Shadow Dance (17 page)

“Your nephew?” Phelan could be just as smooth. “I hardly think the young man who’s been working in the stables at Sutter’s Head could be your nephew.”

“Working in the stables!” Pinworth exclaimed. “What a waste!”

“He seems to enjoy himself. He’s good with the horses.”

“He always was,” Lemur said. “But I’m afraid his little adventure is over. I intend to take him back to London with me as soon as may be. I’ll accompany you out to your house, if I may.”

There was nothing Phelan could say. “What made the boy run off in the first place?”

“A misunderstanding. He considered me too harsh a guardian, but, of course, children sometimes see things that way. I intend to convince him of my love and devotion the moment we’re reunited.”

Phelan wanted to kill him. He’d killed before, in the army, when his own life had been threatened. He didn’t consider himself a particularly violent man, but right then the notion of cold-blooded murder had a definite appeal.

“My wife is very fond of young Julian,” Phelan said. “I think I’d best prepare her for your arrival.”

“I imagine she’s already prepared,” Lemur said politely. “She was full of helpful information when I met her. I’m
afraid she thought I meant the poor boy ill. You can set her mind at ease.”

“I don’t think—”

“Come now, Romney!” Pinworth protested, obviously enjoying himself immensely. “You can’t keep a man away from his nephew. Particularly when he’s the boy’s guardian. Accept it, man; you’re going to have to lose him. Might as well put a good face on it.”

Phelan wondered idly whether he might kill Sir Neville as well. It would be a waste of energy, he decided. He had no choice but to take Lemur back to Sutter’s Head with him. He’d find his way out there sooner or later, and Phelan preferred keeping an eye on him.

“I still think it would be better to warn my wife,” he said. “But if you’re determined, we might as well leave now. It’s getting dark—you’ll accept our hospitality for the night, won’t you, Lemur?”

“With pleasure.” It was all so damned polite, Phelan thought. If he weren’t so suspicious, if he hadn’t known the truth about Juliette, felt her shiver in his arms, he might believe in the bland surface Lemur presented to the world. Except for the rumors he’d heard in Egypt. About the Cairo girl scarred for life. And the missing maidservant.

Neither of them said a word as they rode out of town along the westerly road. The path followed the line of cliffs, and beneath it the sea was still stormy, precluding a midnight escape. Phelan kept his face remote, his thoughts to himself, until Lemur drew abreast of him.

“I didn’t realize you had a nephew,” Phelan murmured.

“And I didn’t know you had married, Romney. Beg pardon, I mean Ramsey,” Lemur corrected himself in a mild
tone that belied his malicious intent. “I am desolate to take my nephew away, but he’s a rebellious lad.”

“And you tried to beat submission into him?” Phelan asked the question lightly, waiting for a response.

The one he received was subtle and sickening. Just a flash of unholy excitement in Lemur’s pale eyes before he shook his head. “Of course not,” he murmured. “I’ve tried to shower the boy with love. It does seem odd that you’d lure him back to your home. Were you in need of servants, or did you suspect my nephew wasn’t quite what he seemed?”

Phelan smiled blandly, almost enjoying the verbal battle. “I could tell he was obviously better bred than he wanted anyone to believe. As for luring him to my home, we viewed it more in the light of a rescue.”

“Indeed?” Lemur was just as good at dissembling. “How so?”

“You’ve met Pinworth. He took a fancy to the boy, and my wife and I decided your nephew was too young to judge the danger an experienced roué like Sir Neville could offer him. At least at Sutter’s Head he was safe.”

“As he is with me, of course.”

“Of course,” Phelan murmured.

“And how are your dear parents?” Lemur asked.

Phelan’s hands tightened on the reins as he urged his horse forward. “You’ve never met them,” he pointed out with less than his usual grace.

“True,” said Lemur. “But I’ve heard so much about them in the past few weeks. Your half brother as well.”

Phelan glanced over at the cliffs. He was a larger man than Lemur, taller, and perhaps ten years younger. But Lemur had a bull-like torso and very strong arms, and he
was on his guard. It would be no simple matter to entice him to the cliffs and then push him over. Particularly when Phelan wasn’t certain the man deserved to die, much as it might convenience him.

