Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (35 page)

“Excellent, Sir Antony,” Gabriel said with undisguised relief. “I was hoping I might leave it all to you, sir.”

“You may,” Antony said.

“Still and all, sir, you might just be mentioning to Francis Oakes that a military unit or two would be right welcome, especially with Michael Peryllys having showed himself willing to commit murder. Shocking, that is, and to think we never knew of it.”

“Bess said the child was sickly but that Michael called her lazy. He beat her and put her down in the cellar, just as he did with Jenifry. Unfortunately, poor Annie—”

“Annie?” The big man stared at him.

“Yes, did I not mention her name before?”

“You did not.” Gabriel looked grim. “You said it were a child, sir.”

“I thought she was, but I don’t know that anyone said so. Did you know her?”

“Aye, I might have done, but not if it were a young ’un. I’ll look into that.”

“I expect you will,” Antony said, taking his leave. As he walked back to Angelique’s shop, he found his thoughts drilling not to murder, or plots against the Duke, but to the question of just who had introduced
Le Renardeau
to Cornwall.

The romantic identity had been fun to exploit during some of his activities in France, but it would not help him in Cornwall. Jean Matois was also known in France, albeit to a much more select portion of the populace, and Antony had decided that identity would provide the most sensible way to insinuate himself into a gang whose members knew one another and whose Cornish dialect and customs would betray an outsider instantly. A man from London was as foreign this side of the river Tamar as a man from France, and in his favor, Jean Matois had friends among French smugglers who would vouch for him to their Cornish counterparts.

It crossed his mind that some of his old comrades might be involved in the plot, and he wondered why he had not heard a word about it. Even if the local men did not trust him enough yet to include him in the planning, he, like Gabriel, ought to have felt something in the wind. Perhaps, he thought, he had been too preoccupied with other matters. He wondered suddenly if the rumored plan was truly to capture the Duke and hold him to ransom, or if this
was
the assassination plot. In either case, it behooved him to get to the bottom of things, and quickly. There were only a few days left.

Back at Angelique’s shop, he walked in on a tense scene. The dressmaker had returned before him and had apparently decided to try one last time to prevent her assistants from leaving.

“You mistake, madame,” she was saying when he entered the shop. “There are ways in England to force
les apprenties
to serve out their time.”

Jenifry and Bess both stood behind Charlotte, whose face was nearly as white as Jenifry’s. But as Antony quickly realized, anger not fear had drained the blood from Charlotte’s face.

“How
dare
you to speak so insolently to me,” she said in a voice that, though calm, throbbed with fury.

Antony saw at once that she was on the verge of losing her temper again, in much the same way that she had lost it with Elizabeth and later with Rockland and himself. He decided to cast a damper.

Before she could say more, he said, “I see you are ready to depart, my dear. If we are to return Jenifry to her parents before nightfall, we had best be on our way.”

Stopping mid-sentence, she stared at him for a moment as if he had materialized out of thin air like a specter, but she collected her wits swiftly, saying, “It is scarcely noon, sir. It will not take us that long to restore her to her family.”

“Will it not?” He watched her narrowly. That she was furious was readily apparent to anyone who knew her. She was very nearly shaking with fury.

Angelique made a last attempt. “It was not my doing, madame, please believe me! It was the work. So much to be done, and English girls, they are so lazy.”

“You will have less work in future, I promise you,” Charlotte said, her voice still trembling. “I mean to tell everyone I know just how you treated Jenifry, and what happened to Annie. Even if you were not the one who killed her—”

“Ah, madame, you must not believe what that wicked one told you. Annie, she went to London.
La pauvre méchante,
she believed she would become rich there.”

“I don’t believe you,” Charlotte snapped. “Come, girls, we’re leaving.”

Since Jenifry was too weak to walk, it was as well for the effect of Charlotte’s exit that Antony picked the child up and followed, with Bess like a shadow beside him.

They left Lostwithiel at once. Antony held Jenifry, and Bess rode pillion with his groom. They rode directly to the Breton cottage on the edge of the moor, and they rode in near silence, Antony having decided to leave Charlotte to her thoughts, for a time at least, after one look at her set face and trembling lips.

