Truth about Leo (20 page)

“How very noble,” Dagmar said.

A look of consideration crossed Gillian's face. “Not really, no. I mean, he supports it wholeheartedly and never complains about the money we spend—oh, I see what you mean.” She shrugged again. “It's what we do. And Nick helps when he can. He has worked tirelessly both rescuing women from dangerous situations and also with the group attempting to enact child labor laws. He's very altruistic.”

The last was aimed at Thom, who merely said, “I've never doubted his concern for those in need. It's his lack of concern for those who wish to live with him in a connubial way that I take issue with.”

“I don't understand why you are against marrying this man,” Dagmar commented. “I know that you said you would do so, but most women
wish
to marry, not just be a mistress.”

“I have strong feelings,” Thom said complacently. “Sometimes they get me into trouble. Gillian, to answer your question, I don't intend to do anything about Nick. I asked him to be my lover years ago, and he refused. I don't intend to ask him again. If he chooses to continue being an idiot and a coward and a man who can't face a woman who wishes to bed him, then that's his problem, and not mine.”

“Oh, I know all about men who don't wish to be bedded,” Dagmar told her. “It turns out that most of them are quite willing to do so. It helps if you can take off their trousers.”

“I don't think we need to be teaching Thom the ways of seducing a man into a relationship,” Plum said quickly, sharing an unreadable look with Gillian. “That's not what she wants, not really.”

“No, it isn't,” Gillian agreed. “I can't imagine anything worse than trapping a man into marriage by taking advantage of his honorable nature.”

Dagmar sat stunned, feeling as if a bolt of lightning had shot out of the sky and straight through the house to where she sat. Had she taken advantage of Leo's good nature by seducing him against his will? It was bad enough she had married him without his express consent, but now had she compounded that sin by seducing him, all the while telling herself it was what he wanted? Was he even now feeling himself bound to her while wishing otherwise?

She felt sick and disoriented, as if the floor had fallen out from under her feet. She wanted desperately to run away, to leave the house, to leave England and return to the safety and comfort of her home in Copenhagen.

But that wish was impossible. She was homeless, and in a strange country full of people who all had their places in society and who had family and friends and loved ones to care for. Her friend was in prison, and her husband, who had repeatedly told her that they would work out some sort of a relationship, clearly did not intend one of the intimate nature they now shared.

She had been a fool. A selfish fool, one who deserved scorn, but there was little that heaping coals upon her head would do but leave her with an insane desire to wash her hair. No, she owed it to Leo to fix the situation. She had saddled him with both a wife and companion that he didn't want, and now he was drawn into Julia's troubles. He deserved better treatment than that, and she swore a silent oath that from that moment on, she would see to it that she would right the wrongs she had done.

The sound of her name pulled her out of her miserable contemplation of her own tarnished soul.

“—not me who needs the help with Nick. It's Dagmar. Her friend has been jailed for murdering her host's sister.”

“No, really!” Gillian looked at her with new respect. “It's just like something out of those gothic novels that Noble loves so much. Please tell me that there's a mad monk involved. Or a skeleton!”

“There's no monk,” Dagmar said after a few second's thought. “Although a curate and a handful of churchmen are involved with the telling. And two skeletons.”

“Capital!” Gillian clapped her hands together with obvious delight. “I can't wait to hear all about it. I just wish Noble were here so that he could enjoy it as well.”

“Where is he?” Plum asked, opening the door and bellowing out into the hall, “Juan, if you don't stop guzzling the whiskey and bring it in here instantly, I'll have all your tight trousers thrown out.”

“Noble? He went off to the club to see Harry. I assume he is there?”

“No doubt. The twins were being a bit obstreperous this morning, and Vyvyan is ceaseless in her demand for a new pony, so he sent her and Nurse off to the stable while he escaped to the sanctity of his precious club. I certainly wish I had one to run to now and again. But that's beside the point—oh, there you are.”

