Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (40 page)

“Oh, no.” Silver shook her head. “I wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Nonsense, girl. Unless I’m badly mistaken, you’ve a wound at your side along with that blow to your head. Maybe you’ll tell me about it and maybe you won’t, but one thing I do know: You aren’t fit to be racing around the countryside. Not anywhere. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. So if it’s family you’re worried about, I shall be delighted to send a footman with a message to put them at their ease. When you’re feeling more the thing, you can write a note yourself.”

Silver studied the duchess’s face with a mix of irritation and warmth. “You really are the most abominably
managing
woman, Your Grace.”

“So I have been told,” the duchess said happily, in no way offended. “It is rather a principle with me, you understand.”

Silver shook her head, laughing softly as the carriage came to a creaking halt before the mellow walls of Swallow Hill.

~ ~ ~

The duchess led the way to a magnificent yellow sitting room whose floor-to-ceiling French doors opened to green lawns. After Silver was comfortable, the imperious old woman excused herself. As soon as she had gone, Silver sat up and brushed away the cover the duchess had left around her. “Bram, where is the notebook?”

The boy smiled and patted his pocket.

“What about the things that were in that man’s greatcoat? I can’t find my cloak!”

“All safe, Syl, don’t worry. I took them out while everyone was busy helping you inside. It was a rolled-up document of some sort, but I can’t make heads or tails of it. There are only rows of numbers without any sort of pattern.”

Silver frowned. “Numbers? That’s
all?”

“Afraid so. But maybe—”

At that moment the door opened; India and Ian peered in. Bram shot Silver a warning glance.

“Are we disturbing you?” India asked.

“ — not a bit.”

“ — of course we are.”

Silver and Ian spoke at the same moment. Then all four broke into laughter.

“We thought we’d check on you while Grandmama went to rouse the servants. We weren’t expected for another two days, you understand, and they will have been taking a much-needed rest. I’m afraid she can be the most veritable dragon when the spirit takes her. But then,” India added, “I expect you have already noticed that.”

“On the contrary. I think your grandmother is extremely generous.”

“So you’re a diplomat too.” Ian nodded approvingly. “We could have used you over in Spain. Wellington had no patience for such things and was constantly sending our allies stomping off in a fury.”

“You were fighting in the Peninsula?” Silver found she couldn’t take her eyes from Ian’s face. There was something about him — something nearly familiar, though she could not say what.

Ian nodded. “For two years.”

“I hope you were not wounded.”

“Nothing significant.”

“Don’t mind Ian,” India said confidingly. “He
never
reveals anything of any significance. I’m afraid all that spying has gone to his head.”

Ian smiled and the hardness about his eyes disappeared. But Silver was certain she hadn’t imagined it and could only wonder what had left him with bitter memories.

A minute later the door opened and the duchess ushered in a butler carrying a silver tray.

“This table will be fine, Jeffers.” The duchess indicated a beautiful rosewood Chippendale table at Silver’s feet. Soon they were seated around India, who was dispensing cups of a fine, small-leaved amber souchong and Cook’s special buttery-soft walnut cake. Bram was on his third wedge when he looked up to find India and Ian smiling at him.

His cheeks flamed. He dropped his last piece as if burned.

“Please don’t stop,” India said quickly. “It was terribly rude of us, I know, but it is so wonderful to see a young person with all your energy.”

Bram shoved his glasses uncertainly up on his nose, then helped himself to the last slice.

“I would like you to meet my parents,” India said to Silver, “but I’m afraid they’re on an extended visit to Italy. Father is in his antiquities phase again, you see. No doubt from Venice they will be off to Athens and Cairo. Grandmama, meanwhile, has bravely volunteered to fill the breach and squire me about London until they return. I keep telling her that I’ll never take at the marriage mart and no gentleman will possibly come up to scratch.”

“Not when they find out you can box, shoot and use a foil better than most men,” her brother said helpfully.

The Duchess of Cranford snorted. “I wish you will stop using that horrid cant language, young lady. It is most unbecoming.”

“Is it truly? I expect I’ll have to stop spending so much time around my brothers, in that case.”

An abrupt silence fell over the room. The duchess’s fingers tightened on her cane and Ian’s mouth tensed. India’s face went pale.

Silver felt the tension gripping the three of them and wondered at it. Bram, however, busy with his cake, hadn’t noticed the sudden change. “Brothers?” he said blithely. “Do you have another brother besides Ian?”

India gasped. Her teacup of bone china slid from her fingers and crashed to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

After a moment of frozen embarrassment everyone seemed to move at once. Ian fetched a napkin to clean the tea from his sister’s skirts. The duchess patted India’s hand. Bram bent down, red faced, and began to collect the fallen porcelain fragments.

