Marrying the Marquis (25 page)

“Leave it there,” Blaze said. Too late.

Kyra had already climbed off the chair and was searching beneath the table. She stood, chicken in hand, and said, “Jeez, we need Puddles.” Outside the open door, the mastiff heard his name and began whining for the chicken.

Blaze heard not-so-smothered chuckles at the sideboard. She didn’t think that would sit well with the old witch.

“Put the piece of meat on the table,” Blaze said. Too late, again.

Kyra popped it into her mouth and held her empty hand up. “I ate it.”

The duchess’s silverware clattered to her plate. “The maid’s daughter disgusts me. I refuse—”

Blaze pounded both fists on the table, silencing the duchess. Then she stood to look down on the woman. “You will respect Kyra and me, or you will regret it.”

Surprised, the duchess stared at her and then rage contorted her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but the unmistakable sound of growling coming from the doorway encouraged her to remain silent.

“I will speak to my husband about this.”

“Please do,” Blaze said, her expression placid again. “I’m certain His Grace would appreciate knowing how insulting you’ve been to his granddaughter.”

Turning her back on the woman, Blaze lifted her stepdaughter off the chair and led her out of the dining room. “Come, Puddles.”

Unused to rebellion, Celeste would never heed her warnings. Ross had been correct to remove his daughter from that woman’s presence. They would need to move into Inverary House until the witch left Newmarket.

“Morag, pack a bag for Kyra and yourself,” Blaze ordered the nanny. “Jean, pack a bag for me and yourself.”

“Kyra, I want you to sit here for a few minutes while Morag packs our bags,” Blaze said. “I need a word with Dodger, and then we’re visiting my papa and stepmother and sisters. Won’t that be fun?”

The girl nodded and sat on the stool in her chamber.

Blaze hurried down the stairs to the foyer. “Dodger, I want a coach brought around.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Which chamber is the hag’s?”

Dodger gave her a puzzled look. “Her Grace’s chamber is the first door on the left.”

“Keep her from coming upstairs.”

“I will do my best, my lady.”

Lifting her skirts, Blaze dashed up the stairs and entered the first door on the left. She needed something belonging to Celeste.

A pair of kid gloves lay on the bureau. Beside the gloves were an ivory comb and hairbrush. Which would be best?

Blaze snatched one of the gloves and the comb. Opening the door a crack, she peered outside and then sprinted down the hallway to her chamber. She stuffed the glove and the comb into a reticule and took a deep breath. Grabbing Sugar, Blaze walked down the hallway to her daughter’s chamber.

Holding the kitten in one hand, Blaze held out her free hand to Kyra. “Come, Puddles.”

With the mastiff leading the way, Blaze and Kyra descended to the foyer. Morag and Jean walked behind them, each carrying two bags.

Dodger looked at the traveling bags and frowned. “Are you leaving, my lady?”

“We’ll be gone for a few days.”

“What shall I tell His Lordship?”

“Tell my husband we’ve gone to Inverary House,” Blaze answered, “and I’m keeping his daughter.”

His wife had a sweet surprise coming her way.

Ross walked the length of High Street, his thoughts on his wife and a smile on his lips. He’d pulled a sneaky trick by leaving her and his daughter alone with Celeste.

His father had ridden to Inverary House before lunch. Mairi and Amanda were lunching with friends, not that those two would suit as a buffer against his stepmother’s tongue. That left Blaze to fend for herself and his daughter.

He should have returned home in order to keep the peace, but his wife could defend herself and his daughter without his help. Buying nougats for Blaze and lollipops for Kyra would sweeten their moods.

Reaching the Birdcage Tavern, Ross ducked inside and paused to adjust his sight from brilliant sunshine to dimly-lit tavern. He scanned the room and spied his man sitting alone at a corner table.

Ross raised his hand in greeting and wended his way through the tables. He dropped into a chair and set his package on the table.

“Have you brought me a gift?” Alexander Blake asked.