Juan appeared in the doorway, wobbling slightly as he carefully walked into the room, a tray bearing two large decanters and glasses gripped firmly in his hands. “I have the woes of many, Plump. I need very, very whiskey such to survive the drama of the
diablos
.”

Plum opened her mouth, no doubt to tell off the butler for referring to her children as devils in the hearing of guests, when a distant rumble from abovestairs was followed by the crash of pottery. Instead, she winced and hurriedly closed the door to the sitting room. “Yes, yes, just leave the tray and go see whether it was something valuable that broke. And also see if they've let another horse into the long gallery. It sounds like they have.”

He left but only after snagging the smaller of the two decanters, and he was in the act of swigging from it as he exited the room. Plum turned the lock on the door after him before facing them all with a bright smile. “There now, we won't be disturbed, so you can tell us everything, Dagmar. Thom, pour us all a tot. Gillian, stop looking up at the ceiling with that worried expression. The twins are very resilient, and that was only a minor scream you just heard, not one that hints of actual dismemberment or maiming, so all is fine. Relatively speaking. Ah, thank you, Thom. Shall we toast to Dagmar and Leo's health?”

They did, and once a few more toasts were made to the distillery that produced the whiskey, the inventor of the door lock, and tailors who made tight trousers (Dagmar's offering on the toast altar), they had all settled in comfortably. By the time she'd told the three women her tale, beginning with a chance meeting in Copenhagen and ending earlier that day, two hours had passed and the decanter was empty.

“That is just about the most bizarre thing I have ever heard, and I've lived with Harry's children for six years now.” Plum, who had adopted the position of lying on her back on the floor, with her legs elevated onto a nearby chair, waved a hand at nothing. “And I include in that statement the time that Thom swore the stable was haunted by a deranged cow.”

“Distressed mooing could be heard every night at the stroke of ten for a fortnight straight,” Thom said from her position on the window seat. She was too long to be able to lie down on it, so had scrunched herself into a huddled position that looked singularly uncomfortable. A pillow lay over her head, making her voice somewhat muffled. “And once the vicar exorcised the entire stable yard, the phantom mooing stopped. If that's not haunted, I don't know what is.”

Gillian walked across the room, her path curved and circuitous. She stepped with exaggerated care and twice stopped to giggle at absolutely nothing. “I think the point here is that something must be done. We cannot have the companion Jennifer—”

“Julia,” Dagmar said from where she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, her legs straight out before her. She was sitting thus because they—her legs—seemed to have stopped working. They appeared to be made out of some of the India rubber that Frederick had on his desk, and she felt it was wiser to let them stiffen up in a straight position than bent.

“We cannot have the companion Julia rotting away in gaol simply because there's been a gross…gross…what is it that I'm thinking?”

“You are thinking,” Plum said from her position on the floor, waving her hand toward Gillian, “that we need more whiskey.”

“Misconstrued something. I just can't make the words come out on my tongue. Misconstrued justice?”

“There is no justice at all that I can see,” Dagmar said, frowning at her legs and wondering if they had hardened up yet sufficiently that she could stand. “Misconstrued or otherwise. Julia couldn't have killed Louisa. She's not at all the time of person who kills others. I feel it in my India rubber bones.”

“Then we must find out who did kill that poor woman, so that your companion will be released,” Gillian said, wobbling her way over to a chair where she plunked down with more energy than grace. “If we all put our minds to it, I'm sure we'll have it figured out in no time.”

“Leo is at the gaol now. He will speak with Julia and determine what happened, and then he will tell the officials so that they let her go.” Dagmar offered this tidbit with no little amount of pride, feeling quite confident that Leo would do just that, at which point she would strip him naked and then allow him to do all the things that he kept saying he wanted to do.

She frowned, the pleasant thought suddenly stained with darkness. “Oh, but I can't.”

“Sure you can. Harry has lots of whiskey. He always says that it's as vital as air when it comes to dealing with the children. I'll just have Juan bring us some more.”

