Silver Splendor (39 page)

“Then thank you again.”

Taking firm hold of Elizabeth’s arm, Nicholas drew her out into the sunshine. As the door clicked shut behind them and they walked slowly through the uncultivated gardens, she tilted her face up, her chin set stubbornly.

“I’m warning you right now, Nicholas Ware, don’t get any notions about me languishing in bed for the next few days.”

Despite his black mood, he couldn’t help a grin. “Not even if I offer to attend you personally?”

“Hah. I can imagine how much rest I’d get.” She plucked the vial from his hand and held it to the sunlight. “Do you suppose it’s poison?”

The flare of humor died, leaving the bitter ash of fear in his mouth. “If Gilbert Marsh is the killer, I doubt he’d be so blatant. Nevertheless,” Nicholas said, pocketing the vial, “just to be on the safe side, I’ll send this to Thistlewood. He can have a chemist test it.”

She sighed. “I don’t suppose Dr. Marsh has a motive, anyway. He barely knew my mother. In fact, he sounded rather indifferent to her.”

“So he says,” Nicholas mused. “The question remains, can we believe him or anyone else around here?”

Suddenly Dobson rounded the ivy draped garden wall, Kipp close behind. By the frustration on the footman’s ruddy face, Nicholas knew the assailant had gotten away.

“Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord,” Dobson said. “We looked all over, me and Kipp and Pickering, but all we found was this, beneath the yew hedge.”

He held out a long barreled pistol. Nicholas took the gun and turned it in his hands. Sleek but heavy, the antique weapon had a stock inlaid with gypsylike silver designs.

“Is that from the duke’s collection?” Elizabeth asked.

“It would seem a logical assumption,” Nicholas said grimly.

“The weapons cabinets aren’t locked. Anyone could have taken the gun.”

The disquiet on her fine boned face cut straight to his heart. For one enraged moment he shook with the need to fire this pistol at the person who would do her harm.

Curbing his anger, he said to Dobson, “Did you find anything else?”

“Miss… er, Lady Libby’s sketch pad,” Kipp said. “I gave it to Mrs. Drabble.”

“I meant a clue. A scrap of cloth? A footprint?”

“Just a crushed place on the grass, m’lord,” Dobson said. “Shall we continue looking?”

“Yes. Comb the woods. Don’t leave a stone unturned.”

“Aye, m’lord.” Dobson loped off toward the paddock.

Nicholas caught Kipp by the arm. “Hold up, lad. You said you saw a bloke running away. Are you sure it was a man?”

“Aye… I guess…” Frowning, the boy lifted his cap and scratched his black hair. “Blimey, yer lordship, it could’ve been a lady, I s’pose.”

Nicholas tucked the pistol into his waistband. “Did you get a look at the person’s face? See anything that might help us identify him?”

Kipp snook his head. “Couldn’t make out more’n ‘is shape with them bushes in the way.”

“Which direction did he go?”

‘Toward the stables… I guess. I was watchin’ ‘er ladyship.”

Kipp looked so crestfallen that Nicholas placed a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Don’t fret, Master Gullidge. I didn’t see any more than you did.”

Kipp widened worshipful brown eyes. I’ll find a clue, yer lordship, sir. We won’t let nothin’ ‘appen to Lady Libby.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth against a flood of fear and guilt. “Indeed we won’t.”

Elizabeth bent to hug the boy. “Thank you, Kipp. You’re wonderful.”

Red cheeked, he wriggled out of her embrace. “‘Scuse me,” he mumbled. “Got to go ‘elp the men.”

“Just be careful, for God’s sake,” Nicholas called.

As the boy bolted down the path, Nicholas saw the curtain twitch in Marsh’s office. How long had the doctor been watching them? And why? Out of simple curiosity? Or a darker motive?

In the distant paddock Nicholas could see the duchess dressing Caprice’s wound. His fingers caressed the ornately scrolled pistol. Had Adelaide concealed herself behind the yew hedge instead of going into the stable office? Or perhaps Philippa or Drew had fired the weapon? Or even the duke himself?

