Deception (12 page)

Olympia’s brows drew together in a look of intense concentration. “Something very strange happened in the library last night.”

Jared’s stomach knotted. He strove to keep his voice calm and reassuring. “Unfamiliar, perhaps, Miss Wingfield, but I would not term it strange. Men and women have, after all, been enjoying such pleasant interludes since the days of Adam and Eve.”

Olympia stared at him blankly. “What on earth are you talking about, sir?”

Just his luck, Jared thought gloomily. At long last he had found his own personal siren only to discover that she was cursed with the sort of brain that tended to concentrate on one thing at a time.

Nevertheless, it was an enormous relief to know that she was not, apparently, having second thoughts about the passion that had flared between them.

“Do not concern yourself, Miss Wingfield.” Jared rested his elbows on the table and planted his fingertips together. “I was referring to something quite inconsequential.”

“I see.” Olympia shot another cautious glance toward both doors. “About last night … ”

“Yes?”

“Minotaur barked sometime around two. I went downstairs to see what had alarmed him.” She pitched her voice even lower. “Mr. Chillhurst, I found the brandy decanter overturned.”

Jared stared at her. “Are you talking about the one in your library?”

“Yes, of course I am. It is the only brandy decanter I own. It was Aunt Sophy’s, you see. She and Aunt Ida always kept it in the library.”

“Miss Wingfield, perhaps it would be best if you continued with your tale,” Jared said.

She gave him an impatient look. “That is precisely what I am attempting to do, sir, but you keep interrupting me.”

“My apologies.” Jared drummed his fingertips together.

“In addition to the overturned decanter, I also discovered that a window in the library was open.”

Jared frowned. “Are you certain? I do not recall a window being open in there earlier.”

“Precisely. There were no windows open.”

“Perhaps the breeze from the window knocked the decanter over,” Jared said slowly.

“Not likely. That decanter is extremely heavy. Mr. Chillhurst, I believe someone entered my library last night.”

“Miss Wingfield, I must tell you that I am not pleased.”

Olympia’s eyes widened. “Neither am I, sir. Nothing like this has ever happened before around here. It is rather alarming.”

Jared studied her over his steepled fingers. “Are you telling me that you went downstairs all by yourself to investigate strange sounds in your library? You did not wake Mrs. Bird or loose the dog first?”

Olympia brushed the matter aside. “There is no cause for concern, sir. I was armed with a poker. In any event the library was quite empty by the time I got there. I suspect Minotaur’s barking frightened off the intruder.”

“A poker? Good God.” Jared was suddenly furious at her lack of common sense. He got to his feet and started toward the door. “I believe I shall have a look at the library, myself.”

Olympia jumped up quickly. “I’ll come with you.”

He opened the door of the breakfast room and gave her a hard, disapproving look as she went past him into the hall. Olympia took no notice of his expression.

She hurried on down the hall ahead of him and rushed into the library. Jared forced himself to follow at a more deliberate pace.

When he entered the room a moment later he found Olympia examining one of the windows.

“See here?” She pointed to the latch. “It has been broken. Someone forced this window last night, Mr. Chillhurst.”

Jared took a closer look at the window latch. The old metal hardware had, indeed, been bent. “The latch was not in this condition earlier?”

“No, I would have noticed. I have checked the latches on these windows every night for years.”

Jared swept the room with a glance. “Is anything missing?”

“No.” Olympia went to her desk and tested the locked drawers. “But it was a near thing. Whoever broke the window latch would have had no trouble getting into my desk.”

Jared gave her a sharp glance. “You believe someone was after something in your desk?”

“Of course. There is only one thing anyone could want to steal from me, Mr. Chillhurst, and that is the Lightbourne diary.”

Jared stared at her, dumbfounded by her conclusion. “No one knows you have it.”
Except me
, he thought.

“We cannot be certain of that. I gave Uncle Artemis strict instructions not to tell anyone about the diary, but there is no way of knowing who might have discovered that he sent it to me.”

“It is highly unlikely that your uncle mentioned the fact to anyone,” Jared said carefully.

“He told you about it, did he not?”

Jared tensed. “Yes, he did.”

“Of course he did so because he knew that he could trust you. But I believe there are others who knew that my uncle had purchased the diary.”

