Anne Ashley (11 page)

Again there was no response.

‘Why you suddenly took it into your head to marry is entirely
your own affair. I just hope it was for the very best of reasons.’

‘Possibly it wasn’t,’ Luke at last conceded softly. ‘And no one
regrets that more than I do now. But there are matters—’ He checked, not willing
to divulge more than he should, not even to the man he trusted above most all
others. ‘There are…complications. So let be, Hugo.’

‘Very well. I shan’t attempt to pry further.’ He then shrugged.
‘Besides, I think I can guess what you’re about. All the same, I’ll take leave
to tell you I think you’re a fool. You’ve done your fair share for king and
country. What you have here is far more precious. Guard it well, or you might so
easily lose it.’

* * *

Hugo’s departure the following morning was tinged with
sadness. Briony disliked intensely making her final farewells to the big man who
she felt sure would always hold a special place in her heart. The very real
possibility that she might never see him again was almost more than she could
bear and the instant the post-chaise, hired to take him on the rest of the
journey to Plymouth, had reached the gateway, she went back inside the house,
not wanting to share her feelings with Luke, who stood arm raised in a final
farewell salute.

If the truth had been known, she was finding it difficult to
conceal her increasing resentment. Only Hugo’s presence had persuaded her to
break her fast in the parlour that morning and not remain in the privacy of her
bedchamber. Only his cheerful banter at breakfast had stopped her thoughts
straying to Luke’s recent desertion and what he might have been doing in the
capital, and with whom. Whilst Hugo had been a guest in the house, she had
succeeded in maintaining a sense of perspective, had easily succeeded in being
the perfect hostess, awake to her guest’s every need. But Hugo was no longer
there to give her thoughts a new direction and the bitterness she felt, like
bile, was rising, leaving a nasty taste in its wake.

She took herself off to the kitchen, a place where Luke rarely
ventured, somewhere where she felt she might find a measure of relief from the
resentment churning inside her. Keeping herself occupied as much as possible was
the best action she could take in order to counteract her ills. It was no
panacea, of course, and she never supposed for a moment it would be. Luke
unwittingly helped by remaining away from the Manor for much of the day, but she
found maintaining even common civility during the time they were together during
the evening a severe trial and her nerves felt raw when she finally retired for
the night.

Unfortunately, even sleep eluded her, denying her the respite
she craved. Eventually she abandoned the attempt and just stared up at the
silken canopy above her head, resentment gnawing at her insides with renewed
vigour, until finally she forced herself to face the truth. She was jealous,
unbearably so, by the mere thought of Luke having spent time in the arms of
another woman during his recent stay in the capital. She had no right to feel as
she did, of course, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, far from consoling her,
this knowledge only served to make her feel so very much worse. She had
willingly accepted the marriage upon his terms, never supposing for a moment
that she just might grow increasingly fond of the man she had married. But there
was no denying now that she had foolishly done precisely that. She had only gone
and lost her heart to a man who didn’t appear to reciprocate her feelings.
Worse, still, he was someone she was increasingly beginning to feel could not be
trusted.

As though to substantiate this last disturbing thought, she
detected the unmistakable sounds of movement in the adjoining chamber. Her eyes
narrowed speculatively. So, he was about to embark on one of his furtive
night-time prowls again, was he? A sudden surge of determination shot through
her, restoring her spirit. This time she would discover precisely what he was
about! If nothing else, it might serve to prove just what an utter fool she had
been to lose her heart to one so undeserving of her affection. Perhaps then the
healing process might begin.

With all the stealth of a feral cat she moved silently across
to the door, slipping her feet neatly into slippers as she did so, while at the
same time throwing a dressing gown about her shoulders. So swift in her pursuit
was she that she reached the head of the stairs in time to see a flickering
light disappearing down the passageway leading to the kitchen. Having lived at
the Manor for more than a dozen years, she knew precisely which floorboards were
loose and which of the stairs creaked. Consequently she reached the hall without
having made a sound and, more amazingly, without having the aid of any
artificial light.

