Why Lords Lose Their Hearts (3 page)

When she had recovered herself and dried her eyes, Perdita pulled away from the comfort of his arms and moved cautiously over a bit so that they were no longer plastered against one another like peas in a pod.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said stiffly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

He laughed bitterly. “I’d say you were overset by seeing the scene of Gervase’s death reenacted before a ballroom full of London society,” he said. “And I can’t say I blame you.”

She closed her eyes, the tableau blending with the actual scene in her mind as the horror of what had just happened revealed itself to her once more. Whoever it was that had been threatening her, had threatened Isabella and Georgina, was sending her a message. A very public and very terrifying message.

“He’s raising the stakes,” she said grimly. “He’s no longer content to threaten me in private. He’s willing to bring his threats out into the open. To risk my reputation by accusing me in a ballroom full of witnesses.”

“But he’s too much of a dam … dashed coward to reveal his own identity,” Archer agreed. “Do you think anyone noticed your reaction to the pantomime?” he asked, his jaw tight.

Perdita thought back to the scene around her as the players had acted out their drama. But all she could remember was her own response to the show. The sick feeling in her stomach, and the dawning horror as she realized just what it was they were performing. Aloud she said, “I don’t know. I was too intent upon my own reaction.”

He nodded, and Perdita watched his profile as he stared out at the garden beyond them. They were silent for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Perdita wondered what would happen if someone had noticed her fleeing the ballroom with Archer at her side. Belatedly she remembered Lord Dunthorp and suspected that she might not need to worry about rejecting him now. Though she didn’t want to marry him, she did feel bad for disappointing him. He was a nice man, and deserved better than that.

“You have to leave town,” Archer said, turning to her, his expression determined in the torchlight. “It’s the only way to keep this madman from ruining your reputation before the ton.”

She stiffened. She’d lived with the fear that this person’s threats had induced in her for months now. And though tonight’s had been his most public attack upon her to date, she wasn’t about to let him scare her from leaving the field altogether. “I disagree,” she said firmly. “We don’t even know if the others in the ballroom were even aware of the meaning of that little show. Why on earth should I allow him to make me leave town and let him think his threats are working?”

“They are working,” he said hotly. “You were shaking a few minutes ago, and weeping. Or don’t you remember that?”

She sat up straighter. “I don’t like your tone, Lord Archer,” Perdita said calmly.

“Well,” he said, standing up to loom over her, “I don’t like the way you’re ignoring the very real danger this person poses.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up on one side. “Perdita, he’s already sent proxies to make attempts on both Isabella’s and Georgina’s lives. Everything he’s done thus far has indicated that he means to make you pay the most for what happened to Gervase. Do you honestly wish to remain here while he escalates his campaign against you?”

“I am more than aware of what this person did, or tried to do to my sister and my friend,” she retorted. “But that doesn’t mean that I will simply walk away. Besides, how long should I remain in hiding? One year, two, ten? I’m not going to let someone with a vendetta against me dictate the terms of my life to me. If I do that he wins.”

“But you’d be safe,” he argued. “And Ormond and Coniston and I could find him while you’re away. When the coast is clear you could return.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I spent years letting Gervase dictate my every move. I refuse to let someone I don’t even know do the same. I’m sorry, Archer, but I can’t do it. I won’t.”

He stared at her. She watched as it dawned on him that nothing he could say would change her mind. His lips tight, he said, “Then it would appear there’s nothing left to be said.” With a short bow, he left her.

He couldn’t have gone very far before she heard him say, “She’s there in the bower. I wish you joy of her.”

With an inward sigh, she watched as Lord Dunthorp came around the corner.

“Your Grace,” Dunthorp said, stopping before her. “I simply wished to assure myself that you were well.”

Clenching her fist, Perdita realized that she still had Archer’s handkerchief. Schooling her features into a smile, she greeted Dunthorp and tried to put Archer from her mind.