“They are all doing splendidly,” Phelan said coolly.

“So glad to hear it.”

It was close to evening when they rode up to Sutter’s Head. There was no sign of Valerian, and Phelan could only hope he wouldn’t come galloping up, dressed in his own clothes, while Lemur was watching. He still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do about the uninvited guest. Clearly Lemur knew about his father’s murder, knew that his brother was the chief suspect. He had only to drop a word or two in the right ear and Valerian would be hauled off to jail.

But the alternative was unacceptable. Phelan wasn’t going to let Lemur take Juliette away. The notion of having the man bound and gagged and sent far away from England in the hold of a ship held a certain merit, even if it didn’t contain quite the visceral satisfaction that cold-blooded murder did. Whatever happened, Phelan Romney could take care of his own. His younger brother. And Juliette MacGowan, who had somehow, unexpectedly, become his as well. Even if neither of them would accept it as yet.

“We’ll be having a guest for the night, Hannigan,” Phelan said easily as he slid off his horse.

Hannigan was eyeing Lemur with his bland servant’s expression, one that hid his devious mind. “Shall I be informing Mrs. Ramsey? She saw your approach from the window and I imagine she’ll be down directly.”

“That will be time enough. Come along, Lemur,” he said. “We can open a bottle of claret before my wife joins
us. She’s a sad romp, and greatly addicted to her vanity, so it might take her a while.”

“I did think the veil she was wearing was a bit odd,” Lemur remarked.

“She’d been through a distressing night, and she had neither a maid nor a hair-dresser to assist her. Not to mention fresh clothes.”

“The lady did, however, have another young lady with her.”

“A most charming young lady,” Phelan agreed. “She and my wife are close friends.”

Lemur simply nodded. He was good, Phelan had to admit that. He had no idea whether Lemur recognized the identity of his putative wife or not, and nothing short of a flat-out question would avail him of the answer. He wasn’t ready to be frank. Lemur would be just as uncertain as to whether Phelan knew the identity of his so-called nephew, and Phelan preferred to keep it that way. It was a small enough weapon in their war of wits.

“I’d like to see my nephew,” Lemur announced, following him into the library.

“There’s no hurry, is there? After all, he has nothing to be afraid of, does he?”

“Of course not. But you know children. They can dream up the most extreme fantasies.” He settled himself in Phelan’s favorite chair, his movements small and precise. “I wouldn’t want you to warn him.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Out of a misguided concern for his well-being, perhaps?” Lemur suggested. “Your wife lied to me about him. She was foolish enough to tell me he’d taken off to the north. I hadn’t gone but a few miles before I decided to
continue to Hampton Regis after all. My nephew might have run in the first place, but he’d have no reason to do so again. I don’t hold it against your wife, of course. We don’t know each other that well—I had even forgotten your name. You might assume I was in reality a dastardly villain. Believe me, I have no interest in harming young boys.”

Their eyes met, and there was a flash of cold, murderous understanding. “I’m certain you don’t,” Phelan said. “I’ll go in search of him.”

Lemur moved, blocking the exit. It was absurd, given that he was shorter and older, but Phelan wasn’t ready to wrestle him out of the way. “Send for him,” Lemur said.

Hannigan, bless his heart, appeared at the door. “Could I be getting you something, Mr. Ramsey?”

“A bottle of claret and two glasses,” Phelan said. “And have the young boy bring them. Julian, I believe his name is.”

Hannigan didn’t even blink, but Phelan had no doubt the message was received. “Very good, sir. I’ll see if I can scare up the lad.”

“He’s not here?” Lemur demanded sharply.

“I’ve not seen him for several hours. He was going for a walk, seeing as how he wasn’t needed. I imagine he’ll be getting home soon. It’s nearly time for supper, and you know how young lads are when it comes to food. Shall I send him in?”

“Yes,” Lemur said, the polite pretense slipping for a moment.