In her haste to follow she hadn’t even bothered to waste time
attempting to light a candle, but as she reached the kitchen, now in total
darkness, she knew it would be foolhardy to venture further without one. She
located Janet’s store without too much trouble and, whilst lighting one tallow
stick, detected the faintest of grating sounds emanating from the cellar. That
Luke was down there came as no very real surprise. After all, where else could
he have gone whilst the back door remained securely bolted? What did catch her
quite unawares was the unexpected rush of cold air that very nearly guttered her
newly lit candle as she carefully opened the cellar door, and the fact that a
swift glance below showed clearly enough that Luke was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Briony couldn’t suppress a knowing smile when she was
informed the following morning by Smethers that his master had passed an
indifferent night. Possibly the result of travels in recent days, the valet had
gone on to suggest, adding that his master would therefore forgo breakfast and
would join her for luncheon.

Although Smethers wasn’t to know it, nothing could have pleased
her more, for it afforded her the golden opportunity to examine the cellar
without fear of being disturbed by Luke.

Janet, of course, posed a different problem. She ruled supreme
in that particular area of the Manor and spent much of her time in the kitchen
nowadays. Thankfully, here again, Lady Luck saw fit to favour Briony that
morning, for Janet, having taken the young kitchen maid very much under her
wing, was about to increase the girl’s education further by accompanying her
into the garden to acquaint her with the variety of herbs used in cooking.
Briony waited only until they had departed before arming herself with the
necessary artificial light.

This time as she began to descend the stone steps, she took the
added precaution of taking the key with her and locking the door securely from
the inside so that there was no possibility of being pursued or disturbed whilst
she was undertaking the search. Luke could not have disappeared into thin air,
therefore there had to be another exit somewhere down in the cellar that she
knew absolutely nothing about.

After lighting other candles conveniently placed on a small
table, she began to look about her. Having followed orders to the letter, Janet
hadn’t had the floor swept. Consequently, there were footprints everywhere,
which didn’t make her task any easier, as it happened. Thankfully, though, there
remained that clear curving scratch on the floor close to one particular section
of wine rack where the very best clarets were always stored.

Concentrating hard, Briony began to scan that certain section
of rack, but discovered nothing untoward. Yet a broken bottle of the finest red
wine had been discovered in quite another area, where it ought not to have been,
she reminded herself. It must have been removed for some purpose; her every
instinct told her it had been none other than Luke himself who had removed it…
But why?

Very carefully she began to withdraw several bottles and peer
down the empty slots. Then she followed the same procedure in a further section,
then another, until finally her patience was rewarded and she discovered a
rounded piece of metal that would always remain completely hidden whilst a
bottle remained in the slot. Reaching down, she examined it with her fingers,
attempting to turn it this way and that, but it refused to move. Then, out of
sheer frustration, she gave it an almighty tug. Immediately there was a dull
click and a section of wine rack, about the same width as a door, sprang open an
inch or two towards her.

Briony could hardly believe her eyes. Heavens above! All those
stories Samuel Dent had told her years ago about a secret passageway at the
Manor had not been a pack of lies. And there was the proof, before her eyes, a
dank, musty-smelling, brick-constructed tunnel that led to she knew not where.
There was even a lantern just inside the opening, conveniently hanging from a
nail in the wall, the means by which Luke, no doubt, negotiated his way down the
secret exit from the Manor. But dared she do the same?

Several long moments ticked by while she hovered, then
curiosity got the better of her. After all, she’d come this far. She’d discover
nothing further if she allowed her courage to fail her now, she decided, taking
down the lantern and lighting it before she could consider the matter
further.

With the best will in the world, though, she couldn’t prevent
her heart racing as she set off into the gloom. Not knowing what she might
discover, she naturally feared the worst and expected to find a hundred rats
scurrying round her feet at any moment. Blessedly, though, save for herself,
nothing in the brick-built subterranean passageway moved. On and on she went,
forcing one foot in front of the other as she kept repeating over and over in
her head that the tunnel must lead somewhere. Then, just when she began to feel
it really would be the height of folly to continue further, especially as no one
would think to search the cellar for her, should she be unlucky enough to meet
with an accident, the gradient beneath her feet changed; the floor began to rise
to meet a series of stone steps just visible ahead.

Very gingerly she began to mount them, seeing clearly they led
to a trap door large enough for a man to get through. So she should have little
trouble, she reasoned. But would it open to reveal what she most wished to
know?