Two

Since she was the only member of the Ormond family in residence—the new duke and duchess having returned to their country house in Yorkshire, and the dowager duchess having long since removed to her own town house—Perdita breakfasted alone the next morning, while reading the gossip papers. It was perhaps not seemly for a duchess to pay such heed to the ramblings of the press, but she found the drama and scandals amusing, and when the news was salacious, she did what she could to stanch the flow of blood in her own way.

As she’d feared, today’s papers were full of the tale of last night’s drama at Lady Sumrall’s ball. “Players Tell a Tale of Murder at Sumrall Ball!” cried the
Daily Mirror
. While the
Ladies’ Speculator
suggested, “Could truth lie beneath the ballroom melodrama?” Though none of it suggested that there was any real evidence behind the speculation, Perdita allowed herself to indulge in a bit of worry over the situation as she sipped her tea. It wasn’t that she hoped for trouble, but if someone should begin to take the talk seriously, she would need to be prepared to rebut the stories.

She was pouring herself the last cup of tea when the door to the breakfast parlor opened to reveal Archer. He looked none the worse for wear after last night’s argument, and indeed he was turned out with a precision and elegance that made Perdita clench her fists to keep from touching his spotless coat.

Bowing, he said, “Your Grace, I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but I had hoped that we might talk for a few moments about what is to be done with regard to your situation.”

She’d been willing to listen to whatever it was he wished to tell her, but that was before he revealed that he wished to talk about her. She was in no mood to be handled by Archer’s oh-so-charming diplomatic method. Especially after last night’s disturbance. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” she said, pretending she didn’t understand him. “I do not have a situation.”

He stepped closer, and when he gave a questioning look toward the chair beside hers she nodded. Once he was seated, he brought his fingertips together to form a point. “Your Grace,” he began again, “if I may speak plainly, what happened last night was that you received what was in essence a threat that was seen by every one of Lady Sumrall’s guests. Not only did the person who orchestrated things know the circumstances surrounding the late duke’s death, he felt bold enough to let you know that before your peers. These are not the actions of a circumspect person. The sort of person who will think twice before he risks calling a duchess a murderer. And I believe that since he was successful last night, he can only continue to attempt to catch your attention in bolder and louder ways.”

It was not far from what he’d said last night, and in the cold light of day, Perdita was inclined to believe him. It had been bold to try such a scheme in Lady Sumrall’s drawing room. Not to mention incredibly skillful. A mere amateur couldn’t have pulled off such a feat. No, the person who’d planned last night’s trick was in the habit of orchestrating big events, directing several people at a time.

“All of this is interesting,” Perdita said calmly, “but I’m not sure why you are telling me about it. I can hardly keep to my bedchamber for the rest of my days in fear that this person will act again. That would have done my sister no good, considering that the person who was stalking her turned out to be her own maid!”

“You deliberately misunderstand me, Your Grace,” Archer said with a frown that did nothing to diminish the handsomeness of his face. It was quite unfair, Perdita mused. One should look cross and unhappy when reading a scold. Archer only looked beautifully stern, dash him.

“And how is that?” she asked, knowing that by questioning him she was simply making him more annoyed. “It is true what I said about my sister, is it not?”

“Of course it’s true,” he said his lips tight. “And I didn’t suggest that you remain in your bedchamber until we catch this person.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” she asked, leaning back in her seat and offering him a bland look.

His mouth quirked a little, as if he were aware that she was teasing him. Of course he’d have figured her out by now. He was always clever, was Archer.

“I think that you should reconsider my advice about leaving town,” he said flatly.

She opened her mouth to object—why on earth did he wish to revisit this when she’d settled the matter last night? But he spoke first. “Now, do not protest until you’ve heard my full argument,” he said. “I do not mean for you to leave town permanently. Not even for six months. I simply suggest that you remove yourself from this person’s gaze while Ormond, Coniston, and I conduct our own investigation to determine who the devil he is.” Belatedly realizing he’d sworn, he said, “Beg your pardon, Your Grace.”

