The Haunting of a Duke (29 page)

It was a small dig, but Spencer flinched nonetheless.

"Your only friend? When I've saved your worthless hide—"

"Enough!"

The interjection was from the doorway, where Emme stood glaring at them both. Rhys simply sat back and allowed her to have at them. He was glad to have someone else drawing her fire. Michael crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the lecture that was surely to come and Spencer simply raised an eyebrow as if unable to believe someone dared to interrupt him.

Emme walked fully into the room, and when she spoke her voice was calm and very cool. “Lord Wolverstone, I thank you for your assistance with my sister, and while your assessment of Lord Ellersleigh's character might be based on a longer acquaintance than my own, I can only assure you that since our first meeting Lord Ellersleigh has been a true friend to both my husband and myself. Admittedly, he can be quite improper, but I have never known him to be insincere. Additionally, when you save someone's hide, as you so eloquently put it, it is an act of friendship and generosity and should not be invoked later as a form of currency."

No one in the room spoke. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the mantel. To Rhys’ knowledge, no one had ever taken Spencer to task for his behavior, his opinions, or anything else. Spencer had always been the angel to Michael's devil.

Conversely, he also thought it might be the first time someone had actually defended Michael. That shamed him more than a bit. To ease the tension that had settled over the room, he said, “How is Larissa?"

Emme sighed. “She is exhausted. I can't imagine what she has been through. She's lost at least a stone when she could ill afford to do so."

Rhys nodded. “When this is settled, I will be visiting your stepfather again. He will not get away with what he has done."

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The following days passed in a blur. Emme tended to Larissa during the day and Michael assisted her, proving to be a competent physician. He was also very circumspect with Larissa, his behavior all that was proper. He put Larissa at ease, which in turn put everyone else at ease.

The tension that had been so evident between Michael and Lord Wolverstone had eased as well, but Emme knew that it would take little to reignite their rancor. She had spoken to Rhys about it. He'd revealed that while they had all once been the best of friends, over the years Michael and Spence, as he called Wolverstone, had gradually drifted apart. Wolverstone was a stickler for propriety whereas Michael made it a point to break every rule and to do it smiling.

In spite of her argument with Rhys, they'd called an uneasy truce themselves. By tacit understanding, neither of them mentioned their disagreement.

But for Emme, it was not forgotten. She knew the answers were in the tunnels and she meant to find them, but first she had to help Larissa. That morning Larissa was out of bed and seated before the windows, enjoying the weak wintry sunshine that poured in. She had regained some of the weight but was still painfully thin. Nonetheless, that morning her cheeks were pink and there was more light in her eyes than Emme had seen since before Larissa's banishment.

"So I am to be an aunt,” Larissa said.

Emme sighed. “Michael told you."

Larissa laughed. “No, he did not tell me. Some things are simply known."

"Then do you know if the child is a boy or a girl?"

"Do you think your husband will be upset if you do not produce an heir?"

She didn't, Emme realized. Oh, of course she knew that Rhys would want to have a son but if she presented him with a daughter she didn't think he would be disappointed. “No. I think if I have a healthy babe it will not matter to either of us."

Larissa gifted her with a beatific smile and said simply, “Then all is as it should be."

Emme clasped her sister's hand in her own and then asked the question that had been burning in her mind since her sister's disappearance. “What happened, Larissa? Tell me the whole story. There is no need to keep secrets ."

Larissa's smile faded and her gaze hardened. “Mr. Stidham decided to ignore Rhys’ edict regarding my potential engagement to Lord Moreland. When I refused to comply, well, Lord Moreland was given permission to persuade me by any means necessary."

"Did he—” Emme broke off, unable to ask the question.

Larissa shook her head sadly. Her gaze was direct and there was a world-weary air about her as she replied, “No. I managed to escape him and in the process, inflicted a rather embarrassing wound to his pride. Apparently, the match had been arranged in lieu of payment of a debt."