Frustration choked Nicholas. God, there were too many secrets in this house, too much hidden hatred. He had arrogantly walked into this viper’s nest, had foolishly delivered the quarry to the hunter. In his vast conceit he had believed himself capable of protecting Elizabeth. Today had almost proven him wrong. Dead wrong. His hand tensed around the pistol stock. He wanted to smash something, to discharge the terrible fury and fear weighing his soul.

Elizabeth’s precious face was tipped up to him, her brow drawn mto an absentminded frown so familiar that his chest squeezed with tenderness and his heart throbbed with terror. If he were to lose her…

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, tapping her lower lip with a forefinger. “Perhaps we ought to find out where Philippa and Drew were when that shot was fired.”

“Later.” Nicholas seized her arm and pulled her down the weedy flagstone path. “Right now, you’re coming with me.”

She blinked in bewilderment. “Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.”

She tugged ineffectively at his iron grip. “But I told you, Nicholas, I feel fine. Just the slightest headache. There’s no need to coddle me.”

“Coddling be damned. I’ve something to say to you.”

His forbidding expression alarmed Elizabeth. Half stumbling in an effort to keep up with his long strides, she glanced at his face, so furious and so resolute. The rigid set of his jaw told her that any attempt to dissuade him would prove fruitless. She could understand his reaction. Her own heart still pounded with the remnants of panic, the weakness of fright. She would go willingly to the bedroom, to hear him out and then give him comfort.

He hauled her through the massive portico. The entrance hall was dim and dingy after the bright sunlight, and she felt a chill crawl over her skin. Would she always feel such a sense of uneasiness on entering this house?

With the mincing steps of a crane, Philippa descended the grand staircase. Her gaunt features drew into a grimace of concern. “Lady Hawkesford! My maid just informed me that someone fired a gun at you!”

“Yes, but I’m sure it was only an accident,” Elizabeth said, as Nicholas propelled her forward.

Philippa waved her skinny fingers. “Such a frightful shock! Do come into the saloon and tell me —”

“Not now,” Nicholas said curtly.

They swept up the steps, leaving Philippa with her pale mouth agape and her white sleeved arms flapping the the wings of a goose. Biting back a smile, Elizabeth glanced up at Nicholas. Judging by the thunderous slash of his brows and the tautness of skin over his cheekbones, he didn’t share her amusement.

A quiver of foreboding skittered up her spine as he pulled her into their bedroom. In a patch of sunlight by the crimson curtained window, Janet sat mending one of Elizabeth’s gown.

“Out,” Nicholas ordered.

Eyes round, the maid leapt up, smoothing her skirts. The sewing basket tipped and a spool rolled across the worn Turkish carpet. Janet scrambled to catch the spool; it vanished under the bed. Getting to her knees, she stretched an arm beneath the four-poster and brought forth a handful of dust balls.

“Leave it,” Nicholas snapped.

“Aye, m’lord.” Casting him an awed look, she scurried out and closed the door.

He tugged the long barreled pistol from his waistband and slammed the gun onto a writing table, then continued without pause to the corner. Yanking Elizabeth’s leather trunk into the center of the rug, he flung back the lid. He stalked to the ancient wardrobe and jerked open a drawer, the warped walnut runners screeching.

Elizabeth stared in amazement as he grabbed a cobalt evening gown and stuffed it into the trunk. “Nicholas? What are you doing?”

“Packing. You’re going back to London.”

Her heart jolted. “I am not.”

Lines of tension bracketed his mouth as he wadded a silk petticoat and tossed it at the trunk. “Yes, you are,” he said in a voice as hard as bronze. “Today.”

“Don’t be absurd. We can’t leave now. We have to find the killer.”

“I’ll find the killer. It was a mistake to bring you here in the first place.”

Her breath huffed out in angry disbelief; her head began to pound with renewed pain. So he meant to send her off, did he, without so much as discussing the situation?

“I’m not leaving without you, Nicholas.”

He stopped, his hands full of frilly underwear, his face full of harsh determination. “You’ll do as I say if I have to tie you to that train.”

Fists planted on her hips, she faced him squarely. “You’re trying to control my life again, without giving me any voice in the decision.”

He dumped the lingerie into the trunk. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“Did it ever occur to you to consult me? To ask my opinion?”

