Swept Away By a Kiss (37 page)

“My ancestor devised this system of tunnels during the reigns of King Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth,” the earl explained animatedly to his small audience as they wandered through the bottle-lined corridors. He gestured to a nook in the wall. “These little chambers were used then as priest holes. They hid monks and priests fleeing their monasteries and churches, as well as a number of prominent noble sympathizers.”

A low voice spoke at Valerie’s shoulder. “The earl seems to take pleasure in the misfortune of others. Though he is not the only one, I think.” The words drove icicles up Valerie’s spine. She turned to confront the marquess’s hooded eyes.

“My lord, I am relieved to see you well,” she breathed. “I have been concerned about you all day.”

The party continued along the corridor, but the marquess’s large hand circled her elbow, forcing her to a halt.

“Vixen,” he whispered huskily, a trace of anger in his hushed voice, “I will not be duped a second time. You have chosen the wrong man with whom to play your little games.”

Valerie wanted to pull away. Instead, she touched his arm.

“I don’t understand. What games?”

His expression turned suspicious, but at least the spark of fury disappeared from his heavy eyes.

“What did you slip into my wine last night, Lady Valerie? Laudanum, or something stronger?”

“I don’t know. I have had an awful megrim all day,” she answered peevishly, then widened her eyes. “But, what do you mean, I slipped it into your wine? You cannot believe I drugged us?”

Hannsley considered her cautiously. “You resisted. Women sometimes change their minds.”

Valerie looked away, screwing her features into an expression of delicate distress.

“My lord,” she whispered, “I came to you willingly. I was only momentarily uneasy.” She glanced up at him. “I am not so practiced in these matters that I can school my every emotion.”

“Forgive me, my dear. I must have been misinformed.”

Valerie’s belly tightened as she remembered Steven’s words about Timothy’s fear of her passionate nature. Her reputation might still be tarnished, but she had changed, even if men like Hannsley and Timothy didn’t believe it. She no longer wished to use men temporarily to gain anyone’s attention. She wanted only one man, forever.

She tugged at Hannsley’s grasp, frowning.

“You should have explained your concerns to me,” Hannsley said, kneading her upper arm. “I would have put your fears to rest.”

Valerie could not hear the voices of the other members of their party. The passageway seemed to close in upon them.

“I did try to tell you. The drug overcame me then, and you too, I think. Didn’t you receive my note explaining?”

“Note?”

“I sent it to your room with my maid this morning. She told me your valet informed her you were still abed and could not be disturbed. He gave it to you, didn’t he?”

The marquess shook his head. “He gave me nothing. My dear, do not lie to me. I will tell you only once more, I am not a man who forgives lies easily.”

Valerie pretended indignation. “My lord, you are unkind.” She held her breath.

“I received no note,” he finally said. “You seem to have been drugged as well. Who would wish to incapacitate us both?”

Valerie’s insides unwound. She grasped his arm with renewed excitement.

“Your valet, of course! He must have filled the wine decanter, didn’t he? He probably still has my note, or has destroyed it. He wants you to believe I am deceiving you and has nearly been successful in doing so.” She clasped her hands to her breast for dramatic emphasis.

“Impossible. Jones has been with me for a dozen years, and I filled the decanter just before you came into the room.”

“Did you leave it unattended? Did you step into your dressing room for a moment, giving him a chance to—” Valerie halted. She stared in alarm at the marquess’s paisley waistcoat. “Oh, dear me! How could I be so foolish? And now she has—”

“What is it? What have you done?” Lord Hannsley gripped her shoulders.

Valerie bit her lip and bowed her head, her voice a declaration of shame. “My maid drugged us. You see, I asked her for something that would prevent—well . . .” She fluttered her hand. “You understand, I could not risk— She gave me a cordial. She said if I put it in my wine I would not . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Oh, my lord, what a foolish widgeon I have been. Especially now, when it is too late.”

The marquess stared down at Valerie for a considering moment. “You merely lack the necessary suspicion of inferiors, my dear. You should know better, but I will not chastise you for it now.”

Valerie grabbed his hands and clung to them. “You are too forgiving.”

“I think it best we lay aside recriminations and consider what motive your maid had to contrive such a thing.”

Valerie dabbed at her tearstained cheek. “I don’t understand. She could have drugged me any time during the past months. I don’t know why she chose to do so when I was with you.”

The marquess’s eyebrows came together. “She must have wished to access my rooms, and took advantage of your visit last night to do so. I had released my valet for the evening, as planned. No doubt she learned that in the servants’ quarters.”

Valerie nodded miserably. “She has undoubtedly robbed you. Do you have any jewels?”

“She must be the one,” he muttered. Valerie’s pulse leaped.

“Which one, my lord?”

“Occasionally, Lady Valerie, I am involved in business of a sensitive nature. Only an hour ago I received a message from an informant. It told me that a French spy currently hides in this house, an agent in disguise seeking to uncover information regarding issues of importance to England’s welfare. The spy is believed to be a lady’s maid. Undoubtedly yours.”

Valerie did not pretend her wonderment. It amazed her that Lord Hannsley accepted Lady March’s forged missive so easily, then swiftly fabricated the story about a French spy, even going so far as to share the information with her. He must truly think she had cotton batting for brains. Awe and disgust mingled in her, overcome quickly by tingles of triumph. Lady March’s instinct to play upon the marquess’s fear of being discovered had been a good one.

Voices sounded in the tunnel beyond, signaling the others’ return.