“Who are you referring to, Miss Wingfield?”

“Well, there is the old Frenchman who sold the diary to Uncle Artemis in the first place.” Olympia tapped the toe of her slipper-clad foot. “He may have learned that the diary was being sent on to me. He could have told any number of people.”

She was right. And if she knew the whole truth, Jared
thought, she would likely consider her nephews’ new tutor the most logical suspect. But he had spent the night in his own bed contemplating the pleasures of seducing a siren, not rifling through a library.

Jared tried to suppress his growing unease. Over the years others had chased the secret of the Lightbourne diary but to Jared’s knowledge the only people who knew about it these days were the members of his own family. Everyone else involved in the hundred-year-old legend had long since died.

He had given orders to the members of his family to stay out of the matter while he pursued the treasure. But now Jared wondered if one of the unpredictable, hotheaded Ryders had decided to defy his edict.

Jared’s jaw tightened. If any member of his clan had resorted to the burglary of Olympia’s home in an effort to retrieve the diary, there would be hell to pay.

But there were other, more logical explanations for the intrusion into the library, he reminded himself.

“Miss Wingfield, I think it far more likely that if someone did, indeed, enter your home last night, it was to search for something more valuable than an old diary. That brandy decanter, for example. It would bring a nice bit of blunt to any cracksman who managed to filch it.”

Olympia frowned. “I doubt that whoever invaded my library last night was after the brandy decanter or the candlesticks or anything else. We have never had that sort of trouble in this neighborhood. No, I have given this a great deal of thought and I have concluded that the warning I discovered in the diary is clear.”

“Bloody hell.” A terrible premonition came over Jared. “What warning?”

Olympia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Last night I unraveled the first of the concealed clues in the
diary. It was ‘Beware the Guardian’s deadly kiss when you peer into its heart to find the key.’”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely certain. The Guardian, whoever he is, may be extremely dangerous. We cannot be too careful.”

Good God
, Jared thought. He had to distract her from that line of speculation immediately.

“Now see here, Miss Wingfield, I do not believe that we need concern ourselves with an old legend. If there ever was a Guardian, he would be dead by now.”

“It has been my experience that behind every old legend there is usually a kernel of truth. It is obvious I must continue with my study of the diary. Perhaps I will find some further reference to this Guardian or an explanation of who he is.”

“I doubt it,” Jared muttered.

“In the meantime, I must protect the diary. It is only merest chance that I had it upstairs in my bedchamber last night when the intruder came looking for it.” Olympia examined her library with a thoughtful look.

The thundering sound of footsteps and the scrabble of dog claws on the hall floor interrupted Jared before he could respond. He glanced at the open doorway as Ethan, Hugh, Robert, and Minotaur bounded into the room.

“We’re ready for our geometry lesson, Mr. Chillhurst,” Robert announced.

Jared hesitated and then nodded. “Very well.” He turned briefly back to Olympia. “We shall finish this conversation later, Miss Wingfield.”

“Yes, of course.” But it was obvious that Olympia’s attention was no longer on the discussion. She was too busy surveying the library for potential hiding places.

Jared followed the boys outdoors. Matters were getting
complicated, he thought. Olympia was preparing to defend herself and the diary from an ancient legend.

Meanwhile, the legend in question wanted nothing more than to make wild, passionate love to Olympia.

Jared pushed the problem of seduction aside in favor of more mundane matters. He was at his best when it came to such things, he reflected dourly.

He prepared to make a note in his appointment journal of matters that needed to be attended to as soon as possible. For starters he would check all the locks and latches in the house and see to it that the broken hardware was repaired.

The odds were that whoever had entered the library last night had simply been after a few valuables that could be easily sold. The culprit had no doubt been scared off by Minotaur’s barking and was highly unlikely to risk returning.

But Jared did not intend to take any chances.

  Shortly after three o’clock that afternoon, the clatter of carriage wheels in the drive interrupted Olympia’s work on the diary. She listened for a moment, hoping that whoever had come to call would go away again when Mrs. Bird announced that she was busy.

“Miss Wingfield is not receiving visitors this afternoon,” Mrs. Bird announced loudly to whoever was at the door.

