The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (30 page)

Rand groaned with frustration. He hadn’t handled that as well as he ought but why did she have to be so bloody stubborn! He was tempted to send her back to Reardon for a few months. She would likely hate him for it but at least she would be safe there. Last night someone had set fire to what lumber they had left. It had fizzled out before it could spread but next time they might not be so lucky.
    He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stave off the headache he felt coming on. Trouble was brewing and if there were more incidents, as he suspected there would be, she would stay with her family until the matter was resolved. The children could return to Danfield House. He had to keep them safe. Had he trusted his instincts with Jack Barlow the old sailor might still be alive. He would not make the same mistake again.

Cecelia had taken refuge in the gazebo. She gazed at a half acre of garden filled with colorful blooms, manicured hedges and a reflecting pool that mirrored blue sky and white puffy clouds. The air was rose scented and warm but she was far too hurt and angry to care a whit about any of it. Even conceding that she should have talked her plans over with Rand before mentioning a school to the children’s mothers and taking into account that he was still upset over the loss of his friend, he had no cause to be so harsh with her. She was at a loss. What was wrong between the two of them? She was miserable, homesick and likely pregnant by a man who thought her nothing more than a huge bother.
    “Pardon, Madame.”
    
Drat.
Was brooding in private too much to ask? She turned her head and attempted a smile at André who was approaching the gazebo.
    “May I join you?”
    He came to a stop at the steps. “I don’t wish to intrude, but I saw you leave the house and you seemed distressed. I thought I might help in some way."
    She shook her head. “Thank you for your offer but it’s nothing of import.”
    He held her eyes and said softly, “Anything that would cause you distress is of importance.”
    After Rand’s brusqueness André’s concern was almost more than she could deal with and to her complete and utter horror she burst into tears. He quickly moved to her side, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in her hand wrapping his own around hers before releasing it.
    She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Please, forgive me. I’m not normally histrionic. I’m being silly.”
    “You don’t strike me as someone who weeps for no reason,” he said quietly. “But if you don’t wish to unburden yourself, I understand. I am, after all, a stranger.”
    At that moment he seemed less a stranger to her than her own husband. “You are very kind, monsieur, but I ask that you forget this afternoon.”
    The corners of his mouth tilted up. “Even tea with Miss Mae?”
    She couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh heavens, especially tea with Miss Mae. It was dreadful wasn’t it?”
    “Not quite dreadful, but I believe little Rosie expressed everyone’s feelings admirably.”
    “She did. I hated having to scold her when I was in agreement, but I needed to make her understand that her behavior was not acceptable.”
    “The young can be brutally honest.” He offered his arm. “Would you care to stroll with me in the garden? It is a beautiful day and, as I understand it, days like this are rare in England.”
    She hesitated briefly as she remembered the promise she had made to Rand regarding being alone with their guest. But it seemed that no matter what she did she couldn’t please him. And she had passed several men tending the flower beds so they weren’t really alone. Feeling only a slight tinge of guilt she took his arm. “I would be delighted.”

