Julia Justiss (24 page)

“
Si,
mistress,” the maid replied. “Sit here. I will get you sherry.”

After lighting a single candle, she poured a glass and
brought it to Jenna, who gratefully sipped its fiery warmth. “What does it mean, do you think?” Sancha asked.

“I’m not sure—I shall have to consider all the details.” But even as she took another sip, she recalled a number of occasions upon which Lane had demonstrated a thinly disguised contempt of his odd, self-absorbed cousin, who seemed to have neither interest in the title nor, in Lane’s opinion, the manners and bearing to make him worthy of carrying so great an honor.

Was his contempt virulent enough to prompt him to attempt murder?

And if he had committed himself to so heinous a course, would he not hasten to remove any other impediment that might stand between himself and the prize—including her unborn child?

The testimony she’d forced out of Frankston provided no more actual proof than she and Nelthorpe had already accumulated. But whether Lane was correct in warning her against Bayard and Frankston, or the valet correct in warning her against Lane, she now had enough circumstantial evidence to feel justified in leaving Fairchild House.

Under the guise of assisting Lady Charlotte in her Christmas preparations, she and Sancha would quit her cousin’s house tomorrow morning.

After finishing the sherry and briefly explaining to Sancha what she intended—a decision of which Sancha heartily approved—Jenna went back to bed, the pistol once more on the pillow next to her.

Heavens, she thought with grim humor, and she’d thought upon the end of the war to have left behind her forever the days of sleeping with a weapon by her side!

But when in danger on the continent, she’d had Garrett to consult with and assist her. Resolutely she banished
the ache of missing him—and a longing for the dark-haired, gray-eyed man who’d succeeded him in watching over her.

Her sleep no more restful than before, it seemed she had hardly shut her eyes when once again, some muffled sound jerked her awake.

This time, the footfalls were more purposeful—and they stopped just outside her chamber. Before she could do more than grab her pistol and pivot toward the entry, a thin metallic noise rattled the lock and the door swung open.

T
ONY HAD TO INSINUATE
himself into three ton parties that night before he finally tracked down Lucinda Blaine. He’d been warmed that Jenna seemed concerned for his safety—even if, he admitted with a sigh, that concern probably stemmed more from not wanting his death or injury on her conscience than any exceptional fondness for his person. Not wishing to add to her worries, he’d let her think he’d agreed to her request that he not pursue the countess. But with Jenna’s safety still in jeopardy, he intended to ruthlessly track down every potential foe.

He stood now observing the woman he’d idly pursued before leaving for the Peninsula. In her early twenties, with the bloom of youth still upon a skin cleverly augmented by expensive cosmetics, the countess was perhaps more strikingly attractive than he remembered, if no longer presenting an aura of virginal innocence.

Not that Lucinda Blaine had ever been truly innocent. From her debut in the ton, she’d known she’d wanted the most elevated title her looks and her father’s maneuvering could buy. Loving a second son like Garrett Fairchild—if love him she ever had—would not have swayed that purpose.

With Garrett off to the army and the earl’s heirloom ring upon her finger, she’d quickly tired of her aging husband. Rumor had already linked her with several reckless ton bachelors when she’d embarked upon that flirtation with Tony. Despite their contretemps in the park a
few days ago, he expected she might be susceptible to flattery from an old admirer, especially if preceded by an abject apology and a little groveling.

To protect Jenna, Tony was fully prepared to grovel.

Given the size of her court and his weak leg, it took him some time to muscle a spot amid the circle of swains surrounding Lucinda Blaine. Once propped against a convenient pillar, he fixed what he hoped was a look of soulful admiration on his face and waited.

A few moments later, she scanned a restless eye over the crowd, first passing by him, then returning to focus with amused recognition. “Why, Anthony Nelthorpe, what brings you here? I thought you were far too preoccupied by good deeds to bother with pleasure.”

“Simply doing my duty to assist the widow of a fellow officer, my lady,” Tony replied, limping over to kiss the hand she offered. “Alas, too often for a soldier’s liking, duty must take precedence over pleasure—and,” he added with a silent apology to Jenna, “one’s own preference.”

She made a self-satisfied murmur. “Given the prudish prune of a widow you were assisting, I’m sure there
wasn’t
any pleasure.” She smiled as several of her courtiers tittered. “Which is only what you deserve for being so ill-advised in your choice of…friends.”

“I protest, dear lady! Never did I mean to slight you. If it appears I did, you have my deepest apologies.”

