Barbara Pierce (35 page)

Her gaze fell to the letter written by Priddy. Something terrible had occurred and the viscountess was begging for her assistance. She was also insisting that Kilby travel alone. Priddy feared another scandal was afoot.

Coming to a decision, she touched the servant on the arm to interrupt his tale. “Hobbs, I need to write a letter to my husband immediately,” Kilby said, heading down the stairs to the library.

“Aye, Your Grace,” the butler said, responding to the urgency in her tone.

“I’ll need a carriage, too.” Kilby folded the viscountess’s note and tucked it into her corset. “And a promise,” she added as an afterthought.

“You have had a run of bad luck of late, Carlisle,” Cadd said somberly. “It does make one think there is something to the Solitea curse.”

Fayne’s near collision with a speeding coach had darkened everyone’s mood, especially when it was beginning to appear someone was trying to kill both him and Kilby. He and his friends had gathered in Ramscar’s library cum
armory. The room was a reflection of the man’s contemplative intellect and his quiet appreciation for violence when all logical paths had been exhausted.

The walls were lined with waist-high bookcases. In each corner medieval suits of armor, complete with lance, stood guard. Above the bookcases, weapons and helms accrued by the Knowden family over several generations were mounted on the walls. On the north wall, high above the chimney-piece, the skin of a leopard one of Ramscar’s ancestor’s had slain was displayed.

It was Fayne’s favorite room in the house, and a perfect example of his friend’s tidy efficiency. Since Ramscar’s town house was smaller in comparison to many of the family residences, Ramscar’s rooms served multiple purposes. For a gentleman who lived alone it was still a generous amount of living space.

“Is it bad luck, a curse, or is someone helping fate along?” Fayne wondered aloud. “I saw the marks on my wife’s neck. Someone followed her to the lake and held her face down in the water. She could have drowned.” His throat burned with acrid bile each time he thought how close he had come to losing her.

Everod sat in a large scale-patterned mahogany chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Why do you think her attacker stopped?”

Fayne scrubbed his face in frustration. “I don’t know. Perhaps Kilby had stopped fighting him, and he thought her dead. Or he heard something that ran him off.” He slammed his fist against the wall, rattling the metal swords next to him. “Damn it, above all places I could have taken her, Kilby should have been safe on the family’s lands.”

“Carlisle, you have to stop blaming yourself. There was no way of knowing that someone had followed you,” Ram-scar said in his familiar matter-of-fact manner. He had propped his hip on one of the shorter bookcases. Displayed
on the either side of him were five death masks of his predecessors. “If you were followed at all. Have you ruled out a vagrant?”

“That’s the problem, Ram,” Fayne said, trying to hold on to his temper. “I have not ruled out anything or anyone.” Though that did not mean he did not have his suspicions.

“I wager your duchess’s brother is the likely suspect,” Cadd said, unsheathing a gem-encrusted dagger and testing the sharpness of its blade with his thumb. “You made an enemy when you absconded with his sister. While you were gone, Nipping has been trying to rally sympathy from the
ton
. He claims you kidnapped the lady against her will.”

A sound of disbelief rumbled in Fayne’s throat. No one was going to argue that his intentions were not honorable. After all, he did marry the lady. “Nipping can whine all he wants. Kilby is a Carlisle now. What he should be worrying about is what I plan to do to
him
once I am assured Kilby is safe.”

Cadd slid the blade into its sheath and carefully returned it to its display. “Overall, Nipping’s complaints are going unnoticed. Brawley let it be known that you had left town abruptly to marry your lady love. Dreadfully romantic and all that. The news that you have taken a bride at all is more titillating than the marquess’s version that she was stolen from his care.”

Ramscar scratched the tiny scar on his left eyebrow. “I agree with Cadd. If anyone does believe the lady was stolen from the bosom of her beloved family, the ladies of the
ton
will simply view your actions as romantic.”

Fayne grimaced. “Wonderful.” He did not want his actions seen in a romantic light. He was merely protecting the woman he considered his. “I imagine my mother will encourage the fanciful retelling of the tale.”

His friends chuckled at the possible exaggerated stories the dowager might spin on her son’s behalf.

