Chapter Five
A nthony strode into the stables at Ravenridge only to halt at the sight of his friend, the Viscount of Blackmore, talking to the stableman, Mr. Clancy. The opposition of the two gentleman reminded him of his various disguises. Marcus had fine hair as dark as midnight, and Mr. Clancy’s was rough and gray. And while Marcus stood as straight as he had while commanding troops in the war, Mr. Clancy’s curved back proved the toils of his trade had left their mark.
“Ah, here he is now.” Marcus waved him over. “I know you’re busy on another investigation, but I was hoping you had a moment to give us your opinion.”
Anthony did not wish to be late to meet Lissa, but since his captain housed him, he didn’t feel it appropriate to deny the request. He strode forward. “I’d be happy to impart what little knowledge I have. What do you need from me?”
Mr. Clancy chuckled, his grin as wide as the stable door. “The lad here don’t think he can trust his own judgment. But I told him it shines everything else down, I did.”
Having mingled among the lower classes quite often, Anthony understood the old man’s reference to something quite impressive, and his curiosity was piqued. Striding up to them, he turned to where Mr. Clancy pointed.
On the ground next to the stall was a wooden rocking horse. It was far from the typical, as it had been painted to look like a real horse. Not only that, but the tail and mane appeared to be horsehair and the eyes were onyx stones. What made it truly an artistic creation was the leather saddle with tiny stirrups. Obviously, this was to be for the lord’s coming child.
Anthony pretended to give it a careful examination and crouched. Lifting the small reins, he set the horse in motion. Eventually, he stood and looked at his former captain. He scanned Lord Blackmore from head to toe, then looked at the horse again. Finally, he spoke to his friend. “It is well made and more lifelike than any I have seen, but…” He let his voice trail off.
Marcus frowned, clearly concerned. “But what? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think it will hold your weight.” He barely kept his laughter at bay as his friend’s brows lowered even further.
“My weight? Why would—” Realization dawned, and Marcus shook his head. “It’s for the baby.”
“Well, in that case, I believe the baby has a first-rate ride. What will you call it?”
“Call it?”
Mr. Clancy chuckled. “My lord, Anthony wants to know what its name is.”
Understanding that his friend was new to fatherhood, while he had two brothers who had already reached that status, Anthony explained, “As you and Lady Blackmore hold horses in such high esteem and provide each with a fitting name, I would suggest that you may want to have a name for your child’s first horse so they understand this is expected.”
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent idea. I will think upon it.”
“Then I will leave you to your thoughts and look forward to hearing what you decide upon. You cannot as easily tell us that you will wait to reveal the name until it is born, like you have with your child, since this fellow or filly is already born.”
Marcus grimaced at the reminder of what he and his wife had told everyone, but didn’t say anything.
Anthony walked his Irish Hunter out of the stables and mounted. He was about to set out when the lord came outside. “Wait. You didn’t tell me what you think.”
“But I did.”
“No, I mean, I wished to know if you think Mariel will like it. Lady Sommerset painted it to look as real as possible, and I had the saddle made specifically for it.”
He held back a chuckle. Did the man not realize his wife loved him so much that if he presented her with a simple rattle with a horse engraved upon it, she would be overjoyed? “Lady Blackmore will be absolutely delighted with it.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
Marcus finally appeared to relax. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”
As his former captain, now friend, turned for the stable, Anthony smiled, kicking his mount so he could let out his laughter without anyone hearing. He shook his head even as he set a quick pace. He’d never met anyone so in love with their wife. His own brothers seemed happy, but not besotted like Marcus. He counted himself lucky he need never worry about marrying or children. Being the fourth of four boys did come with advantages.
He slowed his horse as they entered the wood, finding himself anxious to see Lissa again. He’d like to believe it was his interest in what Leighhall carried, but he recognized that he had missed having her about. Though escorting her about the village had been a unique experience. She was quite beautiful, something he’d not recognized in France, though he’d known that she was attractive. There was something about seeing her as she must have looked before the loss of her family and home, long before the war came to her lands, that had him appreciating exactly how adaptable she’d been.
