With This Ring (32 page)

"You must admit," she continued in what she hoped was a suitably businesslike tone, "those manuscript pages do indicate that Mr. Saltmarsh may have been completely honest with us about his role in this affair."

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"Beatrice." "Yes, Leo?" She pulled another book off the shelf,

glanced at the title, and smiled. "Oh, look. Mr. Saltmarsh has my Bride of Scarcliffe Castle right here on the same shelf as he keeps his classical works."

"I made that particular insensitive, unfeeling, and wholly unwarranted comment," Leo said very steadily, "because I am jealous as hell of Saltmarsh."

"I wonder if..." She swung around so quickly that she nearly dropped the volume in her hands. "What did you say?"

"I think you heard me." Leo went back to searching one of the drawers. "Do you know, it has been so many years since I experienced the pangs of jealousy that I had quite forgotten how extremely unpleasant they are."

"Leo." She held the book to her breast and took a step toward the desk. "There is no need, I assure you. My feelings for Mr. Saltmarsh are nothing more than the customary bonds of friendship that develop naturally between two people who have something in common."

"I see. What of the bonds between us, Beatrice?" "Obviously they are of an entirely different nature from those I have with Graham. I mean, those I share with Mr. Saltmarsh."

Leo glowered at her over the top of a lamp. "I cannot tell you how much it reassures me to hear that, madam.'

She studied him with growing curiosity. "You are annoyed."

"I am also in a hurry. Shall we finish this bloody business and get out of here before Saltmarsh walks in and discovers us going through his things?"

"I thought you said he had left Town."

"That is how it looks, but I cannot be absolutely certain." A soft whine froze the blood in Beatrice's bones. She spun around and saw that Elf was on his feet, ears pricked, nose pointed down the length of the hall to the front door.

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"Leo, your hound-"

"Yes." Leo came around from behind the desk. "Someone is on the front step. The housekeeper, no doubt. Time for us to leave. Get rid of that damned book. Quickly."

She shoved the novel back in place on the shelf. Leo seized her wrist and hauled her toward the study door.

A key rattled in the front door. Elf glanced politely at Leo as though awaiting instructions.

"No," Leo whispered. "Come."

He yanked Beatrice out of 'the study and into the hall. Elf ambled after them. Leo opened the back door. They all hurried outside onto the step.

Beatrice heard the front door open just as Leo quietly closed the rear one behind them.

She silently blessed the fog that had thickened during the time they had been inside Saltmarsh's lodgings. It cloaked the small garden.

Elf led them unerringly to the narrow iron gate. A moment later they were safe in the alley.

"That," Beatrice announced breathlessly, "was a bit close."

"Yes, it was." Leo's hand tightened on her arm. "Too damn bloody close. I swear, if you ever again-"

"Let us stick to the problem at hand," she interrupted briskly. "Mr. Sibson may well be involved in this affair, but we cannot be so certain about Mr. Saltmarsh. You must admit that from all indications, he told us the truth about himself."

I will admit that the evidence of his truthfulness is obvious." Still gripping her wrist, Leo urged her toward the far end of the alley. "A bit too obvious."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Come now. A few pages of a manuscript with a heroine who has your name and a copy of one of your novels on his shelf? It's clear to me that Saltmarsh arranged those

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things very carefully so that I would find them if I went looking."

"You have a devious mind, Leo."

"I shall take that as a compliment." Leo slowed his pace to walk sedately out of the alley. "I would very much like to know where both Sibson and Saltmarsh are at this moment."

Leo was still gnawing on the question of the whereabouts of the two men who were clearly at the heart of the puzzle when he and Beatrice walked into the hall of her town house a short while later.

"Beatrice." Arabella flew out of the parlor, her eyes huge with excitement. She saw Leo, skidded to a halt, and dropped a hasty curtsy. "My lord." She turned breathlessly back to Beatrice. "You're home at last. Aunt Winifred and I have been beside ourselves with excitement."