“See to it, Hannigan. Our guest grows impatient.” Phelan took another chair, stretching his legs out in a casual
gesture that belied the fury in his heart. “The boy means a great deal to you, Lemur.”

“More than you can imagine.” He’d once more regained control of his facade. “There is nothing more important than the bonds of family, is there? The love of a brother for a brother, for instance. You have a brother, don’t you? A half brother somewhere?”

The message was clear. Lemur had heard the rumors, and if he guessed the identity of Phelan’s putative wife, they’d be facing disaster.

That disaster wasn’t yet upon them. Phelan smiled sardonically. “Unfortunately, my brother is traveling abroad. But I understand your meaning. It will be my pleasure to reunite you with your nephew.”

“I knew you would see it my way,” Lemur murmured.

“Find Juliette at once,” Valerian hissed. “Forget about me.”

“I’ve been trying, Lord love you,” Hannigan snapped back, yanking on the corset strings. “Half my family is out looking for her. She must have wandered off down the strand.”

“You don’t suppose she’s run away, do you?” Valerian mused, sucking in his breath as Hannigan pulled. “She’s attempted it before.”

“I doubt it. Her clothes are still in her room, and your brother still has her earbobs. She wouldn’t get far without any money. I imagine she’s just forgotten the time.”

“She’s going to walk right in on that bastard,” Valerian fumed, pulling a yellow sarcenet day dress over his head with a muffled curse. “Damn, I thought I wouldn’t have to wear these things again.”

“It’s for Miss Juliette’s sake,” Hannigan said, handing him the powder pot.

“Can’t you just do something about the man, Hannigan? Have some member of your limitless family drop him down a well or a deserted mine or something?”

“This isn’t mining country,” Hannigan said reprovingly.

“Well, do something about him. I can’t imagine why Phelan would have brought him home, but obviously he had no choice.”

“Obviously. He already knows the man.”

Valerian accepted that information in momentary silence. “Then we’ll have to kill him,” he said flatly. “Might as well, since I’m being hunted for a murder I didn’t commit. They’re going to catch me sooner or later, and probably hang me. I might as well do something decent to deserve it.”

“Don’t talk that way, young master,” Hannigan said in a disapproving voice. “There’s a way out of this tangle, I’m sure of it.”

“I’ve yet to see it. We’re running out of possibilities, Hannigan. For all of us.”

“We still have time,” said Hannigan. “Which is more than I can say for the man downstairs. If he’s threatening his lordship, he’ll have me to deal with.”

Valerian shoved his feet into an oversize pair of slippers, tossed back his hair, and laughed. “A harmless, oversize bear like you, Hannigan?” he hooted. “Better leave the dirty work to me. At least I’ll earn my keep.”

“Flirt with the man,” Hannigan said. “I’ll go out after Miss Juliette. I don’t want her to see him without being warned. There’s no telling what she might say or do.”

“Look after her,” Valerian said. “For my brother’s sake, if not for hers.”

“Lord love you, do you think I didn’t notice?” Hannigan said, incensed. “Don’t you worry, young master. I’ll keep her safe for his lordship if I can. You just take a care for yourself. I don’t trust that man.”

And Valerian, remembering Lemur’s pale eyes and soft, cruel smile, nodded. “Neither do I,” he said. And departed the room in a cloud of perfume, ready to do battle.

Juliette had given up running away. It was a wasted effort, a lost cause. She wasn’t going to get away from Phelan Romney until he was good and ready to let her go, and that moment didn’t seem imminent. The best she could do was accept her fate with good grace.

She just wished she didn’t feel so dratted cheerful about it.

The aftermath of the storm had a beneficial effect on the land, giving everything a hazy, freshly washed look. She couldn’t say whether it had as beneficial an effect on her. She felt edgy, restless, disturbed, with a longing to see Phelan, to be alone with him, that was quite irrational.

