Anne Barbour (26 page)

Her harassed nephew turned to her in some irritation.

“Really, Aunt, can’t this wait? Miss Bavister and Mar—this young man and I were discussing a matter of— of business.”

Aunt Amabelle shot a disapproving glance at Marcus.

“Whatever you have to take up with the staff will have to wait, Jared. And you, young sir”—this to Marcus— “will have the goodness to return to the servants’ quarters and repair yourself. I’m sure Welles will have something to say to you.”

Scarcely pausing for breath, she swung back to Jared and resumed her monologue.

“Lissa has left to go riding with that dreadful young man—at the crack of dawn—without permission. How
could
she? With Lord Stedford, of all people.”

“Ninian!” exclaimed three voices in unison.

“Yes, Ninian. She virtually crept out of the house this morning without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Jared approached Lady Teague with a soothing gesture.

“Slow down. Aunt. How do you know all this? Just because she is not in her room?”

Aunt Amabelle clicked her tongue in exasperation.

“Really, Jared, as though I would take alarm without reason. No, it was my maid who told me when she brought up my breakfast. She said she had bumped into Odile, coming from the garret. And that was most peculiar, because the maids are quartered in the west wing—as far away from the footmen as possible,” she finished severely.

“Wait a minute, Aunt,” interrupted Jared, suddenly alert. “How long ago was this, did your maid say?”

“Um, well, from what Blodgett told me—let’s see— oh, I suppose perhaps an hour gone. She said Odile was dressed to go out, and when Blodgett asked her where she was going, she said she was to accompany her mistress on an early-morning ride with a gentleman. Well, of course, Blodgett asked what gentleman, and Odile told her that it was the Viscount Stedford. Now, really, Jared, you know that sort of behavior . . . Jared! What on earth . . ?”

But she spoke to the empty air. Jared had already run out of the room in the direction of the stables, followed closely by Marcus and Diana.

As they ran, Marcus’s lips moved in a silent litany of curses and threats against the person of the false viscount. Diana caught at Jared’s sleeve.

“Do you think it was Odile who stole the documents?”

“I think it a most likely possibility. She must be Ninian’s accomplice. After he left here yesterday, having discovered Marcus’s presence, his idea must have been to search his room. Ninian knew that Odile’s best opportunity for this would be early in the morning, when the staff is busy elsewhere with breakfast chores. However, that would also be a difficult time for her to leave the house afterwards, since at that time of day her mistress might call for her at any moment. Hence the invitation to Lissa for a delightful morning excursion with my lord—properly accompanied, of course, by her maid.”

They had now reached the stables, where Briggs, the head groom, hurried to meet them.

“I knew it was trouble, my lord,” he said, shaking his head. “I knew Lady Lissa had no business setting off like that.”

“Then why did you not send to me immediately?” Jared asked harshly.

“Well, my lord, it’s not up to me to judge Lady Lissa’s doings—and she did have that Frenchie maid with her, and his lordship’s man. All the same, it didn’t look right. I had just about decided to send a message to you when you come a runnin’ out.”

Jared and Diana exchanged glances, while Marcus ran directly into the stables.

“Do you think that they are going to Silverwell?” Diana asked. “They have a considerable start on us, but— Marcus!” This to her brother, who had emerged from the stable with Jared’s gray, Thor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going after them, of course. My God, when I get my hands on that blackguard! To think of him, for all intents and purposes alone with that pure little flower ...”

Briggs, observing in some fascination the sight of a footman in full livery saddling my lord’s favorite mount, apparently with the intention of appropriating the animal for his own use, turned to the earl.

“I have another horse already saddled, my lord. I was just going to take that tricksey bay—the one you bought last month—out for exercise.”

“Good man!” Jared clapped the man’s shoulder, then went to assist Marcus in saddling Thor. When this was accomplished, he directed Marcus to the rangy bay being hurried out of the stable by the head groom.

As soon as Briggs had handed over the bay, he stepped to Jared and raised a gnarled hand.

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lord. When the boys was saddling Lady Lissa’s mare, his lordship was natterin’ with that makebait, Churte. They kept their voices low, but I caught something about the old oast house. Do you think. . . ?”

