The Convenient Arrangement (25 page)

“But who would do such a thing? My mother has swooned, and Mary …” He shook his head in despair.

Valeria did not bother to demur. “I can give you two guesses. Either Lord Caldwell or my nephew.”

“Caldwell? He's mixed up in this?” He raced away as his mother moaned his name from the other side of the room.

She stared after him. He had not asked if she was all right. All his thoughts had been concentrated on his mother and sister. If he acted this way tonight, how would he be after they were married?

No, she would not think of that now. She needed to find Lorenzo and discover who was frightening the guests. Gathering up the cream tissue of her gown, she rushed toward the door.

“It's gone!” she heard from by the window.

She left the guests to speculate on what they had seen as she hurried out into the hall. It was empty, because everyone, guest as well as servant, had crowded around the windows to peer out at the so-called ghost.

Not sure which way to go, she went toward the stairs that would lead down to the door closest to the part of the garden beneath the ballroom windows. She paused only long enough to get a candle to light her way. Hearing a door slam and angry voices, she took the stairs as quickly as she dared. She thought the lower corridor was deserted, too, until she saw two forms coming toward her. Fear tempted her, but she refused to heed it.

“Valeria?” she heard.

“Lorenzo!” She set the candle on a nearby table and ran to him. Throwing her arms around him, she cried, “Why didn't you tell me where you were going?”

He stroked her back gently, but fury honed his voice, “Because I wanted to capture this young rapscallion before the rest of our guests dropped senseless on the floor.”

She drew back and stared at an amazing sight. The footman Gil was dressed in what appeared to be a shield. A feather was stuck in his hair, and something was painted across his face. Before she could discern what, Lorenzo ran his finger along the lad's face and held it up away from the light. It glowed like the ghost had in the garden.

“Our ghost,” he said. “The phosphorescence—”

“The what?”

“The glow comes from the bogs on the moor. You must have seen the lights near the ground some nights.”

She shook her head. “I keep my curtains drawn at night.”

“I wish we had in the ballroom tonight.” His tone became sharp again as he turned to Gil. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I should turn you off right now.”

“I understand, my lord. I'm sorry that some of the ladies were so scared. We didn't—”

“We?”

“David was supposed to meet me here to help with the jest.” Gil looked everywhere but at Lorenzo.

“So you decided to frighten the ladies nearly to death without his assistance?”

“Didn't mean to hurt anyone. David and me, when he found this stuff from the bogs glows, we just wanted to make folks laugh.” His face lengthened as he sighed. “After all, you didn't ever believe we were really ghosts before.”

“It was you before?” Valeria asked.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Mayhap Lord Moorsea didn't believe you were real ghosts,” she replied, “but a good portion of the household staff did.”

His chin rose in defiance. “Serves them right for treating us from Wolfe Abbey like we carried the plague.”

She sighed. So many times she had asked Mrs. Ditwiller how tasks and responsibilities were intertwining between the two staffs, and each time Mrs. Ditwiller had assured her that all would come about as it should and not to concern herself.

“We will speak more on this tomorrow.” Lorenzo frowned. “Where is the boy?”

“David?” Gil asked. “Like I said, he was supposed to meet me in the garden.” He rapped his knuckles against the plate over his chest. “He dug this up and said it was really old, so I should wear it tonight. I waited for him, but he never showed up.”

“I'll have the house searched,” Lorenzo said before Valeria could speak. He gave her a swift smile. “We'll find him. By now, we have discovered most of his hiding places. Gil, find some men and begin the search. Let Kirby know we need his help. And Gil?”

“Yes, my lord?” The footman turned.

“Keep what you're doing quiet. I don't want Lady Fanning's guests more disturbed by this.”

“Yes, my lord.” He raced away, pulling off the breastplate as he ran.

Lorenzo smiled again at her. “It will turn up trumps, Valeria. Don't worry.”

