippa stared.

Montrose pursed his lips.

Lady Carstairs giggled. “Well, that's what one observer wrote about his new Pavilion, and we were all so tickled, we couldn't stop quoting it. I'm sure the architect, Mr. Holland, wasn't so amused. But we were. Ah me. Those days seem so long ago. Just the place I'd wish to go now.”

Pippa frowned. Her grandmother had never talked so warm before. Was it the freedom of travel that made her do it? Or was it something more sinister?

“This place is short of amusing company,” her grandmother went on. “No wonder we can't find Mr. Nicholson here. I vow the gentlemen here make me feel young again! Not in the best way, but anyone compared to them would feel youthful. And won't you be pleased to leave here, Pippa? She hates Bath,” she confided to their host. “No, child, you hide it well, but I know,” she said, shaking a gnarled finger at her granddaughter.

Then she smiled. “Imagine, she complains that all the streets in Bath are uphill! She says it's actu
ally changed the people who live here and that's why the sedan chair porters who carry the chair in back are shorter than the ones in front. Their legs have become shorter because of their jobs, she says. So it seems, though I can't believe it's true. And I won't even tell you the naughty things she says about the visitors here.”

Lord Montrose's expression seemed caught between amusement and annoyance. Amusement won out. “All the streets uphill? It does seem that way. But I promise you that what goes up does come down, eventually. And the porters are usually the same size, limbs and all. It's an optical illusion. A porter who carries a sedan chair in the back and goes uphill has to crouch for leverage. That makes the fellow in front seem longer-legged. Still, if you watch them going downhill, you'll see they reverse positions…” He paused. “Or at least, I thought they did. You may be on to something there, Miss Carstairs.”

He smiled at Pippa, and she couldn't help grinning back at him. The moment passed quickly.

“That said,” he added more seriously, “the truth is that there's no need for you ladies to accompany me to Brighton.”

“Of course there is!” Pippa snapped. “I'm the one who knows what Noel looks like, and if he's
there I'm the one who needs to speak with him. Nothing's changed that.”

“True,” he agreed. “But it's a long journey. Surely you and your grandmother would be happier ensconced here. I'll return with news soon as I have some.”

“Oh my, no,” Pippa's grandmother commented merrily. “I long to see Brighton again, my lord. I'm sure many of my old friends are there. They're certainly not here. And to see our prince again! I hadn't hoped for such felicity. I knew him when he was young; such a handsome lad, hair of gold and the bluest eyes. We all called him Florizel—a prince from out of fairy tales, and so charming, always. I know age has changed him; it was doing so even then. I yearn to see him again. We must go with you.”

Pippa hid a smirk. She knew Montrose would rather be accompanied by a troop of bagpipers. But she also knew he respected her grandfather, and so might allow them to go with him. Pippa prayed that would happen. She'd just stuck her toes out the door and discovered that she wanted to take longer steps. The world was fascinating.

“But it's a long journey,” he protested. “A long way from here. Down into Sussex, and toward the sea.”

“It always was,” Lady Carstairs said blithely. “We never let a little road or two get in the way of our pleasures, not in my day. How else to see the world? I can sleep in the carriage if I get weary. My dear husband would be shocked if I let a mere matter of miles cancel a journey I wanted to take. Time enough to rest when I'm dead.”

Lord Montrose looked hunted.

Pippa knew her grandmother could be immoveable on some issues. They were usually household matters. Now, after seeming content to stay in one place for decades, it appeared that she was feeling the same sense of newfound freedom her granddaughter was experiencing. The farther they went, the more moveable her grandmother wanted to be. Pippa hoped her grandmother was healthy enough and, prayed, was in her right mind, because she so wanted to leave this place and solve Noel's mysterious disappearance. But Pippa had little part in this decision. She sat back, waiting to hear what Montrose would say.

“But your age, dear lady,” he began.

Pippa shook her head. He wasn't as clever as he appeared. He'd said the worst thing for his cause.

Her grandmother seized on it. “I am as old as I am, and not one day more. I do hope you don't find me ancient!” she added coyly.

He put a hand on his heart. “You know I don't. I only had a care for your well-being, and my own. Your husband would slay me if you returned to him in any way less vibrant and lovely as you were when you set out.”

It did the trick. Lady Carstairs beamed at him. “No need to worry. My goodness! I'm not confined to my bed or my chair. I know my dear husband would approve. He sent me away and bade me return with an answer. How poor spirited I would be if I went home because I was afraid to go on. This is England, not some barbarian land. I will be quite safe. Safer to be sure, with you, dear sir,” she said with a flirtatious smile that made Lord Montrose blink and her granddaughter worry.

“But if you don't care to accompany us, my lord,” Lady Carstairs added with sudden dignity, “I'd appreciate it if you would recommend someone who would.”

He sighed. He spread his hands out in front of him. “I'd never do that. I trust only myself with your care. Then so be it. We'll go on together, if you are certain.”

“Certain?” Lady Carstairs asked in puzzlement. “I am always certain.”

Montrose nodded. “As I see. Very well. Now, shall we dine?”