Jared nodded abruptly.

“Yes, Briggs, I do, and I think you may have saved the day.”

He spoke rapidly to Diana and Marcus.

“I doubt they would go to Silverwell. It is too obvious a target of pursuit. Ninian must find someplace where he can retrieve the papers from Odile. Someplace where he can examine and then destroy them at his leisure.”

“But what of Lissa?” Marcus grated.

Jared’s face was a mask of cold rage.

“I believe she is in no immediate danger. Ninian has no reason to harm her; indeed, it is to his advantage to keep her safe. After all, unless I very much mistake the matter, Ninian foresees a marriage between the Viscount Stedford and the youngest granddaughter of the Marquess of Chamford.’’

Marcus uttered an inarticulate cry and ran across the stable yard, where he vaulted onto the back of the bay being held by Briggs. Jared prepared to mount Thor, but Diana placed a restraining hand on his arm.

“No,” replied Jared curtly, in answer to the question in her eyes. “I do not want you involved in this. There may be danger.”

From somewhere Diana produced a shaky smile.

“I will match you two stalwarts against Ninian and Churte any day. When you catch up with them, Lissa may find the presence of another woman comforting. Then, too, there is the possibility that Odile might create a problem for you.”

Jared hesitated a moment. Then, without a word, he put down his hand to Diana and swung her up before him in the saddle.

“Follow me!” he called to Marcus, and a moment later the two horses hurtled in file along a faint path leading from the stable yard.

Chapter 22

Jared spoke to Diana in brief salvos, his words caught by the wind that tore at her hair and stung her eyes to tears.

“An oast house is a building which contains ovens for the drying of hops. The one to which Briggs referred lies on Crowne land, and is the only place for miles around that could serve as a perfect hiding place for Ninian. It has not been used for years, having been abandoned long before Simon and I played there with the Crowne children. It served us as pirate lair, poop deck, and haunted castle, among other things.”

Diana shivered against Jared’s breast. She had come out of the house without so much as a shawl, and she curled gratefully into the warmth of his body. Gathering her more tightly into his arms, Jared continued.

“There is a shortcut to the oast house, which I fancy is unknown to Ninian. With any luck, we shall arrive at approximately the same time as his lordship. Hang on, for we’ll be traveling through rough country.”

He spurred his mount to even greater speed, and Diana heard only the wind in her ears, the thudding of hoof-beats, and the steady beat of Jared’s heart against her cheek. The path soon took a course away from the open fields of the Home Farm, through patches of gorse and overgrown briar. Fences were vaulted and hedges breasted, and still the great horse galloped on. Diana was at once terrified and exhilarated. Part of her, reveling in the strength of Jared’s body pressed against hers, wished the ride would never end.

Finally, however, he slowed the animal’s pace, and in another few moments reined in and came to a stop. Almost immediately, Marcus drew up behind them. Diana raised her head, but did not free herself from Jared’s hold. She observed that they had come to rest in a sort of spinney on a slight rise overlooking an odd little structure some two hundred yards away.

“The oast house,” explained Jared. “And see, we have come in good time.”

He pointed to a small cavalcade approaching the oast house from another direction. Though they were at some distance, the figures could be clearly discerned. Ninian and Lissa were on horseback, while Churte followed, driving a small gig, with Odile as his passenger. Lissa did not appear to be under constraint, yet a certain rigidity in her carriage indicated her uneasiness.

Marcus drew in a sharp breath and lifted his reins as though to urge his mount forward, but Jared halted him with a gesture.

“No!” he commanded. “If we are to ensure Lissa’s safety and regain your papers intact, the element of surprise is absolutely critical.”

His gaze hardened.

“Do you understand me, Marc? This is not the time for buffle-headed heroics. Believe me, the opportunity will come for you to vent your outrage, but first we must gain the upper hand.”

Marcus stiffened, his mouth a thin white line that set at variance with his youthful features. He said nothing, but allowed the reins to slacken as his fists slowly unclenched.

“Right,” said Jared. “Now, the ovens are located at the back of the building, so there are no windows there. We should be able to walk up without being seen. At that point, we will make our grand entrance. Do you feel yourself able to deal with the estimable Churte, Marco?”

