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“Then after I tossed him some coins, he grudgingly allowed his wife to warm us some kidney pie left over from last night. I thought we would look Aunt Victoria’s documents over, while we eat.”

The kidney pie tasted better than they’d expected and they were offered some weak ale to wash it down. For an extra charge the farmer’s wife handed them a smoky lantern with a candle in it, so they could read their documents.

André broke the wax seal on the parchment addressed to him. Moment later he sucked in a pained breath. He looked at Stuart, his eyes dark with misery. “She knew he would kill her.”

Smashing his fist on the table top, he gnashed his teeth. “Now I am more determined than ever to bring Snowden to justice. Hanging is too good for him, but I will be satisfied if this earth is rid of that vermin.”

Stuart awkwardly patted his friend’s arm. “Calm yourself, André, there was naught you could do.”

“I know, but that does not take away the sting of knowing I failed her. But I had no notion that she would be in any kind of danger, much less mortal danger. I knew nothing of STORMY HEIDE KATROS

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Snowden until I received a condolence from a friend. By the time I booked passage from France, she was already buried.” He raked both hands through his tousled hair.

Misery showed in his face, when he shoved the letter across the table toward Stuart.

“Here read for yourself.”

My dearest nephew, André, if you are reading this missive, it means that I have joined your uncle in death. I have written you before, but I fear you never received my plea to come to England. I loathe the fact that I will add to your burden, but my death will not be a cause of nature, but a dirty deed at the hands of the man, who has forcefully taken over Greenbriar.

Timothy Snowden, and only the good Lord knows if that is his true name, showed up at my doorstep one morning and introduced himself as the new sheriff for our county. He seemed congenial enough at first. In fact, each time he came to visit, he was most thoughtful by bringing small gifts. Then one day he brought along his luggage and announced he was staying. I tried to dissuade him, but he walked in and took over as if it were his right. I tried, but I could not stop him.

By now you also know that he forced me to write out a new will, but I take succor in knowing that if you have this missive, then you also have the original will and the postscript I added and had Squire Masterson notarize.

I implore you to see justice done. Don’t let that evil man usurp Greenbriar.

Your loving aunt Victoria

“Did you notice the date? She wrote that letter two days before she allegedly died. Not only that, but she mentioned an earlier letter. I never received any post from her, save the ones for the holidays or my birthday.”

Stuart regarded his friend with solemn eyes. “You have my sincere condolences, André.

And you know you can count on my continued friendship.” He handed the parchment back André carefully folded the papers, before he slipped them back into his shirt. Nodding grimly, he said, “I guess our destination has been decided by my aunt’s plea. We will ride for London and present my case to the high courts there.”

By sun-up they were riding at a steady clip toward London. They kept a careful vigilance, in case Snowden might still follow.

“You look pensive, André. Are you already preparing your case for presentation in your mind?”

André snorted in derision. “No, I was just trying to imagine what Stormy will think, when she finds me gone without so much as a word of good-bye.”

“Are you telling me that the little chit got under your skin? I understood that you didn’t want to let her come to any harm, when she followed us on our way to Bellingshire, but I thought to keep her safe was all you had in mind.”

André chuckled. “That is what I thought as well, but the little spitfire has a way to worm herself into your heart.”

“Whoa, just how serious is this infatuation?”

“It’s no infatuation. Stormy owns my heart. I should have run the other way, when I saw her in that carriage, but I don’t know if that would have done any good. Fate has a way of changing your chosen path.”

Stuart laughed outright, not caring, if anyone was within hearing distance. “Oh, you poor sot. I had no idea that you were in it so deep.”

Flushing, André rode up and punched his friend in the arm. “Don’t you dare mock me.

Just wait until some young lady captures your heart and then we’ll see how you feel.”

STORMY HEIDE KATROS

128

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Luxuriating in the warmth of the feather quilt, Stormy snuggled a little deeper under the covers until only her nose was visible. But with consciousness, thoughts of André intruded into her little haven of softness.

Her sex clenched with desire when the memory of their meeting in the bath chamber flooded back. She touched her breasts, imagining André’s hands there.

Thoroughly aroused, she jerked up in bed and regarded the closed door to the bathing chamber with a sardonic glare. He had promised to come to her last night. He knew she needed him and he had not concealed his own desire for her. Good lord, he had been hard.

The notion of his length working havoc with her senses made her hot all over. She threw the covers aside and walked to the window. On impulse, she threw it open and allowed the chill morning air cool her ardor.

Tossing her head, she marched herself to the wash basin and did her morning ablutions.

As soon as she could pull André aside, she would let him have a piece of her mind. Surely, he was not daunted by the idea that her parents slept next door? She could be quiet as a mouse.

Dressed in a soft lilac wool Stormy sauntered into the breakfast room as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her heart sank, when she saw that the servants were busily removing used china and cutlery. A glance at the Ormulu clock on the mantel showed that it was way past breakfast time.

But a manservant noticed her dilemma and came to stand beside her. “The family has already eaten breakfast, my lady. But I can have cook prepare you a bowl of porridge or send some scones, if you care to eat something.”

Stormy smiled her thanks. “A few scones would be lovely, thank you. I had no idea I slept so late.” Well, she didn’t need to explain to a servant why she had slept late, she imagined they had heard that she and André had been waylaid. And just where was that cad this morning?

After she’d wolfed down three scones with butter and jam, she cast a wary eye out the window to check the state of the weather, glad to see that the sun shone. She sighed. How she missed Charlestown and the sunny South. Of course, that had its drawbacks as well, but at least most of the time it was warm and you could while outside.

