A Heart in Jeopardy (16 page)

From far away she heard voices raised, her name, sharp and distinct, floating out above them. She looked toward the window and the sound, then back to the combatants. North now had a long, wicked-looking knife in his hand. The two men circled each other, oblivious to anything but themselves. North's knife flashed silver once then twice in the moonlight. Keirsmyth danced away, but his breathing was ragged. Finally North lunged; Keirsmyth caught his knife arm and held it away from him.

Leona watched, frightened and stunned; then some sense within her gathered, and with-out thought she raced forward to tangle the wicked weapon in the folds of the cloak. Its point pricked through the heavy material but did not cut free. North howled in rage and with amazing strength broke free from Keirsmyth, knocking Leona up against him. Keirsmyth stumbled backward, instinctively grasping Leona, but she was unbalanced as well. His heels hit the rigid body of the groom and he tumbled backwards, pulling Leona over with him.

Leona's hands flew out to catch herself, but there was nothing there. She fell heavily across the marques's chest, one hand flung out across the dead man's cold arm.

Horror assailed her. It roiled up through her, closing her throat threatening to strangle her. She scrambled backwards, crablike, landing on her buttocks some five feet away. Her chest heaved, her breathing harsh and ragged as she stared with morbid fascination at the groom's body.

North was gone, his footsteps receding down another hallway. The marques rolled off the body and extended a hand to help Leona to her feet. "Miss Leonard?"

She flinched away from him, shuddering.

"Miss Leonard!" he repeated, louder now, trying to pierce her shell of horror. Dazed, she turned to look up at him. "Let me help you to your feet."

Vaguely she nodded and held out her hand.

Keirsmyth pulled her up gently, then turned her away from the sight of the man on the floor.

"Leona!"

It was Deveraux's voice, closer now.

"Nigel!" she cried out but barely heard her own voice on the thread of sound that came out. She pulled away from Keirsmyth and stumbled toward the door.

"Deveraux! Up here!" shouted Keirsmyth, his deep rasping voice cutting through the night.

A clattering of footsteps on the stairs told them he'd heard and was coming. When he burst onto the landing, Leona was already running toward him, throwing herself on his chest, clinging to the fine material of his jacket.

"Take me out of here!" she pleaded as tears ran down her cheeks.

His arms automatically went around her, holding her tightly against him. He looked into the room to see the body on the floor and Keirsmyth standing above it. "Ludlow? He was behind this?"

"If you mean the gentleman on the floor, no. He was dead when we arrived and, I gather, the reason for Miss Leonard's ear-splitting screams."

"It was North!" sobbed Leona. "It was North! He followed me up the hill and into the keep!"

"Not quite, dear lady," contradicted Keirsmyth. "But why don't we descend out of this hellish room before we talk?"

Deveraux glanced over at the body of the groom, then nodded and turned to lead Leona down the dark flight of stairs. Leona did not notice how dark the stairway was this time for she would not lift her face from where it was buried in Deveraux's shoulder. Outside a crowd of grooms, footmen, and gentlemen guests gathered.

Deveraux glared at his people over Leona's head. "Ludlow's above, dead. But his murderer is at large. It is the same man you failed to find the night of the fire because you did not believe he existed. He does exist. Some of you know what he looks like. He's the man who claimed to be a Bow Street Runner."

An excited murmur rose among the men.

"I say, Deveraux, what is this all about?" asked one of the guests, eyeing Leona and Keirsmyth curiously.

"Revenge," Deveraux answered shortly and turned to lead Leona back to the house.

 

To say that the events of the evening placed a slight damper on the festivities would be a monumental understatement No one wanted to dance. There was too much to discuss and speculate upon. At first the small orchestra valiantly attempted to play, but the rising murmur of voices drowned out the musicians. When the butler signaled them to stop playing, no one noticed.

Speculation spread among the gathered guests and the servants due to the absence of the principal players from the assemblage. That group gathered in the library, the door closed firmly against the curious. It didn't help assuage the ready tongues to have the dead groom's body brought down from the keep and laid in the small chapel at the back of the house. Interestingly though, no guest called for their carriage. It had been a dull winter. This was the most interesting turn-up since the recent announcement of Napoleon's escape from Elba! But since society had faith in the Iron Duke's abilities to defeat the little Corsican, even this—as yet—produced little more than a casual comment and agreement that the former tyrant of Europe would be dealt with swiftly.

