The Proud Viscount (13 page)

“Just a small difference! You must be very distressed indeed to make such a comparison. I can only conclude that your wits have gone begging.”

His words lashed out so harshly that she shrank back from him, looking as though she’d been slapped. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and she shuddered, saying, “You’re quite right, of course. I don’t know what’s come over me. That same impotence and frustration that... Never mind. It was wrong of me to say such things and I most sincerely ask your pardon.”

He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You have it. And now, if you will excuse me?”

He knew her stricken eyes followed him as he stalked from the library, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer her comfort. Deep inside he understood that this awful situation had thrown her back into the days of Richard’s worst torment, and Rossmere should be sympathetic to her anguish.

How could she even for a moment compare him with Parnham, whom she thought of as evil incarnate? Had she no regard for him at all? Rossmere had thought perhaps Lady Jane was softening toward him, that she had come to view him as a man of some significance in her life. At least as a friend. It was a blow to learn that she despised him.

Jane watched him go, sick at heart. If she had tried, she couldn’t have been more insulting to him. His proud stand about marrying for money was a small matter compared with Parnham’s wickedness, and yet she had lumped them together as though there were no difference. For some reason she had felt very, very angry with Rossmere.

And why? Because he couldn’t completely believe in her sister? Why should he? He hardly knew Nancy, and there was little reason to take Jane’s word, since she was obviously biased.

Or was it anger at the viscount for his personal lack of involvement? It couldn’t make much difference one way or the other to him if Nancy’s life was in danger. In a few weeks he would return to Longborough Park and forget all about their distant problems.

Richard would have believed her. Richard would have found some solution to the dangerous mystery. If he were well, if he weren’t locked up for his own safety .

He wouldn’t have stood there staring at her, questioning her every word. What’s more, he would have held her, pressed her against his chest, and run his hands soothingly across her back. He would have kissed her eyelids and her forehead and whispered encouraging words in her ear.

Not that she wanted that sort of behavior from Rossmere!

She had forgotten how much more secure one felt when there was a man who loved you, who cared for your concerns and stood by you in your fear. It was unbearable that she should be caught up in this awful situation and Richard wasn’t there to stand firm beside her. If she had wanted to call on Rossmere, to have him comfort her, it was simply because he was the only one around who might conceivably be of help. His broad shoulders had seemed more than sufficient to provide some help.

Perhaps he would have, too, if she hadn’t offended him. He had gone straight to the heart of the issue when he considered whether little William, too, might be in danger. Jane would have liked having his intelligence and his steadiness on her side.

With a sigh she stepped away from the window. No use thinking about that now. She would go to Nancy and offer what help she could. Certainly her sister must stay at Willow End until something could be done to solve her desperate problem.

* * * *

Nancy agreed to everything her sister suggested about crying sick and staying at Willow End. And yet, just an hour later Jane found her in the entry hall, wearing her dove-gray carriage dress and carrying a satchel with some of the baby’s toys and bread crusts. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she managed a thin-lipped smile for her sister’s encouragement. John Parnham was at her elbow.

“We’re off,” he said. “I’ve said my farewells to your father. Never fear that I’ll see Nancy gets her rest. It’s all a bit trying for her. She should never have insisted on nursing the child herself. There’s a wet nurse right in the hamlet beside the hall. We’ll contact her the moment we return.”

“No,” Nancy said firmly. “The doctor said it would do me no harm to nurse William, and it hasn’t.”

“Whatever you wish,” her husband said in a placating tone that infuriated Jane. “But we really should be leaving.”

Nancy offered her cheek for Jane’s kiss. With Parnham so close, Jane didn’t dare ask her what was happening. It broke her heart to watch the couple walk down the front stair, the nursemaid close behind with William. A terrible dread froze Jane where she stood. Letting Nancy leave this house seemed almost a sentence of death.

Jane moved to the terrace and watched them climb into Parnham’s new carriage. As though to highlight the strangeness of their visit, the older carriage waited directly behind it, empty and forlorn. Jane wished she could hide in it and follow them, spirit herself to Parnham Hall to keep a watchful eye on her dear sister.

