To Marry a Marquess (24 page)

In the dimness of the candlelight, William took a faltering step back. "Yes, your lordship pirate. I hear you loud and clear." He shot Drake a firm salute.

"Blast." It was hard to stay mad at the lad. "Now, what is this nonsense about Vicki crying? I hear nothing."

William cocked an ear toward the stairs. "Yes, me pirate. You are quite right. She has stopped and it is all your fault." He sent Drake a disgusted look. "If you had not taken so long waking up, we could have taken care of her."

"Is she in her bedchamber?"

"Probably." William stomped his foot, as if quite perturbed to have the night end. "You don't move like a pirate."

Drake could not believe he had been pulled out of bed on this wild goose chase. "Go to bed, William. Now!"

William scrunched his blue eyes and hurried to his room. However, Drake was not surprised when the boy stopped in front of his door and glanced back for the last word.

"But I tell ye, me pirate," he said with a lift of his chin that looked all too familiar, "she was crying. I think you had too many cannonballs to the head."

With a candle illuminating the hallway, Drake, half naked, blinked in surprise as William hurried into his bedchamber and closed the door.

After a few seconds, Drake shook his head and decided, grandmother or no grandmother, he had to see if Victoria was sleeping soundly. He walked to the end of the hall toward Victoria's bedchambers. For some reason, the thought of her weeping sent a surge of protectiveness through him.

He came to an abrupt stop outside her bedchamber and saw that her door was halfway open. Glancing over his shoulder, feeling like some naughty schoolboy ready to be caught by his grandmother, he slipped silently into the room. His gaze turned toward the bed, where a pile of crumpled linens and scattered pillows lay.

"Victoria?" he whispered and came closer.

He squinted in the darkness.  She wasn't there.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He looked over his shoulder and strode toward the door. Where was she? Maybe she
had been crying.

He hastened down the stairs, hoping to find her in the kitchen, sneaking a glass of milk or munching on a slice of bread. But a sixth sense told him something else was wrong. In fact, in the back of his mind, he knew something had been plaguing Victoria ever since he had met her at the inn. He should have confronted her when he had the chance.

There was a noise in the library. He stopped on the stairs and listened. A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to him. Had Victoria heard his conversation with his grandmother? He had planned to tell Victoria about Nightham and the trust on her birthday. Moreover, he had been trying to think of a delicate way of telling her about Nightham's wretched scheme.

Another sound. Softer, this time. A whimper? Devil take it. Maybe it was too late for any of that now.

Dreading what he would find, he stalked forward and opened the library door, searching the darkness. He raised the candle up higher, stepping into the room.

"When were you going to tell me, my lord?"

He turned sharply.  Victoria's shadowed figure was huddled in the wing chair beside the desk. She wore a blue satin robe that glimmered against his light. She looked enchanting with the ruffles of her white nightgown peeking over her slippered feet, but it was the glint of anger in her misty turquoise eyes that told him the true story. She knew about Nightham and the trust.

Holding the flame high, he took a step toward her. "Sweetheart, I was going to—"

"Sweetheart?" She choked out a pitiful laugh. "You dare call me sweetheart after you snooped into my life."

Trying to bide for time, he moved to light the candle resting on the table beside her.

She stood. "I cannot believe you would go so low as to investigate your friend, Nightham, as well as me."

He turned toward her. "I thought I was doing you a favor."

"Because you believe yourself above others, you delve into people's lives as if they had no feelings? You were not doing me a favor, my lord. I daresay, you were satisfying your curiosity."

"You're wrong."

He turned to light
a fire in the hearth. The rising flames illuminated the room. Before he knew what she was about, she came from behind and tossed the papers into the fire.

Drake slipped his hands gently on her shoulders. "Victoria—"

She jerked away, the rage still lingering in her eyes. "Don't touch me!"

"I've heard those words before, and it never ceases to amaze me that you change your mind as quick as Beau Brummell changes cravats. But enough of this foolishness."

Her eyes shot daggers at him. "You would not want to be caught in a compromising position, my lord. Or does everything seem all right, now that I am to inherit a good deal of money?"

"You led me to believe you would marry me," he said softly. "This changes nothing."

"I must have been daft."

"No." His eyes found hers, and his heart turned over seeing the pain in her eyes. "I think not."

She lifted her chin and started for the door.

He stalked toward her. "Victoria, you will many me."

She spun around. "Why?  So you can do the honorable thing for your father and grandmother?"

"No," he said calmly, quickly slipping an arm around her waist. "This is why." Her eyes grew round, but she didn't pull away from him. He leaned forward and lowered his mouth to hers.