Leona, at the insistence of the Countess, lay on a sofa in the library, a cool, lavender-water doused handkerchief clutched to her brow. Her head throbbed from her tears and her fear. She wanted to close her eyes and rest but every time she did she saw the image of the dead groom in her mind. She listened only peripherally to the conversations going on around her. From the evidence up at the keep, someone—most likely North—had been living there. It also appeared Ludlow had not been dead long, which—owing to his absence from the estate for the past several days— raised the interesting question of his possible involvement with the Norths. Gerby, the head groom, remembered that it was Ludlow who searched the keep after the fire and reported no one there. It was also Ludlow who encouraged a group to go to the tavern in the village the night they met the supposed Bow Street Runner. Deveraux dismissed those incidents as inconclusive evidence of the man's collusion with North. So many suppositions had been made to throw suspicion elsewhere that he was loath to accept new ones automatically. Besides, Ludlow had long been a trusted and valued employee at Castle Marin. Then, too, if no trace of North could be found in the keep with the staff concentrating on that locality, how could they expect Ludlow, one man searching alone, to have found North?

The question no one seemed to be asking was why North was there. What did he hope to accomplish? And who within the household gave him food? It was obvious someone did for an old basket from the house was found up in the keep with a napkin and some crumbs still in it Unfortunately, no one seemed to recall how long the basket had been missing and under what circumstances. After all, as one of the cooks said, "Twere just an ol' kitchen basket"

Leona wondered if North was planning mischief among the guests but changed his mind when he saw her going up to the keep. Keirsmyth cleared his throat and regretfully informed her that that wasn't precisely what happened.

"What do you mean?"

Keirsmyth paused, his mouth twitching once. "Deveraux asked me to keep an eye on you tonight and see that you didn't get into trouble."

Leona turned to glare frostily at Deveraux.

"It was me creeping up the stairs so ineptly behind you. I'm getting too old for this kind of nonsense," the marques drawled.

Deveraux laughed. "You just weren't expecting trouble."

"Nonetheless, he caused trouble," Leona said sharply, taking the handkerchief down from her forehead. "At first I had no intention of entering the keep tonight You warned against it and I accepted your warning. When I realized I was being followed, I assumed it was North. It was then I decided to enter the keep because I felt I could find refuge there."

Deveraux paced the carpet before the fireplace. "Instead you must have walked right by North. He, thinking you were alone, decided this was a providential time to extract his revenge on you."

"I still do not see why Keirsmyth had to act so secretively. Couldn't he just offer to accompany me?" Leona said petulantly. She plucked absently at the folds of her ruined ball gown.

"If I had, I might have missed some crucial communication." The marques's tone was languid and off-handed.

"Communication!" Her head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed. "Now wait, are you implying that I did have a role in the kidnapping?"

"Not at all, my dear Miss Leonard. I am merely saying that over the years I've learned to withhold judgment as long as possible."

Deveraux winced. His friend was not calming Leona's temper. He doubted his words would either. "Leona—Miss Leonard—I watched you leave the house. You were obviously in some rare taking. I knew something was wrong. What was it? You know I consider the keep dangerous and have proclaimed it off limits. What made you go up there in direct conflict with my orders? Was it something to do with North?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then would you mind telling us what it was?" he asked formally. Inwardly he winced at the coldness he heard in his own voice.

She blinked and looked at him, incredulous. Did he now harbor doubts as to her innocence? Was she forever to be judged guilty without the right to prove her innocence? How dare he! And just when she was beginning to believe there was a basis for their mutual attraction.

Attraction. That's all it must have been. His words of love were just that, words. And her own feelings? Well, it was best not to dwell on those or she'd never get out of this library, and suddenly that became the most important thing to do. Nevertheless, she was not going to make it easy for him.

"Yes, I do mind," she shot back, "but if it will assuage your tiny suspicious mind, I'll tell you that Sharply had just informed me that Charlie is married and planning to kick me out of Rose Cottage."

"Oh, is that all," Deveraux said, relief draining tension from his face.

Leona sucked in air. "All? All? My life goes up in flames and that's all you can say? Wait a minute—you knew about Charlie, didn't you?"

"I don't see wha—"

"Didn't you?" she demanded, struggling to sit up straight on the sofa.

