The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (82 page)

“Then, I suppose we need to dig deeper,” George said as he rose from the chair. “I won’t waste any more of your time.” He paused at the door. “Just indulge me once more and answer this question— When this week is over, will you be able to set aside your affection for Lady Mercer and return to your hermit-like lifestyle?”

Nigel tried to imagine his life returning to normalcy. Would he be tempted to attend the horrendous balls if he thought he’d have a chance to dance with Elsbeth? Would he be tempted to accept invitations to those dratted teas if there was the hope he’d have a chance to sit next to her and speak with her for a moment or two? Would he be able to return to his lonely life?

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

* * * *

At that very moment on a far field, the ladies had all gathered to partake in a friendly archery competition. With the pressing puzzle of Dionysus and what appeared to be an attack on Lord Edgeware, Elsbeth had claimed a headache and had excused herself from the excitement. Lady Waver had graciously volunteered to chaperone Olivia and Lauretta to the field so the girls wouldn’t miss out on the fun. Even more surprisingly, Lady Cowper had cheerfully joined in, volunteering to watch over the young ladies as well. It seemed that Edgeware’s efforts were beginning to change the
beau monde’s
opinion of her and her cousins.

Which was amazing, simply amazing.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite the villain she initially believed him to be. If he were a rotter like Charlie and her husband, certainly he wouldn’t have come to her defense after Dionysus’s painting went public. Which meant there had to be a good heart hidden somewhere inside the dark lord’s seductively broad chest, making what she was determined to do all the more difficult.

She tightened a gray cashmere shawl around her shoulders and followed one of Edgeware’s footmen into the manor’s dank buttery, a small storeroom off the kitchen where bottles of wine and other liquors were stored on shelves and casks of ale were stacked against the walls.

She was dressed in a gown purchased specifically for the house party. The fashionable pale pink walking dress with a muslin skirt flowed with almost indecent ease. Madame Bossier must have made a mistake with the design. Nearly all of her new gowns revealed far too much skin and seemed too sheer, hinting only too well at the shape hidden beneath the material. She gave her shawl another tug.

“I do beg your pardon,” she called out to the servant she was following, “but may I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

The footman, a giant of a man, stopped and turned toward her. His heavy brows furrowed and his thick lips sank into a deep frown. “Yes, m’lady?” he growled.

“What is your name?” she asked, briskly. This one footman, she’d noticed, tended to skulk through the halls at the most unusual hours and listen in on conversations he had no business hearing.

“Guthrie,” he said, the creases in his brow deepened. “What can I do for you? I’m busy.”

“Well, Guthrie,” she said slowly. “With the number of guests at the house party I can imagine you are sorely overtaxed. If you will allow me to take but a moment, I have a question for you.”

“I don’t see how I could—” he started to say when Elsbeth raised her hand.

“You appear to be a clever chap. I’ve noticed you have the opportunity to see things that go on in this house that perhaps his lordship wouldn’t want you to know about.”

“I don’t know what you—”

She raised her gloved hand again. “I would be willing to pay a pretty coin for some information.”

“How pretty a coin, ma’am?”

“A gold sovereign.” She held out the heavy coin. His muddy brown eyes lit up at the sight of it. “Two, if you can provide proof of what you know.”

He wiped his hand on his trousers several times and looked eager to snatch the coin out of her grasp. “What do you need to know, ma’am?”

“The Marquess is protecting a gentleman. This gentleman may be his cousin or friend. Whoever he is, he hides behind the name Dionysus. Have you ever heard anyone refer to this man?”

“Dial…nay…what-sus, ma’am?”

“Dio-ny-sus,” she pronounced with care. “He is an artist. I believe he might be Mr. Charles Purbeck.”

Guthrie guffawed at that. It was a crackly, rumbling sound. “Mr. Purbeck an artist?” He laughed some more. “I ain’t heard anyone use a fancy Dial…ny…sus name around here. And Mr. Purbeck ain’t ever expressed an interest in art, not like his lordship. I was a young lad and so was his lordship when I first came to work in this house. I’d been told his mother breathed her last a few days after his lordship was born. And his father, too, dropped short when the lordship was just a young tot, no more than three or four. It’s common knowledge in the village that the Edgeware men leave this world at a young age.”

