The Book Of Scandal (35 page)

The man smiled. “Can you be trusted with that important message?”

“Aye, sir!” Frances said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Very good.” The man smiled at him again and turned away, walking back to the church and disappearing around the corner.

Frances thought that was rather odd, seeing as how there were no church services today, but he was too eager to deliver the message on behalf of Lord Lindsey to think about it for long.

As luck would have it, Lady Lindsey came a quarter of an hour later with a man dressed in the earl’s livery. He stood at the gate as the countess walked across the graveyard, daintily lifting her skirts as she stepped over old graves. Frances was pleased to see her; it would save him a walk to the earl’s house to deliver his message. “Good morning, mu’um!” he called cheerfully.

“Ah, there you are, Frances!” the countess called to him with a broad smile.

Frances could not help but smile in return. When Lady Lindsey had come home, Frances thought she’d seemed rather sad. Now she looked happy. And beautiful. He’d not seen a woman as pretty as she in all of Eastchurch. He had, however, seen some in London and supposed all beautiful women lived there. He fancied his mother had been beautiful, but he’d never seen her except when he was first born, and that, he didn’t remember.

“I’ve a message from his lordship!” he announced grandly, proud to have been entrusted with it.

“Oh, have you indeed?” She brushed a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand and looked at the baby’s grave a moment. “Well then?” she asked, and tickled his ear. “Will you keep me on tenterhooks? What is the message?”

His lordship should like you to meet him in the cottage at half past ten for a surprise.”

She looked confused for a moment, and Frances fretted that he’d not delivered the message properly.

“I thought he’d gone to the village,” she said.

Frances shook his head. He imagined if the earl was to give her a surprise, he was in the cottage, just as the man had said.

But then a smile almost as brilliant as the sun lit her face and she exclaimed with great delight, “A surprise! Do you know what it is?”

Frances really hadn’t the slightest idea, but he didn’t want to appear not to know and said without thought, “Lavender. Perfume, I think.”

Her eyes lit with pleasure. “Oh my, that is a special surprise, is it not?”

Frances didn’t know if it was or not, but had the unnerving thought that she might mention to the earl that he’d said lavender when he really had no idea of the surprise at all. “But I’m not to tell you, mu’um. You won’t tell him that I told you, will you?” he asked, panicking a little.

“Of course not,” she assured him. She leaned over and caught his forgotten scarf, then wrapped it around his neck like his grandmother had done earlier. “You best keep this on. You’ll catch an ague if you don’t.” She patted him on the cheek and, with a cheery wave, walked out of the graveyard with the earl’s man.

Evelyn was cautiously hopeful that Nathan’s invitation to the cottage signaled an end to their impasse. She eagerly changed from the drab day gown she had donned to visit Robbie’s grave to a vibrant blue silk, which looked surprisingly nice with her thick leather boots, a necessity for walking anywhere today.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror to see what Nathan would see when she entered the cottage. Hopefully, he would see her true desire to reconcile. And that she loved him! Oh yes, she loved him—she’d realized she’d always loved him on some plane, but was only now beginning to realize how complex her feelings were. She could only thank God he’d come for her when he had—what might she have done if he hadn’t?

Ah well, enough of that. She was ready to receive her surprise—lavender! She chuckled out loud and picked up her cloak.

At half past ten, her spirits buoyed by hope, and a hopeful smile on her face, Evelyn slipped out of the house without Seth, her ever-present shadow, who had not heard her conversation with Frances, and really, why should she need him now? She’d be with her husband, and that was all the protection she needed.

Evelyn set out for the cottage, her stride long, her arms swinging.

The sheriff had brought the news last night that John, the man who had tried to kill Evelyn for fifty pounds—would be transported the following day to Cirencester to face a magistrate. The sheriff thought Nathan might like one last word with the criminal.

Nathan rode into Eastchurch very early to have that word, but when he arrived, the sheriff had some astounding news—he’d just discovered John had hanged himself rather than face the magistrate.

The discovery shocked Nathan—he quickly ran through the reasons why a man would take his own life, and the only thing that seemed even remotely plausible was that he feared something worse than death by his own hand.