“Please don’t do that, Brandon.” India frowned at the stiffness in the boy’s shoulders. “It is not at all necessary.” She touched his shoulders gently.

When Bram looked up, he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

“I’m most dreadfully sorry if I — I upset you.”

“It is no fault of yours, truly.” India came slowly to her feet. Suddenly she looked very tired. “If you will excuse me, I think I’ll go to my room. I believe the trip was more tiring than I realized.”

With her chin held high India walked from the room. A moment later the duchess went after her.

“I said something, didn’t I?” Bram bit his lip. “And it’s
my
fault that she left.”

Ian cleared his throat. “Nonsense. It was not your fault. Sit down, won’t you? I think I’d better explain.”

Bram returned to his seat next to Silver. The tall soldier paced about for a moment, his hands clenched behind his back. When he turned, his face was very hard. “You see, we
do
have another brother. At least we
did
have one, seven years India’s senior and five years mine. He was … beloved by all who knew him.” Ian’s voice tightened. For a moment it seemed that he could not continue.

“You said he
was
? Did … something happen to him?” Silver asked softly.

At her question Ian seemed to rouse himself from his bitter memories. “I’m afraid so. He disappeared some years ago. Our parents sent Bow Street runners and a score of investigators the length and breadth of England, even to the Continent, but not a trace was ever found.” He sighed and dropped his hands to the back of an elegant Louis XIV chaise. “We believe he must have been set on by a gang of footpads and—” His eyes turned bleak for a moment. “It’s been hard on all of us, but perhaps worst on India. The two of them were very close, you see. It was almost as if they had some sort of mental bond between them.”

As he spoke Silver felt a tightening in her chest. A faint whine seemed to echo through the room until she found it harder and harder to concentrate on what Ian was saying.

He disappeared some years ago.

Never found … never found…

Over and over the grim words echoed in her head.

“It was unforgivable,” Bram said, looking miserable. “I should never have asked the question in such a ham-handed way.” He shoved his fists in his pocket, very glum. As he did so, he dislodged the notebook that had been lying on the settee next to him.

In a graceful motion Ian bent to retrieve it.

The well-thumbed pages flipped open, revealing Bram’s deft sketches of local flora and fauna, botanical oddities, the growth cycles of various native herbs and an array of lavender species.

And finally a freehand sketch of a man’s face, made several days earlier.

A man with glinting eyes, slashing cheekbones, and a faint scar above his full, sensual lips.

Ian froze, his eyes locked on the picture. Silver saw a tremor run through him. He looked up slowly, a storm of conflicting emotions on his handsome face. Disbelief, confusion, anger — all were written there as he stared at Bram. “Is it possible that you’ve
seen
him? Is he still alive?”

The whine in Silver’s head grew deafening. Her throat tightened. She tried to push to her feet, only to find her legs wouldn’t support her. “That man — he is your brother?”

Ian nodded grimly.

“Luc,” she whispered. Wonderingly. Furiously. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ian’s fingers clenched as if he were fighting the miracle of the news he had just been given. “My brother. Lucien Reede Tiberius Fitzgerald Delamere, Marquess of Dunwood and Hartingdale.” He stared at the sketch, his fingers gently tracing the careful features in turn, drinking in the sight of them. “He disappeared on the way to his club. We never saw him again.” Ian’s fingers tightened on the notebook. “Not until now.”

He looked at Bram and Silver. His gray eyes were no longer sleepy but very hard. “And now you will tell me
exactly
what you two are doing with my brother’s picture in that book.”

Silver heard no more. The room began to spin about her.

Her hands locked at her chest.

Luc, oh, Luc, you fool! How much you gave away for honor. And how very much they all love you.

For it changed everything, of course. The elder son of the Duke of Devonham was entirely above her touch, whether he chose to play at being a highwayman or not. There could be no question about anything between them now.

It was over, all over.

With that harsh knowledge crashing through her mind, Silver swayed. She barely noticed the creamy blossoms on the priceless Persian carpet rushing up to meet her.

Her first impression, when clarity returned, was utter pandemonium.

Voices rang out around her, chairs scraped back and forth, and footsteps hammered in the hallway.

Silver pressed her hands against her head, fighting back waves of pain as memory returned.
Luc…

Now she knew the rest of his name.

Lucien Delamere.

Marquess of Dunwood and Hartingdale.

Sweet heaven, he was the heir to the dukedom of Devonham!

She opened her eyes to see Ian’s anxious face floating above her. He patted her hand, smiling ruefully. “I hope you will forgive me, Miss St. Clair. It was a damnable thing for me to say. My only defense is that I couldn’t believe — I couldn’t understand. For five years we’ve searched for some trace of him. And then this…”

He looked out the window. “I think we had all given up except India. And then in an instant, to see his face staring back at me, so plain upon the page like that — well, it gave me a nasty turn.”