Elsbeth gasped. “The family is prone to sickness?”

“Nay, my lady. Duels, fox hunting, carriage races, and the like are to blame. Shortly after his father’s death, the lordship’s uncle moved into the household with his wife and son in order to care for the estates and to mold his lordship into a sober and rather grim gentleman like himself, or so I’ve been told. I came to work here years later.” The footman sighed. “Hadn’t been here for much longer than a fortnight when I watched his lordship’s uncle fly into a rage and toss all of the Marquess’s artwork into the parlor’s fireplace. He then dragged his lordship by the scruff of his hair out to the barn and horsewhipped the lad something fierce.”

“So the Marquess is something of an artist?” she mused. It would be so easy to believe Edgeware, with his expressive but dark and foreboding eyes, brooding moods, and impossibly romantic notions of being a knight-in-shining-armor, was her devil, Dionysus. But that would be quite impossible. How could a man be his own keeper?

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. No…no, it would be quite impossible. The bounder had to be Charlie.

“There has been an attempt against the Marquess’s life. Do you know anything about this?” she asked, determined to stay focused on the puzzle she needed to unravel.

“Aye, ma’am. His lordship was nearly killed when someone slipped a metal spur under his horse’s saddle a little more than a week ago.”

So the boulder hadn’t been the first attempt on Edgeware’s life? Elsbeth struggled to keep her surprise hidden. “And who do you think was behind this dastardly trick? Was Mr. Purbeck in residence at the time?”

“He was, ma’am,” he said, his eyes growing wide. “Are you suggesting Mr. Purbeck had something to do with—?”

“That is quite enough. Guthrie, return to your duties.” Edgeware, looking as dashing as a carefree London Corinthian in a pair of tight fawn-colored pantaloons, gleaming white waistcoat, and hunter green riding coat appeared in the buttery doorway…glowering.

“Yes, m’lord, of course m’lord.” Guthrie gave one last yearning glance at the sovereign Elsbeth still held in her hand before he hoisted a cask of ale onto his broad shoulder and hurried from the room.

“Pray excuse me,” Elsbeth said, as if she hadn’t just been caught asking one of Edgeware’s servants questions concerning him. “I should attend to my cousins.”

When she tried to sidestep him and slip out the door, he blocked her and drew the door closed behind him. She hadn’t noticed before how dark the room was. There was a heavy coating of dust on the arched window at the far end of the room, and with the door closed, very little light seeped into the chilly interior. Lord Edgeware’s expression was completely hidden in the shadows. She heard, rather than saw, the material of his clothes rustle as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I will not kiss you again,” she said with considerable more bravado than she was feeling. “And it is highly improper for you to be alone with me in here…with the door closed.”

“Indeed?” he said.

The silence that followed had a dangerous air attached to it.

“Move out of the way, sir,” she said, giving him a healthy shove with the hopes of getting to the door before something truly shocking happened. It wasn’t exactly that she didn’t trust him. After this morning she wasn’t sure how things stood between them. And worse, she feared she shouldn’t dare trust herself around him. In a panic, she gave him a second shove when the first failed to move him.

It was for naught. She might as well have been trying to dislodge a stone wall.

“I must ask that this stop, Elsbeth,” he said, just as she put her shoulder into pushing him.

“I would stop if you stepped out of my way.”

“Not this,” he said, capturing her hands before she could shove against him again. “Interrogating my servants.”

“My lord, I would never—”

“Come now, Elsbeth.” He lifted her hands to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “Your unrelenting questions of my staff is creating quite a havoc belowstairs. Many of my people are worried that you wish to do me harm.” His teeth flashed white in the dim light as he smiled at the thought. “Naturally, I’m not the least bit concerned, for I know my secret is safe. But for my servants’ sake, you must stop. I rather pride myself on my ability to keep those in my employ happy.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Her cheeks prickled from a sudden rush of heat.

“Say you will leave my servants in peace.”

They were standing so very close she could almost feel the length of him pressed against the front of her all too thin skirt.

