Heartless (24 page)

After watching the ship for a few minutes, Leandra turned Lady and began the treacherous climb back up the cliff path. Lady stumbled once, setting Leandra’s heart to beating wildly, but the nimble creature regained her footing and carried her mistress to safety.

Once more upon the cliff top, Leandra gazed out to sea, the wind whipping her hair in every direction. She could make out the shape of a man on deck of the ship, staring up at her. She waved once and galloped back to the castle, her cloak flying behind her like the wings of a raven.

Derringer stood with his arms folded and his feet spread on the dipping and swaying deck of his ship. He looked like a storybook pirate with his black hair whipping around his shoulders, his black shirt open at the throat, and his thigh-hugging black breeches tucked into his black boots. His black cloak flew behind him in much the same way the horsewoman’s did.

He watched the woman ride away, the wind nipping at the horse’s hooves. Was it Leandra? It had to be. Who else would it be? And that had to be Lucifer’s Lady that she rode. As far as Derringer knew, Lady would not allow anyone but him, and now his wife, to ride her. He would recognize Lady anywhere.

So it had to have been Leandra on that cliff top watching him. Why? What possible reason could she have for anticipating his arrival?

But perhaps it was simple coincidence. She may have been out riding along the cliff and happened to see the ship. She probably decided to watch in an effort to determine whether or not it was he. Yes, that was it. It was the only logical explanation.

He was surprised to feel disappointment at this likely explanation. He would much rather believe that she had ridden out just to see if he was returning. He wanted her to anxiously await his return with bated breath. He wanted her to…

He shook his head and frowned awfully at his own sentimental thoughts. Why the devil did he care, all of a sudden? He wasn’t in love with the chit no matter what Gabriel said. He couldn’t be. He didn’t even know her.

Besides, he swore he’d never fall in love. It was imperative that he did not. People in love tend to reveal their secrets and fears and Derringer had no desire to tell anyone anything. His secrets and fears were best left in the back of his subconscious mind where they could harm no one.

Where they could not harm him.

Leandra rushed back into the castle, eyes shining and lips smiling. She handed her cloak to Stark who gaped at the sight of his mistress without her hat and her hair loose about her shoulders. In her excitement, Leandra had completely forgotten her scandalous appearance.

Oh, well, as long as no one else saw her, no harm was done.

All her guests seemed to pour from the upper stories at one time, intent on converging in the drawing room for afternoon tea. Her face crinkled in dismay as one by one each person stopped and stared at her with varying degrees of surprise. She could feel the heat start up her neck but she fought it down and pasted on a bright smile instead. She stifled the urge to smooth out her curls and lifted her chin.

“Disgraceful!” exclaimed the Dowager Countess of Harwood and Lady St. Clair in unison. They looked at each other as if surprised that the one could ever agree with the other on anything.

Michaella stood beside Martin St. Clair, wide-eyed but silent. Contempt and disgust emanated from the younger Lady Harwood and Lady Schuster. Lady Kathryn and her husband stared at Leandra as if she had two heads. The Grevilles exchanged amused glances.

Greville leaned down to whisper in his wife’s ear, she grinned and sailed forward, laughter shining in her turquoise eyes. Linking Leandra’s arm with hers, she said, “My dear, you appear to have enjoyed your ride immensely.”

Leandra admitted this was true and waited. What would Aurora say next?

Leaning forward so they would not be overheard, Aurora whispered, “Is he home?”

Leandra exhaled in a rush and had to restrain herself from bouncing up and down. “Yes, I saw his ship. He should be in the castle by dinner.”

“Splendid,” Aurora enthused, squeezing Leandra’s hand. “It has been so very long since I have seen Hart and I have to admit I miss him. Even with all his megrims, he is ever amusing.”

Amusing? Hart? “Are we speaking of the same person, Rory? Hartley St. Clair? The Duke of Derringer? Tall man with black hair usually tied back at the nape and piercing black eyes like a starless night? That Hart?”

Aurora giggled. “Yes, my dear, your husband. He is amusing. Levi assures me it is true and he never lies.” A shadow crossed her face but it was gone almost before it ever was so Leandra thought she must have imagined it.

“Let us go up to your room and I will help you change into something very flattering. Then we will join the rest of the guests in the drawing room and dazzle them with our witty repartee.”

Leandra allowed herself to be led away while Greville ushered everyone else into the drawing room. He winked outrageously as they passed and Leandra couldn’t suppress a giggle.

18

Derringer stumbled into the castle, Gabriel leaning heavily on him. He had tried to tidy his and Gabriel’s appearances as much as possible before leaving the ship but the wind was still blowing fiercely outside. The duke was afraid his efforts had all been for naught.

In fact, he knew they were. His hair, which he had tied back with a leather thong, hung loose about his shoulders. There was nothing he could do about it now.

“Are we home, Hart?”

“Yes, Gabe.” He paused in the act of carrying his cousin up the stairs. There was no way he could get the man up the back stairs and Derringer was unsure he’d be able to face the main stairs. He could always take him to the other staircase in the other wing but it would add close to a mile on his journey.

“Stark,” called the duke. “Take Gabriel up to the Green Chamber on the third floor. I don’t know if the duchess has given it away but if she has, evict them.”

At the butler’s raised hand, a large footman stepped forward and lifted the duke’s cousin, no visible strain in his massive shoulders.

“I can walk,” protested Gabriel. The footman ignored him.

Derringer turned to Stark and gestured to the departing pair. “Other than his size, what’s wrong with that one?”

“Deaf, your grace.”

“Wonderful.”

Derringer strode into his bedchamber and shrugged out of his coat as he made his way to his dressing room. He would have to dig out some clothes for Gabriel, he thought as he untied the black cloth around his throat. He sat down and removed his boots, placing them neatly side-by-side on the floor by the chair. He remembered his wife’s greeting the last time he had returned home and he was alarmed at the intense disappointment he felt that she did not rush out to greet him this time.

He moved into his bedchamber and glanced at the clock on the mantle. That would explain it, he thought with a weary sigh. They were all at dinner.

Moving back into his dressing room, Derringer divested himself of the rest of his tattered and travel-stained clothing, donned a clean pair of trousers and a robe of black silk, and padded barefoot from the room. He walked down the corridor, passing three doors before he came to the Green Chamber. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

Gabriel was lying on the bed in a white nightshirt, buried under a mound of blankets. A fire roared in the grate and the wind howled at the floor-to-ceiling windows. The footman was doing something over on the table by the window, his back turned to the rest of the room.

Derringer cocked an eyebrow in the direction of the busy footman. Gabriel laughed. “He said he has something that will help the pain in my… well, lack of arm.”

“Really,” drawled Derringer, his gaze swinging once more to the footman. “Did you learn his name, by any chance?”

“You’ll laugh,” grinned Gabriel.

“Indeed.”

“His name, or so he told me, is Hartley St. Clair Hughes.”

Gabriel had the duke’s full attention. “What tomfoolery is this?”

“Sure as I’m standing… no, lying here, God as my witness, s’truth.”

“How did that come about, do you think?” queried Derringer as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing his cousin.

“I asked, believe me. Apparently, his mama had a
tendre
for a daring young duke by that name. She named her firstborn after that duke, much to the chagrin of the boy’s papa.”