The Nude (full-length historical romance) (10 page)

George paled. “Gad no. If I had, I would have come straight to you. You’re the highest ranking landowner in the village, after all.”

Nigel eyed his friend carefully. There was something in the way George’s mouth twitched and in the tone of his quick answer that didn’t sit right.

“Of course you would,” he said slowly. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“There
is
no reason I wouldn’t, so put that out of your mind,” George said a little too vehemently. “So you’re sitting on pins, anxious to get back to your problems at Purbeck? Certainly you’re not actually considering conducting an investigation while a house party is underway in your own home?
”

“That is precisely what I’m planning.”

“And you suspect an attempt against your life is connected to some errant smuggling operation?” George paled further.

“What else am I to think?”

“Then you must not return. Not with the confusion of a house party. There will be too many new faces on the estate for you to properly protect yourself. Not only the guests, but you’ll have to bring in extra servants to care for all those demanding sops residing under your roof.”

“I know, I know all that. But I can’t let this trouble with Lady Mercer simmer. I have a responsibility to take care of Dionysus’s messes. You know that.”

“No, I don’t know
anything
. And what good will you serve Dionysus if you are bloody well dead?”

“Don’t get flustered, George. I have a plan all worked out. But I do need help. If your business can spare you for the week, I would be delighted if you attended my party as an honored guest.”

“You can always rely on me.” George laughed then, though it lacked its usual warmth. “Another adventure, eh Edgeware? What a change this will be. I’m usually the one who’s dragging you down into stews. It’ll be a treat to be pulled up into the bright world of high society.”

“Don’t put yourself down. Your family is perfectly accepted in the
ton
.”

This time when George laughed, the rumbling sound was genuine. He stood and drained the last of his brandy. “I work for my fortune; you inherited yours. There’s a world of difference in that statement, Edgeware. A damned world of difference.”

A gentle breeze rustled through the crisp, brown fronds hanging limply from the ailing palms encircling Purbeck Manor in the southeastern end of Dorset. Despite the ill-chosen tree species, the manor house itself was impressive in both size and architectural style. Adorned with the local Purbeck white marble, a stone commonly found on many of the estates and homes in the region, there was nothing common about Purbeck Manor. The pale marble blocks that had been quarried from the estate grounds had been finely polished and intricately carved in the 17
^th
century to form fanciful details such as sweeping arched lintels and spiraling columns. The work had been directed by an ancestor Nigel had always thought of as a bit mad.

Who else but a madman would have built such a sprawling manor? Fashioned to mimic a palatial Italian villa, the colossal structure held no less than ten guest apartments, a master suite, a grand ballroom, and an adjoining dining room with a table large enough to seat fifty people. Why anyone would willingly want to feed and entertain so many had been beyond Nigel’s understanding until now.

Fashionably dressed for the upcoming country affair in a long coat and tailored breeches, he stood outside the front entrance and leaned against one of the fifteen marble columns flanking the front exterior while a line of carriages rolled up the lane and past the estate’s neatly-scythed front lawn.

The first of the guests were arriving as scheduled. The plan promised to be a challenge. But Nigel felt ready. He had to be, for Elsbeth’s sake. His thoughts strayed to that steely flower. Her strength had startled him. She refused to be cowed. And her determination to expose Dionysus appeared unbendable. Yes, he’d do well to restore her reputation before she could unravel the mystery behind Dionysus.

If only he didn’t have other distractions—like an attempted murder—to deal with. He was going to need all his concentration to seduce Elsbeth in order to keep her mind off Dionysus. He was contemplating the delightful task of enticing the intriguing lady into his bed when the hair on the back of his neck rose.

He caught a glimpse of movement in the dark grove just north of the manor.

Damnation, what now
? His nerves were frayed to begin with. The entire household was excited and noisy and in his way. He could hear Lady Waver, George’s mother, rushing about, giving last-minute instructions to the servants. Certainly his imagination was joining in the excitement, creating villains where none existed and seeing shadows of men in the home wood. His nerves must surely be undone.

But again, out the corner of his eye, he fancied he saw a clear outline of a man. His senses alert, Nigel gazed out into the dark grove.

An unmistakable pair of eyes flashed from within the shadows of the wood. Someone was definitely out there watching him.

“Lady Waver!” he called out. He paced the portico, eager to track the intruder. A round woman with bright eyes and flushed cheeks joined him on the front steps.

“Ah, carriages are approaching,” she said cheerfully. “The house will soon be filled with activity.”

If he went through the house and out the back way, he might be able to sneak up on whoever was hiding in the woods. Perhaps those eyes belonged to the cove who’d put that burr in Zeus’s saddle.

“My lord?” Lady Waver said, her cheerful smile fading. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” He started toward the front door. “Please greet the incoming guests and give them my apologies.”

Lady Waver caught his arm. “My lord!” she cried. “You don’t plan to greet them yourself? Surely your guests are expecting—”

He slipped free from her grasp and gave a brisk bow. “I trust you will manage well enough without me, madam.”

The guests would have to make do without him. He had a shadow to catch.