The coachman set his team in motion, and Jane bit her lip to prevent herself from crying, or crying out. She waved until both carriages were out of sight. Only then did she notice that Rossmere was standing in the drive, his riding clothes dusty from the summer paths, his whip tapping quickly against his boot, a deep frown etching his forehead. Jane felt suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, but she maintained her calm demeanor, with difficulty, and disappeared into the house.

* * * *

Rossmere went directly to Lord Barlow’s study, where he could see the older man through the open door. The earl was staring vacantly out the window, his lips pursed and his hand absently rubbing a small statue that rested in front of him on his desk.

Though he stood there for several minutes, waiting to catch the earl’s attention, such a subtle approach proved unsuccessful. Eventually he had to tap quite firmly on the heavy panel of the door to rouse Lord Barlow from his reverie. Even then, the older man stared at him for a long moment, as though he couldn’t remember who Rossmere was, before saying, “Ah, yes, Lord Rossmere. Do come in.”

Taking the seat indicated, Rossmere rested both hands atop his riding crop and regarded the earl with puzzled intensity. “Did you refuse to let Lady Nancy stay here?” he asked at length.

Barlow frowned at him. “There was no question of her staying here. She wished to leave with her husband and child.”

“I find that difficult to comprehend. Whether or not you believe her, she thinks that her husband tried to kill her last night. It’s highly unlikely she wished to go home with him.”

“What do you know about last night?” the earl demanded.

“I was awakened by some loud noises and went to explore. Unfortunately, the halls were dark and I was too late to encounter Lady Nancy or her husband. Lady Jane told me Nancy’s story this morning.”

“She shouldn’t have.”

“Of course she should have. I might have been able to provide some corroboration.” Rossmere tapped the crop impatiently. “I’m not at all sure who’s telling the truth in this matter, but I can assure you of one thing: if I had a daughter who believed, for whatever reason, that her life was in danger, I certainly wouldn’t send her home with her husband without a proper investigation of the circumstances."

“There’s nothing to investigate. Nancy has always been a fanciful child, pampered by everyone at Willow End. The strain of motherhood has taken its toll on her.”

“Lord Barlow, I don’t understand your attitude. Even if you believe every word Parnham has uttered, you must surely see that your daughter is in need of help.”

“And her husband will provide it. He’s responsible for her now. I have no jurisdiction whatsoever over her since her marriage.”

“You have a paternal obligation to her, and it would be socially acceptable for her to remain here for a while. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let her.”

“You certainly don’t understand,” Lord Barlow said coldly. “Nancy didn’t ask to stay here. They came to me when their bags had already been packed and announced that they were leaving. I can only assume that it is what she wanted.”

Rossmere rose and glared down at him. “It hardly seems likely, does it? Live human beings are so much more bother than statues, aren’t they? Well, I hope you won’t mind if I spend a little time trying to find out what’s going on. For some inexplicable reason, I feel concerned for Lady Nancy.”

“We all feel concerned for her, Rossmere. This household has lived with a great deal more mental instability than most. If we’re lucky, my daughter’s odd behavior will prove temporary. If not..." He waved a tired hand. “We took care of Richard until his death. We would do no less for Nancy, if necessary.”

Defeated, Rossmere grimaced. There was no convincing Lord Barlow that his daughter might not be ill, that it might be that her husband was an evil man intent on destroying her, one way or another. How easily he’d been convinced, because he had Richard’s example so short a time ago. It meant that Rossmere was the only one who found it necessary to do something about the situation.

Rossmere and Jane, of course. But Jane was shackled by every social restriction inflicted on maiden women: she couldn’t ride about the countryside asking questions, visit the local dens of (light) iniquity, or confront her brother-in-law with any hope of success. If anything was to be done, Rossmere would have to do it.

He bowed stiffly to Lord Barlow and left the room.

Chapter 11

It took Rossmere two days to uncover anything of interest. He had discovered a drinking establishment on the Ridgely Road where the occupants were delighted to talk with practiced ease under the influence of drinks bought for them by his lordship, who was a “regular right one," according to these same fellows. They seemed to know everything that was going on in the district, but had submitted nothing more exciting than Parnham’s new carriage for his troubles.

