Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (36 page)

“Notice that he said ‘him,'” Ruby teased. “A lady fish would surely be wiser.”

Lady Amelia dimpled.

Whit smiled as he pulled three rods from the rack and handed them around. About eight feet long, with a grip covered in cork, the thing was light and flexible in Ruby's fingers. She gave it a flick of her wrist, imagining how it would feel to toss the line out over the stream.

“I knew you'd be a natural,” Whit murmured in her ear before he turned to help Lady Amelia untangle her line from the feather on her bonnet.

A sliver of anticipation ran through Ruby. She could hardly wait to see what happened next.

Whit led them the short distance to the stream and set a wicker basket and the book of flies well above the water on the pebbled shore. The day was bright again, heat already rising, though shade dappled the pool before the bridge. Whit eyed the water, then bent to the basket.

“I don't think flies will be our best choice today, ladies,” he said, rummaging in the basket to pull out a glass vial. “This time of year we sometimes have to use brandling.”

“Brandling?” Ruby asked, as she and Lady Amelia peered closer. Inside the vial, long, reddish tubes squirmed over each other.

“A worm,” Whit replied, poking a finger in the tube and pulling one out.

Ruby was rather proud of Lady Amelia for merely turning white and gripping her pole like a staff.

“They are generally found beneath dunghills,” he continued, bracing his pole between his booted feet and grabbing up the brass hook with his other hand, completely oblivious to the panicked look on the lady's face. “The best way to ensure they stay on the hook is to start at the middle and poke the hook in and out as if you were sewing, so that the prick of the hook comes out the head. Like so.”

He held up the hook with the impaled worm.

With a strangled cry, Lady Amelia threw down her rod and fled.

Whit raised his brows as the hook fell.

Ruby put a hand to his shoulder. “Fish. It might be the only chance you get. I'll go after her.”

His look softened, and one hand came down to touch her cheek in her bonnet. She tried not to think about those fingers touching a dunghill worm. “I was hoping to spend time with you,” he murmured.

She wanted to sink into the pool of his eyes. Instead, she forced herself to take a step back. “We will,” Ruby promised. “Give me a moment, and I'll be delighted to have you show me how to subdue a trout.”

He dropped his hand with a nod, and Ruby turned and started up the bank.

She wasn't sure how far Lady Amelia would go. Would she run to her mother or all the way to London? But she found the lady just over the rise from the river, head bent and shoulders shaking in her blue spencer.

Ruby slowed her steps, then came to a stop beside her and put a tentative hand on her arm. “Messy thing, fishing. Who would have imagined it would be so barbaric?”

Lady Amelia shuddered. “Or that I would be so fainthearted,” she murmured with a sniff. “How you must despise me, Miss Hollingsford.”

“Of course I don't despise you,” Ruby declared, coming around to face the woman. Tears left delicate tracks down her pearly cheeks, made her rosy lips look redder. Even pitiful, she was a beauty!

“How could you not?” Lady Amelia begged, blue eyes swimming. “I despise me!”

Ruby recoiled. “Why? What horrible thing have you done?”

Her lower lip trembled. “It is not so much what I have done but what I have
not
done. I have always tried to do what was expected of me. But some expectations are simply too much. I lack the will for what's required.”

“Perhaps the expectations do not suit you,” Ruby guessed. “Perhaps they are not worthy of being met.”

Lady Amelia sighed, gaze drifting to the shrubs nearby, though Ruby thought she didn't see the balls of snowy white flowers bobbing on the stems. “These particular expectations suit me not at all. But I have tried all my life to be a dutiful daughter. I cannot be that person if I refuse my parents' wishes for me.”

“Funny thing about parents,” Ruby said, brushing her hands against her skirts. “In my experience, they get the oddest notions on what will make us happy. A shame they can't trust us to see to our own happiness.”

Lady Amelia nodded. “That's it exactly, Miss Hollingsford. Left to my own devices, I would marry...” She blushed and ducked her head.

Ruby moved closer and nudged her with her elbow. “Go on. Who would you marry?”

Lady Amelia glanced up at her as if she were about to say something quite daring. “Someone I loved.”

Ruby smiled, stepping back. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Tell that to my father,” Lady Amelia said with another sigh.

“Happily,” Ruby agreed. “Simply give me his direction.”

Lady Amelia laughed, a soft, musical sound. “Then we'd both be in trouble.” She sobered as she turned from the shrubs to face Ruby fully. “How I envy you, Miss Hollingsford. You seem so free—to speak your mind, to choose your husband.”

Ruby had never considered the matter from that point of view. Oh, she knew monarchs had arranged marriages, for the good of the nation. But all those girls she'd gone to school with, the ones from titled families who snubbed her on her first Season, were they also locked into their lives, marrying to please their families? Did they labor under a weight of expectations? She still could not condone their behavior, but perhaps there had been a reason for their dislike of her. Perhaps they envied her her freedom.