“No doubt,” Everod said, crossing his arms. “Besides Nipping, you must have a few other gents you would like to call on?”

“Hollensworth,” Cadd interjected, sneering. “The man despises you. He insults you behind your back in hopes of provoking you into challenging him. As far as I know, he is still in town.”

Fayne had also considered the baron. Hollensworth would never accept that Fayne had not played a small part in his brother’s suicide. The fight at the fair should have ended things between them. Nevertheless, Fayne did not trust the man. His resentment could have prompted him to strike out at Kilby. What better way to destroy a man than take away something he valued?

“Anyone else?” Ramscar asked, his hazel eyes sweeping over them as he silently considered what they knew.

“How far back do you want to go?” Fayne rolled his eyes at the futility of singling out a single enemy. “Tulley? Burlton? Nicout? Crynes?
Pengree?
” Even Kilby’s friend Lord Darknell disliked him.

It was not surprising his mother and sister had been concerned for him. Since his father’s death, he had been collecting enemies like Ramscar collected ancient weaponry. Marrying Kilby was the only sane and responsible decision he had made in the past few weeks.

His face was harsh when he faced his friends. “We start with Archer, and work our way back. Something tells me whoever desires me maimed or dead is someone I have angered recently. The attacks on Kilby and me seem to be rushed and unplanned.”

“Which probably explains why he hasn’t succeeded,” Everod quipped.

Fayne touched the earl on the arm. “Ram, I need a favor from you. I left Kilby at my sister’s house. I am certain Brawley is competent in a fair fight. Nonetheless, it would
ease my mind to know you both were looking after my wife and sister. Will you go there and help guard my family until I return?”

Ramscar took a lethal-looking battle-ax off the wall. He handled the weapon as skillfully as its original owner. “I will protect them as if they were my own blood, Carlisle.”

Kilby’s thoughts were harried and sad as she strode up the walkway to the Quennell town house. Archer had used violence and threats to get her to leave. Five days later, she was returning as a married lady.

Had her parents lived, she wondered if they would have approved of the choices she had made. Both her mother and father would have been pleased by her marriage into the influential Solitea family. Her father probably would have had a few concerns about the young duke’s ability to see to his daughter’s happiness. Kilby smiled faintly at the thought of her father sternly lecturing Fayne on his duties. She had no doubt that Fayne would have convinced her father of his good intentions as effortlessly as he had managed to charm her.

Naturally, her mother would have been disappointed that they had missed out on the opportunity to plan a proper wedding for their eldest daughter. A private ceremony in the small chapel at Ealkin would have been Lady Nipping’s wish. Kilby had also dreamed of marrying in the beautiful old chapel with her family and friends surrounding her.

It was a lovely fantasy. Sadly, nothing was going to bring her parents back to her so it was useless to moon over things she could not change. It was trouble that had brought her to Priddy’s door. Kilby reached up and rapped on the front door.

No one came to the door.

Tapping her foot in agitation, she knocked harder. Priddy’s note had been brief and to the point. While the
viscountess had been enjoying a visit from Lord Darknell, Archer had broken into the house. He intended to confront Lady Quennell again about the whereabouts of his sisters. Insults were exchanged between the two gentlemen and a violent fight ensued. Lord Darknell had subdued her brother, but a decision had to be made on whether or not the magistrate should be summoned. Priddy was concerned how the Carlisles might view this latest incident.

Priddy was correct. Fayne would not be pleased, when he learned of Archer’s conduct.

Kilby glanced around the area, searching for the man who was supposed to be watching Lady Quennell’s house. If the man was close, he was doing a magnificent job of hiding himself. Kilby knocked on the door again. Where were the servants? Priddy knew she was coming to her assistance. She had not come all this way, risked Fayne’s ire, for nothing.

Certain the viscountess would not mind, Kilby opened the door and marched into the front hall. Hearing muffled voices coming from the drawing room above, she climbed the stairs. As she came up to the door, Kilby recognized one of the speakers as the viscountess. The low murmured response was decidedly male. Nor did the conversation seem hostile.

Kilby flung open the doors, and gaped at the unexpected intimate encounter she had interrupted. Priddy was leaning forward, pouring Lord Ordish a cup of tea.