Wenna Breton was home alone when they reached the cottage. She greeted them with mixed emotions, gratitude over Jenifry’s safe return warring with worry over the child’s condition and the likely consequences of having deserted her position.

Antony hastened to reassure Wenna. “There will be no consequences that need concern you,” he said gently. “Angelique and her husband have broken the law, and he will be punished for what he did to Jenifry.”

“But how will she find another position?” Wenna asked, holding her daughter as if she could not bear to let her go, even to put her to bed. “We’ve so little money, sir, and other mouths to feed.”

“Get her rested and healthy again,” Antony said, “and she shall come to Seacourt Head to serve the Lady Letitia.”

“Oh, how good you are, sir. Thank you.”

Charley saw Antony slip Wenna some money, but the sight did little to calm her fury. From the moment she had seen Jenifry tied to the railing, she had wanted to murder someone. Having managed to control herself, first for the child’s sake and later for propriety’s, she had expected the feeling to ease once she was alone with the two girls, but it had not. Poor, frightened Bess had so frequently expressed her fear that Michael Peryllys would return that Charley had nearly snapped the girl’s nose off.

As they rode away from the cottage, leaving Jenifry to her mother’s care, she still felt angry and, at the same time, as if she wanted to cry. Trying to ignore the hot prickling of tears in her eyes, she dashed them away with the back of her hand, glared at Antony, and said harshly, “Why did you pretend to Wenna that we’ve solved all their problems? What happens when Letty returns to France and you and I—”

“Letitia will not return for several months yet,” he interjected firmly. With a sign to the grooms to fall back, he added, “Curb your temper,
mon ange.
You nearly let the cat out of the bag just then, about our marriage.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

She glared at him again, but the look he gave in return made her decide to say no more. Instead, she gave spur to Shadow Dancer and galloped ahead, hoping to blow the unrelenting fury from her mind. She expected Antony to pursue her. When he did not, she felt both angrier and relieved. She did not want to have to hold her own in a conversation with him, but she thought he should care enough at least to try to talk to her.

When they arrived at Tuscombe Park to collect Letty, Charley forcibly gathered herself, not wanting to reveal her emotions to the child or to anyone else. Sending Bess to the kitchen, where Mrs. Medrose could be counted upon to give her a hearty meal, she took Antony’s arm, and went up to join the rest of the family in the drawing room.

To her surprise, they all were present, and she greeted her grandmother, Cousin Ethelinda, and Lady Ophelia with unfeigned pleasure. Her greetings to Alfred, Edythe, and Elizabeth were more restrained, and when she saw Rockland, she grimaced and said, “Are you still here?”

“By Jove, confess that you’re glad to see me,” he said, grinning at her. “I told you, I mean to stay for the consecration and to dine with the Duke. Alfred won’t let me go, in any case. Says he’d never survive in this houseful of women without me.”

“Might be the making of him,” Lady Ophelia said crisply. Then with a narrow-eyed look at Charley, she added, “What have you been up to? You look perturbed.”

Charley forced a smile. “Letty must have told you, ma’am, that Sir Antony and I had business to attend in Lostwithiel.”

Alfred cleared his throat noisily, saying, “The child babbled some nonsense about interfering with an apprentice. I hope you did no such thing.” He shot an oblique look at Antony, adding, “Not a proper matter to barge into, in my opinion.”

“Indeed?” Antony raised his quizzing glass.

Charley said, “We certainly did interfere, Cousin, and I hope if you had seen what they did to that poor child, you would have done the same.” Realizing that her voice had begun to shake, she pressed her lips together, wishing someone else would speak. They all seemed to be staring at her.

Cousin Ethelinda blurted, “Have you had any luncheon, dear? Perhaps—”

“I’m not hungry,” Charley said, certain she would choke on food.

Tense silence fell again until Letty said suddenly, “When you came in, I was just telling everyone of an amusing account I read in this newspaper. It’s about a man walking on the common near Wadebridge, who suddenly felt his legs grasped by what he feared was an imp from the dominions of his satanic majesty. ‘The appearance of the demon was black,’ it says here, ‘and it had a tail, which it twisted around his leg with great force.’ She looked up with a twinkle. “His satanic assailant was a monkey, which footpads had trained to help them rob people. Only wait until I tell Jeremiah!”