Perhaps he feared the sort of death he might receive by another’s hand more than his own.

The news left Nathan feeling at sixes and sevens—he rode hard for home, the sense of uneasiness growing in him. He knew Evelyn was in the company of his best men, but he had a prickly feeling beneath his collar.

As he rode past the church and graveyard, he saw Frances toiling away at Robert’s grave. The lad saw him, too, and began to wave his arms, trying to entice him to stop. Nathan had no time for it, but he hated to disappoint the boy, and impatiently reined Cedric to a halt alongside the fence.

“I did what you asked, milord!” Frances said breathlessly, having run across the graveyard to meet him at the fence.

Nathan glanced at Robert’s grave. “I see that you did, Frances, and what a fine job you’ve done.” He smiled at him and lifted the reins.

“No, milord, I mean that I gave Lady Lindsey your message,” he said brightly, and Nathan felt his heart drop to his toes. “I didn’t mean to tell her the surprise, but she asked me what I thought it was, and I—”

“What message?” Nathan demanded.

Frances blinked. “That she was to meet you in the cottage—”

“Dear God,” Nathan said. “Tell me slowly, lad. Who told you to give that message to Lady Lindsey? And when was she to meet me?”

The color bled from the boy’s face. “The g-gentleman,” he stammered. “He said I was to deliver the message for you, sir.”

“What gentleman?”

“I…I don’t know,” Frances said frantically. “I’ve seen him round here, but I don’t know his name.”

“When? When was she to meet him?” he demanded roughly, causing Frances to shrink away from him.

“At half past ten, my lord.”

Nathan quickly dug his watch from his pocket—it was just half past ten. He dug his spurs into Cedric’s flank. Cedric jumped, startling Frances. Nathan heard the boy’s cry of alarm, but he had no time to spare.

The river was running above its banks, the water rushing past, full of debris from the heavy rains. The path was pitted, too; Evelyn had to hop between shallow mud puddles. In the place where the path narrowed between the wall of a cliff and the river—which, she noticed, was dangerously close to the path—she heard the sound of an approaching horse.

Nathan.

She stopped in the middle of the road and looked up, smiling happily. She saw the rider and horse up the path, and her smile faded—that was not Nathan riding full bore for her.

Evelyn’s heart stopped. She frantically looked around—there was no place for her to go except the rushing river. She whirled around and looked back the way she had come, but the path was too long and too narrow—she could never outrun that horse. She twisted about—horse and rider were coming straight at her. Panic filled her throat—she couldn’t even scream. She was paralyzed with terror, could do nothing but stand and watch the horse’s hooves clawing the ground as he raced toward her.

As the horse drew closer, something broke inside her; Evelyn screamed and threw her arms over her head, expecting to be trampled or knocked into the river.

The horse didn’t run her down. She heard its bald neigh and opened her eyes. The horse had reared and the rider was trying desperately to rein him about on that narrow path.

Her initial thought was that the rider hadn’t seen her until he was almost upon her, but he bent over the horse’s neck and rode just as hard away from her.

It was then she heard another horse behind her and with a shriek of fear, she threw herself up against the side of the cliff, her arms splayed wide. The rider—Nathan—threw himself off his horse and lunged for her, catching her up in his arms. “God in heaven,” he said breathlessly. “God in heaven.”

“What happened?” she cried. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said grimly, and put his arm around her, forcing her along, while Evelyn tried to look over her shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” Evelyn said as Nathan lifted her up to his saddle. “He came so close to running me down! Did he not see me? Did he mean to frighten me?”

Nathan swung up behind her, put his arm tightly around her middle. “He meant to harm you,” he said shortly, and started Cedric back to the house.

“Oh my God,” Evelyn whispered. She could no longer deny it—someone was trying to kill her.

E velyn was still shaking when Nathan helped her off the horse at the house, her eyes still wide with the frightening realization that she’d come close to death.

“Benton!” Nathan shouted. “Where in God’s name are you?”