“Confess, my lord, you come here only because, I hear, your virtuous widow dismissed you.” She shook her head in mock-pity. “Such is the reward of benevolence.”

“But benevolence is not always a mistake. If you will only, in your mercy, forgive my maladroit behavior, I promise to demonstrate my most
ardent
contrition.”

“La, Tony Nelthorpe, you were ever a honey-tongued
rascal.” She leaned closer to tap him with her fan. “
Very
honey-tongued, as I recall,” she added for his ears alone. “Whatever am I to do with you?”

“As you so generously offered, let us renew old bonds—and explore new ones. Leave this dull party and come have supper with me.”

“What’s this?” inserted Wardsworth, one of the courtiers loitering beside her. “You can’t carry off the belle of the evening, Nelthorpe! Not sporting!”

“Ah, but Wardsworth, you gentlemen have been able to worship at her feet these past three years. ’Tis only fitting that those of us off doing valiant service for our nation should now have a chance. A gracious boon granted—” he turned to Lucinda “—to one of the victors of war.”

“Now, why should I grant you such a boon?” she asked, her gaze playing down his person to linger at his groin.

He let his eyes follow the path hers had taken. “That the conquerors might demonstrate the vigor that made them victorious?” he suggested.

She giggled. “Naughty boy! But we have many vigorous men here—who have not been so fickle in their loyalties.”

“Ah, but you have suffered their faces—and their technique—times out of mind. I offer the benefits of novelty…and foreign experience.”

A spark of interest lit in her eyes. “Does—foreign experience—enhance one’s enjoyment?”

He shrugged and gave her a lazy smile. “Have dinner with me and you can decide.” He held out his arm.

She tapped a finger against her lips, considering, prurient curiosity apparently warring with the desire to punish him for his lapse in slighting her earlier. Tony knew
he dare add nothing else, lest he seem too suspiciously eager.

Fortunately her three-parts-castaway swain intervened at that moment. “Nay, you mustn’t!” Wardsworth objected, grabbing the countess’s hand to prevent her placing it in Nelthorpe’s. “You cannot leave us just because this latecomer offers you a few pretty words.”

With a contemptuous glance, the countess shook off his touch. “You are wrong, Wardsworth. I do whatever pleases me. Besides, gentlemen…” She raised her voice to carry across the assembled group. “’Tis but my patriotic duty!”

“So, Tony Nelthorpe—” she placed her hand on his arm with the graciousness of a sovereign awarding a great beneficence “—show me what you will.”

“As you command, goddess,” he replied, hoping what he intended to demonstrate would move her profoundly, though not in the manner she so obviously expected.

A
SHORT TIME LATER
,
Tony led Lucinda Blaine through the portal of a handsome townhouse a few blocks away that, anticipating the success of his gambit, he’d arranged with an obliging fellow officer to borrow for the evening.

How much keener his anticipation would be, he thought with a sigh, if it were Jenna he had coaxed across such a threshold! But the quest that brought him here was more imperative, if much less enjoyable.

Fortunately, Lucinda had rebuffed the attempt to kiss her he felt obliged to make once they’d entered the hackney that conveyed them here. Doubtless intending to heighten his anticipation, she’d told him he owed her a fine dinner before they had any more
intimate
conversation.

But after they arrived and she’d refreshed herself, in the process dampening her gown to make her vaunted
charms even more blatant, she apparently decided Nelthorpe deserved a taste of the pleasures to come.

After seating herself on the sofa, she patted the place beside her. “Come closer, my lord. One does not hold congress with one’s friends at such a distance.”

He couldn’t deny that his body had risen in response to the voluptuous figure displayed by the wetted silk, despite his adverse opinion of its wearer. After her display of vanity and her treatment of Jenna, he’d as soon bed a slug.

Still, wanting to take no chances that lust might overpower good sense, he smilingly declined. “’Tis better to gaze from a distance.”

“Is it?” she replied, her playful tones chilling.

“Yes, my goddess. The sages of the east proclaim that viewing without touching fires the appetite and gives greater endurance to the performance.”

“I see,” she said, somewhat mollified. Then, a hot light coming into her eye, she reached toward his trouser flap. “That being the case, shouldn’t I—”

“No!” he cried, blocking her hand. “While, ah, gazing upon the charms of his lady strengthens the man,” he improvised rapidly, “speculating about her courtier’s attributes enflames the lady.”

“Indeed? Well, if that’s what the sages of the east say.” After appearing to give the matter a little thought, her expression brightened. “It is rather titillating to contemplate. You promise I’ll not be disappointed?”