Keeping a tight hold on the lantern, she placed her free hand
on the rough wooden surface and blessedly, with little effort, the barrier moved
upwards an inch or two, sending a cloud of dust and straw cascading about her
head. Then she distinctly heard a very familiar sound—hooves on cobblestones.
Strangely enough, she attained a deal of comfort from the unexpected noise and
pushed harder on the trap door, almost squealing in alarm a moment later as
large black nostrils breathed a gush of warm air directly into her face.

All at once she knew precisely where she was and precisely who
had caught her red-handed trespassing in his domain. A further quick glance
about only went to confirm her belief. The passageway led amazingly enough to
the stable at the lodge, just outside Vulcan’s very own stall. Just why Luke
should wish to come here in the dead of night must remain a mystery for the time
being. But of one thing she was certain—it wasn’t for the sole pleasure of
visiting his prized stallion.

All at once the reason behind Luke’s night-time prowling took a
very sinister turn indeed!

Chapter Nine

A
ll right, so she had succeeded in
satisfying her curiosity over one particular issue, but that achievement had
only resulted in giving rise to many other puzzling questions, Briony decided
later, as she stood staring blindly out of the parlour window.

What possible inducement could there be in visiting the lodge
house at such an odd time? She didn’t for a moment suppose it was simply because
Luke preferred to exercise the stallion at night. No, that was just plain
ridiculous! Yet, Vulcan must surely play his part in the mysterious goings-on,
otherwise he wouldn’t have been deliberately stabled well away from the
house.

All at once, events that had not seemed in any way out of the
ordinary when they had taken place now seemed to have acquired a sinister
aspect. She strongly suspected that the only reason for wanting Vulcan stabled
at the lodge was to enable Luke to ride out at night without anyone at the Manor
being any the wiser. Therefore, it was safe to assume that not only were his
activities questionable, but Ben Carey, too, must surely be party to these
night-time excursions.

So what did Carey know that she did not? Where had Luke
ventured on those three occasions that she knew about? Had he a mistress
secreted close by? Unpalatable though it was, she forced herself to consider
this very real possibility. But would he risk housing a light-skirt virtually on
his doorstep when he had made such an issue of wanting the marriage at least to
appear a love match? He did run the very grave risk of being seen visiting a
light-o’-love by someone at some point, she reasoned. And now she came to
consider the matter, why had it been so essential for the marriage to appear
quite normal? It all came back to her original question: what on earth had been
so vitally important that he had been willing to forfeit his bachelorhood in
order to remain in Dorset for several months in an environment that appeared
highly respectable and quite unremarkable? In order to secrete a mistress close
by just didn’t seem an adequate reason.

‘Something appears to be troubling you, my dear?’

Briony gave a start. So deep in thought had she been that she
hadn’t even detected the click of the door. The sight of Luke, appearing so
relaxed, so self-assured, as though he hadn’t a care in the world, or carrying
some deep, dark secret, either, only served to increase her suspicions and,
perversely, annoy her, too.

‘Why you feel the need always to creep up on people, I fail to
understand,’ she told him, finding some gratification in being snappish.

She was now highly suspicious of him, not to mention more than
ever doubtful of his motives for contracting the marriage in the first place.
Was she, too, an unwitting pawn in some devious game of his? It was still,
perhaps, to her advantage to keep to her part of the bargain and play the
devoted wife in public, for the time being at least. But she’d be damned if
she’d pander to his whims in private, not now that she was almost sure he had
wedded her for some sinister motive of his own! To the rest of the world, he
might appear the suave, educated gentleman of means. Beneath the surface,
though, lurked…at the moment she knew not what. But she had every intention of
finding out!

As she seated herself in the chair Hugo had occupied whenever
he had sat in the room, something all at once occurred to her. ‘I can only
assume your stealth of movement must be a result of your years in the army,’ she
remarked casually, in an attempt to discover something…anything that might shed
some light on just why he had once again returned to Dorset. Hard though it
might be to accept, she doubted the reason had anything to do with her. He had
not once attempted to correspond with her during his time away, not even the
briefest of notes. Nor had he gone out of his way to seek her company since his
return. In fact, the opposite was true!

‘Things darling Hugo let fall whilst here have given me every
reason to suspect you were in the habit of going out on secret missions for
Wellesley… Spying, no doubt.’