Surely at least some of the men of the
ton
felt the weight of those expectations, too. Perhaps that was why Phillip had refused to marry her, the scoundrel. She'd thought he could not appreciate her for herself, but perhaps it had been the need to meet these dratted expectations that drove him. It did not excuse the insult of his offer to become his mistress, but it did explain why he'd felt he could never consider her as his wife.

And what of Whit? Didn't he have to meet expectations, as well? How could he possibly marry someone like her?

“Choosing who to marry is a serious decision,” Ruby said, fully realizing the truth of the statement for the first time. “For anyone. But as for love, I think it a highly necessary factor in the decision. I know others will disagree, but there you are.”

Lady Amelia gave her a tight smile. “I cannot argue with you, Miss Hollingsford.”

“Then don't,” Ruby said with a grin. “Save your arguments for your parents.”

Lady Amelia nodded. “You're right.” She straightened her spine, bonnet brushing the top of the overhanging shrubs and causing a flurry of petals to fall like snow. “Yes, quite right. If I hold love to be sacred, I must stand my ground. Thank you, Miss Hollingsford.”

“Happy to help,” Ruby assured her. She looked so determined—head high, gaze clear—that Ruby couldn't help asking her her plans. “So will you pursue Lord Danning?”

Lady Amelia smiled. “No. I somehow think his heart is already engaged in any event. I wish you the best of luck.”

Ruby felt herself coloring, unsure for once how to answer. Then, close to hand, came a large bark of a noise. Doves leaped from the trees.

Lady Amelia pressed her fingers to her chest, glancing about. “What was that?”

“A shot!” Ruby cried, heart pounding in her ears. “I'm sure of it! Come on!”

Chapter Fifteen

W
hit pulled in his rod and shook his head at the shattered piece. Snapped! What rotten luck!

Trusting Ruby to settle Lady Amelia, he'd taken her advice and waded into the stream. But he'd only managed a few casts before the rod had broken. Now he took the remains and waded back to shore to pull in the line by hand.

“Whit!”

He turned to see Ruby and Lady Amelia rushing down the rise. The look on Ruby's face—eyes wide and color high—spurred him to meet her, dragging the rod and line with him.

“What's happened?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but I feared for you.” Her green eyes searched his face. “Did you hear that shot?”

A shot? He found it hard to believe a noise would frighten his Ruby, but the concern on her face was matched by the look on Lady Amelia's. He put on a smile.

“In truth, I didn't hear anything until you called out my name. When I fish I often lose track of all else. But very likely you only heard Charles firing. He was going shooting this morning.”

Lady Amelia relaxed with a sigh of acceptance. Ruby, however, frowned.

“Shooting so close to the house?” she asked, setting her hands on the hips of her gray grown. “Surely that isn't wise with so many people likely to be about.”

He doubted Charles was that close to the house. Sound carried in the hills.

“Charles will be careful,” he assured her. “He knows the dangers of ill-using a firearm.”

“I'm sure he does,” Ruby muttered darkly.

Before he could ask her what she meant, Lady Amelia spoke up. “Thank you for putting our minds at ease, Lord Danning.” She offered him a pretty smile. “We're sorry to have disturbed your fishing.”

Ruby's frown only grew, but Whit turned to Lady Amelia. “I wasn't doing a great deal of fishing. I seem to have snapped my rod.” He held up the raw end as evidence.

Ruby leaned forward to eye the broken piece, but Lady Amelia's eyes widened. “That must have been a tremendous fish!”

Whit knew plenty of anglers who liked to embellish the tales of their exploits. He'd never been one. Of course, he seldom had to make up a story—he generally caught the fish!

“Sad to say, I didn't even have a fish on the line,” he confessed, lowering the rod. “It's a jointed rod. They snap fairly frequently, I fear.”

“Let me see it,” Ruby ordered.

Surprised, Whit handed her the rod. She aimed her frown at the breakage, turned the rod in all directions.

“I didn't realize you were an expert on the construction of fly fishing rods, my dear,” he teased.

Ruby scowled as she handed it back. “I'm not an expert on anything to do with fishing. But I do know a thing or two about guns.”

Now it was Whit's turn to frown.

“I don't understand, Miss Hollingsford,” Lady Amelia put in. “What does the break in Lord Danning's rod have to do with firearms?”

Ruby focused on Lady Amelia as if suddenly remembering her presence, then put on an overly bright smile. “Lady Amelia, might I enlist your assistance?”

Lady Amelia blinked as if surprised by the change in her, as well. “Certainly, Miss Hollingsford. What do you need?”

“I left my reticule upstairs on the table by my bed. Be a dear and fetch it for me, would you?”