H
arris accepted the whiskey Rand handed him. They had retired to the marquis’s office to discuss what Harris had learned after several nights of drinking at the Nag’s Head.
    The marquis waited for the Scotsman to talk. He knew there was no hurrying the man. He was good but did things in his own time, in his own way. Harris took a healthy swallow and set his glass down on Rand’s desk. “I cannae tell ye who set the fires,” he drawled. “I only ken who didnae.”
    Rand splashed more whiskey in the glass and leaned back in his chair. “That’s as good a place to begin as any.”
    Harris took another drink. “Lord Foxworth didnae. I shared a few pints with his driver an’ the mon was verra obliging to tell me about his lordship. He was visiting his mistress the night the cottage burned and then went on to Bristol to see about a horse the next day.”
    Rand hadn’t expected Foxworth would have done it personally. This was simply Harris’s way of getting to the matter. He nodded.
    “His sons didnae do it either, though they are of a nature to do such a deed. They were at the tavern drinking an’ whoring an’ wrecking havoc both nights. Proprietor was verra unhappy. Demolished two rooms an’ Foxworth willnae cover the damage.” He grimaced. “Those two lads are trouble. Female tenants an’ servants are afeared of them. They rut with any lass they please, whether she’s agreeable or nae. An’ once a poor lass’s belly starts to grow she’s turned out without a pence. Tis said half the tenant’s bairns have the look of Foxworth about them.”
    Rand swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and tried not to think of his father as he digested the information Harris had given him.
    “There’s a third lad, but I doen ken he’s our culprit,” Harris went on. “Lad’s only eleven an’ he’s nae rabble rouser. Bright lad. Father hasn’t much use for him.”
    Rand waited as Harris contemplated the whiskey in his glass. After what seemed an eternity the Scotsman continued. “Lord and Lady Remington arenae particularly well liked. Lord Remington would rather spend his coin at the tables than pay his help and the rents Remington charges arenae reasonable.” He paused. “Your way of doing things threatens them. Tis an example they cannae follow. They’ve pissed too much of their fortune away.”
    It was a familiar story. Rand sighed. “Anything else?”
    Harris shook his head. “I’ll return this evening for a spot of ale and some companionship.” He grinned. “Tis no hardship.”
    “And André?”
    “Spends a great deal o’ time riding.” Harris frowned. “Almost like he’s learning the lay of the land.”
    Rand groaned. “I can only hope that doesn’t mean he’s planning on staying.”
    Harris shrugged. “He’s a peculiar one. Also spends a lot of time in the library. Other than the afternoon strolls he’s taken with Lady Clarendon, the mon seems to prefer his own company.”
    The strolls were not unknown to Rand. He wasn’t happy about it, but as long as they remained in view he would say nothing. “I wish I could shake the feeling that he’s up to no good.”
    “Shall I continue t’ keep an eye on him?”
    “No. I’d rather you keep your eye on my wife. André can’t have started the fires and until we find out who did or I send her to Surrey I don’t want to take any chances.”
    Harris looked skeptical. “She won’t like it.”
    “Unfortunately, she’ll just have to live with it.”
    “And so will I,” Harris said glumly.

Three days later Rand had just joined Whitley at the stables when Cecelia came riding toward him. Her eyes were blazing and two spots of color stood out on her cheeks as she dismounted without aid and tossed her reins to the stable hand without a word. “My lord,” she said coldly. “May I have a word with you in private?”
    Three days later Rand had just joined Whitley at the stables when Cecelia came riding toward him. Her eyes were blazing and two spots of color stood out on her cheeks as she dismounted without aid and tossed her reins to the stable hand without a word. “My lord,” she said coldly. “May I have a word with you in private?”
    He dismissed Whitley with a nod of the head. Once the overseer was out of hearing she said, “Is it true that you’ve asked Harris to spy on me?”
    He sighed audibly. “No.”
    “How can you say that? He’s just admitted it to me!”
    “I asked him to keep an eye on you, not spy.”
    “Because of Monsieur André?” she cried. “Do you know how insulting that is? There is nothing inappropriate about our friendship! He needs someone to talk to and quite frankly, so do I.”
    “Calm yourself Cecelia. It has nothing to do with André.”
    “What is it then?’
    “You haven’t looked well.” He stopped. He couldn’t lie to her. “No that’s not it. Though you have been a bit pale of late.”
    “Would you simply tell me?”
    He sighed again. There was no help for it. “The cottage that burned last week wasn’t struck by lightning. It was deliberately set. The remaining lumber was torched the following night.”
    Her eyes widened. “But why would someone do that?”
    “To impede my progress in hiring new tenants and to scare the remaining ones away.”
    Her brow wrinkled in confusion. Then a look of comprehension dawned on her face. “You suspect one of the local landowners?”
    He lifted his hands in the air and then shrugged. “I would hope not, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m not even certain that makes sense.”
    “But why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I suppose I didn’t want you to worry.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’m your wife and I don’t wish to be excluded simply because you don’t want me to worry.” Her brow wrinkled and he could see her mind working. “Maybe I could help you find out who’s doing this.”
    Frustration sparked within him. “God’s teeth, Cecelia! This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. It might be best if you I sent you back to Surrey until we have this resolved.”
    “No!” Her eyes glittered with defiance. “I won’t go. My place is here.”
    He wanted to shake her. “If someone is willing to burn a cottage to the ground how can I assume they intend no harm to my family?”
    “Send the children if you wish, but unless you intend to abduct me, I won’t leave. We have a party to host in less than a week’s time and there are a hundred things for me to do.”
    “The house party,” he muttered. “In all of this, I’d forgotten the blasted house party.” He rubbed at his face and sighed. “How many invitations went out?”
    “Twenty. And their responses have all been returned. Sixteen affirmative replies and only four regrets. I’m estimating forty-five to fifty guests. Food has been ordered and extra help will be arriving in a few days.” She paused. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Will you send to Surrey for help with the stables or would you rather post a missive to the agency?”
    How could someone who looked so innocent be such an impressive manipulator? He shook his head and almost laughed. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this but I won’t ask that you cancel. But you must do something in return. Cooperate with me. Harris is to see to your safety. And I’ll assign someone to see to the children when they go out to play. What happens after that remains to be seen.”
    Her expression darkened. “I don’t like being followed about.”
    “I don’t care if you don’t like it! Accept it or make plans to return to Surrey.”
    Cecelia looked as if she was about to bite off a retort when Billy’s frantic voice came behind them. “Lord Clarendon! Milady! You must come. David has fallen through the steps. He’s crying for milady and no one knows how to get ‘em free.”