A moment later, the door of the house was thrown open and Benton came bounding down the steps, pointing a footman to Nathan’s horse, another to the door. “Gather a search party,” Nathan said to Benton as the butler took in a shaken Evelyn. “There is a man on horseback, probably deep in the woods by now. I want every inch of this property searched!”

Benton nodded and began striding briskly away.

“And have Frances Brady brought to me at once! Tell the men to bring me something!” Nathan shouted after him. “Anything!”

To Evelyn he said softly, “I will ring for Kathleen—”

“No!” Evelyn cried, and grabbed his lapel, looking up at him with terror.

“Calm down, Evie,” he said, taking her hands in his and ushering her up the steps. “You are safe now—”

“No, no, I am not safe,” she said wildly as they entered the foyer. “He meant to put me in the river! He meant to see me drowned! Frances sent me to that man—Frances must know who he is!”

“Frances is a boy, Evelyn,” Nathan said as he ushered her into the nearest room. “He was duped. He would never wish you harm,” he added once they were alone in the small receiving room.

“No, of course not—but he must know who did this!”

“You’re right, he must know something,” Nathan said. “I will speak with him at once, but in the meantime, I want you to stay here—”

“No!” she cried again, and launched herself at him, almost toppling them both. Nathan caught her with his hands on her waist as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his collar.

“Evelyn, darling, you are safe here, but I must go and look for the bastard who did this to you!”

“Let them find him,” she pleaded tearfully. “Please, Nathan, please—promise me this time you will not leave me.”

The way she said it brought back an ugly memory. He remembered another time she had pleaded with him to stay and he had gone—it was shortly after Robert’s death, and she’d been standing in her bedroom, wearing a chemise and dressing gown. Her hair had been dull and straight, her eyes shadowed with dark circles.

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember where he’d been headed, but she’d begged him to stay. “Promise me you will not leave me, Nathan,” she’d said shakily. “I can’t bear it if you leave me, too.”

“You must get hold of yourself, Evelyn,” he’d said curtly, and had walked out, his eyes and ears closed to her tears.

At the time, he’d believed he could not bear her pain as well as his own, and he felt somewhat humiliated by those old fears. She’d needed reassurance and he’d refused to give it to her. He saw in her eyes now that same hopeless, frantic, wild look.

“Please, Nathan,” she said tearfully. “Please don’t leave me now.”

He smoothed her hair with the palm of his hand. “I will not leave you,” he said softly. “I will never leave you. You have my word.” He kissed her forehead, then dipped down so that he was eye-level with her. “I want you to think again, Evie. Are you entirely certain you don’t remember anything unusual or strange that you might have seen or heard in London? If you could but remember, it would help us find who is behind this. “Think back,” he urged her. “Think back to your time with Dunhill—”

“I don’t want to think of him!” she said, and twisted away from him.

Nathan wasn’t particularly happy to, either. “Did you ever speak of the scandal?” he continued doggedly.

“No,” she said with a wince, then, “I don’t know. Perhaps.” She closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath.

“Think,” Nathan urged her.

“I am thinking,” she said, and walked to the windows, her arms folded tightly around her.

But no amount of trying to jog her memory seemed to work—if anything, it had the opposite effect. The more questions Nathan asked, the more agitated Evelyn became.

Frances wasn’t much help, either. He was frightened, and while he could say he’d seen the man before at Eastchurch, that he was one of the “hunters,” he could not say anything more helpful than that. Nathan took “hunter” to mean one of the gamekeepers, but when he had them brought in, Frances swore it was none of them. The only thing Frances could say about the man was that he had small brown eyes, a woolen greatcoat, and a hat.

That described quite a lot of men in this shire.

Nathan sent the tearful boy home in the company of a groom.

It seemed impossible to Nathan that a man could attack his wife on his property and he could find no clue as to his identity.

That evening, the hastily assembled search party returned empty-handed. One of the men told Nathan that whoever had attempted to knock Evelyn into the river must have known the estate fairly well. “The horse’s prints ended at the river’s bend,” the man said. “He left no trace.”

“How could he leave no trace?” Nathan demanded.