Except for that one mobile brow that suddenly arched mockingly
as he sauntered across to the decanters, his expression remained annoyingly
impassive. ‘Darling Hugo talks too much, in my opinion,’ he remarked lightly
enough, though Briony thought she could detect just a trace of annoyance lurking
there in that deep timbre of his voice. ‘He’ll say anything to charm the ladies.
Don’t believe everything he tells you. He’s the most notorious flirt who ever
drew breath.’

‘Ha! That’s rich coming from you, I must say!’

The retort was out before she could check it. She was then
obliged to watch a slow, smugly satisfied grin appear about his mouth as he
brought a glass of Madeira across to her. Clearly he had not misunderstood, as
his next words proved beyond doubt.

‘My apologies, madam, for my behaviour on the evening of our
dinner party,’ he said, all at once appearing serious as he took the seat
opposite. ‘That was ill done of me, I’ll grant you. And for more reasons than
one,’ he admitted, instantly arousing her curiosity. ‘The only excuse I can
offer is that our marriage having taken place in some haste, and
being—er—somewhat unorthodox in nature, resulted in me temporarily forgetting my
new responsibilities and role in life. I shall ensure it never occurs again. I
also very much regret the manner of my departure to London. I should never have
left without the common courtesy of at least having informed you of my intention
to do so. Forgive me?’

Briony hardly knew how to respond. He had taken her completely
unawares by the abject apology. Not only that—he had sounded so confoundedly
sincere! But how on earth could she believe anything he said, knowing now what
she did?

‘My apologies, too, for deserting you for so many hours on my
first full day back here,’ he went on, when all she did was stare down into the
contents of her glass, appearing precisely what she was—utterly dumbfounded. ‘I
had several unavoidable errands to perform. Added to which, I unexpectedly ran
into Miles Petersham on my travels and he invited me back to his place for
luncheon.’

This brought her head up briefly, but long enough for him to
detect a surprisingly speculative glint in her eyes. ‘Apparently he intends
holding a large party at the end of the week.’ He continued watching her
closely. ‘Seemingly his cousin is bringing her visit to an end and he proposes
to give her a bit of a send-off. He apologised for the lack of formal
invitation, only he’d heard I’d gone away and thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t
wish to attend on your own.’

Although several startling possibilities had sprung to mind for
this supposedly chance meeting with Miles Petersham, Briony knew it was
imperative to continue behaving normally and not arouse his suspicions, if she
was to stand the remotest chance of uncovering anything further concerning his
night-time activities. He might be a devious wretch, untrustworthy and totally
unprincipled, but he was no fool!

‘Lady Ashworth and I enjoyed many social evenings together in
the company of neighbours and friends. One place we never ventured together was
Petersham House,’ she willingly revealed in the hope of appearing quite natural
under that ever-watchful masculine gaze. ‘I believe your aunt visited the house
in bygone years when Lady Petersham was alive. I understand the place was for
many years accounted the hub of social activities in these parts. Sadly Lord
Petersham has grown increasingly reclusive since his wife’s demise.’ She could
only hope that her speculative expression appeared genuine. ‘I wonder if his son
intends to reinstate his home as the centre of social gatherings?’

Unexpectedly, a distinctly sinister smile twisted his mouth.
‘It might, indeed, be his intention…but I doubt he will succeed.’

The instant he raised his eyes and stared across at her again
his expression changed. ‘By the by, I brought you some things back with me from
London. I trust you find them to your taste. You might wish to don them for the
Petersham party. They should serve very well. I had them placed in your chamber
earlier, whilst you were out.’ Again his gaze grew piercingly direct. ‘No one
seemed to know where you’d gone.’

Briony thought it might be prudent to change the subject here.
She was ably assisted by the sound of the gong announcing luncheon was ready and
hurriedly rose to her feet.

She honestly believed she’d succeeded in getting away with it
this time and hadn’t aroused his suspicions, at least not unduly. She could only
hope her luck held out in the future, for she had no intention of abandoning the
idea of satisfying her curiosity where Luke was concerned. If this meant
disappearing for hours at a time…then so be it!

* * *

After luncheon she took herself up to her bedchamber to
discover a large oblong box on the bed. Removing the lid revealed the most
beautiful evening gown of dark-red silk she had ever seen in her life. Matching
gloves, silk shawl and slippers accompanied the dress, as well as an exquisitely
painted black-and-red fan and a flat velvet-covered box.