“You may be many things afterward, my lady, but not that,” he affirmed somewhat grimly.

Servants appeared with food and wine. Seeming content with his explanation for the moment, Lucinda let him ply her with champagne while she talked about her activities in London during the years he’d been gone. By the time he led her back to the events surrounding Garrett’s
death and his and Jenna’s arrival back in London, she was more than a little tipsy.

“As you guessed, I did have hopes of seducing the widow,” he admitted. “But my patient assistance in her projects led nowhere. She’s still too distraught over her husband’s death to succumb, even to one of my vaunted skill, and the matter grew even more hopeless after she lost the child.”

“Such a tragedy,” Lucinda said, but with a little giggle that belied the sympathetic words.

“Have you no empathy for a woman in mourning?”

“Well, why should I? Everyone else is fawning over her—ah, that charade of pity at Garrett’s services! I lost just as much, nay even more, but no one is holding my hand and offering platitudes. He loved me, after all! She should never have married him, and if she lost everything, ’tis what she deserved.”

“Harsh words. One might even suspect you wished her to have an accident.”

Lucinda sniffed. “I—” she made a vague gesture, nearly upsetting her wineglass “—am not hypocrite enough to pretend I wished her well.”

Tony captured the stemware and handed it back to her. “Some think it might not have been an accident.”

Lucinda straightened, needing a moment to focus on him. “Indeed? Why would anyone think that?”

Nelthorpe shrugged. “There’s talk that the head groom might have mounted her on an unpredictable horse and deliberately refrained from acquainting her with its habits. It seems someone suspects something, for that individual, who was discharged over the incident and is the only witness who would know the truth of it, just met with an untimely accident himself.”

Wetting her lips, Lucinda put down her wineglass. “An…an accident?”

“Yes. It looks as if someone is tying up loose ends. The man was shot once through the heart.”

“Shot!” she gasped. “But killing him was never part of—” she cried, before halting in midsentence to clap a hand over her mouth. “I…I think I must go, Tony,” she said a moment later, her voice shaky. “I feel quite unwell.”

You heartless, scheming bitch,
Tony swore silently, cold rage hardening his resolve. “I don’t doubt it. But you will remain here until you tell me everything you know about that incident.”

Her dilated eyes widened further. “You…you are still working with her.”

“Ever the clever one, my angel. So you will understand when I warn you that I don’t intend to release you until you tell me everything you know.”

“I—I don’t know anything. You will take me home at once, or…or my husband shall pursue you and call you out.”

“If your husband wished to call out every man who’d trifled with you, he’d be a very busy fellow.”

With a hiccupping sob, she pulled a handkerchief from her reticule. “How could I ever have thought you charming? You are h-horrid!”

Tony seized her chin and forced it up. “Yes, I am horrid. I’ve just spent three years at war, a rather horrid business. Coming upon troopers being tortured by guerrillas, I’ve learned more than just the love secrets of the east. Should you decide not to confide in me, I might be forced to demonstrate some of my new skills.”

At that, the countess’s defiance crumbled. In halting, sob-marked sentences, she told of her long liaison with Lane Fairchild, who, noting her resentment when Jenna Fairchild returned to London and her outrage when she was informed that her lover’s widow carried his child,
suggested that a little accident might soothe much of her distress.

It wasn’t as if she’d truly done anything wrong, she insisted. As Lane had explained it, all she need do was bribe the groom to change horses and hold his tongue. It had been in God’s hands whether Hetty’s mare trotted placidly or bolted.

Dismissing that rationalization with the contempt it deserved, Tony questioned her further, but she seemed to have no idea what Lane Fairchild would gain from such a plan, beyond the satisfaction of gratifying his mistress. Switching topics, he then forced her, with bitter resentment, to admit that though she had entreated Garrett to visit her when he’d been in London the previous March gathering troops, he had politely declined.

Concluding that he’d learned all he could from her, he sent a servant to summon a hackney.

“I never wish to see you again, Tony Nelthorpe,” she said sullenly as he assisted her into the vehicle.

“Given that groom’s untimely demise, I would suggest that if you wish to live to see anyone, you make immediate plans to depart London. Preferably to pay a very long visit to a suitably distant friend.”

After letting that recommendation register in her wine-soaked wits, he closed the door behind her and watched the vehicle set off into the lightening dawn.

As he collected his belongings and tipped the curious staff, he reviewed the scene again, a little ashamed of his extortion tactics but nonetheless satisfied with the results. He couldn’t help wondering, however, how Jenna might have reacted to similar coercion.