He had little doubt that if she set her cap for any of the men he’d drawn her attention to in Talley upon the Green, they would quickly appreciate having her as a wife. But he didn’t want to limit her choices. She’d endured much and deserved to consider as many as she wished. He’d have to arrange an outing to Woodford Chase. He’d spent time there as well, and with help from an acquaintance, he could provide her with at least half a dozen others. Maybe he should—
The thought left as a feeling of being watched filled him. He had no disguise, so his senses were much more attuned to his surroundings. He slowed his mount, hoping it was Lissa, but preparing as if it were another with bad intentions.
The snort of a horse had him turning around, only to have his top hat lifted from his head. Instinct took over and he reached out, grabbing the arm that sought to steal from him.
“Good it is to see that you are still quick, mon ami .”
He looked up and took back his hat before letting Lissa go as she dangled from a tree branch upside down in her usual shirt and trousers, not a little concerned at her precarious position. “Am I to expect an attack upon my person every time I meet with you?”
She held her arms out. “Who is to say?”
“Let me get your horse, so you can get down from there.”
“No need.” She lifted her torso and grasped the branch, then dropped her legs, only to swing her feet onto another, shorter branch, before climbing down to the ground.
Dismounting himself, he waited as she fetched her horse from behind the bushes along the other side of the path.
As she strode back toward him, he only saw the old Lissa, her gait that of a young man, not the graceful walk he’d witnessed on their outing eight days ago. She stopped twenty feet away, the reins in one hand, her other on her hip. “I thought you forgot about me.”
“Hardly. If you remember, I’m tracking. As much as I wished to meet with you, I had to stay with Leighhall.”
“Why meet now?” She cocked her head, obviously not pleased with him.
He’d thought taking her to Talley on the Green would satisfy her for at least a fortnight. “Because Leighhall is currently at a house party where he is dancing attendance on a number of ladies, much like the one Lady Harewood attended.” He paused as a thought occurred. “I can only hope he does not come away wishing to do damage to one of their reputations as well.”
She finally moved closer even as she shrugged. “Then if you find anything on him, you can sell it to that lady’s parents. I’m sure they’d be grateful.”
Her suggestion surprised him, as he’d willingly offer such intelligence freely. It reminded him once again that she’d done what she had to in order to survive. Part of him wished she’d never had to experience war, but the selfish part of him was thankful she had, or he would have never had such a good friend. “Did you find anything in your research on weapons that might be what Leighhall carried out of the cobbler’s?”
“I did.” She crossed her arms. “But if I tell you, will you forget about me again?”
“Lissa, I would take you with me, but that is hardly proper.”
She glanced past him at nothing in particular. “I so wish I didn’t need to pretend to be a lady. I’d rather jaunt about with you and experience life.” She flung her hand out toward the path to Silver Meadows. “They read about life, think about life, talk about life, but they do not experience it. At least while in London, they went about a bit. It is not for me.”
Something had seriously changed in their time apart. She had not complained so much before. “What has happened?”
She snapped her gaze back to his. “I did not say anything happened.”
He raised his brows, not letting her look away. “I know you, remember?”
At first it seemed she wouldn’t give in, but then she threw her hands up. “Grand-maman wrote me. She has a list. A list! She said she’s going to arrange for the Blackmores to bring me to London early so I can be outfitted.” She stalked across the pathway. “ Oui , she wishes to dress me up for auction. Sell me to the highest peer. This is what she wants.” She stalked back across the path. “She is boxing me in. Mon Dieu , I do not want this. But what I want—What are you smiling for?”
He couldn’t help grinning. “You have no need to worry about going to London early. Lady Blackmore will not be able to travel. In fact, I doubt she plans to attend much of the Season.”
Lissa stilled. “She won’t?”
“No, she won’t. She is in a delicate way. I doubt that she will travel before April. So, you see, you have a reprieve.”