"What is it?" Beatrice removed her veiled hat and tossed it on the table. "Calm yourself. What has happened?" Winifred appeared in the doorway of the parlor. She

looked slightly dazed. "My dear Beatrice. Such news. We are quite overwhelmed."

Beatrice frowned. "Who died?"

Winifred blinked several times. "Why, no one that I know of, dear. I was referring to your impending engagement."

"My what?"

Leo winced as Beatrice's voice climbed to a glassy shriek that by all the laws of science ought to have shattered the windowpanes. He wondered if it was too late to escape through the door.

"We realize that nothing has been announced." Winifred gave Leo a brilliant smile. "But the news is all over Town, so we naturally assumed-"

"We heard it first from Lady Hazelthorpe," Arabella

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interrupted. "She walked into Lucy's shop just as we were about to leave. We ran straight into her. She could not wait to congratulate us."

Winifred gave Beatrice a reproachful look. "We're quite thrilled for you, dear, but I must tell you, it was somewhat awkward to receive the news from Lady Hazelthorpe."

"Aunt Winifred recovered very swiftly from the shock, however." Arabella grinned. "We both did. We pretended that we had known all along."

"A few years of experience in Society stand one in good stead in an emergency such as that,' Winifred said modestly. "Have you both gone mad?" Beatrice unfastened her

cloak and hung it on a hook. "I cannot imagine where Lady Hazelthorpe got such a ridiculous tale. You ought to have realized that she was cozening you. Why she would do such a thing, I cannot imagine."

Arabella bit her lip. Her gaze slid to Leo and back to Beatrice. "She said she heard it from Pearson, who had it directly from his lordship himself."

Beatrice fitted her hands to her hips and glowered. "Which lordship?"

Leo decided it was time to do the manly thing. "This lordship."

She swung around, mouth agape. It took her a few seconds to get it closed. "Whatever are you talking about, sir?" "It is a rather long and somewhat involved story." Leo

took her arm. "Why don't we go into your study to discuss it?" She dug in her heels. "A moment, if you please, my lord."

This would be his only chance, he thought. She was too bewildered to put up much resistance. He applied some pressure and managed to get her across the hall and into the study. He was able to close the door before she recovered completely.

"This has gone far enough, sir." She pulled free of his grasp and stalked to her desk. Turning around, she leaned

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back and braced herself with a hand on each side. "Explain yourself."

"In a nutshell, Burnby called me out."

"Never say so." Shock immediately replaced the outrage in her face. "I do not believe it."

"I warned you that young men rarely comprehend the fine nuances of matrimonial plots and stratagems." Leo went to stand in front of the window. "Burnby took my attentions to your cousin a bit too seriously."

"Dear God. This is dreadful."

He glanced at her, surprised to see that she was thoroughly shaken. He watched as she fumbled her way around her desk and fell into her chair.

Her obvious distress had a startling effect on his spirits. An odd warmth unfurled deep inside. She cared. At least enough not to want him involved in a duel.

"You need not reach for your vinaigrette," he told her. "There will be no dawn appointment."

"I do not possess a bottle of vinaigrette," she said absently. Sudden comprehension leaped into her gaze. "You mean it is unnecessary because you explained to Burnby that he had misunderstood your interest in Arabella?"

"I told him my interest was in you instead."

1 see.' She pondered that briefly. "Obviously you had to tell him something that would convince him that you were not in competition for Arabella's hand."

"Precisely my conclusion." He relaxed slightly. She was going to be reasonable. "I tried your story first. I made it plain that I was merely a friend of the family. But he did not accept it."

"It appears you were right about the melodramatic sensibilities of young gentlemen." Beatrice shook her head once in dismay. "Nevertheless, calling you out was somewhat extreme under the circumstances. I would have th ught Mr. Burnby more intelligent than that." ?

Leo turned his attention back to the window. "I believe

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Burnby felt that a desperate situation demanded desperate measures."

"He was so jealous of you, then?"

"Jealousy was no doubt part of it. But in fairness, I must say that Burnby saw a nobler purpose in his challenge." "Rubbish. What could be noble about calling you out

merely to keep you from making an offer?"