“No, I meant that I can't take off Leo's clothes, because I am giving him up. I'm releasing him, like a wee little captured bird, so that he can fly off and be happy without a wife who seduced his person against his will, and I shall live in misery and heartbreak, and will raise haunted cows until I die alone and unloved in a small stable with only a vicar to exorcise me.” A few tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of the noble way she had determined to conduct her life from that moment on.

“You know what I think?” Plum, who had been humming to herself, lifted her head and looked at Dagmar. “I think you're tipsy. Why do you want to turn Leo into a bird and let him fly off?”

“I seduced him. Didn't you hear that part? I said that I seduced his person against his will.”

Gillian, who had slumped at an angle in the chair, snorted. “There's not a man alive who wouldn't be willing to be seduced by Your Royal Highness.”

“My Serene Highness,” Dagmar corrected sadly, two fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

A little snore came from under Thom's pillow.

“I still don't understand why you want to let Leo go. Don't you like him?” Plum asked, waggling her feet.

“Yes, I do, but that's the problem. You see, I thought he was going to die, so it was all right to marry him, but then he didn't die, and Julia and I worked so hard to save him, and then he woke up and once I bathed him, I could see he was incredibly handsome.”

“Leo?
Handsome?
” Gillian shook her head and fell over sideways. “Has his appearance changed since I last saw him, Plum?”

“No. It's love.” Plum waved her hand again. “You know how it makes everything look wonderful.”

“Madam,” Dagmar said, outrage filling her every morsel. She managed to get to her feet with only a minimum of unladylike grunting. She stood up, one hand on the mantel for balance, the other on her hip as she looked down her nose at Gillian, who had pulled two cushions to the floor and was making a comfortable nest upon them. “Madam, did you just disparage my husband?”

Gillian stopped arranging the cushions. “No.”

Dagmar's shoulders slumped. She felt suddenly deflated. “Oh. I thought you did. I was going to call you out for your slur on Leo's handsomeness.”

“If you think he's handsome, then that's all the matters.” Gillian stopped, giggled, and then continued, “But seriously, what are we going to do about this gross something of justice that I mentioned a bit ago?”

“What we need,” Plum said, ceasing the humming long enough to roll over onto her stomach, so that she could look at the two women. “What we need is Harry. He still has contacts. He'll help Leo.”

“Noble has contacts too, you know,” Gillian said quickly, evidently feeling her husband was being slighted. “He will help Leo.”

“I'm sure any assistance will be greatly welcome,” Dagmar said diplomatically, and with an
oomph
, sat down hard on the now cushionless sofa. “Once Julia is freed, then I shall release Leo from his marital vows and go off to live in abject
fortvivlelse
.”

Plum propped her head on her hands. “For what?”

“
Fortvivlelse
. It's… I think the rubber has gone to my brain now because I can't think of the word in English. I want words to mean
great
sadness
.”

“That would be
great
sadness
,” came a muffled voice from under the pillow.

“Go back to sleep, Thom, you're not being in the least bit helpful.” Plum tried to pin back Dagmar with a look but couldn't focus enough to do so. “Dagmar, I don't know why you suddenly feel that Leo isn't wildly ecstatic to have you as his wife, but I do believe that you need to talk to him about it. I think you'll find that he didn't mind at all that you seduced him.”

Dagmar slumped uncomfortably against the end of the sofa. She appreciated the advice, but in her heart, she knew that matters went deeper than that. She'd taken away Leo's choice twice, and it was time that she let him live his own life the way he wanted. It would do no good to protest that to the ladies present, though. They'd just tell her that she was crazy. The best thing to do was to refocus their attention on something that would distract them. “I think the most important thing at the moment is to get Julia free. Assuming Leo can't do so, what resources do we have?”

“I think we should go to the scene of the incident,” Gillian said after some thought.

Dagmar stopped dwelling on her life of despair without Leo—“Despair! That's what
fortvivlelse
means”—and thought about that suggestion. “What good will that do?”