Silver swallowed back tears, realizing what had seemed so familiar about him. It was the pride in the high cheekbones, the sensual tilt to his full lower lip. Now that she knew he was Luc’s brother, the resemblance seemed so obvious she wondered how she had missed it before.

“There’s no need to explain,” she said softly. “It must have been a terrible shock to you.”

“That’s no excuse for my appalling rudeness. I hope you and your brother will forgive me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” Silver looked up to see the duchess standing behind Ian. Her eyes were glinting with unshed tears. “You’ve the manners of an ape, Ian. Now off with you.
Both
of you men. I wish to have a few words with Miss St. Clair.
Alone.”

Ian did not move, studying Silver’s face and looking deep into her eyes, as if to read things that she could not or would not put in words. After a moment he nodded slightly, then pushed to his feet. “Very well. I expect Master Brandon might like a look at the conservatory.” He smiled conspiratorially at Silver’s brother. “We have rather an impressive orangery here at Swallow Hill. Would you care to have a tour of our steam pipes?”

Bram nodded, torn between ecstasy and a residual pang of embarrassment. “Would I! You’d need a carriage and a team of eight horses to tear me away.”

“Then we’ll be off.” Ian and his grandmother exchanged a short, significant look before Ian steered Bram from the room.

The duchess sat down beside Silver. Her back was very straight, and her hands moved restlessly on her cane, before finally going still. “So you love him, do you?”

The directness of the question stole Silver’s breath. She felt her cheeks flame. Was it so obvious? Did she wear her heart on her sleeve for all to see?

She looked down, her eyes locked on the smoky teal expanse of the carpet. “It’s very complicated, Your Grace.”

“Love is always complicated, my dear,” the old woman said softly. “What about that aggravating grandson of mine? Does he love you too?”

A faint smile played over Silver’s lips. “He has gone to great lengths to assure me that he does, Your Grace.”

“If so, then it’s the first time the boy’s shown a shred of common sense.” She reached out and brushed her fragile fingers over Silver’s. “From the moment I saw you and your brother standing there in that shop, I knew you were special. Almost — yes, almost as if I felt Luc calling out to me.”

She brushed at her eyes and then cleared her throat quickly. “So he’s really alive. How did the rascal look? Was he well? Did he ever speak of us? And why did he never try to contact us?”

Silver’s fingers twisted in her lap. Where was she to start? Luc had chosen not to tell his family of his fate, for reasons only he knew, and this was not her secret to confide.

The story would have to come from Luc himself, in his own time and in his own way.

“He is alive, Your Grace. And he is well.”

“And?” The duchess’s fingers tightened on her cane. “Where
is
he, blast it! Why does he stay away from us?”

“I — I fear I cannot tell you more than this. I believe Luc has his own reasons for not contacting you, and the whole story of his … experiences must come from his own lips.”

The duchess’s mouth thinned with anger. Silver waited for a bruising setdown.

And then the old woman sighed. “Vexing creature! But I can see why he loves you, my dear. You’re as stubborn as a stoat and with a sense of honor as nicely refined as Luc’s. Yes, it’s a perfect match you’ll make him. And I have no doubt that you’ll lead my grandson a very merry chase indeed.” Her eyes twinkled for a moment. “If you haven’t already.”

The duchess touched Silver’s face. The old woman saw the love and longing there. She saw also the anxiety. “So he’s in danger, is he?”

Silver nodded.

“And he’s
been
in danger.”

Again Silver nodded.

“If only we’d
known.”
She shook her head. “But I won’t ask more, if you feel you cannot tell me. Just let me know what I may do to help. We all stand ready, at any moment, to assist him and you in any way that we can.”

“I must go back to Kingsdon Cross. My brother and I have a message to carry to Luc as soon as possible. I would ask the use of a fast traveling carriage to take me there.”

“I’ll have orders sent around to the stables,” the duchess said without the slightest hesitation. “But you cannot leave yet.” She filled another cup of tea and handed it to Silver. “Drink this. And then I mean to see you eat some shaved ham and another slice of that walnut cake before I’ll even consider letting you out of my custody.”

Silver’s lips curved. “What terrible servitude.” Her eyes darkened. “All of you are far too kind.”

“Nonsense,” the duchess said, rapping the floor with her cane. “The day has turned out monstrous pleasant. And why? All because of you and that brother of yours, Miss St. Clair. Luc is
found
. It’s we that should be thanking you, for indeed I can’t remember
when
I’ve had even half so much excitement.”

~ ~ ~

“She did
what?”

Luc stood in a shadowed alley off the main street of King’s Lynn. His face was tight with anger as he glared at Connor MacKinnon and the small street boy beside him.

“The boy just told you, Luc.”