“I’m hopin’ nougats will keep my wife from lockin’ me out of our bedchamber,” Ross said.

“You are not in accord either?”

“What do ye mean by either?”

“Raven is furious but refuses to tell me the reason.” Alexander poured whisky into two glasses and pushed one across the table.

“No wonder yer drinkin’ at this hour,” Ross said, and lifted the glass of whisky to his lips. “The ladies think we men are mind readers. Men dinna settle their differences by givin’ each other the silent treatment. Though I do admit, Blaze doesna usually hold her tongue when she’s irritated.”

“Blaze is an Original.”

Ross smiled. “I think so.”

“Constable Black will be arriving late today,” Alexander said. “Will you be attending the meeting at Inverary’s tomorrow?”

Ross nodded and reached into his pocket for a parchment. He placed it on the table in front of Blake. “My father listed the names of anyone with access to Hercules.”

Alexander perused the list. “Why are the Stanleys listed?”

“Dirk and Chad are my father’s stepsons,” Ross answered. “I suppose they figured there was safety in numbers along the road.”

“Don’t they own thoroughbreds?”

“Emperor raced at Epsom but finished second to Inverary’s Thor.”

“Let’s review the chain of events,” Alexander said. “Someone murdered Inverary’s jockey two weeks before The Craven.”

“The Inverary stables had an intruder the night Pegasus won The Craven,” Ross said, “and someone drugged Blaze before The First Spring.”

“What about Pegasus’s death?”

“Peg’s death was an accident,” Ross answered. “She broke two knees.”

Alexander sipped his whisky. “Could anyone have done something to cause the filly’s knees to break?”

“Bobby Bender is the best in the business,” Ross said, shaking his head. “He examined Peg before we put her down and would have recognized foul play.”

“Your father was transporting Hercules from Newmarket to Epsom Downs when the horse died.”

“Someone fed Hercules carrots dipped in poison.”

“Who placed at Epsom?” Alexander asked.

“Inverary’s Thor won,” Ross answered. “Stanley’s Emperor was second and Wakefield’s Ajax was third.”

“Yours is the third list I’ve received,” Alexander told him. “Raven believes the villain attended the Jockey Club Ball and your wedding. She gave me a list of guests and suggested I compare them.”

“How does she know?” Ross asked him.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Raven knows because she knows.”

“What d’ye mean?”

“The betrothal ring I gave Raven is a rare star ruby,” Alexander answered. “Legend says the star ruby will darken blood red if its owner is endangered. Apparently, the ruby darkened at the Jockey Club Ball and your wedding.”

“Jeez, the sister’s as daft as my wife,” Ross said. “No offense meant. Do ye believe in such thin’s?”

Alexander Blake shrugged. “I’ve learned not to discount anything.”

“Where’d ye learn that?”

“Constable Black believes in anything that helps solve a crime,” Alexander told him. “He does not scoff at Raven’s hocus-pocus.”

“I apologize for stealin’ yer weddin’ arrangements,” Ross said. “Ye’d be married today if Blaze and I hadna taken them.”

“Your need was greater,” Alexander said, “but Raven annoyed me when she offered it before she’d consulted me. I refused her offer to set another date, and now she’s making me pay.”

“Whoever labeled women the weaker sex had his head stuck up his arse,” Ross said.

Alexander laughed. “Truer words have never been spoken.” He pocketed the list, saying, “The constable and I will compare the three lists tonight and bring them to Inverary’s tomorrow.”

Ross stood and shook his hand. “I’ll see ye tomorrow then.”

Thirty minutes later, Ross climbed out of his coach in front of MacArthur House. He hoped his wife had not suffered too badly either from his stepmother or boredom. Blaze wasn’t the needlework type. She preferred activity, though her condition demanded she take life easier.

Nougats and lollipops should smooth the way for him. How fortunate his wife wasn’t a fur-and-jewel woman like her stepmother.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Dodger greeted him.

“Thank ye, Dodger.” With package in hand, Ross crossed the foyer to the stairs.