“I must speak with your maid immediately,” the marquess said. “Take me to her now.”

“But that is what I was saying before.” Valerie nearly cringed at her shrill tone. “It is too late. She has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? When?”

“I don’t know. She was gone when I looked for her to press my gown. She left a note saying she was leaving for London. Oh, we must catch her. Perhaps she has found valuable information in your rooms and has fled to Napoleon with it. England could be in danger!”

Hannsley’s lips whitened. “I will not allow it to go that far, my dear,” he said between tight teeth.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and Valerie pivoted, stepping away from the marquess as the earl’s party appeared around the corner.

“Lady Valerie?” Lord March exclaimed. “Have you been waiting here for us all alone? I am so sorry to have left you behind.”

The marquess had disappeared. Chill slithered up Valerie’s back.

“Dear me,” she said, “I should apologize for lagging. I was simply enraptured by this priest’s hole here and did not know you moved on.” She willed a pink flush into her cheeks.

“Think nothing of it, Lady Valerie. I am glad we have found each other again.” The earl tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and drew her along. Behind, Valerie heard someone mutter the marquess’s name, followed by a deep chuckle and a girlish titter.

So be it. If society saw her as depraved, she would use it to her advantage. She was not afraid of what the world had to say about her.

No fear and no falseness, Lady March had said of her. At least the former was accurate. Lately she was making a real habit out of the latter.

Steven cursed the slippery road. He cursed the carriage-and-six that careened around the corner in the dusk light, keened over like a sloop in a gale, and tumbled halfway down the embankment at the side of the road fifty feet in front of him. He cursed the driver and postilion, both so overset by the accident they could not manage to unhitch their frightened horses from the traces, or calm the distraught tradesman, his wife, and daughters within the carriage. He cursed bad weather, unfit stables, useless grooms, and simpering innkeepers. Though at least the inn’s proprietor sped the task of settling the merchant’s family in a private parlor and sending a boy for a carriage maker.

Mostly, though, Steven cursed himself for leaving Castlemarch that morning. As the gray sky turned black and Tristan stood cooling down in the inn’s stable, dread crept stealthily up his spine and into his chest.

Valerie was in trouble. He knew it the same way he knew he was in love with her, in his blood, the marrow of his bones, the very breaths he drew.

Finally extracting himself from his grateful charges, he slung atop Tristan’s back and set off on the last fifteen miles to Castlemarch, wishing his body was already where his heart had been all day.

Snow fell lightly around the marble pillars of the Greek folly at the far side of the lake. A soft, white haze shrouded the frozen vista in the gathering dark. Valerie huddled closer into her cloak. She could strangle Alethea for proposing the ridiculous plan to visit the little faux temple at night.

But she was too harsh on her romantically inclined friend. She had accompanied the group willingly enough. Lady March had hidden Mabel away in an unused upstairs chamber, and Lord Hannsley had already departed for London, so all was well on that score. Valerie only hoped to avoid another private interview with Mr. Flemming. The outing to the folly with the others seemed just the solution. Then at the last moment Mr. Flemming came along. But she couldn’t let that worry her. Steven could be back any moment. She must remain confident.

She flexed her freezing toes and listened with half an ear to Alethea’s flirtation with Mr. Fenton. Finally several of the others began to stamp their feet too. Someone mentioned a warm fire waiting at the castle.

“Lady Valerie,” Lord Michaels said, stepping toward her, “we have just decided to walk through the gardens to the house rather than await the carriages. Bramfield and Lady Cassandra report that a path skirts the lake before ascending the hill. They walked it yesterday and assure me it is not such a long way.”

Valerie avoided looking directly at Timothy, smiling at all three.

“An excellent suggestion, my lord,” Mr. Flemming said as he appeared at her side. He turned to Valerie. “May I offer to escort you, my lady?”

She laid her gloved hand upon his arm. “Thank you, sir.” He could not possibly try to interrogate her among the others, after all.

The group set off, but within moments Valerie realized she was again acting the fool. Flemming deliberately slowed their pace. The group moved away from the trees and onto a section of path where the snow fell more thickly. Soon she barely saw her friends a few paces ahead.

Willing herself calm, she finally spoke.

“Mr. Flemming, I would be much happier if we remained within sight of the others.” She turned a confiding smile upon him. “It is a dreadful night to be separated from one’s friends.”

“You needn’t to concern yourself, Lady Valerie. You will be safe with me as long as you tell me what I wish to know.” He forced her to halt, heavy flakes gathering upon the hat brim above his fevered eyes. Valerie’s heart constricted. He had the look not of a curious man, but of a desperate one.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, tugging away her arm. He gripped it tight and his gaze took on a penetrating gleam.

“Come now, my lady, we both know you have involved yourself in business that is not yours. Tell me now what you have learned, and I will be very grateful for your immediate compliance.”

Valerie steadied her voice. “Mr. Flemming, I assure you, I don’t know what business or information you are referring to. It is wretchedly cold, however, and I wish to return to the house.” She yanked free again.

His hand clamped upon her shoulder and he whirled her around to face him.

“You cannot deceive me with your well-rehearsed looks and words. I have seen you speak with Ashford and know you went to Hannsley’s room last night. I would threaten to make that interesting piece of information public,” he uttered, “but I suspect even that would not persuade you to tell me what I need to know.” He shook her, his fingertips driving through her cloak. “Hannsley is gone and I need answers. Tell me now, or it won’t go well for you.”