Almost a Princess (13 page)

When he opened the door, Lance drew his lips back and showed his fangs. Injury or not, he was desperate to get going. Case wrapped the leash around his wrist and with his other hand, pulled his pistol from his pocket. “Easy boy,” he said. “Easy.”

But Lance didn’t want easy. He wanted to go. The muscles in his shoulders and back were tensed for action. Case had to use all his weight to control the dog. They made for the front of the house, but before they reached the front steps, Lance veered to the right, and came to a stop in front of a stand of leafless poplars. He sat back on his haunches and alternately growled and whined. Case could see nothing.

He looked around for help just as the bootboy came out of a side door. “Get Harper,” Case shouted. “He’s with His Grace.”

A few moments later, Harper descended the front stairs. “Get a lantern,” Case said, “and bring it over here.”

Before Harper could do as he was bid, Case saw what had distressed Lance. On a branch, not far above his head, a ball of fur was swaying in the wind. It looked like a fox cub.

“What is it?” asked Harper, coming up at that moment with a lantern.

“Hold Lance and don’t let him go,” said Case.

It took him only a moment or two to climb to the branch, then he slid his army knife from inside his boot and cut the rope that bound the small stiff body. It fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“My God!” said Harper. “Poor wee beastie!”

Case dropped to the ground. Lance inched forward and sniffed the orange fur, then began to whimper.

“They hanged it,” said Harper. “The bastards hanged Mrs. Standhurst’s little dog, didn’t they?”

Case nodded. Scamp’s eyes were bulging, his little tongue was swollen, and his body seemed grotesquely out of shape. “He’s been dead for some hours. They must have done this somewhere else then brought him here.”

“We’d better not let Miss Mayberry see this,” said Harper.

“No.” Case stripped off his coat and wrapped the little dog in it. “We’ll bury him on the other side of the perimeter wall.”

“Shouldn’t we make a search?”

“In the dark? No. Besides, they’re gone. Lance would tell us if they were still here. He’d be gnashing his teeth to get at them.”

“But why did Piers do it?”

“Just a brutal reminder that in spite of all my precautions, he can come and go as he pleases. He’s not finished with me yet.”

Case gazed at the woods at the edge of the pasture as though sensing that his mortal enemy was still close by. Under his breath, he murmured, “I’m counting on it, you bastard. I’m counting on it.”

He looked at Harper. “From now on, I want Lance to stay in the house with Miss Mayberry, and if the housekeeper objects, send her to me. Now, give me a hand with this poor creature.”

Chapter 12

The closing strains of the Irish melody lingered momentarily, then the guests at Lady Sophy’s informal soirée burst into applause. Miss Emily Drake, the performer, got up from the piano and dipped a graceful curtsy. A gentleman from the back of the room shouted, “Encore!” Someone else took up the refrain and Miss Drake sat down at the piano and began to play again.

Jane and her good friend Sally Latham were standing at the back of the small audience, at the entrance to the sunroom, drinking punch from crystal glasses. Behind them, a table was laid out with tiny sandwiches and other delicacies to take the edge off one’s appetite until supper was served. There were few gentlemen about. As the musical program had progressed, they slipped away in ones and twos to congregate in the library where gentlemen could smoke and a footman was on hand to dispense something more invigorating than pineapple punch.

Two gentlemen who had not slipped away were Waldo Bowman and Freddie Latham. Waldo was turning the pages of Miss Drake’s music and Freddie was hovering.

“Like a cursed hummingbird,” said his sister wrathfully. “Has he no pride? All she wants is a title, and now Case is in her orbit, a mere viscount counts for nothing. How could we have been so mistaken in her?”

Jane’s gaze traveled over the assembled guests. There was no sign of Case. He’d been one of the first gentlemen to make his escape. She spoke without much enthusiasm. “We can hardly blame the girl for making the most of her opportunities. That’s why Case . . . Lord Castleton . . . persuaded Lady Sophy to launch her in society, wasn’t it, so that she could meet eligible young gentlemen and enlarge her circle of friends?”

“That doesn’t alter the fact that she deceived us! She made us believe she was a little mouse of a girl, and that her brother was an ogre who was forcing her into a distasteful marriage. I think she had her eye on Freddie all the time. When I think of it, she was reluctant to stay with you in the country. She thought I’d invite her to stay with Freddie and me in town. We were hoodwinked, Jane. That whole business with Lord Reeve was an elaborate plot to drag Freddie into her net.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jane replied, because if Sally was right, she would be tempted to give the spoiled beauty the shaking of her life.

Another thought flitted into her mind and she looked at Sally. Her friend had taken a great deal of trouble tonight with her appearance. The ivory muslin gown did wonders for her red-gold hair, now set in tiny curls to frame her face. Even her freckles seemed to have faded, and Jane wondered if she’d gone to all this trouble for Waldo Bowman. He’d been a frequent visitor at Woodlands this last week, as had Sally.

He was, thought Jane, the kind of man that would appeal to women. He was tall, had a spare, athletic build, and a face that was fringed with crisp, coppery waves that brushed his collar. His bones were elegant, his smile disarming, and oddly romantic. But there was a vaguely dangerous air about him, something in his dark glances that defied description. There was more to Mr. Bowman than met the eye.