"Well, I guess so. Keirsmyth told me of the possibility of his marrying two months ago. I didn't learn until today that it was a
fait accompli
."

"
You knew
!" she squeaked. "You knew and didn't tell me?" She shook her head and placed the handkerchief against it again. "I think I should like to go to my room now," she said in a very tightly controlled voice.

Keirsmyth frowned and shook his head, but Deveraux ignored him.

"Of course. Miss Sprockett, would you please see Miss Leonard to her room?"

When they had both left, Keirsmyth sank down into a chair near the fire and pulled out his snuff box. "I hope you'll not regret your actions."

"What do you mean?"

"You've given that little filly her head, and she's taken off. It will not be any easier next time to break her to bridle. Then, too, I think that one's ripe for mischief."

"What kind of mischief?"

"I don't know, but I doubt pleasant."

Leona surmised that they would stay in the library for some time dissecting her personality. She didn't care. That gave her all the more reason—and freedom—to do as she liked. She rang for Betsy and set her to retrieving her dressing gown and other items from Lady Lucille's room, then to packing a small portmanteau for she was leaving in the morning.

‘Take care of Miss Sprockett. I shall send for her and the remainder of my luggage when I am settled again."

"But where ye goin', miss?"

"To do my duty to my family. My brother is preparing to bring his bride home. It is my responsibility to see that all is in readiness for my new sister-in-law. Lion's Gate has been empty for three months now. It will need a thorough cleaning."

"How will ye get there?" Betsy asked, her eyes wide at the thought of what Miss Leonard was coolly preparing to undertake on her own.

"I think I shall order Lady Talavera saddled for a dawn ride. Then I will meet you at the edge of the wood beyond the stable where you will be waiting with the portmanteau. I shall strap it to my saddle, then be off."

"Ye gonna ride the whole way?" she asked incredulously.

Leona thought a bit "That may not be wise. Too, I do not want to be accused of horse theft along with everything else! All right I shall ride to Axminster and from there hire a chaise to carry me home. I believe I have more than enough money. If not there are always my mother's pearls."

"No, miss, ye wouldna!"

"There you are wrong, Betsy, I very well would indeed! I am determined I shall not stay another day in this house! I am more in danger here than I ever could be at Rose Cottage, particularly when one considers that there are more types of danger than mere physical danger! The physical danger I can handle. It is the other that has me quaking."

"Oh, Miss Leonard, 'tis truly sorry I am to see ye go."

"Thank you, Betsy. I shall remember your lone voice, for it is certain that no one else can feel that way. Look at the mess I've made of Lady Lucille's betrothal ball! And she was so looking forward to it."

"Don't ye worry, Miss Leonard. It's people wots more important, and Lady Lucy knows that."

Leona thanked her again then adjured her to go quickly to Lady Lucy's room to fetch her things before anyone came upstairs.

Leona did not get much sleep that night Her thoughts raged within her head, angrily snapping and snarling like two dogs over one bone. The bone of pride was tossed and flung about in the air as the two halves of her mind raged. One part argued to stay at Castle Marin, to face down her detractors. The other part urged her to leave Castle Marin, to flee back to what she knew best: her duty to her family for however long it was accepted.

In the end, it was Deveraux's words that tipped the scales toward her leaving. More precisely, his cold neutral tone when he demanded she tell him what she was doing up at the keep, and then his blasé attitude when he heard it concerned her brother Charlie. One moment she was treated as coldly as the commonest criminal and the next she was virtually dismissed as unimportant. It was the outside of enough! She could no longer stay under the same roof as Mr. Nigel Deveraux.

Sometime later as she lay alone in her wide bed staring up at the silk-swagged draperies, she realized she heard music. It was the musicians. They were playing again. Good, perhaps Lucy would be able to salvage a portion of her night. Regardless, Leona was confident Lucy would long remember her betrothal ball. And so would many others!

She laughed silently, then stopped as she bit her lower lip.
Including me!
she thought, tears welling in her eyes. She remembered how tenderly Deveraux had held her against him as he led her back to the house. A lone tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

It was still dark when Betsy woke her. Leona was surprised she'd even managed to fall asleep and doubted she'd slept two hours. Still, with her blood tingling with excitement at her plans, she shook off the last remnants of sleep.