Her breath caught in her throat as Briony flicked open the lid
and her eyes fixed on the dazzling array of rubies and diamonds, beautifully
fashioned into necklace, matching earrings and bracelet. Never in her entire
life had she seen anything to equal the sparkling array. Not even her beloved
godmother had owned anything quite so breathtakingly lovely. Instinct told her
they were real and therefore worth an absolute fortune.

Rising from the bed, Briony went across to the window in time
to see Luke, mounted on his favourite chestnut hack, trotting out of the
driveway. Evidently his activities on this occasion could withstand close
scrutiny, though just why he had quite failed to issue the invitation during
luncheon for her to join him was anybody’s guess.

She sighed as she glanced across at the bed again, her eyes
instinctively straying to the black velvet box. What in heaven’s name was Luke
about, presenting her with such a gift? Clearly he wished her to don the gems
for the forthcoming party at Petersham House, and she didn’t doubt for a moment
that all present would be decked out in their finery. Even so, wasn’t Luke
carrying his efforts to maintain the appearance of an adoring spouse a little
too far? Or did he perhaps take it for granted that she would return the gems
once the marriage was annulled? Of course she would, that went without saying.
She would never dream of keeping them. Therefore, it would undoubtedly serve her
better if she didn’t grow too attached to them in the meantime, she decided,
closing the box with a determined snap and placing it in the lockable drawer in
her dressing table for safe-keeping.

* * *

Briony had quickly discovered that out of sight didn’t
necessarily mean out of mind. Time and again during the days that followed she
had found herself taking out the velvet-covered box to stare in wonder at the
precious stones. Yet, not once had she attempted to don them until the evening
of the party. Nor had she made mention of them to anyone, including Luke, not
even to thank him for the loan of them for the duration of their marriage. Try
as she might, though, she couldn’t help wishing they were really hers when Janet
finally fastened them round her throat for the very first time.

‘Oh, if only the old mistress could see you now!’ Janet
exclaimed, her voice throbbing with emotion. ‘Never have you looked more regal,
Miss Briony. Master Luke certainly knows what suits you, I’ll give him that!’
She cast a critical glance over the burgundy-coloured silk gown and shook her
head in wonder. ‘The dress fits you perfectly. How on earth he judged your size
so well, I’ll never know. He certainly didn’t come to me for advice, nor Alice
neither.’

Although she smiled wryly, Briony refrained from remarking on
the fact that her husband’s wide experience of the fair sex had probably served
him well when making the purchase. The London modiste’s skill had seen to the
rest, for it was undeniably beautifully made, as were the gown’s
accessories.

She reached for the matching shawl and placed it carefully over
her arm to wear later at the party, while allowing Janet to slip the black
velvet evening cloak about her shoulders. After one last critical look at her
overall appearance in the full-length mirror, she left her room and began her
descent into the hall, where she caught sight of Luke, decked out in formal
evening attire, awaiting her, not to mention an unusual number of servants
hovering in various corners.

But it was Luke who held her attention. Never had she seen him
in the apparel demanded of a gentleman if he wished to cross Almack’s hallowed
portals and most every formal ball held in the capital. She still preferred to
see him in his more casual riding garb, but was forced to own he looked
remarkably striking in his knee breeches, white stockings and black pumps. Their
eyes met and held; there was no mistaking the admiration mirrored in his own,
but he refrained from saying anything until in the privacy of his carriage.

‘My compliments, madam,’ he said softly, staring fixedly at her
as the carriage turned out of the gate and on to the open road. ‘I do not doubt
the expressions of the innumerable servants I discovered hovering in the hall
when I left my bedchamber were sufficient to assure you of your appearance.’

‘Janet considers I look very regal,’ she revealed, much moved
by his understated compliment.

‘If regal has now become a euphemism for lovely, then I
wholeheartedly agree,’ he murmured, staring fixedly at the lowermost gems, which
almost touched the swell of her breasts.

This was going too far beyond the boundaries of her experience
for Briony’s peace of mind. Oh, she knew she was well enough. She’d received
admiring glances a-plenty from gentlemen since the day she had first put up her
hair. But never before had she been the sole object of an experienced
gentleman’s fulsome praise. She could tolerate his teasing and rare bouts of ill
humour; she knew how to deal with those for the most part. But this out-and-out
adulation, whether sincere or not, was as unexpected as it was unnerving.