* * * * *

Nigel returned from his search of the woods to find that the carriages had already emptied of their passengers. Other than the ripped piece of wool he’d found hanging on a tree branch, there were no other signs to suggest there had been an intruder on the property, no other evidence to prove he hadn’t imagined his being watched.

Just to be safe, he sent Guthrie, a rather burly footman, to thoroughly search the woods and report anything suspicious.

Perhaps he should also find George and—

“I will not have it!” a round tone sang out just as he entered the front hall.

Damn and blast. The guests
.

Nigel forced a grin and forged forward, prepared to play the friendly host.

Lady Waver stood in the middle of the entrance hall, her face red as a cherry. “But—but Lady Dashborough, you cannot mean to
leave
.” She waved her stout hands in the air while blocking the path of three ladies who were trying to push their way out the front door.

Nigel drew a deep breath. He’d expected trouble, and though the prospect of confronting the formidable Lady Dashborough frayed his nerves, he was not unprepared.

“Ladies,” he said, as he strode quickly across the hall to greet the unhappy women.

Lady Dashborough was the first to turn around. “Lord Edgeware, how dare you?” She punctuated each word and then thrust her chin in the air. “We are leaving.”

“Leaving?” he echoed. He leaned against an interior column and let a crooked grin form. “Why ever for, my lady? You’ve only just arrived.” He knew the picture he created, the untamed bachelor with a gleaming smile.

Lady Dashborough, still a beautiful woman in her own right and one of the most influential gossips in the
ton
, stepped toward him. Her hunched shoulders relaxed a good three inches.

“There has to be a mistake,” she said, her voice softening to almost a whisper. “Your hostess has shown that Mercer creature to one of your guest rooms. We cannot be expected to consort with a woman of . . . of . . .
that sort
. I cannot imagine how the Baneshires manage to allow
that thing
to live in their home, much less allow it to act as chaperone for their daughters. I, for one, would have swiftly kicked it out and let it fend for itself in the stews where it assuredly belongs.”

Nigel gave a quick nod to Lady Dashborough’s two daughters before taking the grand lady’s hand in his. “I am sure you would have done just that. I can understand why you’d feel offended by her presence.” He led her to the far end of the hall and lowered his voice. “But then if Lady Mercer knew of the secret liaisons you and a certain married duke, a married duke who has openly sworn his devotion to his lovely wife, have been carrying on for nigh three years now, she might feel just as offended to be included on the same guest list as you.”

Lady Dashborough sucked in a great deal of air. “I have never broadcast that relationship. There is no scandal.”

“No?” he said smoothly. “No, I suppose not. At least, there won’t be one as long as a certain influential wife of a certain duke remains ignorant.”

“Are you threatening me, Edgeware?”

Nigel loathed both threats and confrontations. But since the success of the week depended on the guests actually staying for the house party, he was forced to play the clever bastard.

“Yes, my lady, I believe I am.”

George had been right. His friend had spent the previous week gathering all sorts of nasty bits of information against the invited guests from a variety of underworld sources. Nigel had protested but was now glad George hadn’t listened.

“Shall I have Lady Waver show you and your daughters to the guest chambers I’ve selected specifically for you?”

Lady Dashborough smiled through tight lips and her voice sounded strained. “Yes, my lord, that would please me.”

He gave a deep bow. “Until this evening then, my lady.”

The first crisis of many, no doubt, had been quite smoothly handled. Satisfied, he turned his mind to Elsbeth. Lady Dashborough was not the type of woman to keep her dislikes silent. If she and the Baneshire family had arrived at the estate at the same time, he could only suppose that Elsbeth was upstairs licking her wounds and planning her escape.

He stopped a footman who was descending the grand stairs. “Is Lady Mercer settled in the chamber I’ve selected for her?” he asked, thinking to invite her and her cousins into the red parlor to take an early tea. Women often required extra attention and reassurances when faced with a difficult situation. He doubted Elsbeth was any different.

“No, my lord,” the footman said.

“She is not?” Had she run off so quickly?

“Lady Mercer had asked for directions to the gardens. I showed her the way myself, my lord. And then a few minutes later, I showed Lady Olivia the same path.”

“Very good,” he said, and raced back down the stairs and out the back door into the estate’s private gardens.

The soft scent of daffodils greeted him. Beyond the yew hedges, he heard the whisper of voices and the rustle of skirts. Steeling himself for the worst—namely, a river of tears—he straightened his coat and began a brave march forward.

“Ho there!” George’s voice carried across a grassy field.

Nigel waited for George to trot across the field. “What detective work have you been pursuing today?” he asked.

“Me?” George shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just a brisk trot around the grounds.”

“Looking for evidence, perhaps?” Nigel pulled out the scrap of material he’d found in the woods and handed it to George. “Something like this?”

George studied the woolen fabric.

“I believe someone was stalking in the woods, watching me. He eluded me when I went in pursuit but not without tearing his cloak.”

“Strange,” George said, giving the cloth even more attention. “I spoke to Charlie on the wooded path between our houses a few minutes ago. He arrived this morning with three young friends. They are looking to invade your house party.”