Emme wasn't nearly as shocked by that as she should have been. She'd known that Stidham was investing heavily and that he was doing poorly at it. She also knew that he'd never thought of them as anything but a burden and a drain on his dwindling finances. “Why didn't you tell Mama? She would never have permitted such a thing!"

"There was no time. Mr. Stidham took me in the carriage to pay a call. We arrived at a townhouse and were invited inside. Then Mr. Stidham left me there."

Remembering the fear and the disgust she'd felt when Lord Pommeroy had cornered her in the morning room, she asked, “Did he hurt you?"

Larissa shrugged. “Not horribly. I've suffered far more painful treatment since."

Outside the door, Michael's fists were clenched tightly and the fury that swept through him was consuming. He turned and strode back down the hall and toward the stairs. He entered the study where Rhys and Spencer were waiting for him. He had wanted to check in on Larissa before they went into the maze of tunnels beneath the house. What he had just overheard sickened him. He would be seeing to Stidham when he went back to London, whether Rhys wanted him to or not.

As he entered the library, Rhys looked at him and noted the tension in Michael's shoulders and the cold fury that burned in his eyes. “Is there a problem, Michael?"

"The only problem is the one I intend to create for your dear wife's stepfather. That man will die by my hand, Rhys, so prepare yourself for it."

Spence eyed him warily. “What prompted your sudden bloodlust?"

He wouldn't repeat it, Michael decided. It was not his story to tell. “Suffice to say, the more I learn of him, the more I realize that he is undeserving to draw breath."

Rhys didn't question Michael further. He would learn the truth from Emme later, but Spencer would have to remain ignorant. “If he does die by your hand, please do it discreetly."

Michael's only response was a curt nod.

Spencer cleared his throat and said, “Which section of the tunnels are we searching today?"

"The tunnels under the south wing to start. I want to find out how this bastard is coming and going."

They each took their lanterns and headed into the warren-like dungeons to continue their search.

Emme conducted her own search. She had begun in the gallery, at Larissa's suggestion. She didn't know what had prompted the suggestion, but when Larissa was certain of something there was usually a reason. When Larissa slept after the painful confessions that morning, she'd contemplated what to tell Rhys. Her fury, her need for some sort of retribution for Larissa was consuming. Stidham's contempt of her, the hurled insults she had suffered at his hands, were nothing in comparison to what he had done to her sister. She ached for her sister, for the cruelty that she had been forced to endure.

She pushed those thoughts aside and forced herself to focus as she stepped into the gallery. She strolled along, examining each portrait with care. It was when she reached the family portrait with Rhys and his siblings that she paused. Next to it there was a portrait of the previous duke, Rhys’ father. Emme's eyes widened as she took in the small, intricate, filigreed cravat pin that he wore with only one small diamond adorning it. It was the same pin Rhys had found in the south wing.

The former duke had passed away long before Rhys’ first marriage, long before Elise had begun entertaining her lovers in the hallowed halls of Briarwood. Who had inherited the pin?

She needed to tell Rhys where she had seen the pin before and determine what significance it could have. In the hallway she rang for a footman and instructed him to have the portrait moved to the library. She then returned to the library herself to await Rhys’ return.

She did not have to wait long. She heard the heavy door bang in the corridor, the same door she had used prior to her first private encounter with Rhys. The noise of the door was followed by the sound of male voices. When they reached the library Emme noted that the lot of them were filthy. Covered in dirt and cobwebs, they all looked worse for wear.

She reached for the bell pull and instructed Winstone to have luncheon brought in.

After he had left, she looked pointedly at Rhys and said, “Did you find anything?"

He shook his head. “Not a bloody thing."

Emme smiled. “I think I've found something and before you begin to yell, I did not go near the tunnels!” Stepping aside, she indicated the portrait. “Look at the pin."

It was Michael who stepped forward and stared in growing recognition. “I knew I'd seen it before."

Rhys stared at the portrait, at the cravat pin, and felt his heart sink. “Jeremy inherited that pin. I will speak with Tinsley and see what he knows."

Michael posed the question that plagued them all. “If the pin was your father's, what does the inscription mean? We had assumed it was from Elise to whomever but what if the ‘E’ was someone else altogether?"

