The Charmer (26 page)

Susanna turned her back and tried
to shut out their voices. She
would
endure this too. Their opinions
didn't matter. They were just words. She
would
rise above them. What
she'd shared with Orlando hadn't been dirty or shameful, but beautiful. It had
filled her, blocked out past pains, and made her feel whole again. And
cherished. Definitely that.

She looked around for him but
couldn't see his striking blond head above the other parishioners.

"He left, m'lady,"
Bessie said without Susanna asking. "Said he would be back soon."

"Left? Where did he
go?"

Bessie shrugged.

"He slipped away,"
Hendricks said, "right after the stranger and his servant disappeared
behind those trees." He nodded at a stand of yew. "Holt walked off in
the same direction."

Susanna frowned at the copse. He
may have fulfilled her in bed and promised to protect her, but he was still a
puzzle that needed solving. "Wait here for me." She strode off in the
direction of the yew trees.

***

"We only have a few
minutes," Orlando said. "So talk."

"Is that how you get your
women to open up?" Hughe asked. He wore a tall hat with more feathers on
it than a bird and his doublet was embroidered with a silvery feather pattern.
The outfit took ridiculous to a new level and Orlando would have teased him if
they'd had more time.

"Shut it, Hughe," he warned.

"You're in a fine
mood."

Orlando had to grudgingly admit,
if only to himself, that he was. Seeing the bunch of marigolds on Phillip's
grave had given him an unexpected gut-ache. Susanna rarely spoke about either
of her husbands, but clearly she cared enough for her second one to tend his
grave. Aside from the flowers, the marble headstone was clean, the weeds
removed. It shouldn't bother him—the man had been her husband and was now very
dead for God's sake. But it did.

"Someone will come soon,"
he said. "Believe me, my absence will be noticed today of all days."

"I heard the gossip. Bewitched,
are you?"

Cole grunted from where he kept watch
near a tree. "Makes a nice change."

"Just don't go leaving us
like Rafe," Hughe said. "We can't cope with any more rejection, can
we, Cole?"

"My heart's bleeding,"
Cole said blandly, without turning around.

"It's not a jest,"
Orlando snapped. "And I'm not leaving the Guild. Why in God's name would I
want to do that?" He glanced past Cole toward the old stone church perched
atop the rise. Parishioners milled about and he could just make out Susanna
among them.

 Was she enduring more of that
malicious talk? Walter Cowdrey ought to have kept his sister home.

He ached to go to her and whisk
her away but he needed to speak to Hughe and Cole. "Tell me what you found
out about Susanna's first husband. How did he die?"

"Natural causes," Hughe
said, suddenly serious and speaking quickly. "He ate too much, drank to
excess, and suffered from melancholy after losing his fortune. Apparently he
was also saddened that his beautiful wife didn't give him heirs."

"It wasn't her fault,"
Orlando growled. "Her second husband got a child upon her."

Hughe waved his hand. "So I
think we can safely conclude Lady Lynden is innocent of murder."

Orlando blew out a breath. He
already knew it, but hearing Hughe say it with such certainty meant that he
would not try to eliminate her without Orlando's knowledge.

"So we're left with the
question, who hired us to kill her and why?"

And would they hire someone else if
the Guild refused?

"Monk," Orlando said.
"The stranger up at Sutton Hall...he's definitely hiding something."
He told them about the letter from Lord Whipple in Monk's pack and the one in
Lynden's study, as well as Monk's wanderings around Stoneleigh.

"Whipple?" Hughe pursed
his lips. "Interesting. You think this man Monk has been hired by Lynden
to find something at Stoneleigh?"

"At Whipple's insistence,
yes. It must be some incriminating papers, or why else would the earl be
involved? The letter did say something about Lynden's cousin, Susanna's second
husband."