She frowned before her eyes widened. “She’s with child? I was not aware.” Even as Lissa’s spirits seem to lift, her shoulders slumped. “Grand-maman will just have Lord Blackmore ask Lady Northwick, who I know will accept.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but what she said could very well happen. He tried to think of what might help her. “You only need to heed your grandmother until you are twenty-one.”
“Is this true?” Her eyes lit with excitement. “You do not jest?”
“Not at all. If you can avoid a proposal from a peer for a couple of Seasons, you can then do as you wish.” But could she? As a lady, she was stunning, and many a man did not look past a lady’s appearance and manners.
A sly smile lifted her lips. “But I won’t—wonder if the duchess could convince my grandmother to wait another year.”
If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he would have missed it, the slight movement of her nose when she hesitated. He’d only seen it once before when he’d caught her lying. Their friendship was built upon respect for each other’s abilities and honesty. Not a little hurt that she sought to dissemble with him, he folded his arms. “That was not what you were going to say.”
She opened her mouth then closed it.
“Why do you seek to lie to me now? What is of such import than you cannot tell me?”
Her gaze lowered. “It is habit. I apologize.”
It was habit to lie? She had lied daily in France, but now there was no reason for it. “I cannot accept your apology unless you tell me what you were about to say.” As she rolled her lips in to think about how to answer, he lost his patience. “Tell me now.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Very well. I’m not nineteen.”
When she didn’t continue, he scowled at her. “How old are you?”
She didn’t look away, but her shoulders stiffened. “I’m twenty-four.”
He dropped his arms. “Twenty-four?” He wasn’t surprised. He was shocked.
“ Oui . Far too old to be marriageable material, which is why Grand-maman told all I was younger. She has her plans for me.”
And Madame Fontaine called him the trickster? Several requests the old woman had made of Lord Blackmore over the years started to coalesce. As the one who fulfilled those requests, Anthony had sometimes wondered, but it made more sense now. The old woman had wished for tutoring for them both so they could come to England and converse appropriately. The other tutors for Lissa were to teach her to be a lady by English standards, evidently so she could be married off.
He had to admire the old woman’s patience. Did she know her charge was not as interested in complying as she’d hoped? Now that he’d inadvertently given Lissa the information she needed to break away from her grandmother, would she? That question lay heavy in his chest, and he had to have the answer before aiding her further. “Now that you know you can ignore your grandmother’s wishes, what will you do?”
Lissa moved closer to her mount and idly stroked it as if it helped her calm her racing thoughts.
He did not interrupt her musing. It was a life-changing decision, and she needed to evaluate her options. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if this were the first time she had the opportunity to determine her own future. Until this very moment, it had been survival, and then aiding her grandmother, and now doing as her grandmother wished.
Finally, Lissa stepped away from her mount as if she didn’t want to depend upon it for making her decision. “What you have told me provides me with a certain freedom I didn’t know I had, yet I am still bound to my grandmother. I could not have survived without her any more than she could have survived without me.”
He could tell she had more to articulate, so he waited, anxious to understand the very core of who she was. Was it the woman who thought nothing of selling information to save another woman’s reputation instead of offering it freely? Or would she honor her relative, her only surviving family member?
She straightened her shoulders, mimicking the actions of a young man more than a woman. “I will continue on the course I have set, to find a wealthy tradesman so that my grandmother can end her days in luxury. She deserves that. If I cannot do that before I must enter the Season, I shall seek a compromise with her, letting her know that I am aware I no longer need to do as she wishes.”
His muscles relaxed, though he hadn’t realized he’d tensed. Her answer sent a wave of relief through him that she was the honorable woman he’d always thought her to be. Upon the heels of that thought came another, and he blurted it. “Do you think your grandmother knows this law?”
Lissa nodded with no hesitation. “I am sure she does. I’m also sure it is why she made me the age she did, so if I weren’t successful in my first Season, there would be another before she’d no longer rule over me. She did not expect me to learn of this.” She gave him a soft smile, one he’d not seen on her before. “Thank you for this gift.”
He swallowed hard as he gazed at her, the pull on his heart very strong. “I am pleased I could be helpful. And I promise I will continue to be, so that you need not reveal to your grandmother what you know.”
