Marrying the Marquis (18 page)

When the marquis proposed marriage, she would give him one chance to escape. If he did not take it, then so be it. She didn’t relish the thought of living with a husband who did not love her, but she would make the sacrifice for her babe. What else could she do?

Puddles lifted his head.
Man come
.

Ross MacArthur stood in the doorway and flashed her a smile. His heart wrenched at the sadness in her smile. She seemed so alone and small, much too delicate to carry his child.

“How are ye feelin’ today?” Ross sat beside her on the settee.

“I’m completely recovered.”

“Ye gave me a scare,” he said. “I should’ve known the villain would target ye before the race.”

“What’s done is past,” she assured him. “I’m relieved Pegasus wasn’t harmed. Did you hear the crowd chanting her name?”

“I dinna want to discuss Pegasus or racin’,” Ross told her. “What’s done isna past. We’ll soon become parents and must discuss the future.”

Blaze looked at him through enormous blue eyes, and Ross felt himself falling under her spell. He forgot himself when she looked at him, the urge to kiss her banishing rational thought.

Puddles whined, breaking the moment. The mastiff lifted his paw.

“I nearly forgot ye.” Ross reached into his pocket. He unfolded a napkin and gave the dog a cinnamon cookie.

Ross slipped his arm around Blaze’s shoulders and drew her against his body. “We’ll marry as soon as possible.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

Oops, he’d forgotten the crankiness of pregnant women. “I meant, will ye do me the honor of becomin’ my wife?”

“You don’t need to marry me because I’m pregnant,” Blaze said, offering him the escape route. “My father never married my mother.”

“Yer father was a fool,” Ross said, “but dinna repeat that. I
want
to marry ye if ye’ll have me.”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

“Ye willna regret this.” Ross lowered his head and kissed her. “I’ll never let ye down.”

“I believe you and will never let you down,” Blaze promised him. “I need a tiny favor.”

“I’ll give ye anythin’ within my power.”

“The mornings sicken me. I want to schedule Peg’s track practice later in the day.”

“That’s an enormous favor,” Ross teased her, “but I can manage it.”

He’d won her hand in marriage. Now he needed to win her love.
By fair means or foul
.

Alexander Blake sat inside his grandfather’s coach, his destination Inverary House. Constable Black was indefinitely detained in London, and Alexander dreaded giving the Duke of Inverary the bad news.

Without any hard evidence, this horse-racing business was becoming complicated. The villain had left no clues, and no witnesses had stepped forward.

After yesterday’s fiasco at the track, Alexander scratched MacArthur’s name off his list of possible suspects. MacArthur would not help Blaze and then drug her.

Alexander grinned, thinking of Blaze Flambeau disguised as a jockey and riding her filly into horse-racing history, His future sister-in-law was an Original, and he hoped her luck held for the rest of the season.

The coach halted in the Inverary House courtyard. Alexander climbed out and walked toward the house.

The majordomo opened the door. “Welcome, Lord Blake.”

“Thank you, Tinker.” Alexander walked into the foyer. “His Grace is expecting me.”

“His Grace will need to wait,” Tinker said. “Miss Raven wants to speak with you before the meeting. She’s waiting in the garden.”

Alexander gave him a puzzled smile. “This sounds serious.”

“A life-or-death emergency, I’m sure.”

Alexander made his way through the mansion to the garden door. Stepping outside, he paused to inhale the mingling scents of lilacs and wisteria.

Nearest the mansion were flowerbeds and shrubs. An Elizabethan maze created from clipped hedges stood beyond, and Alexander made a mental note to get lost with Raven in the maze.

Manicured lawns carpeted the grounds. In the distance, the gazebo perched at the edge of the woodland. Even from this distance, he saw Raven pacing back and forth.

Alexander had a bad feeling. Why did Raven need to speak with him so far from the house? Was she angry? Or did she expect his anger?

“Hello, Brat.” Alexander climbed the gazebo’s steps. “If we were any farther from the house, we’d be speaking in London.”

He smiled, admiring her fresh beauty, especially her courtesan lips. She would become his wife in a few short weeks, and then he could taste those lips whenever he wanted.