For a fleeting moment she remembered how André had arched his brow in surprise when she had told him she knew how to swim. She giggled softly. She just loved to horrify him. And of late she began to notice that if he were flustered, his accent would become pronounced. Ah, and she would tease him about that, when the occasion presented itself.

Feeling better, she stepped lightly along the corridor that led to the back gardens and past Uncle Thomas’s study. Even before she came abreast the open door, she heard the two brothers exchange angry words.

Stormy had no intention of eavesdropping, but her heart did a somersault, when she realized that they were arguing about André.

“He could have at least given us notice that he did not want us to help him bring down Snowden. And just where has that inconsiderate roué made off to?”

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“Trevor, you are twisting this whole situation out of proportion. I have a spy at Greenbriar. She reported that André got safely away, but that Snowden is in hot pursuit. Since we don’t know where they are all headed, there is little we can do. I am sure André knows what he is about. He is an adept tracker and knows how to elude his pursuers. And in some ways I can understand his position. He didn’t want us to become entangled in his affairs. He’s proud that way.”

Stormy heard the whoosh of disgust coming from her father. “Well, pride is the downfall of many a man. The young fool shouldn’t have rushed headlong into a confrontation. At that age they apparently think themselves immortal. I know if something happens to him, it will break Stormy’s heart.”

Stormy gasped. Her father knew that she had feelings for André? Oh, good heavens, she didn’t want to hear any more. Turning on her heel, she hurried off in the opposite direction. The gardens had lost their appeal. Dragging her feet, she climbed the stairs to her room, and once there she took up vigil by the window in hopes to see André ride up the carriage path.

By noon she was a bundle of nerves. Had something happened to André? Had Sheriff Snowden caught him? God, it couldn’t be, because the man would not take him prisoner again, but simply shoot him dead.

Unable to face anyone, she pulled the bell cord and asked for a tray to be brought to her rooms. She did not feel hungry, but pretending she didn’t feel well, would be better than answering solicitous questions about why she was so pale.

Annemarie arrived some time later, bearing the tray for her daughter. She set the service down on the small table by the window and sat across from Stormy.

“I know why you are hiding in your rooms, darling. Somehow you found out that André has ridden off during the night.” She reached across and patted her hand. “Stormy, you have to believe that he is all right. You know as well as I that he is used to living by his wits. He knows Greenbriar like the back of his hand. He’ll be back.”

Tears gathered in Stormy’s expressive eyes. “But what if he doesn’t come back? How would we find out whether he is alive or dead?”

Annemarie breathed deeply. “There are no guarantees in life or love. One moment it is within your grasp and the next it is snatched away by some dint of fate.”

“But I don’t want anything to happen to André. Why did he ride off alone, when Papa and Uncle Thomas offered their help?”

“I think he might have Stuart with him. It’s a reasonable assumption, because André needed a lookout at the very least. And those two have worked together as a team and are attuned to each other.”

Stormy made a moué of disgust that said more than words. She laid her head on her crossed arms and sobbed. “I wish I had sailed home. I miss Belle and I miss Dreamscape. And why didn’t he tell me just once that he loved me?”

Annemarie’s heart went out to her child. Men! They were so caught up in their quest of slaying imaginary dragons that they forgot what was most important. One little word of love could go a long way. She would have cheerfully strangled André, had he been present just then.

“Stormy, maybe you should not set your cap for André. You really don’t know him all that well. I mean, don’t you agree that it was a bit excessive to masquerade as a highwayman?

And I found it reprehensible that he endangered you by allowing you to ride back to Emerald Hills with him.”

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Stormy’s head came up, her eyes all watery, though a defensive glint lurked in their depths. “Do you really believe André had much choice whether he wanted to take me with him?

I am my own woman.” Her chin jerked upward. “I don’t need any man to complete me.”

Annemarie grinned. “Good. I am glad you said that, since now I can tell you of your father’s decision. We are packing up and will head for London. Your great-grandparents expect us to spend some time with them. Grandmamma Marry is looking forward to introducing you around and your father’s parents, the Earl and Countess of Mowbray, are already at their London residence as well. You’ll forget André and his foibles in no time, once you attend some of the fabulous balls there.”

Stormy stared aghast. She didn’t want to travel to London. André could come back at any moment, and if he didn’t, she aimed to find out what happened to him. But to admit to those feelings would not change Papa’s mind, nor would it change destiny. Maybe it was just as well, if she never found out what had really happened. But a flutter of her heart decried that lie. She knew she would never forget him, she would always love him.

While she oversaw the packing of her clothes, she felt a warm gush between her legs and knew her monthly had started. She knew she should be glad nothing had come of her seduction of André, but for some reason it depressed her.

Without explanation, she snatched up a shawl and rushed off into the gardens. She ran all the way to the old oak, where André had met her after the night at his hunting lodge.

Disconsolately, she flung herself to the ground and gave vent to bitter tears.

She didn’t know how long she spent there, but when she finally stopped crying, she felt better. She’d been a fool for thinking herself in love. You could not love forever without being loved in return. Determined that this was the last time she’d cry any tears over André, she rose and went back to the house.

Tossing her head as she walked, she snorted in derision. She’d had her fill of love for the rest of her life. Once they got to London, she would throw herself into the promised balls and parties with abandon.

They left the next morning in the roomy barouche with the Mowbray seal on its doors.

Two outriders clung to the back of the carriage, and there was a second driver up on the top seat for extra protection. Four matching grays pulled them at a steady clip, but Stormy could not find any joy in the luxury of the carriage or the prospect of going to London.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“This is worse than the bureaucracy we face in Paris. I am so sick of waiting to see the magistrate. Why did they make us cool our heels for four days?”

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