Lady Amelia frowned. Very likely she'd never been sent on an errand in all her privileged life.

“What about you?” she asked Ruby. “What will you be doing?”

Ruby smiled sweetly, fooling no one, Whit was sure. “I'd like a word with Lord Danning. Never fear for my reputation. After all, Mr. Calder is nearby, and I'm certain you'll return shortly.”

Lady Amelia eyed her a moment more as if trying to determine Ruby's game, then she straightened. “Very well.” With a nod to Whit, she lifted her skirts and climbed the bank.

As soon as she was out of hearing, Ruby rounded on Whit.

“Your rod didn't break. It was shot.”

Whit shook his head with a chuckle, then bent to rinse his hands in the cool water. “Ruby, you get the oddest notions.”

She took a step closer, raising her voice as if to make sure he heard her clearly over the rushing of the river. “It isn't a notion. Look at your rod. If it had snapped, the break would be clean. This one looks as if it had been made with force.”

Whit straightened and glanced at the broken end of the rod more closely. The wood
was
splintered. Still, a lead ball?

“It can't be,” Whit said, lowering the rod again. “Hitting something so narrow as a fishing rod, particularly when it was in motion, is impossible.”

Ruby shook her head. “Difficult, but not impossible. And I don't think the shooter was aiming for your rod, Whit. I think he was trying to hit you.”

Whit's hand tightened on the rod. “Nonsense.”

Ruby gazed at him. Her catlike green eyes were narrowed, her mouth set firmly. “You have to admit there have been a lot of ‘accidents' recently—the incident with the horse at Lord Hascot's, for one.”

Whit chuckled. “As my valet pointed out, I should know better than to stand behind a strange horse.”

“And what of the landslide?” Ruby countered, face paling as if she disliked remembering. “Someone hereabouts must have known the slope was dangerous. Why were you never informed?”

Whit bent closer and tweaked a curl inside her bonnet. “I rather think the rain had more to do with the landslide than anyone wishing me ill.”

“And the fall in the Blue John cave?” she pressed, catching his hand as he withdrew and giving it a squeeze. “You very nearly lost your life.”

“Because I had the misfortune to step where I shouldn't,” Whit replied, cradling her hand in his. “I appreciate your zeal for my safety, Ruby, but it is misplaced.”

She looked ready to protest, rosy lips compressed and eyes snapping fire, but a movement on the bank caught his attention. As he raised his head, she pulled away from him to whirl in that direction as if expecting trouble.

Lady Amelia was picking her way down the slope, Ruby's reticule clutched in one hand. Ruby hurried to meet her and took the bag from her. “Thank you so much. Now, would you return to the house and determine the safety of all Lord Danning's other guests? I wouldn't want them to be concerned after hearing that shot.”

Whit doubted any of them had even noticed. Lady Amelia must have wondered as well, for she stopped with another frown. “Is something wrong, Miss Hollingsford? You seem to wish me out of your way.”

The girl was more clever than he'd thought. She would not be sent away with an easy excuse again. Ruby evidently gave up the attempt, for she motioned Lady Amelia to follow her down to Whit's side by the water, then turned to face her.

“I must swear you to silence on this matter,” she said. “You can reveal none of what I'm about to relate, not even to your mother.”

What now?
Whit thought.

Lady Amelia's blue eyes widened, and she nodded solemnly. “I would never betray the confidence of a friend.”

Ruby's mouth quirked, as if she couldn't believe Lady Amelia would count her as a friend, but she nodded, as well. “Good enough. I believe someone is trying to kill Lord Danning.”

Whit groaned as Lady Amelia pressed a hand to her bosom. “Oh, my word!”

“It's nonsense,” Whit assured her. “Ruby, I must ask you not to persist in this. I'm fine.”

In answer, she reached in her reticule and pulled out a pistol.

Lady Amelia fell back against Whit with a gasp.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I'm not going to use it on either of you,” she said, bending quickly to check the powder and cocking the gun carefully.

“You carry a pistol even here?” Whit demanded, highly tempted to remove it from her grasp before she shot herself, or him.

“In London I carry it everywhere.” She glanced around, then pointed the pistol at a branch hanging over the stream on the opposite side. “What say you, Lord Danning? If I can hit that branch, will you believe me that your rod was shot in two?”

Whit puffed out a sigh. Part of him just wanted her to cease her wild speculations, but another part was curious. Could she really hit so small an object?

“I shouldn't encourage you,” he started.

“And I should encourage you,” she argued, “to pay more attention to those around you.” She spread her feet, raised one arm, elbow bent, and balanced the pistol over it. Then she squeezed the trigger.

Lady Amelia cried out as the pistol roared, then buried her head in Whit's chest. He was more interested in the branch. As the powder drifted downstream with the breeze, he saw that the limb was pointing straight down at the river. She'd done it!