Fortunately for her, he left the house early. Dulcie shooed her out of the kitchen, Hannigan sent her from the stables, and she was left with a fine day on her hands and nothing to do with it. She ended up hiking down to the old wreck, going barefoot on the rain-slick trail, unencumbered by anything more than a kerchief wrapped around an apple, a hunk of bread, and a bit of cheese. There was something about the place that called to her. The eerie skeleton of the old ship with its toppled masts framed against
the post-storm sky was hardly the most cheerful sight in the world, but then, Juliette wasn’t in the most cheerful of moods. She wanted a quiet place, to think, to plan, to reflect. And the somber beauty of Dead Man’s Cove was the answer.

She lost track of time. Sitting barefoot on the beach, her legs drawn up in the circle of her arms, she watched the sea crash against the ruined hull of the ship. The violence of the surf matched the violence of her emotions, and for some reason she found the remnants of nature’s rampage soothing. Disaster was coming, lurking, though she couldn’t say how she knew.

By the time she realized she ought to be getting back, the sun was sinking low behind the headland. She made her way slowly back up the path, wondering whether Phelan would think she’d tried to run off again. When at last she reached the boundaries of Sutter’s Head, a mist had closed in, obscuring everything.

The large kitchen was deserted, despite the food cooking in the huge ovens. There was no sign of the servants in the yard, or anywhere about.

She considered going to her room and staying put. She heard the distant sound of voices from the library—Valerian’s husky, feminine drawl, Phelan’s deeper voice. If she had any sense, she’d keep away, but she’d already proved she had no brains at all when it came to the master of the house. She hadn’t seen Phelan since those brief, wild moments in the rain-soaked garden, and she couldn’t keep away from him. She hadn’t been able to think of much else but him, the feel of his hands on her bare breasts, the touch of his mouth on hers. She needed to see him, to prove to
herself that it was all midnight madness. That in the cool, clear light of day she was invulnerable.

But it wasn’t daylight; it wasn’t cool or clear. It was foggy, warm, and dark, and her emotions were still rampant. She should keep away from him. But she couldn’t.

The door to the library stood ajar. She pushed it open, hesitating, as the three inhabitants of the room turned to stare at her. Valerian was frowning at her quite fiercely, and he looked absurd in yellow frills. Phelan stood in the background, his expression unreadable as always. And then her gaze fell on the third man, and terror swept through her, so intense that she couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t even speak. She simply looked into the pale, blank eyes of her husband in shock.

“Nephew!” he said, rising from his chair and crossing the room to her. “How long I’ve waited for this reunion!”

Juliette tried to back away, but the door came up behind her, and there was nowhere she could go. Lemur flung his arms around her, clasping her against his body, and his fingers dug into the sensitive skin of her upper arms with painful urgency.

She made no sound of distress, as he’d taught her, and when he released her there was a look of smug satisfaction on his bland face.

Through her panic she could feel Phelan’s eyes on her, watching her reaction. He’d brought Lemur back to Sutter’s Head, obviously willing to hand her over. Lemur must have met the price Romney had insisted didn’t exist.

And then Valerian insinuated himself between them, his full skirts an effective barrier, and his large hands on Juliette’s were gentle. “Naughty boy,” he crooned, his eyes dark with worry. “Not to tell us about your uncle. Here
we thought you were a poor orphan, cast adrift upon the world, when in actuality you had a guardian who clearly loves you deeply.” He squeezed her hands reassuringly. “Such a happy reunion.”

“Yes,” Juliette whispered.

Lemur tried to move closer, but Valerian was a great deal larger, and he managed to block the older man, much to Lemur’s obvious frustration. In another time, another place, Juliette might have found the byplay amusing. Right now she was simply sick with dread.

“We’ll be leaving now, Ramsey,” Lemur announced. “No need to trespass on your hospitality a moment further.”

“Nonsense,” Valerian said. He turned his back on Juliette and began advancing on Lemur. “We wouldn’t think of letting you leave, would we, Philip?”

“We wouldn’t think of it,” Phelan echoed in a cool voice.

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen your dear nephew,” Valerian continued, “and obviously you parted on not the best of terms. We insist you stay here for a few days to get reacquainted.”

“I wish to take Julian back to London immediately,” Lemur stated. “I’ve been away from my affairs for too long as it is.”