“And where is it that I am supposed to go while you three wander all over town pretending to be Bow Street runners?” she asked with a raised brow. “To the Ormond estate in Derbyshire? Living circumspectly in Bath? Pretending to be a sea captain’s widow in Dover? Really, Lord Archer, there is nowhere that I can go that this person won’t be able to find me. He has already shown himself to be adept at infiltrating my household, and since we were never able to find where the leak is, he presumably still can.”

“All are perfectly valid arguments, Your Grace,” Archer said in a placating tone. She hated being placated. “But we have to try something. Otherwise there will be another attempt to publicly shame you, and every time he makes his case before the ton, a few more people begin to doubt the truth of what you said about the late duke’s death.”

That was true enough, Perdita reflected with a sigh. Even so, she wasn’t ready to give up the field just yet. Which she said to Lord Archer, though not unkindly. “I do appreciate your attention to the matter,” she said after she rejected the idea. “It’s just that if I let this person frighten me from town, I’m letting him win. And besides that, in the country I’ll be a sitting duck. Here in town, there are all sorts of crowds to blend into.”

Archer ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Yes, but you’re just as vulnerable, if not more so here in town. I cannot protect you against every random person who appears in Bond Street while you shop, or in the theater while you watch, or even the park while you ride. He could literally come from any direction.”

Knowing she was being troublesome, Perdita shrugged. “Then you shall simply have to accompany me to all those places. It’s not as if you have all that much to do these days what with Ormond away in the country. I doubt very much that one interesting political letter has crossed your desk in weeks.”

“That’s not the point,” he said through clenched teeth. “What if I…” He stopped, closing his mouth with a snap.

That intrigued her. Archer was never at a loss for words, but it would appear something had got his tongue.

“What?” she prompted. “What if what?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Forget I mentioned it,” he said firmly. “I suppose you’re right that I’ll have some time on my hands now, so I’ll resign myself to becoming your companion. But this means I’ll follow you everywhere. No matter how embarrassing.”

“Oh, please.” Perdita said, waving her had dismissively. “There is nowhere you could accompany me that would put me to the blush. Nowhere at all.”

“I meant embarrassing to me,” he said pointedly. “Not that it matters, of course.”

“Excellent,” she said, bringing her hands together with what felt suspiciously like glee. “This afternoon I am engaged to ride in the park with Lord Dunthorp. I hope you’ll be able to accompany us.”

For a flash, his eyes looked pained, but then the expression was gone again and in its place was resignation. He didn’t like Dunthorp? Curious, she decided. Especially since Dunthorp was such a pleasant fellow that it was difficult to find anyone who didn’t like him. With the exception of Archer. This day became more interesting by the minute.

With a brisk nod, Archer said, “Then I had best go change and ask for the horses to be saddled and brought around.”

When he was gone, Perdita allowed herself a little grin. It might be frustrating to have one’s comings and goings so closely monitored, but she was rather looking forward to digging beneath Archer’s calm exterior a bit. If it weren’t for the danger to herself and others, it might even be fun.

Hurrying upstairs to get changed, she hummed a waltz.

*   *   *

“Your Grace,” said Dunthorp some minutes later as he helped her into the sidesaddle of her mare, “may I say what an honor it is to ride with you today.”

When she was firmly seated with the reins in her hand, Perdita offered him a bright smile. “Do not speak of it, Lord Dunthorp,” she said firmly. “It is I who am honored. And so is Lord Archer, aren’t you, Lord Archer?”

Playing ladies’ maid to the widowed duchess was turning out to be just as unhappy-making as Archer had expected it to be. Not only was he forced to listen to Dunthorp make verbal love to Perdita, but he was also expected to remain just behind the couple, like a baronet in a party of dukes and marquesses. Still, Perdita seemed impervious to Dunthorp’s flirtation on some level, so that made his situation a bit less awkward than it might have been. If she’d responded to the other man in kind, he might have been forced to hang himself from the nearest tree.

“Indeed,” he responded to the widowed duchess’s question. “Quite honored.” He wasn’t sure, but Archer thought he heard Dunthorp mutter something unflattering beneath his breath. Look, old chap, Archer thought bitterly, I’m just as unhappy with this situation as you are.