“There’s no room for opinion in this matter. You’re in danger and my duty is to protect you.”

“But we haven’t any idea who the killer is. He could follow me to London.

“I’d know if anyone left the estate.”

“Can you keep track of everyone here?” she said, trailing him to the wardrobe. “Besides, the man in the porkpie hat is still at large.”

“Then I’ll send you to Sussex.”

“And what if the murderer is someone we don’t suspect? For heaven’s sake, it could even be Quinn or Dobson or Pickering!”

Clutching a heap of silk stockings to his chest, he swung to glare at her. “Now who’s being absurd? You’re letting stubbornness get in the way of your own safety.”

She rubbed her throbbing temple. “I’m safer with you! Why can’t you see that?”

The harshness slipped from his handsome face, leaving his eyes haunted and his mouth vulnerable. “No, you’re not,” he said quietly. “I failed you today, Elizabeth. If I hadn’t happened to look up when I did, you could have died.”

Horror and shame weighted his words. Understanding drenched the flame of her anger. Lifting a hand to the smooth perfection of his cheek, she said, “Nicholas, don’t blame yourself. You’ve cared about my safety since the night we met. It’s what brought us together.”

“And it could tear us apart… permanently. I should have been keeping a better watch instead of staring at you. I should have made certain the footmen were patrolling the area.”

She gently stroked his rigid jaw. “You’ll know better next time, darling. Don’t berate yourself over one mistake.”

A muscle clenched beneath her fingers; in one swift motion he dropped the stack of stockings and caught her in the circle of his arms. His mouth pinned hers in a bruising kiss. “I could have lost you,” he muttered. “My God, I could have lost you!”

Her throat thickened with tenderness; her body heated with passion. “But you didn’t, Nicholas,” she said, molding herself to him. “I’m here. I want to stay with you, where I belong, where I feel safe.”

His breath came out in a harsh hiss and her heart soared with the knowledge of victory. She stood, on tiptoe, cupping her hands around the warm marble of his cheeks to draw his lips back to hers. Uttering a low growl of excitement, he kissed her until she trembled, until his hands peeled away their clothing. Elizabeth tried to take the lead, wanting to do all the giving and erase the darkness from his soul. Instead, she found herself yielding to his caresses like clay in the hands of a master.

Pressing her to the tester bed, he joined himself to her, driving hard and deep until the world dissolved into radiant light and erotic sensation. As they swept toward shared ecstasy, they were one living sculpture, one joyous body, the affirmation of life and the exultation or love.

“Did you catch the look on Janet’s face when she saw my clothes scattered over the trunk?”

Nicholas grinned as he led Elizabeth down the hall. “I never claimed to have any talent at packing.”

“Perhaps, my lord,” she said, slanting a sultry look at him, “your talents lie in other areas.”

“You inspire me, Countess.” Pressing her into a shadowed niche between two suits of armor, he kissed her, long and slow. When he lifted his lips, she felt giddy and flushed and happy. “Have I ever told you,” he said, his palms cradling ner breasts, “how pleased I am that you don’t wear a corset?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I’m glad because there’s enough armor in this place without me adding to it.”

His brow drew into a troubled frown. “I don’t know how you managed to talk me into letting you stay here. You ought to at least be resting after that knock on the head you took.”

“Any more of your brand of rest and I’ll be exhausted.” When he didn’t smile at her teasing, she said gently, “Try not to worry, Nicholas. Come now, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

Still, he hesitated. “A word of caution, Elizabeth. Eat and drink only what’s served to everyone else.”

The somberness of his voice chilled her. “Poison?” she whispered.

Nodding, he brushed back a wisp of her hair. “You’ll be safe so long as you follow my lead. I’m sorry to frighten you, but I had to warn you.”

She forced a smile. “This countess doesn’t frighten easily, my lord.”

As they headed downstairs, Elizabeth didn’t feel half so brave as her words. Someone here had tried to kill her this afternoon. Someone who hated her enough to take such a tremendous risk, the same someone who had tried to arrange her murder in London. Fear and frustration soured her stomach. Not until they solved the mystery would she and Nicholas be able to live in peace.