Raven fidgeted with her betrothal ring. “We must postpone our wedding.”

“Last summer you refused a Christmas wedding because you wanted June,” Alexander reminded her, annoyance tingeing his voice. “Now you want to postpone our June wedding?”

“I do not want to postpone our wedding,” she said, “but my sister’s need is greater.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Blaze is pregnant,” Raven told him, “so I offered her our arrangements. My stepmother cannot plan two weddings at the same time.”

Alexander stared at her for a long moment. He understood her reasoning, but she hadn’t consulted him to make postponing their wedding a joint decision. If their roles were reversed, she would be livid.

“You offered without consulting me?” It was a statement, not a question.

Raven ignored his irritation. “We can plan a festive Christmas wedding.”

“No.”

She looked surprised. “October?”

“No.”

“August?”

“I refuse to make plans that will be canceled,” Alexander said.

Raven stepped back a pace as if she’d been struck. Her complexion paled, and her bottom lip trembled.

“You’re breaking our engagement?”

“We need a longer engagement,” Alexander said, his gaze softening on her. “You need time to settle this marriage matter in your mind.”

“What about His Grace?”

“My grandfather will survive.” Alexander turned to leave. “I am meeting your father and cannot linger to discuss this.”

And then Alexander walked away, one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He refused to look over his shoulder lest he catch her weeping. Or hexing him with incantations.

Raven didn’t mind postponing their wedding but worried that he’d changed his mind about marrying her. Let her worry for once. Suffering was good for the soul.

Reaching the duke’s office, Alexander shook his hand and sat in a leather chair in front of the oak desk. “I apologize, Your Grace, but Constable Black is needed in London. He will come to Newmarket as soon as possible.”

“You have been working with the constable for several years,” the duke said. “I have confidence in your ability.”

“I appreciate that.”

The door opened, drawing their attention. Blaze peeked into the office.

“Come inside,” the duke said, beckoning her. “Alex wants to ask you about yesterday.”

“Tell me what happened,” Alex said, when she sat in the chair beside his.

“Rooney takes a whisky shot to calm his nerves before a race,” Blaze told him. “At The Craven, a boy delivered the whisky to the paddock. Yesterday, I was crossing the heath when a boy approached me and handed me the glass of whisky.”

“Can you describe the boy?”

“He was small,” she answered, “and his hair was brown.”

“Hundreds of boys in Newmarket fit that description,” the duke remarked.

“I would recognize him if I saw him again.”

“Too bad there isn’t an object for Raven to read,” Alexander said.

“There might be an object,” Blaze said, smiling. “I lifted the whisky glass out of the boy’s hand without stopping and gulped it on the way to the paddock. I passed the empty glass to Bender, who pocketed it.”

“Tinker,” the Duke of Inverary called.

“Yes, Your Grace?” The majordomo opened the door and stepped inside. “I was just passing by when—”

“Send a footman to Bender,” the duke interrupted. “I want the empty whisky glass Blaze handed him, if he still has it.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“With all the excitement yesterday,” the duke said, “Bender may have forgotten the glass in his pocket.”

“I hope so.” Alexander looked at Blaze. “Congratulations on your filly’s win and best wishes on your impending marriage.”

“I apologize for using your arrangements.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Alexander said. “Raven needs more time. We’ve decided to wait a while before planning another wedding.”

“My wife will never approve,” the Duke of Inverary said. “Roxie will believe you’re breaking the engagement.”

“With all due respect, Her Grace should complain to Raven.”

A short time later, Tinker rushed into the room. He carried an empty whisky glass.

“Send Raven here.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Meanwhile, Raven sat alone in the drawing room and thought about Alexander. Of course, she wanted to marry him. She had loved him forever and could not imagine life without him.

Her sister’s need for the wedding arrangements had disappointed her, too. Did Alex recognize her sisterly sacrifice? No, he mistrusted her motives.

Did Alex’s attitude have anything to do with the blonde? Amanda Stanley knew nothing, and neither did her brother. Their spying would end now, or Alex would regret it.

“Miss Raven,” Tinker called, walking into the drawing room. “His Grace requires your presence in his office.”