On the second night, however, well into the evening, a strapping young man entered the room whom he hadn’t seen before. The youth was of a stolid and uncommunicative nature, and it took Rossmere several heavy wets to induce this Jem to remark on whether he’d seen anything out of the ordinary during the last few weeks.

“Can’t say as I have,” the young man drawled. “ ‘Cept the horse, mebbe.”

"What horse would that be?” Rossmere asked, gearing himself to great patience.

“Reason I thought of it were ‘cause of your Ascot, you know. Fine horse, Ascot.”

“Yes. He used to be Richard Bower’s.”

“Know that.” The fellow nodded several times thoughtfully. “Saw the race at the fair. Beat out both his filly and his colt. Wouldn’t mind havin’ a horse like that myself.”

“He’s half-wild,” Rossmere offered. “The stable boys at Willow End hate to have to handle him.” 

"Boys don’t know when they have a champion on their hands. Never could abide them high-and-mighty Willow End boys.”

“You mentioned another horse you’d seen that was out of the ordinary,” Rossmere reminded him.

“Mmmmm.” Jem took a long draw on his beer and pursed his lips. “Not out of the ordinary, so to speak. Not the horse, leastways. Just where it was. And whose it was. See?”

“Yes, I see. Where was it?”

Jem motioned with his head toward the town of Lockley. “Standin’ in the little wood there. Out of sight, like. But I had business in the woods.”

The men around him chuckled and nudged one another in the ribs. Rossmere didn’t need to be told that Jem’s “business” in the woods was poaching. “This is the little wood behind the Bentwick cottage?”

“Aye. Standing there when I went in, standing there when I went out.”

“How long were you there?”

Jem shrugged his massive shoulders. “Two hour, mebbe. Mebbe longer.”

“Whose horse was it?” Rossmere asked as casually as he was able.

“That’s the peculiar thing, don’t you know? It were Clancy’s horse.”

“And who’s Clancy?”

Jem motioned with his head in the other direction. “Farmer down to the hall. Only Clancy were home that night, as it happens.”

“How do you know?”

There was more rib-nudging. “ ‘Cause I went there after. And no horse passed me on the road.”

“So do you think Clancy loaned the horse to someone, or was it someone else in his household who borrowed it?”

"Tain’t no one else there but Maud, and she were there when I come. But Clancy don’t loan nuthin’, neither.”

“But he’d have no objection to hiring it out?”

“Nope. Just the way Clancy likes things, happen. Makes a bob any way he can, does Clancy.”

“You don’t know who might have hired the horse?” Rossmere pressed.

“No one can afford a horse, needs one. Around here, leastways.” Jem leaned back in his chair and pulled again on his beer, satisfied that he had provided as much information as humanly possible.

Rossmere decided it might be best not to press the matter further. If these good people made no connection between the horse and its possible rider, the viscount certainly did. It sounded very like Parnham to rent a horse from one of his tenant farmers if he didn’t want to chance recognition of one of his own. Parnham was, after all, the only one who fit all three necessary categories: well-breeched enough to hire a horse, able to afford to hire Madeline, and behaving in such a way as to invite suspicion.

There were, of course, several ways to verify his theory. He could post himself in the wood every night until Parnham came, which might take quite a while, or he could go to Madeline and cajole the information out of her. Time was a matter of importance, however, so he decided his best course was an immediate visit to Madeline Fulton.

As a last gesture of goodwill, he left the landlord with enough coins to cover a round for the entire group, then took himself off as quickly as possible. It was already rather late and he had no idea what kind of hours Madeline kept on nights she wasn’t expecting company.

Ascot strained at the bit, eager to stretch his legs over the dark road. He tossed his head and snorted when Rossmere drew him in as they approached the wood behind the Bentwick cottage. It wouldn’t do to ride around to the front, where someone from the village might see him enter. As he was sure Parnham did, he guided his horse off the road and wound through the trees. Rossmere scouted the area for any sign of another horse, but found none. After a few minutes of listening to the silent night, he dismounted and walked toward the cottage.