“Lady MacArthur isn’t home,” Dodger said, “if you were hoping to find her upstairs.”

Apparently, he’d been worrying without reason. His wife had been taking care of herself.

Ross retraced his steps across the foyer. “Did Lady MacArthur mention her destination?”

“Lady MacArthur said she was going to Inverary House,” Dodger answered, “and she was keeping your daughter.”

Ross snapped his brows together. The message sounded like his wife had left him. She’d been in high spirits this morning.

“Did somethin’ happen today?”

Dodger nodded. “At lunch, Lady MacArthur and Her Grace exchanged unpleasant words.”

“Did ye happen to hear the unpleasant words?”

“Her Grace called Miss Kyra the maid’s daughter,” Dodger told him, “and Lady MacArthur threatened Her Grace. Afterwards, Lady MacArthur packed their bags and went to Inverary House.”

“Thank ye, Dodger.”

Ross didn’t trust himself to speak to Celeste. He walked out the door and stood in the courtyard until he could dampen his anger.

His father should never have married the social-climbing witch. He knew his father had been lonely after his mother’s accident but—

Ross knew he shouldered most of the blame. He should have insisted Celeste show respect for his daughter and his late wife.

Removing Kyra from the witch’s presence had been easier than confrontation and turmoil in the family. He would take care of Celeste now, and then he would collect his wife and daughter.

Ross walked into the foyer and looked at Dodger. “Is Her Grace home?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Is His Grace home?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Setting his package on the foyer table, Ross climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down the hallway to the drawing room. He paused a moment before entering, hoping his father would not defend the witch. The last thing he wanted was an argument with his father.

Ross walked into the drawing room and advanced on his stepmother who sat near a window overlooking the garden. His father was working at the writing desk across the room.

“How dare you show such disrespect to Blaze and Kyra,” Ross said without preamble.

“Your wife was disrespectful to
me
,” Celeste defended herself. “She threatened me with that monster dog.”

“Blaze would never threaten anyone without provocation,” Ross said, and noted his father approaching them. “You called Kyra the maid’s daughter.”

“She
is
the maid’s daughter.”

“And you are the vicar’s daughter,” Ross countered. “My wife and my daughter carry the blood of aristocrats while you, madam, carry none.”

“What has happened, son?”

“Celeste browbeat Janet into a grave,” Ross answered, looking at his father. “Since then, she has treated Kyra unkindly. I protected my daughter by removing her from your wife’s presence when I should have removed your wife from my daughter’s presence.”

“Why did ye never tell me before?” his father asked him.

“James, you cannot believe that I—”

“Be quiet, Celeste.”

“But—”

“Shut yer lips or I’ll shut them for ye.”

“I never mentioned this because I didna want to create turmoil in the family,” Ross told him. “At lunch today, yer wife referred to Kyra as the maid’s daughter. Blaze packed their bags and moved to Inverary House to protect my daughter.
Yer granddaughter
.”

“That solves the problem,” Celeste said, looking at her husband. “They can stay there until we leave Newmarket.”

“Blaze and Kyra have more right to live here than ye,” the duke told her.

“I’m your wife—”

“Kyra carries my blood,” he interrupted, “and Blaze carries the heir.”

“Everything was peaceful until you married the Flambeau bastard,” Celeste told Ross.

“Dinna tempt me to send ye to the Rowley Lodge and sue for divorce,” the duke warned her.

“Divorces are impossible to obtain,” Celeste said, “and you don’t have grounds for it.”

“Yer stupid if ye believe that,” the Duke of Kilchurn told her. “A wealthy man can purchase grounds for divorce, and Magnus Campbell will use his influence to make certain the judges grant a divorce.”

“Ross should have married Amanda,” Celeste said. “All would be well if he had.”

“I married the woman I love,” Ross said, turning to leave. “I’m bringin’ my family home, and ye’ll treat them with respect.”

“Celeste, yer cruelty to a five-year-old sickens me,” the duke said. “I regret marryin’ ye.”