Hughe began to pace, churning up
the muddy earth and damp leaf matter with his blue velvet shoes. Not that Hughe
would care. Later, back at the inn, he would make a show of caring and Cole
would have to clean them. Picturing his big, serious friend stooping to cleaning
another man's shoes would ordinarily make Orlando laugh, but not today.

"I don't think any of them
are our client," Cole said. "The timing is wrong. Monk arrived here the
same time you did, Orlando. If our client is watching, he would not have known
that you wavered then. Perhaps now, however..."

"I agree," Orlando
said. "Then why is he here? Is Susanna innocently involved in a Catholic
plot?"

Hughe continued to pace.
"She must be," he said. "Or her husband was. Monk's been looking
through her papers, disturbing the letters that were sent to her from her grower
on the Continent. Correct?"

"I believe so."

"Not love letters or other
correspondence from Phillip?"

Orlando's gut knotted. "Not
that I am aware."

"Letters from the Continent,
a known Catholic sympathizer in Whipple... It must be the correspondence
between them that Monk is trying to find, and most likely it's of a treasonous
nature. But why involve Lynden? Was he Catholic?"

"Susanna didn't think
so."

Hughe shook his head and resumed
his pacing.

"Whatever the reason,"
Orlando said, "there is a letter incriminating Whipple or Lynden or both
in Susanna's possession and that's why they desperately want it back."

"In which case, she must
surely have read it by now and have grown suspicious."

"Not necessarily,"
Orlando said. "It could have been written in lemon juice."

"You say Monk has taken
nothing from Susanna's belongings?" Hughe asked. "Not a single
letter?"

"It appears they've just been
trifled with but nothing was taken."

"I wonder why."

"Because what he wanted
wasn't there." Oh.
Hell
. "The building plans."

"The what?"

"Plans for building a
structure over her orange trees to protect them. Monk and I erected the foundations
yesterday. He seemed interested in the plans, asking her who'd sent them,
pouring over them more than necessary."

"As if he was attempting to read
the invisible lemon juice writing." Hughe nodded. "So where are the
plans now?"

"Susanna has them."

"Good. I think we should
confront Monk."

"I'll do it after I escort
Susanna back to Stoneleigh. I'm not leaving her alone and vulnerable, Hughe, no
matter what."

"Agreed."

Cole glanced at them over his
shoulder. "You need to protect orange trees? What's the point of growing
them if they need protection? What's wrong with good English trees?"

"Shut it, Cole, and keep
look-out," Orlando said. "Hughe, there's one other thing."

Cole looked back toward the church
and swore. "Your lover is walking this way."

Orlando pulled Hughe further into
the shadows. "Next time wear green and brown to blend in."

"Green and brown clash
horribly," Hughe said, putting on his dandy's tone. "I wouldn't be
caught dead wearing those colors together."

"Don't tempt me." He
glanced back the way they'd come but he couldn't see Cole through the thick foliage.
"I want to tell Susanna about my reason for being here."

"No."

"I won't mention the Guild
or you."

"No!"

"Hughe." Orlando
gripped his friend's arms. "I
need
to tell her. She's already
suspicious about my presence. If she finds out more, if she discovers I'm
lying..." He shook his head. How could he explain it when he wasn't even
sure why he needed to break his vow of secrecy? He blew out a breath. A few
more moments and she would be with them. There was no time to think anymore, he
just had to say it uncensored. "I've already lost her as my lover. I don't
want to lose her friendship too."

Orlando could feel Hughe tense.
The cool, pale gaze sharpened. "Listen to me," Hughe said and Orlando
had never heard such gloom in his friend's voice. "If you so much as hint
to her about your work, you will have to leave the Guild. I can allow no
compromises, no half-truths, nothing. The lives of all of us, yourself
included, depends on our secrecy."

"She wouldn't tell a
soul."

Hughe shook his head. "Do
not make me remove you, Orlando. It really would break my heart."

Orlando didn't know whether he
meant remove him from the Guild or from the land of the living, nor did he want
to find out. He had seen how ruthless Hughe could be and he didn't want to
force his hand.