"So, I see ye have found her!"

Drake groaned. "William?"

"I told ye she was crying." William sliced his sword through the air, parting the two. "It was the villain again."

Drake glared at Victoria as the image of Wendover came to mind. Her nearness had taken his breath away ... and his brain. "Yes, what are you hiding, Victoria?"

The lines around her face tensed. "I should have asked you the same question earlier, my lord."

"I am speaking of the villain," Drake said with an edge to his voice.

"Oh, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Are you addressing me, madam?"

"You?" she said sarcastically.

Oblivious to the tension between the two, William began swinging his sword ferociously about the room. "That villain wants the treasure! I know it!"

"Come to think of it," Drake replied, "I believe William may be right. The villain wants something."

William grinned and planted himself next to Drake.

Drake glanced back at Victoria waiting for her explanation. "Could it be your money? Why don't you tell us about Wendover. I saw those marks on your neck the other day."

"Marks?" William let out a cry of outrage. "Marks? What marks, Vicki?"

"It's nothing, William." Victoria glowered at Drake.

The boy stepped back to show her his sword. "Did he hurt you, Vicki? 'Cause if he did, I'll tear him to shreds."

The weapon went flying through the air as William danced about the room. "I'll slice him in two."

Drake hopped back a step as William took a flying leap and jumped on top of the desk. "I'll make mincemeat out of him. Why, the next time I see him, I'll take his neck and—"

"William!" Victoria cried. "Stop it at once!"

The sword came to a halt, clattering to the floor. "Awwww, Vicki."

Drake hid his smile. "Off to bed with you. Tomorrow we will talk more about pirates and villains."

William jumped off the desk. "Truly?"

"Truly." Drake patted his head to move him along.

"Did you hear that, Vicki?"

Victoria smiled. "Yes, and William?"

"Huh?"

"You forgot this." She held up his sword.

"Oh!" He chuckled and retrieved his weapon. "One cannot be without a sword when Wendover is about. He scares the bloomin'—"

"William!" Victoria took a step toward him.

The boy glanced mischievously up at Drake before he started for the library doors. "Never mind."

Her lips grimly set, Victoria slipped her hand into the boy's and started for the doors. "I'll see that you make it to bed, young man."

William looked over his shoulder at Drake. "The princess is leaving with me because she likes kissing me better than you."

Drake lifted a brow. "I daresay, I'll have to remedy that situation very soon then."

But to Drake's astonishment it was not William who snorted with disgust, but Victoria.

Chapter Fifteen

"L
ady Victoria's birthday party will be a wonderful surprise for her tonight," Stanby said, turning toward Mrs. Dorling outside the Percy Hall drawing room.

The older lady had arrived the previous day to care for William, as the boy seemed to be a handful to all involved.

"Is everything underway?" she asked the hovering giant.

Stanby smiled. "His lordship is going to ask for a waltz."

"A waltz!" Mrs. Dorling clasped her hands together in delight. "My, Lord Drakefield is a rather sly one, is he not?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

"I would say he is more like his father than any of the other sons," Stanby replied with pride.

Mrs. Dorling raised an inquisitive brow and Stanby winked.

"When they see what they want, they don't give up," he said suggestively.

"Oh, my." Mrs. Dorling's cheeks turned pink with giddiness as she brought her hands to her face. "Truly?"

"Indeed." Stanby took a step closer. "And it seems that same quality has rubbed off a bit on me." He hovered over the small woman and set his hands on her shoulders.

Mrs. Dorling giggled. She had been a widow for twenty years. "Oh, my, Stanby. You are …quite wicked."

The giant man took her hand and slowly led her into the drawing room. Hiding behind the doors, he picked her off her feet and fastened his lips to hers. "Ah, my love, where have you been all my life?"

"Oh, Stanby. You are so very strong." He kissed her again.

William popped out from behind the sofa. "Oh, Stanby," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "You are so very strong."

"Zeus!" Stanby cried.

"What is all this?" the boy said in disgust. "I tell you, a pirate's life is a life without peace! Does everybody have the kissing bug?"

Stanby lowered the woman in his hands, his gaze penetrating William's face like an English cannonball directed at Napoleon's nose. The little boy gulped. Mrs. Dorling turned beet red and flew out of the room, flapping a hand to her large bosom as if she could not breathe. "Oh, my, my, my."

Stanby took in a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he spoke. "Pirate's life, indeed!"

"Worry not, old boy," William replied coolly, his hand flicking in the air as if he were twenty instead of six. "I won't say a thing. No one believes what I say anyway. Villains and treasures.  Everyone thinks I make it all up."