She gave him a regal nod, as if she were in a ball gown accepting a dance, when she stood there in shirt, trousers, and boots, her hair tied back in a queue. She practically embodied contradiction. It was, perhaps, what had always intrigued him about her, her ability to adapt.
“Now that I have assuaged your fears regarding the upcoming Season, could you tell me if you found any information to aid me in my investigation?”
Her eyes widened as if she’d forgotten why they had met. “I did.” She shoved her hand into the pocket of the trousers and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “If what your quarry carried was this, it does begin a pattern.”
He opened the paper and stared at the sketch of two figures. One looked like an old shield with a hole in the middle and a small grate above the hole. The other, presumably the back, had straps and what looked like the butt of a gun of some sort. “What is this?”
“It’s a gun shield.” She grinned triumphantly. “Henry VIII of your country had a number made based upon an Italian design.” She moved to stand next to him and pointed at the front of the shield. “That hole is where the shot comes out, and this grate allows the shooter to see to aim.”
The light scent of apple filled his nostrils, sending him back to France again. “What kind of gun is this?”
“It’s a breech-loading matchlock pistol.” She pulled her hand back but remained next to him. “The shield itself is wood, with pieces of metal over the front.”
Forcing himself to concentrate on the images, he examined the smaller details. “So this would be a weapon from the early Renaissance. Do we use anything like this today? I’ve never seen it in the military.”
She shook her head then held up her arm, as if holding a shield, and pretended to shoot over her forearm. “While the idea appears sound, the actual use of it was awkward, and after your king’s initial interest, it was lost to history.”
“So it’s another unusual antique weapon.”
She stepped back and held her arms out. “Exactly. It’s the start of a pattern. Not only a pattern, but it may just answer the question about what this Leighhall is using these for.”
He immediately understood what she meant. “It’s not in order to use them, unless he plans some ancient battle or a stage play.” He paused because he wouldn’t discount those two possibilities completely. Peers could have very odd interests. “However, the most likely reason he has these is for a specific collection. Now we just need to discover if it’s for a museum or for himself.”
“I would wager it’s for himself. A man who beds so many women is highly selfish.” She winked. “Unless, of course, he’s an excellent lover. In that case, he could be considered generous.”
Not a little shocked by her comment about Leighhall’s bedroom skills, he stared at her.
She waved off her deduction. “It’s more likely that he would sell such weapons to a museum, not donate them. Unless of course he wished to have a room named after himself.”
Unable to remain silent, he finally stopped her analysis. “I suggest that you not delve into the man’s amorous affairs. That is not a fit subject for a young woman to dwell upon.”
“ Mon Dieu , Anthony, do not attempt to stifle my speech when we’re alone.” She threw her hands up. “I’m not in some stifling parlor conversing with Lord Monotonous about the color of a vase. Are we or are we not partners in this investigation?”
Her tone had taken on a hard edge, one he was familiar with. Though he understood why she was upset, he couldn’t fault himself. As much as he tried to think of her as the urchin with which he’d scrounged for food while staying in France as Blackmore healed, he couldn’t. She was more than simply that person now. He would not apologize, but he did need to assuage her anger, as she was a valuable asset to his investigation. “I will endeavor not to. However, I will not have it held against me that on occasion, I may treat you more as a lady than as young man.”
She held his gaze, but he did not waver. Finally, she sighed. “Very well. I will let such remarks pass and focus on our goal instead. I would like to hear your thoughts on Leighhall’s gathering of odd and ancient weapons.”
Pleased that they had an understanding, he reviewed everything he knew so far. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m not sure as yet what these weapons tell us. But if the man is simply adding them to his own collection, then I fear there is nothing to that which would help Lady Harewood.”
Lissa’s brow furrowed in obvious concern. “Then we must unearth more about the man. What do you propose?”