“I'll try not to.” She picked up the candle. “Let me go and tell the guests about our ghost so their minds are put at ease.”

He curved his hand along her face. “You are extraordinary in a crisis, Valeria.”

“One learns to be, when one is surrounded by all the skimble-skamble of the Season.” She wanted to ask him what he had been about to tell her when the screams began, but that must wait. She went back up the stairs to the ballroom. She steeled herself for the anger which was sure to meet her explanation, especially from Tilden.

Valeria found that her trepidation had been valid, save for her betrothed. He sat beside his mother and his sister, who were stretched out on two benches in the ballroom. While the other guests took their leave and Valeria hoped her letters of apology, which she must write the first thing in the morning, would ease the outrage, Tilden did not look in her direction. He held his sister's hand for a moment before taking his mother's and patting it consolingly. Her single attempt to ask how they were doing was met with stiff silence.

By the time the last guests, save for the Oates family had taken their leave, the clock in the hallway was clanging eleven o'clock. It had been over two hours since the ghost had been sighted in the garden.

She left Tilden with his family and the musicians who were milling about the room and sampling the food that had been ignored. Before she had gone a dozen steps along the hall, Lorenzo rushed toward her.

“You've found him?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

When he gripped her arms, she feared she was going to succumb to vapors as the women had in the ballroom. The world tilted, and she gasped before she realized that Lorenzo was gathering her up in his arms. Again she rested her head on his shoulder, wishing she could delight in this closeness as she had when they danced. She would have gladly stayed here cradled in his arms forever, but she must think of David.

“Where have you looked?” she asked as Lorenzo set her down on something soft. With a gasp, she realized it was the bed behind the bookshelves in the library.

He sat on its edge and chafed her wrists, bringing feeling back into her numb fingers. “Everywhere that I could think of. I told Kirby to have the men search everywhere else, especially the old wall that has fascinated David since you arrived. Gil is certain that David would not go out on the moors alone at night.”

“He knows better than that.” Wanting to relax back against the pillows, she sat straighter. “Lorenzo, what if he has—?”

“Let's not consider more disasters than we have. I assume all your guests have taken their leave.”

“Save for Tilden and his mother and sister.”

He stood. “If you would as lief be with them, I—”

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf. Tilden hasn't.” She raised her gaze past his dust-covered coat to his sorrowful face. “I never will be a part of that family, no matter what I do.”

“And being a part of a family is important to you?”

She gulped back a clump of tears that filled her throat. “I have always wanted to be a part of a family, but each time I think I may be, something happens to destroy that. Lorenzo, what if—?”

He put his finger to her lips. “Gil and Kirby will find David. They always have in the past.”

“But he never failed to meet Gil to arrange a prank before.” She slid off the bed and paced to the door and back. “I should have …”

“Should have what? Valeria, it has become more than obvious that David has been having a wonderful time bamblusterating all of us to his heart's delight. He has been learning a lot about the Roman settlements in this area from me and has spent as much time as possible digging like a collier.”

“I should have made certain he attended the party tonight. He is so angry about being sent to Oates's Hall when he has not finished inspecting every inch of Moorsea Manor. When he discovers that Tilden intends to package him off to school as soon as we are wed, he—I—” She hid her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Don't weep, my dear.”

“I can't help it. When I think of him lost in some bog or hurt in the shadow of a hedgerow, I … I …”

When he put his arms around her, she pressed her face against his waistcoat. Gripping the satin, she let her tears fall. She could not be false any longer. She was scared and unhappy and utterly miserable. Her last words to her brother when he was brought back to her house near death had been that she would watch out for David until he was grown. Now he was missing.

A single finger under her chin drew back her head, and she stared up into Lorenzo's eyes which were so close to hers. He did not speak. She could not as his eyes came even closer. Her eyes closed when his lips brushed hers, as gentle as a brother's. She was not fooled, for there was a strange tension about him, about her, a tension of standing on a precipice and deciding whether to turn back or leap into the mists beyond.