“So I did, guv.” The urchin seemed in no way frightened by Luc’s bellowed question. “Dead steady, she was. Stood right out in the street. Didn’t move, not by an inch. She just leveled her pistol at the bloke in the farm wagon hurtling straight toward her. He near to run her down, he did. But he couldn’t, not with
me
hanging on his neck,” the boy ended proudly.

“But why?” Luc drove his fingers irritably through his hair. “What possessed her to such an act of madness?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Said the man in the wagon was some sort of traitor and had information she needed.”

Understanding dawned in Luc’s eyes. “She didn’t wait. She bloody came after him herself,” he said wonderingly.

“After whom?” Connor demanded.

“Never mind.” Luc studied the street urchin. “And those gentry coves you spoke of, they took her off in a carriage, you say?” His voice hardened. “To a place called … Swallow Hill?”

“Aye, there was a passel of ‘em gathered round her. Even the blooming prince hisself was there. Taking her to what they decided,” the boy announced cheerfully. “Said it was no more than an hour’s ride east, and that she needed to rest. Sorry to see her go, I was. She was a damned proper sort of female.”

Luc clamped a hard hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re a good lad. I have no doubt that you saved her life.”

The boy’s face reddened from this praise, and his eyes widened as Luc slid three gold pieces into his grimy fingers. It was more blunt than the little fellow had seen in all his ten years.

“Anything else I can do for you, guv, all you gotta do is tell me. I’m entire at your disposal, so I am.”

“There might be one thing.” Luc stared out at the crowded street, thinking hard. “That warehouse you were watching — I’d like for you and your friends to keep an eye on it while I’m gone. I’ll be sending someone soon, but meanwhile I’ll need to know everyone who goes in and out and
exactly
what they are carrying. Can you manage that, do you think?”

“Manage it?”
The boy snorted. “You can already consider it bleeding done, guv.”

The urchin scampered off, excitement in every line of his wiry body, while Luc stood unmoving, staring at the street.

“What do we do next?” Connor asked.

“It seems that Silver and Bram have already set about doing
my
work for me. I’ll have to go after her. To Swallow Hill.” Luc cursed. “I wanted it finished, Connor. I wanted it ended smooth and sharp and forever, so I wouldn’t cause my family any more pain.” His hands clenched to fists.

The heir to one of England’s oldest titles and a legacy that included three castles, five lesser estates, half a million acres in England and Scotland, and one of the finest art collections on the face of the earth looked numbly at his friend. “How can I possibly go back? You know what happened in Algiers, Conn. You know the things that happened to me there and the things that I was forced to do to keep Jonas and myself alive. How can I possibly face them again after that?”

“You simply take one foot and put it down in front of the other. And you keep doing it, even though it hurts, even though the pain builds until you think you’re going to die of it. You just keep putting that one foot in front of the other and before you know it the hard part is over and you’re finally where you want to be.”

Luc’s dark brow slanted up. “Are you speaking from personal experience, Connor MacKinnon?”

“Aye,” the great broad-shouldered man said. “We all have our secrets, Luc. The fact is, our secrets make us what we are.”

~ ~ ~

Despite the anxious protests of the duchess, India, and Ian, Silver refused to be deterred from leaving for Kingsdon Cross.

“But you’re pale as a bedsheet, girl,” the duchess said irritably. “I don’t know what’s so important that you have to go racing off like this.”

But Silver wanted to break the news of this meeting to Luc in person. There was also the urgency about the documents they’d stolen in King’s Lynn. Even though the rows of numbers made no sense to her and Bram, she hoped this would turn out to be exactly what Luc was looking for.

Silver turned at the foot of the steps and swept a last lingering look over the gleaming walls of Swallow Hill. She would remember this house always, she knew. She was just about to climb into the carriage when she heard the scuffle of feet behind her.

“When do we leave?” her brother asked eagerly.

“Not we, I.
You
are staying here to rest.”

“And let you have all the fun by yourself?”

Perhaps he was right, Silver thought. Other than being a little pale he didn’t look any worse for his adventure. He wasn’t wheezing and he didn’t seem overtired.

She was still gnawing at her lip, trying to decide what was best to do when her brother took matters into his own hands. Reaching up, he shoved her into the carriage, jumped up behind her, and jerked the door closed.

Outside on the drive the duchess stood unmoving, her hands tensed on her cane. “Come back to us,” she said huskily. “Come back to Swallow Hill. And please — bring Luc with you,” she finished.

Silver nodded, feeling tears press at her eyes.

And then Bram was calling to the coachman and the horses were straining and Silver was on her way, racing down the gravel drive toward home.

As the green hills rushed past, Silver thought of Luc’s danger. She thought of evil men. And from there her thoughts turned to her father’s last journal entry, made the day before his death. Pain gripped at her throat as she remembered the hastily scrawled letters, so unlike her father’s usual elegant script.