Rhys considered it. “It is possible. My father's given name was Alexander, though I cannot recall anyone ever using his name freely. Even my mother called him Briarleigh."

"We need to see if the pin that Jeremy inherited is still amongst his things. Perhaps it isn't the same pin, but a duplicate and if it is a duplicate we need to find its origins,” Emme said.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I think that is the wisest course of action at this point."

Emme left them to their lunch and went upstairs to check on Larissa.

After she had gone, Rhys turned back to Michael and asked, “Have you heard from Hycliff about the buttons?"

Michael shook his head. “He's traced them to a tailor on Saville Row, but unfortunately the man has passed on. It was a dead end."

Rhys cursed softly. It had been too much to hope that they would identify the fiend so easily. He knew that it couldn't go on much longer. They were all but living like prisoners in their home.

The thought renewed his purpose, and he said, “We'll head back to the tunnels after lunch then. There is still a lot of ground to be covered."

It was hours later that Emme and Larissa were seated in the small morning room, idly perusing fashion plates. For herself, Emme had no interest, but Larissa needed clothes. A few of her own gowns had been altered to fit her, and a few that Lady Phyllis had passed along as well, but with Larissa's slight frame, only so much could be accomplished.

"I think this would look lovely on you,” Emme said and pointed to a sketch in one of the magazines. It was a simple day dress, but done in a stunning shade of green that would look lovely with Larissa's vibrant red hair.

"I cannot allow your husband to purchase a wardrobe for me. I've sent a letter to mother and she will send along my things shortly,” Larissa said.

"He wouldn't mind. Rhys is incredibly generous."

Larissa laughed. “Only because he's madly in love with you."

Emme's heart stilled. “Don't be silly, we married because we were caught in a compromising position. It was more about a momentary lapse of propriety than about a love match."

Larissa smiled. “That might have been true at the time but I have seen how he looks at you. He does love you, even if he isn't capable of uttering the words. Some men aren't, you know?"

"Words mean little at any rate,” Emme said, “I prefer to judge a man based on actions and Rhys’ actions have shown him to be a caring and considerate husband, if a bit high-handed at times. We'll leave the question of love to the poets and focus on the more pressing issue of how to deal with an autocratic man."

Larissa sighed, but didn't press the issue, for which Emme was thankful. Turning back to the fashion plates, Emme held up one that she knew Larissa would not be able to resist.

"Perhaps one gown,” Larissa conceded softly, effectively changing the subject.

Emme smiled. “Then it should certainly be this one; it will be so charming on you."

As they were putting the fashion plates away Emme saw movement from the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she saw Melisande in the hallway. She had never seen the child inside the house but only in the gardens before. She glanced at Larissa and while she knew her sister couldn't see the child, she knew that Larissa was aware of her presence. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Larissa indicated that she should go.

Rising, Emme strolled into the hallway and followed Melisande as she made her way toward the south wing.

The child stopped just outside the entrance and peered over her shoulder. “I like your sister, Emme. She's very nice, but so very sad."

Seating herself on the floor, Emme met the strangely direct gaze of the phantom child. “She is very sad. Some people have been very unkind to her."

"If I had lived, you and I would be sisters now. I would be grown. I would have a husband and children but I never would have let Jeremy or Rhys become involved with Elise and then you wouldn't be here. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen? Do you think?"

It was an alarming train of thought, to look at the sequence of events and recognize how one shift could have altered everything. “I really don't know, Melisande."

Melisande had stopped listening. Her attention became focused on a point behind them, in the distance. When she looked back at Emme her eyes were filled with fear and pain. “He's coming, Emme. You must hide."

Emme glanced behind her. She could hear footsteps, but she didn't question Melisande's judgment. She rushed through the entrance into the south wing, her slippered feet silent on the marble floors. Rhys and the other gentlemen were in the tunnel. Larissa was still in the morning room and too weak to be of assistance at any rate. All the servants were far away. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding with panic and fear.