She did not hesitate. Sweeping her hand up through his thick hair, she brought his mouth back to hers. His arms tightened around her, crushing her to him as he explored her lips with slow, deep strokes. When she gasped, surprised and delighted at the pleasure soaring through her, his tongue delved into her mouth, teasing her with its bold touch. She splayed her fingers across his back as he pressed her back onto the bed, holding there with the length of his body so that every ragged, eager breath was a separate, unbearably enticing caress. Her other hand curled around his nape as his lips wove a silken path along her face and across her throat. When his uneven breath warmed her ear, she trembled, and her hands clutched more tightly to his coat.

He found her lips with the ease of the fulfillment of a beloved fantasy come true. And it was. She had dreamed of this since she first had jested with him about needing to consider finding a wife for himself and he had kissed her on the cheek. That had been a shock. This was something absolutely different, satisfaction and longing for so much more all at once.

“What in the blazes—?”

Valeria came to her feet and stared at Tilden who stood at the end of the bookcase.

Sixteen

Lorenzo's arms did not release Valeria as Tilden crossed the room in a pair of steps. With a tug that Valeria feared would rip her arm right out of her shoulder, he pulled her away from Lorenzo.

“Moorsea, what are you doing with my future wife?”

“You know less about women than I do if you cannot see for yourself,” Lorenzo replied with a coolness that Valeria had never heard in his voice.

Tilden reached under his coat and pulled out his evening glove. As he raised it, Valeria grasped his arm.

“Don't be a beef-head.” When her voice quivered as she had in Lorenzo's arms, she saw Tilden's mouth work. She did not give him a chance to spout his anger. “Tilden, this is not the time for discussing anything but finding David.”

“So that is why you two weren't talking?”

“Don't be absurd!”

Lorenzo put his hand on her arm and stepped between her and the irate baronet. “Oates, Valeria is correct. Discuss this we must, but not now. Can we count on you to help us find the boy?”

“Yes, you can,” answered a higher pitched voice from by the bookshelves. Mary came around them and stared at the bed. She gulped, turned an unhealthy shade of red, but said, “Lord Moorsea, your footman is seeking you.”

“Gil?”

“The young, long-legged one.”

He nodded with a tight smile. “That's Gil. If you will excuse me.”

“I have so far,” Tilden grumbled.

“Valeria?” Lorenzo held out his hand.

She looked from him to her fiancé who was turning the glove over and over in his hand.

“Go with him,” Tilden said stiffly, “and our betrothal is finished.”

“You have no need for a wife now,” she answered with a smile she hoped would beg his forgiveness as she reached for Lorenzo's hand. “I'm needed here.”

“By Moorsea?” He laughed. “What need does he have for a wife when all he thinks of are his silly poems and his dirty relics?”

“That is not all I think of,” Lorenzo said as he folded her hand in his, “as you should know from what you unfortunately intruded upon, Oates. Lady Fanning and I bid you a good evening and a good-bye. The pressing matter of her nephew's whereabouts may even now be resolved.”

“Valeria—”

“Good-bye, Tilden,” she said as she walked out of the library with Lorenzo.

When she trembled, Lorenzo whispered, “Don't worry. He'll be fine.”

She was so pleased that he understood that she was more worried about David than her reputation which would be devastated as soon as what Tilden had seen was repeated through the
ton
. “How can he be fine? Without Tilden to buy off Lord Caldwell with his £8000, I don't know what we'll do.”

“One problem at a time. Let's find out what Gil has to tell us.”

When she nodded, Lorenzo gave her a bolstering smile. She could not return it, not until she was certain David was safe.

Gil ran up to them as they reached the stairs. “My lord, this was just delivered.” He hesitated, then added, “For Lady Fanning.”

She took the folded page that had been sealed with a crest she did not recognize. She had not expected to receive a chiding message from one of her guests until the morrow. “Gil, what about David? Have you found him?”