Father and son walked out of the drawing room, leaving her sitting alone. When they reached the staircase, Ross asked, “Why
did
ye marry her?”

“I was lonely for yer mother and Celeste was handy,” his father answered. “I’ll send her to London and give her a pension.”

“Dinna do anythin’ rash,” Ross advised him. “Use the racin’ season to mull the situation in yer mind.”

Ross walked downstairs to the foyer. “Send someone for my coach,” he ordered the majordomo. Retrieving his candy package from the table, he headed outside to wait.

Less than a half hour later, Ross leaped out of his coach in front of Inverary House. He would insist Blaze and Kyra return home with him.

After what happened with his father, Ross doubted Celeste would persist insulting his wife and daughter. His stepmother was no fool about money or social status. She didn’t know his father very well if she considered his threats idle.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Tinker greeted him, opening the front door. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Where is my wife?” Ross asked, heading for the stairs.

Tinker rushed across the foyer and blocked his path up the stairs. “I apologize, my lord, but Her Ladyship gave me orders.”

“I want my wife.” His voice brooked no disobedience.

Tinker nodded. “I will tell Her Ladyship you have arrived.”

“Thank ye, Tinker.” Folding his arms across his chest, Ross leaned against the foyer table.

“Dodger delivered my message?”

Ross looked at his wife. She’d descended those stairs quieter than Sugar the kitten.

“Ye left me,” Ross accused her, “and ye stole my daughter.”

“I rescued your daughter from that evil witch.”

“Dodger told me aboot the trouble at lunch.” Ross ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve left Kyra in the Highlands.”

Blaze touched his arm. “Your daughter belongs with you.”

“Then what’s she doin’ here?”

“Kyra and I are visiting Aunt Bedelia for a few days,” Blaze told him, “and Kyra is enjoying herself with my sisters. Sophia is drawing her portrait while Serena entertains her with flute playing. My sister Belle will be visiting us later. Her stepdaughter is Kyra’s age. Making friends will be good for our daughter.”

“Ye really are a sneaky witch,” Ross said, placing the palm of his hand on her cheek. “I can see that makin’ friends will be good for our daughter, and I doubt Kyra has ever had this much attention.”

“Why don’t you stay here, too?”

“I canna insult my father by movin’ to Inverary House.”

“You moved to Rowley Lodge whenever they were in residence,” Blaze argued. “What is different now?”

“I dinna want my father alone,” Ross told her. “He knows now what’s been happenin’ and was talkin’ aboot divorcin’ Celeste. Ye know, darlin’, I miss ye when ye arena around.”

“You miss me?”

“That surprises ye?” Ross asked. “A man misses the woman he loves.”

His wife looked flabbergasted. “You love me?”

“I married ye.”

“You married me because you loved me?”

“Well, I didna marry ye to make ye miserable,” Ross answered.

“I thought you married me because I was pregnant,” she told him.

“Darlin’, I loved ye before we fell into bed.” Ross passed her the candy package and winked at her. “A man only buys nougats and lollipops for a woman he loves.”

His wife’s smile was pure sunshine. “I love you, too.”

“I knew ye loved me.”

“How did you—”

“I’m wealthy, titled, and handsome.” Ross pulled her into his arms. “The woman who could resist me hasna been born.”

“You’re also arrogant, stubborn, and conceited.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Ross dipped his head and claimed her lips in a passionate kiss. That melted into another. And another.

“Now we’ve settled this love business,” Ross said, drawing back. “Fetch Kyra and we’ll go home.”

“Aunt Bedelia insists I stay until Sunday,” Blaze said. “That’s only three days from today. She wants you to bring your father and stepmother to dinner Saturday evening.”

“I dinna understand.”

“Neither do I,” Blaze agreed, “but Bedelia said you should humor an old lady.”

“I suppose I can do without ye for three days,” Ross said. “I’m meetin’ with yer father tomorrow so I’ll see ye then.”

“Thank you for the nougats.” Blaze ran a finger down his cheek. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”