He’d been biding his time until he knew more, but now seemed the right time to infiltrate Leighhall’s household. “I plan to disguise myself as a servant and apply for a position. I have heard that the man hosts his own house party on the last weekend of every month after the Season ends. I’m quite curious as to who his hostess is. It may be his mother, but my instinct tells me it will be whomever he’s bedding at the time.”
Lissa’s brown eyes seemed to lighten with her excitement. “That’s an excellent idea. But what will your disguise be? You know servants gossip, so it will have to be a disguise that is not easily removed. Also, you will want to get into the house, so a common laborer, which would be fairly simple for you, won’t help.”
It was a true pleasure to strategize with someone who had similar experience. “I’d thought to pose as a footman or butcher.”
She raised her brows, a small smile playing about her lips. “A butcher? And what do you know about butchering? I mean besides cutting off the head of my dear Rosalie.”
He chuckled at the memory of Lissa showing him what to do to dress a chicken for cooking. “As a matter of fact, I have had more training since then in the butchering of cattle, so I should be able to handle a lamb, goat, or whatever else might be required. First, I will go to the village of Melton, where his estate is located, and get a feel for what it is like working for him and what he expects so that I am not turned away. If I can find out what the man wants—or rather what his butler wants—in a footman, I can speak to that upon applying.”
“That’s an excellent idea. When do you propose to go?”
“Two days hence. It is but a half-day’s ride on an inferior mount, which will leave me half a day to discover what I need.”
She set her hand on his arm. “That is a sound plan. I will be ready and will meet you here at this time in the morning.”
Surprised, he stepped away, taking his arm from her hold. “What? You cannot come. What would the duchess say? You must remember, I owe her my very life.”
Lissa waved off his concerns. “Her Grace will never know. I will simply have a migraine, something I claim at least once a month to take a break from the monotony.”
“But…” He stopped himself from continuing, as all his objections were centered upon her being a lady. He switched tactics. “How will you disguise yourself?” He gestured toward her clothing. “This will not work anymore now that your hair is long.”
She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Do not worry, mon ami . Like you, I have other forms of dress, and for such an outing, I do believe a village lass who has experience as a maid will do quite well.” She dropped her grin and cocked her head. “After all, women are more likely to gossip than men when it comes to an employer, non ?”
She had a strong point. He had no doubt she could garner far more information as a maid than he could as a footman or butcher. He searched for another reason she shouldn’t go, but again, they all came back to her status as an unmarried lady. “Are you sure the duchess won’t discover you’ve left?”
“I’m absolutely sure. I’ve done so before with no one the wiser.”
It was on his mind to ask her about the other times, but he decided he’d rather remain ignorant. That she was resourceful, he was well aware, and he’d just have to trust her abilities. His unease was no doubt caused by the fact that this was England in peaceful times, not France during a war. There were different rules that governed society. Then again, her social aspirations were not particularly high, so everything considered, the risk was low. He just didn’t wish to incur the duchess’s wrath.
He finally nodded and held out his arm. “Two days hence I will see you here, and we shall endeavor to learn more about the Viscount Leighhall’s preferences in staff.”
She grasped his wrist. “Agreed.” He grasped hers in return, then, releasing him, she turned, mounted her horse, and raised her arm. “To our success.” She didn’t wait for a response, but spun her horse about and headed back from whence she came.
He stood there long after she’d gone, after the sound of her horse’s hooves no longer echoed in the wood, even after the birdsong returned. He had an unsettling feeling, not about his mission, but about Lissa. That worried him, only because he cared for her wellbeing. England was not her home, but any home she had back in France was gone. If she didn’t care so much for her grandmother, he would refuse her help, as much as he needed it. He just hoped that the honorable woman he’d known in France held sway over the young woman who craved the exhilaration of challenges.
Finally, he mounted up and headed down the path toward Ravenridge. Despite his misgivings, he couldn’t ignore the anticipation in the pit of his stomach at the thought of riding to Melton with Lissa and discovering all they could to be hired by Leighhall. It felt good to have her by his side once again, if only for a short while. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed her or how much she could add to his success.
As his horse stepped out into the morning sunshine, he set her to a gallop, his spirits rising as he planned for the coming trip.