Leastways, that’s how he appeared to her, and it made her wary. He was not the kind of man she would choose for Sally.

She tried to recall what she knew of him. Not very much. He had black spells that would suddenly come upon him, then he’d withdraw from his friends, withdraw from society, until he was over them. No. Definitely not the kind of man she would choose for Sally.

Sally edged closer. “She slighted Lady Octavia. She made fun of the library and that’s why Lady Octavia has stayed away.”

“No, Sally. Lady Octavia had a prior engagement. That’s why she’s not here.”

“And what about the duke?”

“What about him?”

“Why isn’t he here?”

“Possibly because he lives in Twickenham.”

Sally shot Jane a fulminating look. “I don’t know why you’re defending her. She hasn’t a kind word to say about either of us, and after all we tried to do for her!”

That was true. It was nothing obvious, just snide innuendo coated with sugar. The trouble was, Emily looked upon her, Jane, as a rival for Case’s affections. It almost had her feeling sorry for the girl, almost but not quite.

“Sometimes I want to slap her!”

Jane couldn’t argue with that.

They drew apart as a footman entered the sunroom to replenish someone’s glass. When he returned to the salon, Sally said, “It’s Mrs. Drake I feel sorry for. She’s a nice, decent lady and is embarrassed by Emily’s antics. The brother should know better, but just look at him. Emily can do no wrong in his eyes.”

Jane agreed. Mr. Drake was puffed up with pride as he watched his sister. Mrs. Drake looked as though she would rather be anywhere than in that lovely salon listening to the third piece her young sister-in-law had been persuaded to play that evening. As Jane watched, Lady Sophy, resplendent once again in black taffeta, leaned over and said a few words to Mrs. Drake, who smiled, nodded, and visibly relaxed.

Lady Sophy really was a remarkable woman, Jane reflected. She was genuinely interested in people and went out of her way to make them feel at ease. It was too bad she’d been saddled with a vixen like Emily, and it made her cringe inside to know that she had nobody to blame but herself. She didn’t know how she could have been so mistaken in the girl.

The piano went silent; there was a round of applause, then a footman announced with all the vigor of a town crier that supper was served in the dining room downstairs. Jane and Sally wandered into the sunroom and helped themselves to more punch. A few moments later, they were joined by Miss Drake, flushed with her triumph. Waldo and Freddie were right behind her.

Once again, Jane was struck by the change in Miss Drake. She wasn’t mousey in a pretty way. She was quite a beauty. Her dark curls were threaded with white ribbons to match her gown. Her skin was flawless. But her eyes were her best feature, wide set and vividly blue.

“You play very well,” began Jane, but was waved to silence by a gesture from Miss Drake.

“I thought Case might be here,” she said.

“No,” said Jane. “As you see, we’re quite alone.”

“Lord Castleton,”
corrected Sally, “cannot abide amateur musicales. It’s quite possible he’s gone home.”

The snub was lost on Miss Drake. “To the Albany?” She let out a silvery laugh. “I hardly think so.” Her eyes fastened on Jane. “He promised to take me in to supper.”

Freddie said quickly, “Miss Drake, allow me to get you a glass of punch while we wait for . . . ah . . . Lord Castleton.”

“Lord Castleton?” Miss Drake pouted. “That sounds so formal. No. I shall continue to call him Case. After all, he calls me Emily.”

As Freddie moved to the punch bowl, Waldo picked up a tiny sandwich and popped it into his mouth. His eyes were alight with amusement. Sally maintained a stony silence. Jane was wracking her brains for something to say, but all she could come up with were words to the effect that if Miss Drake didn’t behave herself, she’d send her to bed without any supper.

Miss Drake said, “I see you’ve left off your white gloves, Jane. Does this mean your hands are better?”

Jane looked at her hands. “Much better, thank you.”

Miss Drake took the glass of punch from Freddie and sipped delicately. “In a way, I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?” Jane repeated blankly.

“I know how much you miss your home in the country and now that your hands have healed, I assume you will be eager to get back to it.”

This was exactly how Jane felt. Oddly enough, she found herself saying the opposite. “But Woodlands feels like the country, and Lady Sophy is a charming companion. No. I’m not in any hurry to go home.”

“No, indeed,” said Sally, her expression animated. “Jane could not possibly desert Lady Sophy when she is bringing you into society just to oblige Jane.”

Miss Drake’s cheeks flooded with color and, for a moment, it seemed that she had been finally put in her place. Then her chin came up and she said coolly, “I understood that Miss Mayberry was a guest here only because she had nowhere else to go and Lady Sophy took her in out of the goodness of her heart.”

Sally let out a hissing sound. Jane didn’t know whether to laugh or stamp her foot. Here they were, three gown women at an elegant party, dressed to the nines, and circling each other like spitting cats. Someone had to do something before they drew blood.