The dinner was delicious, but no one dining seemed to notice. Each was wrapped in a cocoon of silence, so thoughtful that they didn't notice that no one else was speaking. They ate absently. Every so often one of them opened their mouth to say something, and then closed it again over a bite of food. The waiter serving them cast a significant look at the serving wench, and they both shrugged. The quality was strange, that was something sure.

When all the dishes had been cleared and the servers gone, the company in the private dining room looked at each other again. Pippa's eyes widened. Her grandmother looked exhausted, gray and fatigued, as though she'd walked a mile not just consumed a meal.

Pippa leapt to her feet. “Grandmamma!” she cried. “Come, it's time for bed. You can lean on my arm.”

Lord Montrose strode to the older lady's other side.

Her grandmother shook off Pippa's hand. “Nonsense,” she said. “It's not yet midnight. I just need a bit of rest. That chair near the fireside looks comfortable,” she said as she rose to her feet. She made it to the chair with Montrose's assistance. “Ah,” she said, settling back into it. “Just what I need, a
chance to rest my eyes. Go on talking, my dears. Make plans. I'll be ready to leave tomorrow at first light.”

“After breakfast, surely,” Montrose said.

“Very well, then,” she agreed, and closed her eyes.

Both Pippa and Montrose stood, looking down at her.

“I am not deceased,” Lady Carstairs said irritably, though she kept her eyes closed. “Go away. I'll be right as rain in a few minutes.”

Pippa and the marquis took chairs nearby, sat, and stared at each other.

“Ill advised,” Montrose said in a low voice.

Pippa nodded. “True. But it will be worse if we refuse her.”

There were a few moments of silence broken only by Lady Carstairs's increasingly deep breathing, the pop and hiss of it, and of the firewood in the hearth.

“The truth is, and I'm not happy to be saying it,” Montrose finally said, watching Pippa, “but I must. Although we go to Brighton, you must realize that your Noel may already be in an unmarked grave anywhere along the road anywhere in England.”

Pippa swallowed hard and nodded. “I know,
but I don't think so. He's an experienced traveler. He's been to France, Italy, and so many other places abroad, he knows enough to travel inconspicuously.”

Montrose's dark eyes glittered in the lamplight. “Indeed? Why so much travel, do you know?”

“Because he was a spy,” Pippa said in annoyance. “No, of course not,” she said as Montrose's eye's widened. “A jest. He wasn't, I'd vow it, and so would Grandfather. Noel was—is—just a man filled with curiosity. He even said that the only bad thing about marrying was that he'd have to stop traipsing round the planet. I said he wouldn't have to because I wanted to see the world too, and couldn't he please take me somewhere someday? He readily agreed. We laughed, and so that was that.”

“Would your grandfather have known if he were a spy? He's been living in isolation for years.”

“No, he hasn't,” Pippa said wearily. “Everyone from cabinet ministers to royalty to local fishermen come to him for advice all the time. I daresay he knows more about everyone in England than anyone in England. In fact,” she added pointedly, “I wouldn't have landed myself and my grandmother on you unless he had specifically asked me to. He said you'd find Noel or no one could.
That was high praise coming from Grandfather. Are you a spy?” she asked curiously.

“Absolutely,” Montrose answered in bored tones.

“Well, it doesn't matter,” Pippa said. “In fact, it might even help you find him. I must. It just makes no sense for Noel to have left me. I'm not saying that I'm so utterly desirable. I am saying that he has manners. I believe he's alive and something is preventing him from reaching me. Lord Montrose,” she said suddenly, urgently, “I can't go on as I've done. I'm neither widow nor jilted fiancée. I'm no one, living nowhere. I can't socialize. If I did, I'd look cruel and uncaring, but I can't continue to live in an empty jar the way I do now.”

“You want to marry,” Montrose said flatly.

“I want to live a normal life,” she retorted. “You may remain unattached and you do so. I can't. I love my grandparents and owe so much to them, but I can't live with them forever. I want a life of my own.” She looked over to see if her raised voice had woken her grandmother. The lady slept on. Pippa sighed. “Do you think she can bear the journey?”

“I was going to ask you that,” he said.

“She's sturdy, and determined. As for the rest? I'm not sure I know her anymore,” Pippa admitted. “But then, I've been too involved with my own
troubles lately to notice little things about her behavior as I do now. Still, if she wants to go, and I refused to go with her, there would be nothing I could do about it short of writing to Grandfather and asking him to stop her. I don't think he would. He made a decision. He expects it to be carried out.”

Montrose sat back and stared at Pippa. “The saffron and rose colors of your gown suit your eyes and hair perfectly,” he said. “You're fair as an elfin child, but very much a woman. Your figure is magnificent, not too voluptuous, but neither are you too fragile-looking. You are very lovely, you know.”

She couldn't have been more surprised if the chair she sat in had suddenly started complimenting her. She'd noted his attractiveness from the moment she'd clapped eyes on him. But she'd thought he was far more interested in Fashion than any female.

“Of course, you must know,” he went on in soft, musing tones. “Beautiful women always do. That presents a problem for me. You came down tonight and looked so alluring you staggered me, and knew it. Your cheeks are flushed now by my praise, and when you begin to take such deep angry breaths as you're doing, your breasts rise magnificently.”