“Feel free to go,” Phelan said affably. “We’ll bring Julian up to join you in a week or so.”

“I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then you’ll simply have to stay for a few days, won’t you, Lemur?” Phelan murmured. “Don’t try to fight it—you know how women are when they make up their minds, and my wife’s as stubborn as a goat. Tell me, old man, are you married?”

Juliette felt sick inside. Lemur was watching her, and
his blank expression terrified her. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said. “To a spoiled, willful creature who’s much in need of discipline.”

“Rather like your nephew, Mr. Lemur?” Valerian asked archly. “I might venture to give you a hint. It’s a great deal easier to secure cooperation if you use a gentle hand.”

Lemur seemed to collect himself. “Dear lady,” he purred, “I am the soul of gentleness. I seek only to renew my acquaintance and very real affection for my nephew.”

“And what better place but here, Mr. Lemur?” Valerian countered. “Your room is already made up, and we won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Will we, Philip?”

“We won’t,” Phelan said.

Lemur’s smile was a tight one, and it boded ill for the future. He was going to hurt her, Juliette thought. Before, he had hurt her for no reason; now he had what many might consider justification. Valerian’s attempts at protecting her would probably only make it worse.

It didn’t matter. She felt numb with fear and betrayal. Phelan had brought Lemur here. Phelan had sold her out. She should have known that no man could be trusted. She’d never considered herself particularly dull-witted; why hadn’t she learned such a simple lesson?

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Lemur said, and his light voice was implacable.

But Valerian was in full force, playing his role to the hilt, and he batted his naturally long eyelashes at Juliette’s stony-faced husband and tucked his arm through Lemur’s. “If you insist,” he cooed. “But I intend to see whether I can persuade you to extend your stay just a little bit longer. I have to make up for my little prevarication at the inn. How was I to know what a charming man you were?
After all, you spun me some faradiddle about Julian being a thieving bond servant, and I knew that couldn’t be true. We’ve grown very fond of the boy, and we’re not ready to part with him. Besides, I would adore the chance to get to know you better. My husband is a frightful bore, and an attractive new man is a gift from heaven.”

Juliette was too sick inside to be amused, but Lemur actually preened, allowing himself to be flattered. “Dear lady,” he said unctuously, “there is nothing I’d like better than to spend time here, but my business needs are pressing.”

“And your wife must miss you dreadfully,” Valerian murmured sweetly.

“Dreadfully,” Lemur echoed, his colorless eyes meeting Juliette’s, and she shivered.

“We’ll deal with tomorrow when it arrives,” Phelan said. “In the meantime, Julian hasn’t eaten, and most of the staff are out scouring the woods for him. Got to the kitchen, lad, and find yourself something to eat. Then you can retire for the night while we discuss your future with your uncle.”

She looked at him for a long, silent moment, the sense of betrayal clear in her eyes. “Don’t you want me to serve dinner, sir?” she said.

It might have been wishful thinking on her part, or sheer imagination. It might have been the ungovernable tension of the moment. But Phelan Romney looked guilty at the reminder of how he’d tried to humiliate her the previous night.

“Go to bed,” he snapped, making no effort to be pleasant. “We’ll deal with you in the morning.”

For the moment, Valerian had managed to captivate Mark-David Lemur, and the two of them were seemingly
unaware. Juliette’s eyes locked on Phelan’s, and for a brief moment she let her emotions run free, no longer hiding her reactions. And then she turned and left, closing the door silently behind her.

Phelan stood very still, oblivious to his brother’s arch efforts to flirt with Lemur. Juliette’s expression burned in his mind, his belly, what passed for his heart. Betrayal and loss had shadowed her eyes. She thought he’d handed her over to Lemur.

He ought to be angry with her for doubting his word. Instead, he felt an odd gratification. For with that betrayal and loss was a longing that she no longer bothered to hide. She wanted him, perhaps not as much as he wanted her, but the need was there, buried beneath her fear and hurt. If he could just get rid of Lemur, he could have her.