It was Freddie who rose to the occasion. “Dash it all!” he said. “What could be keeping Case? If we don’t go in to supper, there won’t be anything left. Tell you what, we’ll keep a place for him, shall we? Come along, Miss Drake. You too, Sally. No, I’m not taking no for an answer. Waldo, you’ll bring Miss Mayberry?”

He didn’t wait for Waldo’s reply, and he didn’t give Miss Drake or his sister a chance to wriggle out of his clasp. With a hand cupping each lady’s elbow, he propelled them from the room.

Jane looked at Waldo. “At least you seem to be enjoying yourself,” she said.

He touched a hand to his lips. “Ah, no. This is an old war wound. I always look as though I’m smiling.”

“Mr. Bowman, your eyes give you away.”

He looked at her hard, then chuckled. “Ah. I see I’ve been found out. I shall have to watch you, Miss Mayberry.”

She had that oddly disturbing feeling again, that there was more to Waldo Bowman than met the eye. A thought occurred to her. “You
are
watching me, aren’t you? You and Freddie and Robert Shay and Harper? And there’s someone else. A footman with red hair.”

“That would be Ruggles,” he said.

She had half expected him to deny it, and stared, thunderstruck.

“We’re being cautious, Miss Mayberry, that’s all.”

She shook her head. “I thought the danger was over. Something must have happened. What is it?”

He shrugged. “Nothing that I’m aware of.” When she looked skeptical, he went on, “It’s not wise to underestimate our enemy. He doesn’t like to lose face, and you made him lose face. That’s all.”

She looked at him closely. “It sounds as though you know him well.”

In spite of his smile, his expression hardened. “I was in at the kill, you might say. Only, he slipped through our fingers. Now we’re prepared for any eventuality.”

His face cleared and he became his usual, urbane self. “Miss Mayberry, may I have the pleasure of taking you in to supper?”

His lightning changes of mood confused her. She wanted to ask him about Gideon Piers, but his long dark lashes veiled his expression and she knew, sensed, the subject was now closed.

She placed her fingers on his proffered arm. “I should be delighted, Mr. Bowman,” she said.

At the entrance to the dining room, they halted. Freddie saw them and waved them over to his table. He was sitting with Robert Shay and Sally. Emily Drake was not there.

Jane’s eyes skimmed the crush and found Emily sitting next to none other than the earl himself. Case did not look up, but Miss Drake saw her and flashed one of her insufferable smiles of triumph.

As the evening wore on, no one would have known what it cost her to appear unaffected by Miss Drake’s trilling laugh. She wasn’t jealous. She credited Case with more taste than most. Emily Drake didn’t stand a chance.

Careful,
she told herself.
This is dangerous thinking.
Don’t get too attached to him. One day the right girl will come
along, and then he’ll marry and live happily every after.

The thought set her teeth on edge.

The evening became more informal as guests finished eating and began to move from table to table to greet acquaintances. When Miss Drake was reluctantly carried off by Lady Sophy, Waldo and Robert idled their way over to Case.

“She’s on to us,” said Waldo at once.

As Waldo took the chair Emily had vacated, Robert took the one opposite. “All is discovered,” he said. “So what do we do now?”

Case smiled. “I warned you she was sharp. Not that it makes any difference. In fact, it may make things easier.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Waldo. “She wanted to know what had happened to make you decide she needed our protection. No, no, I didn’t tell her about the dog. I just impressed upon her the fact that you-know-who is a devious, dangerous character and we’re not taking any chances.”

Robert said, “Is he really so dangerous?”

“Lethal,” replied Waldo.

Their conversation was interrupted when they were joined by a well set-up, military-looking young man who exuded affability. Capt. Harry Fellowes was well known to them as a former Etonian and a veteran of the Spanish Campaign.

“Well, well, well,” said Fellowes in his hearty way, “what have we here? You look like conspirators. Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Not at all,” said Robert, feeling in his pocket for his snuff box. “Sit down, Harry. We were just discussing . . .” He looked helplessly at Waldo.

“Our annual old boys’ reunion,” supplied Waldo. “I hope you’ll be there, Harry.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Why haven’t I received my invitation?”

“It had to be postponed,” said Robert.

As his companions began to discuss plans for the reunion, Case got up and excused himself by saying that he had duties to perform as host. He was well aware that many eyes were watching him closely, so he made a point of exchanging pleasantries with every pretty girl in the room. He was doing it to deflect any unpleasant suspicion that might arise if he paid Jane undue attention. That was in public. There were other times, when he arrived at Woodlands unannounced, and managed to get her alone. He had always something to tell her—about the progress of the work on her house, or about the investigation—and she could hardly refuse to see him. They went for walks, or they’d go riding; he would flirt with her, but he never went too far. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him, but not too comfortable.

She was standing alone. He brought his conversation with Miss Booker to an abrupt close and made for Jane. No one would think anything of it. In fact, not to speak to her would arouse everyone’s suspicions.

Robert and Waldo were surreptitiously watching Case’s progress through the room. After offering his snuff box to Waldo and helping himself to a pinch, Robert said, “You know, Waldo, I’ve been thinking that if this fellow Piers is as lethal as you say he is, maybe we should drop the idea of holding our reunion this year.”