"I want your promise,
Orlando."

When Orlando dropped his hands
away and hesitated, Hughe grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, hard.
"Promise me," he ground out.

If Orlando disobeyed, there would
be no more Guild for him. He would need to find work elsewhere, perhaps even
return to London. No, he could never do that. Never face Thomas or his wife May
again. Whatever he did, he was unlikely to find the sort of job that offered as
much freedom as the Guild did.

"I promise," he finally
said.

Hughe let go and wiped the back
of his hand across his forehead. "No good can come of her knowing
anyway."

"She comes," Cole
whispered, slipping silently through the trees to join them.

Hughe and Cole disappeared deeper
into the stand of trees. Orlando blew out a measured breath just as Susanna's
soft footsteps thudded over the damp ground.

"Orlando? Are you
there?"

"Here." He forced a
smile when he saw her, but inside he felt so angry he wanted to hit something.
Hughe's face came to mind. Those sharp cheekbones would make a satisfying crack
under his fist.

"What are you doing
here?" she asked, looking past him.

"Relieving myself."

She gasped. "In church
grounds?"

"Is that against the
law?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.
They looked tired, with more small lines radiating from the corners than before.
"It could be."

"I'm not sure these trees
are even on church land. They're some distance away." He ducked under her
hat and kissed her forehead because no one was looking and he just bloody well
wanted to. Hughe might be able to control what Orlando could and couldn't say,
but he was damned if he'd let anyone tell him to stop kissing her.

"Orlando," she warned.
"Don't. What if someone saw?"

"There's no one here."

"What about those other men?
The gentleman and his servant?"

"Were they relieving
themselves too?"

She gave him a withering look.
"Do not pretend you didn't see them. I know you met them in here.
Why?"

"Susanna, don't fret. You've
been through an ordeal and are hearing and seeing things that aren't
there." He moved past her so he didn't have to see the skepticism in her
eyes. "Let's go."

"No."

He doubled back. "Is
everything all right?"

She nodded past him to the church.
"I'll return the way I came, but you must go in the opposite direction. We
cannot be seen together. If you walk through these trees, you'll come to the
main road leading out of the village. We'll pick you up as we pass."

He nodded and touched her cheek.
It was cold. "Are you all right?"

She blinked rapidly up at him but
it didn't hide the sheen of tears. "I don't understand why...why they hate
me so."

He folded her into his arms and
held her against his chest. If she cried, she made no sound or movement. He
couldn't even hear her breathing. After a moment she stepped away.

"I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"Susanna, if you need me,
I'll not be far. Understand? Things may have changed between us, but you can
trust me."
Except for when I must lie.

"Thank you," she said,
rather formally. She smoothed down her skirt, nodded once and walked back the
way she'd come.

He watched her leave. Did she truly
not know why Margaret Cowdrey wanted to make her as miserable as she was? Did Susanna
not know how beautiful she was, and how jealous that could make other women?

It seemed so remarkable, yet he
was beginning to think she didn't.

***

Orlando had lied to her about
meeting the two strangers among the trees. Susanna was certain of it. She
wasn't sure how she knew since she had no proof, but she did.

What was he up to?

And did it bode ill for her or
anyone she loved?

He'd told her she could trust
him, yet that was probably a lie too. Since he'd lied about the strangers, and
most likely about being a gardener, how could she trust anything he said?

"The service was nice
today," Bessie said. She was squeezed between Susanna and Cook on the
driver's seat, her good hat in her lap lest it blow off.

"It was too long," Cook
said. "I've got to get back to my kitchen."

"The kitchen won't miss you
for a while yet," Hendricks said from behind them where he sat with
Orlando in the back of the cart. "Your soul comes first."

"My soul does all right,
thank you, Mr. Hendricks. More than I can say for some others," Cook
muttered.

"Eh? What's that about
mothers?"