“Nonsense. She will see us.”

Olympia groaned in dismay at the sound of the familiar female voice. She closed the diary as Mrs. Bird opened the library door.

“What is it, Mrs. Bird?” Olympia asked in what she hoped was an authoritative tone. “I gave instructions that I was not to be disturbed this afternoon. I am very busy.”

“Mrs. Pettigrew and Mrs. Norbury to see you, Miss Wingfield,” Mrs. Bird said sullenly. “Real insistent about it, I might add.”

Olympia knew there was little point in trying to evade the visit. She and Mrs. Bird could have handled Mrs. Norbury, the vicar’s wife. The poor woman was easily intimidated having had a great deal of practice being browbeaten by her overbearing husband. But there was no stopping Mrs. Pettigrew who was just as forceful in her own right as the squire.

“Good afternoon.” Olympia managed a weak smile for her visitors as they were shown into the library. “What a pleasant surprise. Will you have a cup of tea?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Pettigrew, a large, substantial woman who favored large, substantial hats, took a chair.

Olympia had always privately considered Adelaide Pettigrew a good match for her husband. As the wife of the most important landholder in the neighborhood, she was very conscious of her position in local society. She was also, in Olympia’s opinion, much too concerned with the proper positions of everyone else in the vicinity. Ethan, Hugh, and Robert called her a nosy old busybody.

Years ago Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida had formed the same opinion.

Mrs. Norbury gave Olympia an uncertain nod as she seated herself in the small chair. She placed her small reticule primly on her lap and clutched it nervously with both hands. She was a pale little mouse of a woman whose gaze was always sliding off into the corner as if seeking her rightful hole in the wall.

Olympia did not like the fact that Mrs. Pettigrew had brought the vicar’s wife along for the visit. It did not bode well.

“I’ll fetch the tea tray,” Mrs. Bird grumbled.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bird.” Olympia faced her visitors,
took a deep breath, and prepared herself. “Lovely day is it not?”

Mrs. Pettigrew ignored the remark. “We are here on a matter of grave concern.” She shot her companion a commanding look. “Is that not correct, Mrs. Norbury?”

Mrs. Norbury flinched. “Quite correct, Mrs. Pettigrew.”

“What is this grave concern?” Olympia asked.

“An issue of propriety has arisen,” Mrs. Pettigrew announced in ominous accents. “To be frank, I confess I was surprised to see that your household was involved, Miss Wingfield. Heretofore, your behavior, while admittedly eccentric and occasionally downright odd, has rarely been lacking in appropriate decorum.”

Olympia gazed at her, mystified. “Has something about my behavior changed recently?”

“It most certainly has, Miss Wingfield.” Mrs. Pettigrew paused for effect. “We understand that you have hired a most unsuitable tutor for your three nephews.”

Olympia went utterly still. “Unsuitable?
Unsuitable?
What in heaven’s name are you talking about, Mrs. Pettigrew? The tutor I have employed is an excellent instructor of youth. Mr. Chillhurst is doing a fine job.”

“We are told that your Mr. Chillhurst has an extremely menacing appearance and that he likely cannot be trusted.” Mrs. Pettigrew glanced at Mrs. Norbury for support. “Is that not so, Mrs. Norbury?”

Mrs. Norbury clutched her reticule more tightly. “Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew. Extremely menacing appearance. Looks like a pirate, we’re told.”

Mrs. Pettigrew turned back to Olympia. “We are given to understand that he not only looks exceedingly rough and dangerous, but that he has a violent temperament.”

“Violent?” Olympia glowered at Mrs. Pettigrew. “That is ridiculous.”

“He is said to have struck Mr. Draycott a most ferocious blow,” Mrs. Norbury vouchsafed. “Indeed, they say both Mr. Draycott’s eyes are still black from the experience.”

“Oh, you are referring to that little incident the other afternoon here in my library.” Olympia smiled with quick reassurance. “It was nothing. An unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Hardly a misunderstanding,” Mrs. Norbury said grimly. “Your Mr. Chillhurst is obviously a threat to the entire neighborhood.”

“Nonsense.” Olympia stopped smiling. “You exaggerate, Mrs. Pettigrew.”