“Trust me to handle this matter for you,
Elsbeth.”

“Trust?” She’d misplaced her trust once before and had ended up trapped in an abusive marriage. “I do appreciate what you’ve done for my cousins. Several of the ladies present have promised to issue invitations to them for upcoming teas and balls after we return to London. For that, you have won my regard.”

“But do you trust that I would never purposefully do anything to harm you?”

Did she dare trust him? He’d been honest with her about so many things, even warning her of his intention the very first time he’d kissed her. But what did she know of men? She’d done a miserable job judging her husband’s character before their marriage.

“I would like to trust you,” was the best she could offer. “However, I cannot and will not trust Dionysus, especially considering how it appears that he is not only trying to ruin me, but that he has tried to kill you even before this morning.”

“Dionysus is not trying to kill me,” he insisted, but she didn’t let that stop her.

She raised her voice to be sure that he listened. “He has ruined my life twice already. If you cannot control him, why should I trust that he won’t harm either you or I again?”

Edgeware didn’t seem to have a ready answer for her.

“My lord?” she asked. He was still holding her hands and standing a hairsbreadth from her in the midst of a tense silence that seemed to go on for an eternity. “This is highly improper. We shouldn’t be alone together in this room. I implore you let me go—”

“Twice?” he asked.

“What?” She tried to twist her hands free, but he only tightened his hold.

“You said he ruined your life twice.” He sounded angry. “Your marriage to Lord Mercer was the first time?”

Her reputation couldn’t stand being caught in the dark lord’s clutches like this. She didn’t trust his servants to keep quiet about what they might suppose she was doing alone with him.

“Let go of me,” she demanded, in not quite a shout.

“No. Explain it to me, what exactly did Dionysus do to you?”

She twisted again, her hands burning from his unbreakable hold. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“What did he do to you, dammit?” He gave her a little shake. “You need to trust me, to tell me what happened.”

“The paintings,” she cried. “He gave me paintings.”

“The paintings.”

“Every one more beautiful than the last. They made my heart ache. They made me love him. But they weren’t from him. Or rather, Lord Mercer gave Dionysus’s paintings to me as if they were his own.” She drew an unsteady breath. “Don’t you see? They conspired together. They lied to me. Tricked me. I would have never married Lord Mercer if it hadn’t been for those cursed paintings.”

Edgeware’s hands turned cold. “You were unhappy in your marriage?”

“I wish I had never met the bounder,” she confessed for the first time in her life. Perhaps it was because of the darkness. Or perhaps it was because the way he held her so very close made her want to bare her heart to him. “He was a monster. He didn’t have a drop of kindness in his blood. And I became just like him—a monster of another sort—the day I celebrated his death.”

“I didn’t know.” He pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his strong chest as she lost her battle holding back the tears.

For too long she had kept this secret, pretending her marriage was everything it was supposed to be. The pain she’d held at bay ripped through her. If not for Edgeware’s strength, she would have surely been torn apart by the years of pent up grief and anger swelling within her. In that terrible moment, her dark lord was her rock. Though he held himself stiff, unbending, she felt safe.

“Forgive me,” she said as soon as she was able to pull herself together and ease out of his embrace. “You must think me evil to bewail what many would say was a fortunate marriage. Please forget I said anything. I am overly tired.” She dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief she’d retrieved from a sleeve and skirted around him. He didn’t make a move when she tossed open the door. “I do apologize.”

“Don’t—” he said with his back to her.

She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. She fled like a thief in the night from the kitchens, glancing over her shoulder only once to see him standing in the buttery doorway. Such naked longing was reflected in his eyes that it stole her breath.

She’d been wrong about him yet again. Though she’d feared his strength, he hadn’t used it against her just now. Instead, he’d wrapped his power around her like a magical cloak. Unlike any gentleman she had ever known, he seemed desperate to help her.

* * * *

An hour later, Elsbeth joined her cousins on the archery field. The sun was shining bright enough to have completely burned away the morning fog. In a lush part of the field, the ladies had gathered, dressed in their most fashionable promenade gowns, which Elsbeth thought was impracticable attire for demonstrating their skills.