“Thank you, Tinker.” Raven walked down the corridor and knocked on the door. She entered without waiting for permission. Her father sat behind his desk. Blaze and Alex sat in leather chairs.

“This held the drugged whisky,” Alexander said, standing when she entered the room. “I need a reading.”

Raven arched a brow at him. “You believe in my hocus-pocus?”

“Constable Black and I believe in anything that solves a crime,” Alexander said. “Your hocus-pocus cannot be used in court but can provide clues.”

Raven lifted the glass out of his hand without touching his fingers, which made him smile. She crossed the room to sit alone in front of the dark hearth. She held the glass in her left hand and placed her right hand over it. Closing her eyes, she relaxed her body.

And then it happened.

Fog rolled across her mind’s eyes and then dissipated slowly. The familiar vision of the heavenly night sky appeared. There were the crescent moon, the MacArthur plaid, and the dirk.

That vision faded away, replaced by another. A candle, its wick standing tall in its center, transformed into a blond gentleman passing a boy the whisky glass. She tried to see the man’s face, but it was a candlewick. And then the fog rolled in again, obstructing her view.

Raven stood and returned to the others, setting the whisky glass on her father’s desk. Then she sat beside her sister.

“I saw the heavenly night sky again,” Raven told them. “The MacArthur plaid and the dirk were still there. That vision faded into a candle, its wick tall in the center. Then the candle changed into a man handing the glass to the boy.”

“A candle became a man?” Alexander sounded skeptical, which did not sit well with her.

Raven stared at him. “That is what I said.”

“Can you describe the man?”

“He was tall and blond.”

“I told you the bone sucker did it,” Blaze said. “Nobody listens to me.”

The Duke of Inverary chuckled at his daughter. Even Alexander and Raven exchanged smiles.

“Did you notice his face?”

“He had no face.”

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. “Did you see anything where his face should have been?”

“His face was a candlewick.”

“This will give me nightmares,” Alexander muttered. “I wish you heard voices instead of seeing these symbolic visions.”

“Only crazy people hear voices,” Raven said.

“You forgot Joan of Arc,” Blaze reminded her sister. “She wasn’t crazy.”

Raven looked at her. “That point is debatable.”

“What do you think a faceless man means?” Alexander asked Raven.

His question surprised her. “You want my opinion?”

Alexander nodded.

Raven placed a finger across her lips. “He’s invisible.”

“An invisible man?” Alexander echoed, sarcasm tingeing his voice.

“Someone who feels overlooked is invisible.”

Alexander grinned. “That is a logical point.”

A knock on the door drew their attention. Tinker stepped into the office, saying, “Excuse me, Your Grace. Baron Shores requests an interview. He has something you want.”

The Duke of Inverary looked at Alexander, who shrugged and nodded. The duke gestured the majordomo who, in turn, beckoned someone in the hallway.

“I brought you a gift,” Crazy Eddie said, stepping into the room. With the baron was a scrawny, dark-haired boy.

“That’s the boy,” Blaze and Raven exclaimed in unison.

“How did you find him?” Alexander asked.

“I ain’t guilty of nothing,” Eddie said. “I happened to see Jack here pass whisky to a jockey. Later, I heard the gossip and went looking for him.”

The Duke of Inverary beckoned the boy forward and pointed to the empty chair. “Sit here, son.”

“Mind your manners,” Eddie warned the boy. “These men are a duke and a marquis. If you aren’t honest, they’ll know and send you to the gallows.”

“Your name is Jack?” the duke asked.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The duke pointed at Blaze. “You delivered whisky to that woman.”

“She didn’t look like a girl.”

“The lady disguised herself as a jockey,” Alexander said.

“I bet on Pegasus and made a few pounds,” Jack told her.

“Congratulations.” Blaze rounded on her father. “Does the Jockey Club approve of children gambling?”

The Duke of Inverary ignored her. “Describe the man who gave you the whisky.”

Jack shrugged. “Dunno.”

“What color was his hair?” Alexander asked.

“Dark brown.”

“Could you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I suppose so.”

“How old are you?” the duke asked.

“Fourteen.”

“You’re small for fourteen,” the duke said. “Do you like horses?”

Jack bobbed his head.

“How would you like to train for a jockey?”