“Oh, dear! Lady Quennell and Lord Ordish, I do beg both your pardons,” Kilby said, resisting the urge to back away and shut the door. “No one answered the front door. I thought, after I received your note, that you might need me.”

“Kilby! What an extremely prompt girl you are!” the viscountess exclaimed with insincere joviality. “You would never believe the afternoon I have endured.” She glanced nervously at her companion. Lord Ordish seemed to have
been made rather uncomfortable by her arrival. Embarrassment had reddened the poor gentleman’s face to an uncomplimentary hue.

Priddy set down the teapot and rose from the sofa she had been sharing with the earl. Crossing the room to Kilby, the two women embraced. “Your letter took me by surprise! I did not anticipate seeing you and your husband for another week.”

The viscountess was unaware of the attack at Carlisle Park. Kilby had wanted to share the news in person. She glanced curiously at Lord Ordish, slightly puzzled by his presence. “I left the minute I received your note. Pray, where are Lord Darknell and my brother?”

The viscountess’s light blue eyes welled with tears. She took up Kilby’s hands within her own and squeezed them, overcome by emotion. “How considerate of you to be thinking of me, especially now, when you should be thinking of yourself.”

Priddy was acting oddly. Kilby stepped into the room, her violet gaze giving the interior a casual glance. Not a single stick of furniture was out of place. If Archer and Darknell had fought, it was not in this room.

Lord Ordish stood slowly, using his walking stick. His hip was apparently still paining the poor man. “Indeed. I hear congratulations are in order, young lady. Lady Quennell was just sharing with me your good news about your recent marriage to Solitea.”

Kilby gestured for the earl to sit. “Thank you, my lord. Please sit down. I consider you a friend, and we do not need to rigidly embrace formality. I see your injury is still bothering you.”

“Yes,” the man confided, chagrined his limitations were so noticeable. “I must sadly confess that my days of walking without the aid of my walking stick are over.” He beckoned both women to join him. “Where is that new husband
of yours? Pray do not tell me the man has already abandoned his new bride for the comfort of his clubs?”

Ire flared briefly in the viscountess’s gaze. “Solitea is an honorable gentleman, Lord Ordish. Why would he abandon Kilby when he went to great lengths to secure her as his duchess?”

Priddy’s anger was so aberrant in contrast to her congenial nature that she gaped at her former chaperone as Kilby selected one of the chairs directly across from the earl. The viscountess sat down in one parallel to hers.

“Our hasty departure prevented my husband from attending to several obligations that needed his immediate attention,” Kilby explained, sensing the tension between her two companions.

What had she interrupted?

Unable to keep her concern or her curiosity at bay, she shifted in her chair to address the viscountess. “Priddy, what has happened? Where are Darknell and my brother? Your note mentioned a fight. And by the bye, where is Gordon, or any of the servants for that matter? I was surprised to find that no one was tending to the door.”

“Yes, Lady Quennell, why don’t you tell the girl all about Darknell and her wayward brother,” Lord Ordish pressed, his eyes glittering.

With shaking hands, the viscountess reached for her tea. The cup had remained untouched for so long that the tea had to be cold. “Give me a moment, Kilby. This day has been such a jumble, I am not sure where I should begin,” she said, sounding as perplexed as Kilby felt. “When I sent Gordon off on an errand, I told the remaining servants that I did not want to be disturbed. I suppose no one saw any point in opening the door.”

“An incompetent staff reflects poorly on their employer,” Lord Ordish chided. The viscountess visibly bristled at his criticism, but did not defend herself.

Kilby frowned as she realized this was the first time she had encountered the couple together. “My lord, I must confess I am a bit surprised to find you here. I was under the impression that you and Lady Quennell were not acquainted.”

Lord Ordish chuckled and wagged his finger at her. “Ah, yes, the viscountess and I never could quite meet up, despite your best efforts,” the earl said, wheezing slightly as he laughed. “In your absence, I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”

“Honestly, Kilby, you never even mentioned Lord Ordish to me. I was not aware that you two had been introduced,” Priddy primly said, setting her teacup down with a clatter.

Guilt rippled through Kilby. Since Lord Ordish knew she was curious about her mother’s past, it had been her intention that they should never meet.