Marcus’s assenting growl was largely unintelligible.

“Excellent. Here we go, then.”

All went according to plan. After tethering the horses, the three silently made their way on foot to the oast house. When they reached its single entrance, Jared signaled a halt, and turned to scan the surrounding landscape. For a moment his gaze rested speculatively on a nearby clump of bushes, and then he lifted his brows at his cohorts. Marcus nodded, while Diana, expelling the breath she realized she had been holding for some time, also indicated that she was ready for the assault.

They burst into the small area that served as the building’s main chamber. Ninian and Odile stood at a small hearth at the far end of the room, where a fire blazed high in the grate.

Lissa had taken up a position near a plank table in the center of the room, where Churte was clumsily trying to push her into a broken-backed chair.

At the entrance of the three, those in the room swung toward the door. Lissa sprang forward, bursting into tears as she saw her brother on the threshold.

“Oh, Jared,” she sobbed, “I am so glad you have come! These people are just beastly. Lord Stedford insisted we come here, and this dreadful person ...” She indicated Churte.

Marcus hurtled into the room with a roar, and sprang at Churte, who immediately released Lissa. With a swift motion, Ninian’s burly confederate drew a knife from within his coat. Diana observed in horror that the blade was long and eminently serviceable, and it looked as though Marcus’s furious momentum would thrust him onto its wickedly gleaming point.

Instead Marcus, without slowing, veered to one side and, in a lithe motion, sprang atop the plank table. In a blur of speed, he pivoted on one foot, and raised the other to deliver a vicious kick that sent the knife spinning from the hand of the astonished Churte. In the next instant, Marcus leaped to the floor and landed a powerful right to the center of Churte’s face, followed by a left to his midsection. Before anyone could draw breath, the man lay stretched out on the dusty floor at the feet of the white-faced Lissa.

She swayed in a half-swoon and Marcus sprang to catch her, reverently lowering her into the broken chair. For an instant Lissa remained still against his breast; then, with a flutter of dark lashes, she lifted her eyes in wonder to the face of her rescuer.

Diana stood rooted at this Homeric display on the part of her brother. Jared murmured with a grin, “Well done, Marco,” and strode directly to where Ninian still stood by the fireplace, his eyes the color of gun metal against the paleness of his face.

With a cry Odile, still wearing her cloak, attempted to run from the house, but was blocked by Diana, who moved to stand in her path.

“Burnleigh!” Ninian’s voice was a mere croak. “May I ask what is the meaning of this intrusion? We interrupted a pleasant ride because Lady Felicity complained of a headache. We took shelter here so that her maid could, er, prepare a posset. Her ladyship, I fear, has displayed a surfeit of sensibility, but I see no reason why—”

“Shut up, Crowne,” said Jared conversationally, cutting off Ninian’s flow of high-pitched chatter. “It’s all over, so you may return the papers.”

There was an instant’s pause as Ninian’s eyes darted from Jared to Diana, and then to Marcus, who was still kneeling beside a delicately flushed Lissa.

“My dear fellow, I’m afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Jared’s demeanor did not alter, but his voice was now chilled steel.

“Let me be plain, then. I am speaking of the documents which establish the identity of the real heir to Silverwell—the true Viscount Stedford. You have stolen those documents, and their owner”—he indicated Marcus, who had risen and now took a menacing step forward—”would like them back.”

Ninian licked his lips, but his narrowed eyes did not falter.

“I begin to see,” he said, his mouth jerking into a parody of an enlightened smile. “I had heard rumors of a pretender to the title having come into the neighborhood. This”—he gestured to Marcus—”is evidently the very person. He and his accomplice”—here he waved a hand toward Diana—”have evidently managed to pull the wool over your eyes, Burnleigh, with their ludicrous story.”

Jared shrugged as though Ninian had not spoken.

“You are beginning to bore me, Crowne. The papers, if you please.”

Ninian’s voice took on an edge. “What are these papers you keep talking about? I have no papers. Would you have me turn out my pockets?’’

At this, Jared moved toward Ninian, but was halted by a cry from Diana.