Pride surged up inside him, only to be followed by dismay. Was it possible? Could she be right?

Ruby relaxed her arms and turned to eye Whit. “You see? If I can do it, surely anyone with some knowledge of a gun could do the same. And that person, may I remind you, was likely aiming for a much bigger target.”

Whit felt cold, but he knew it wasn't because Lady Amelia had pushed away from him with a shudder.

“It is monstrous,” she told Ruby. “What should we do? Is there a constable in the village? A magistrate nearby?”

“With no villain in hand? I doubt either would listen.” Ruby tucked her spent pistol back into her reticule.

This had gone far enough. Just because such a shot was possible did not mean he believed any guest at the Lodge had done so.

Whit stepped between them. “Ruby, Lady Amelia, there's no need to call in a constable. Surely none of my other guests could make a shot like that.” Trying to ease the moment, he smiled at Ruby. “I doubt many marksmen could do it. Where did you learn to shoot?”

“I asked my father to hire an instructor,” Ruby said, raising her head as her reticule hung down beside her. “After someone tried to kidnap me.”

Anger raced through him. She'd been forced to learn the skill to protect herself. What was the world coming to that a woman was placed in such a position?

“How horrible!” Lady Amelia cried. “And how brave of you to take such measures.” She shuddered again. “I don't think I could bear to so much as lift a piece.”

“Which is one of the reasons you are not a suspect,” Ruby assured her, then she narrowed her eyes at Whit. “But I reserve the right to consider everyone else.”

“You need not go to such trouble,” Whit said. “I can look out for myself.”

Still she regarded him, her skepticism clear. She had agreed to his courtship, so she must have some feelings for him. Perhaps the thought of him in danger concerned her as much as the thought of her in danger concerned him.

He met her gaze. “If I promise you I'll investigate the matter, will you trust me to see things right?”

Her gaze darkened, held. “Very well, my lord. It is your life, after all.” She turned to smile at Lady Amelia. “Shall we rejoin the group, dear? I'm sure we can find other ways to amuse ourselves.”

That was exactly what Whit feared.

* * *

Ruby was more than a little put out with Whit for refusing to acknowledge the danger he was in. Had he no concept of the perfidy of his own class—their devious natures, their manipulative ways?

It was patently obvious to her that someone wished Whit dead, and she was fairly certain Charles Calder was the villain. Look at the way he had hesitated to save Whit in the Blue John cave. And hadn't he been near the horse when it had kicked? He coveted the title, most likely, and knew it would never be his if Whit followed through on his plans to marry.

She accompanied Lady Amelia back to the house, Whit walking just behind them with the fishing gear. Ruby made sure to stay close and talk loudly so his dastardly cousin would know he had a witness to any more cowardly deeds, but her mind kept humming.

Whit was terribly close to his cousin. And from what she'd seen, the affection between them was mutual. Perhaps he was right, and Charles was innocent. She supposed it was possible one of the others had motive.

Lady Wesworth might feel slighted Whit hadn't appreciated her daughter. While Ruby couldn't see her pulling the trigger, the marchioness could certainly have asked her coachman or groom to lie in wait. Mr. and Mrs. Stokely-Trent could have similar motive and ability to send out servants. Why, even Ruby's father could have engineered the deeds, intending to injure rather than kill Whit to encourage Ruby's protective nature!

Her thoughts must have been written on her face, for Whit stopped her at the door from his fishing closet to the corridor, allowing Lady Amelia to hurry into the house.

“It's still bothering you,” he murmured, hand on her elbow.

“Of course it's still bothering me,” Ruby declared, glaring at him. “You could have been injured, killed. If you will not take things seriously, then I must.”

“Ruby.”

The tender tone in his voice held her captive. He reached up, touched her cheek, look softening.

“While I appreciate your zeal on my behalf,” he murmured, “I would not see you harmed. If there is danger, you must let me handle it.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and he pressed a finger to her lips, the touch warm, intimate. “Trust me,” he said.

He was telling her, politely of course, to mind her own affairs. Normally, she would have agreed. He was clever and strong enough to catch the villain if needed. But if he refused to believe in the possibility of danger, how could he protect himself?

She stepped back, away from his distracting touch, and dipped a curtsey. “Of course you are capable, my lord. Forgive me if I seemed to imply otherwise. Now, pray excuse me while I go put away my pistol.”

He inclined his head, and she managed to quit the room. She should let the matter be, reload her pistol and find another way to spend the rest of the day without worrying about Whit. She trudged up the stairs, steps as heavy as the reticule swinging beside her. Inaction was so very dissatisfying. However did women like Lady Amelia abide it? Was this what Whit would expect of her as a wife, to sit idly by while he solved the world's problems? She'd go mad.