There was never any question that he’d get rid of Lemur. He wouldn’t turn a dog over to that brute—he’d hardly let him get his hands on Juliette. But the situation had to be handled delicately. Despite his murderous impulses, he couldn’t really kill Lemur. He simply needed to make sure he never came near Juliette again.

Phelan had to admire his brother. Valerian had thrown himself into his role with wholehearted abandon, taunting and teasing Lemur with a malicious glee that his victim missed entirely. Once Phelan managed to squash the irrational pangs of jealousy over Juliette, he could admit that Valerian had a very innocent fondness for the girl, and his urge to punish Lemur was possibly as great as his own.

He watched them over the dinner table, saying little, his mind busy with various plots. While he’d recognized the panic in Juliette’s face when she’d seen Lemur, he had
also recognized the hopelessness and defeat. As terrified as she was, she wouldn’t run. She’d given up hope.

It was up to him to rescue her, a task he viewed with pleasure. He hadn’t had the chance to play knight-errant before, and for once the notion appealed to him, particularly when he intended to claim his reward.

Though it wouldn’t do to underestimate Lemur. The man had a certain cunning, and while Valerian was enjoying himself, it would be foolish to assume he’d manage to make Lemur forget his reason for being at Sutter’s Head.

Phelan left the two of them alone, flirting archly, as he stepped out into the garden, ostensibly to avail himself of a cheroot. He didn’t actually intend to smoke, but he wanted a few moments of privacy. When he returned, Valerian was alone, a disgusted expression on his face.

“That man’s a menace,” he said flatly.

Phelan smiled sourly. “What did he do, pinch you?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. Hard enough to raise a bruise,” he replied. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fob him off. Lord, but I would have liked to pound the little worm.”

“You were promising a great deal. I suspect he, unlike Pinworth, wouldn’t be any too happy to discover what lies beneath your skirts.”

“Put a sock in it,” Valerian growled. “I wouldn’t exert myself for just anyone. Did you see the expression on Juliette’s face when she saw Lemur? I thought she was going to throw up. We’re not going to let him have her.”

“Of course we’re not. I’m simply not certain how far we’ll have to go to keep him from getting her.” Phelan frowned. “He has gone directly to his room, hasn’t he?”

“I escorted him there myself, much to the sorrow of
my poor, abused backside,” Valerian snarled. “The man’s a beast.”

“I suspect that may be putting it mildly. I think I’ll make certain our guest is safely settled for the night. It wouldn’t do to underestimate the man.”

Valerian shuddered, and there was nothing delicate or feminine about the gesture. “He’s an evil man, Phelan.”

Phelan’s uneasiness grew. “I know,” he said. And he started for the door.

“There you are, my love.” Mark-David’s soft, oily voice slid over Juliette like rancid grease as he stood in her open doorway, a key in one hand. He surveyed her with a pleasant smile that made her blood run cold.

She didn’t move. She knew from past experience that it would do no good. He was blocking the only exit, and if she tried to scramble off the bed, to run away, he would have an excuse to hurt her. She simply watched him.

“I’d forgotten you had a taste for playing the boy,” he continued in a meditative voice. “I shouldn’t have indulged you earlier. It’s no wonder you failed to excite me sufficiently in the past. You need to be taught who and what you are. A mere woman, and my possession.”

She had to try. “Leave me be, Mark-David,” she pleaded. “I’ll disappear; no one need ever hear from me again. You can keep my money …”

“Don’t be absurd, child,” he said. “I’ll keep your money anyway. A husband has sole rights to his wife’s inheritance under English law. Surely you’re bright enough to realize that. As for your disappearing—you’ve already tried. And I’ve scoured the country, looking for you. Now that
I’ve found you,” he said dreamily, reaching out his hand to touch her, “I have no intention of letting you go.”

She flinched, but he wasn’t about to allow her to escape. He stroked the side of her face, the caress a mockery. “I haven’t yet decided which of the Romneys you’re enamored of—Phelan or his long meg of a wife. It won’t do you any good, you know. Once Romney realizes you’re a girl, he’ll be quite disgusted. And I fancy his wife is more interested in the opposite sex than her own.”