“Merciful heavens, child,” Edythe exclaimed, “what paper
is
that?”

“The West Briton,”
Letty replied, shooting a glance at Charley.

“That dreadful, common newspaper,” Edythe said, making a face. “Wherever did you come by such a thing, child?”

“I don’t think I should tell you,” Letty said calmly. “I certainly don’t want to get anyone into trouble merely for being kind to me.”

“Such impertinence,” Alfred said sternly, “only goes to show why females, especially young ones, ought never to be allowed to read newspapers.”

“Pray tell me, sir,” Lady Ophelia said in a tone of dangerous calm, “just how does the child’s reading about a monkey show any such thing?”

“No good ever came of encouraging females to read,” Alfred snapped. “Women are hard enough to handle already, and females who read newspapers stuff their heads with things beyond their understanding. From what little I’ve seen of
The West Briton,
it’s filled with liberal nonsense that no one of sense ought to read, let alone a child.”

Letty said thoughtfully, “I have observed that men—”

“Hush, Letty,” Charley said swiftly.

Lady Ophelia said, “No doubt you fancy yourself a loyal Tory, sir, but I have never understood the idiocy of men who refuse to read what the opposition writes. It is quite the simplest way to know what they are up to. Moreover,
The West Briton
is amusing.”

“You have
read
it, madam?” Edythe exclaimed, clearly shocked.

“Certainly. My woman acquires a copy for me each week when I am in Cornwall. I also read the
Royal Cornwall Gazette
and the
Times,
and I can tell you that when one wants to comprehend a local election,
The West Briton
beats the others all hollow when it comes to printing the facts.”

Feeling the onset of a headache, Charley looked at Antony, who said at once, “I fear I must curtail this conversation. If the gray cloud I noticed over the Channel is fog, we don’t want it to catch us on the cliff path. Letty, are you ready to go?”

In the flurry of good-byes, Charley managed to steal a moment with Lady Ophelia, begging her to call at Seacourt Head so they could enjoy a more comfortable conversation.

“I’ll come,” the old lady said with another of her sharp looks. “Is he treating you well? I must say, you look as if you’ve been run off your pins, but I daresay a good bit of it is lingering grief over your parents’ deaths.”

“Good mercy, don’t fret about me,” Charley said, striving to sound perfectly normal. “Why, I’ve been so busy, ma’am, that I’ve scarcely had a moment even to think about that, so I promise you, I am not wallowing in grief.” Turning to assure herself that Letty was doing all that was polite, she saw a moment later that Lady Ophelia had stepped away and was speaking forcefully to Antony. The scene made her smile grimly. She hoped the old lady was giving him pepper. She had a feeling that not too many people in his life had dared to do so, and she thought it would do him good.

She was a little surprised to see that Antony had spoken the truth about weather gathering over the Channel. It did not look threatening, and the sun still shone brightly, but she knew it could well be fog. Scarcely a day passed this time of year without any.

Letty seemed determined to chatter about her visit, speaking so disdainfully of Alfred that Antony called her sharply to order. Unabashed, she smiled at him and said, “Well, I would not say that to just anyone, you know, but the man has fluff for brains.”

Antony said, “It is improper of you to say so, however, even to us.”

“I didn’t say it. Aunt Ophelia did. However, if you would rather that I not repeat such things, I won’t. May I ride ahead? There isn’t any fog yet, and I want to gallop.”

“Very well,” Antony said, signing to Jeb to go ahead with her. His own man and Teddy remained behind, with Bess again riding pillion behind the former. A few moments later, Antony said, “You did want to leave, did you not? I saw the way you looked at me.”

Charley shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Their bickering was giving me a headache, and I felt guilty that Letty had displeased Alfred again.”

“Don’t. Alfred is a prig.”

She grimaced. “I won’t attempt to refine upon that assessment, but Letty is getting out of hand, and I fear that I’m to blame. I’ve encouraged her to speak frankly, and somehow she has begun to go beyond the line of being pleasing.”

“She’s an enchanting child who is testing her boundaries, that’s all.”