A group of servants were clustered around an open door in the corridor not far from the kitchens. David’s loud wails gave Cecelia a measure of reassurance. He was alive and sounded more frightened than hurt. Rand pushed through the servants and grabbed the lantern a footman had been holding to illuminate the stairwell. Cecelia heard him swear as she came up beside him. What little reassurance she had felt seconds earlier vanished. David was a good fifteen feet below them. All she could see was the back of his head, the rigid set of his thin shoulders and two small arms clinging to the steps. The wood groaned ominously and it was obvious the stairs could give way at any moment. Fighting the panic that threatened to overtake her she sat on the floor to bring her closer to him then said loud enough to be heard over his sobbing, “David, we’re here and you’re going to be fine. Thomas will get you out of there. I promise. But you mustn’t move a muscle.”
    Rand turned to Winston who held a coil of rope in his hands. “How far to the bottom?”
    “A good thirty feet my lord. The wood is riddled with dry rot. He wouldn’t take the rope. He’s too frightened. The door’s been kept bolted for years.” Winston’s unflappable reserve gave way and his voice broke.”
    Rand took the rope from Winston and expertly fashioned a loop at the end. “David,” he called out. “I’m going to toss you a rope tied with a real seaman’s knot. I’ll show you how to make one once we get you up here. Now, if you can put your arms through the loop I’ll pull you up. Can you do that?”
    But David shook his head so frantically the steps creaked. Cecelia reached forward as if she could somehow keep them stable. Heart pounding she commanded as firmly as she could, “Keep still, David.”
    Rand slipped the rope around his waist and tightened it. “Then hold tight lad and I’ll come get you.”
    “Wait! I’ll go. I weigh less. I’m less apt to break through the wood.” Cecelia tried to
    rise but Rand put his hand on her shoulder.
    "No. Your skirts will hinder you and we can’t risk waiting for you to change.” He tossed the other end of the rope back to the footman who had handed it to him. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”
    “Timothy,” milord.”
    “Timothy, whatever happens, don’t let go of this. And if the steps give way you won’t be able to hold my weight by yourself so I need two more men to hold on with you.” Several other footmen stepped forward. Rand sized them up and satisfied with their brawn turned and took the first step. The wood protested but he moved quickly and reached David in a matter of seconds. Holding her breath, Cecelia watched as he eased David from the splintered wood. “Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded, “and your legs around my waist.” To the footmen, he called out, “Keep the rope taut.” Moments later they were safely in the corridor.
    He set David down and the little boy flew into Cecelia’s open arms. She could feel the sobs shake his body as his tears started all over again. She wanted to join in. Never in her life had she been so frightened. “You’re safe, little one,” she crooned as she rocked him in her lap. “I told you Thomas would get you out of there.”
    “I want this door nailed shut now.” She looked up to see her husband dropping the bolt into its cradle. His tone was soft but the anger in his voice was chilling. “Obviously a bolt is not enough to keep out curious children. And after it’s boarded up, put something in front of it. Preferably something heavy. And you.” He looked at Billy. “Were you supposed to be watching David?”
    Billy flushed as he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Yes, milord.”
    “It seems your penchant for getting into trouble is contagious.” Rand crooked his finger at the boy and Cecelia watched as Billy followed him down the corridor.
    
Billy feels bad enough as it is,
she thought angrily.
Railing at him will accomplish nothing. And remaining to give David a few more words of comfort wouldn’t have hurt.
David tightened his arms around her and hiccupped. As she hugged him back a tear ran down her cheek. David was safe. Everything had turned out all right. Yet, somehow it hadn’t.