Leo studied the slender trunk of a small tree which he could just barely make out in the swirling fog. "Burnby felt he had a duty to protect your young, innocent lamb of a cousin from being sacrificed on the altar of my lust."

There was a heartbeat of silence behind him.

"Burnby said that?" Beatrice's voice was strangely neutral. "He used those very words? Altar and lust and so forth?"

"Yes.,, "I see."

"He appeared satisfied when I told him that it was you I intended to sacrifice."

"On the altar of your lust.-

"Yes." He turned around to face her. She was not looking at him, however. She appeared to be transfixed by the large globe on the opposite side of the room. "I am sorry, Beatrice, but it seemed the easiest way out of what could have been a very difficult scandal."

"I understand." She continued to gaze at the globe as though it were an oracle glass.

"I realize it could become a trifle awkward," he said carefully.

Her jaw tightened. She swallowed visibly. "Only if it became known that I am the authoress Mrs. York. Mrs. Poole will survive the gossip of a broken engagement to the Earl of Monkcrest. Mrs. York would not."

"Both Mrs. Poole and Mrs. York would survive marriage to me," he said quietly.

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Beatrice started. Her head snapped around. She stared at him with blank eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

A deep flush rose in her cheeks. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, my lord. You are a true gentleman. I know that if you thought that you had ruined my career, you would do the honorable thing. But I'm sure it will not be necessary.'

She was starting to irritate him. "I would not consider it the end of the world to be wed to you, madam."

She cleared her throat. "Very chivalrous of you, my lord."

He wanted to haul her up out of her chair and force her to drop that maddeningly enigmatic expression. "Chivalry is for young men. I have not worried overmuch about that sort of thing for years."

"But you are an honorable man, sir. You no doubt feel that as you are the one who created this problem, you would have an obligation to protect me from scandal if it ends badly."

"What of you?"

"Me? Yes, of course." She raised her head and straightened her spine. "I admit that I bear a great deal of the responsibility for having thrust you into such a difficult situation."

"Damnation, that is not what I meant. I am asking you if the notion of being sacrificed on the altar of my lust devastates your delicate sensibilities."

"Oh. I see." She cleared her throat a second time. "MY sensibilities do not appear to be particularly delicate, my lord. The notion of being sacrificed on the altar of your lust does not seem to so much as even bruise them, let alone devastate them."

Leo had not realized how rigidly still he had been holding himself until something deep inside suddenly relaxed. Without any warning, he found himself grinning.

"You underestimate yourself, madam. I consider certain of your sensibilities to be the most exquisite it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. Indeed, they have brought me closer to the metaphysical plane than any amount of poetry reading has ever done."

She snatched up the small embroidered pillow she kept behind her on her chair and hurled it straight at his head.

ap le r IS

The door at the end of the passageway closed

abruptly, shutting off the pale beam of moonlight.

Darkness closed in upon her.

FRom CHAPTER EiGHTEEN oF The Ruin BY MRs. AmELLA YoRK

he following evening Finch came to the doorway of Leo's study and coughed discreetly. "I beg your pardon, m'lord. The carriage is here. It is nearly eight-thirty. You are expected at the home of Mrs. Poole and her relatives at a quarter to nine, if you will recall."

"Thank you, Finch. I have not forgotten." Leo made one last note and then closed Cox's journal of accounts.

He was already dressed in formal attire for the evening's mandatory appearances. There were any number of other things he would rather do that night. A quiet dinner at home with Beatrice leaped to mind.

Given his announcement of an impending engagement, however, he knew he had little choice but to make certain

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that he and Beatrice were seen together publicly for the next few evenings. Any other course of action would only invite more gossip and speculation, neither of which they needed at the moment.

He was halfway across the study when he paused. "Did you forget something, m'lord?" Finch asked. "Yes, I believe I did. I'll be along in a moment."

Finch inclined his head and retreated into the front hall. Leo waited until he was alone before he walked to the opposite wall and eased aside the heavy gilded mirror that hung there.