Chapter 12 #4
In the private office, Rothgar slid Elf’s note into a drawer, then stood for a moment in contemplation.
He suspected that God had smiled on them when He had delayed Cyn and Chastity’s departure.
He rang the silver bell on the desk, causing the footman stationed in the hall to enter through that door.
“My lord?”
“Ask Lord and Lady Cynric to join me here at their earliest convenience, if you please.”
Cyn and Chastity interpreted this correctly, and appeared within moments.
“Lud, Rothgar,” Chastity said, gesturing at her traveling dress. “I haven’t had time to change out of my dirt.”
“My apologies.” The marquess settled her in a comfortable chair. “Matters have arisen that might be urgent.”
“Trouble?” asked Cyn, perching on the arm of his wife’s chair.
“I fear so. And it seems Elf might be involved.”
“Elf? She hasn’t been in trouble since she put pepper in Great-uncle Faversham’s snuff!”
“You forget Scottsdale.”
Cyn rose, hand on sword. “Are you saying she’s fallen into the hands of another adventurer?”
“I don’t know what she’s fallen into. I am about to visit Lady Lessington to find out. I thought you and Chastity might want to come.”
“Of course. What reason do you have, though, for thinking anything is amiss?”
Rothgar strolled toward the door. “Merely the fact that one of our servants was killed last night at Walgrave House, and she was there on Elf’s orders.”
“ ’Struth!”
“Oh. And did I neglect to mention that the earl is apparently missing this morning, along with an unidentified woman who was in his company?”
At the sudden silence, Chastity looked between the two brothers. “You don’t think . . . But she doesn’t like him at all!”
Cyn’s grip on his scabbard tightened. “But he hates Mallorens enough to attack us through our women. I’ll—”
“You’ll come with me to Lady Lessington’s,” said Rothgar.
“Praying to God Elf’s there,” added Cyn grimly.
Amanda was trying to enjoy breakfast with her beloved husband, despite a sour worry about Elf. A message had come from Sappho’s to say Elf was safe there, but it answered none of the questions seething in Amanda’s mind.
Elf had Lord Walgrave tied up. What on earth did that imply?
And would her friend be able to escape scandal?
When the footman announced that the Marquess of Rothgar had arrived asking for his sister, Amanda nearly dropped her chocolate cup.
Stephen immediately rose to attend their callers, and Amanda hurried after. She thanked heaven that the formidable marquess was here to take charge of this tangle, but feared for poor Elf. What would Rothgar do to her when the truth came out?
As she entered the best reception room, she found that the marquess had not come alone. “Cyn? Good gracious, I thought you on the seas!”
Cyn shrugged. “Winds all awry, and then the ship sprang some sort of problem. It was decided to put off sailing for a month and there seemed no point in kicking our heels in Portsmouth.” Though he spoke pleasantly enough, Amanda couldn’t help noticing that he was unusually somber. “We’re here to speak to Elf.”
Stephen turned to Rothgar. “I only arrived home last night, my lord, but I gather Lady Elfled decided to spend a few days visiting a poetess by the name of Sappho.”
Amanda prayed that the story be accepted. Then she remembered that Elf thought Sappho was the marquess’s mistress.
Oh heavens, what now?
The only sign that the information might be of significance was that Rothgar took time for a pinch of snuff. “Sappho,” he repeated, dusting his fingers with a silk handkerchief. “Have you any idea, Lady Lessington, why she might have removed there?”
Fixed by those perceptive eyes, Amanda did her best. “Oh, she didn’t remove, my lord!
All her clothes are still here. I mean,” she hastily amended, “most of her clothes, of course. We visited Sappho, you see. A few nights ago . . .” The more those dark eyes observed her, the more tangled her mind and tongue became.
“Poetry reading. Quite unexceptionable! Elf must have taken a fondness for the lady—”
“So she left when?”
“Ah . . . Last night, actually.”
Stephen turned to her. “Last night? I thought—”
Amanda forced a smile. “It was an impulse. You know Elf.”
“I certainly thought I did,” said Cyn. “What the devil’s she up to?”
Stephen frowned at Amanda. “But you were at Lady Yardley’s masquerade last night.”
“Well of course we were, darling. That’s where you found me!” Amanda scrambled for a coherent story. “Elf met Sappho there, you see, and—impulsively—took up her invitation to stay.” She smiled fiercely at Rothgar. “You will find her there, my lord.”
Rothgar smiled as if he believed every twittering word. And wasn’t most of it true, after all? He kissed her hand. “Then we must proceed there, of course. My apologies for interrupting your breakfast, my lady. My lord.”
Amanda watched the Mallorens leave, then turned to face her husband.
“Amanda, my love, I think you had better tell me what has been going on.”
In the coach, the three Mallorens were silent, apart from Rothgar’s command to the coachman that they be taken to Harlow Street. Then Cyn said, “Strange story.”
“Extremely,” remarked Rothgar. “Particularly as Sappho strongly dislikes masquerades and has never been known to attend one. And Lady Yardley, of course, is Walgrave’s aunt.”
At Sappho’s Elf was feeling a little revived by food and coffee. Now she studied Fort, trying to detect any chink in his armor. Breakfast had passed without him showing the slightest interest in food. Surely he must at least be thirsty. Was the man human?
He must be sore and uncomfortable, but he sat perfectly still.
She knew her stare must be irritating, even though his gaze was fixed on the wall above her head. She hoped so. She wanted to irritate him. Any response would be better than none.
Sappho had left with the tray, so for a moment they were alone.
She rose to pace in front of him. “Did you mean to imply that the king is in no danger?”
When he didn’t reply, she put her face in front of his. “Speak to me! This is more important than our petty differences.”
He focused on her, and slowly, disdainfully, his brows rose. “Almost anything is. But yes. You can cease your fidgets. The king has been warned of the plot.”
“Thank God!” she exclaimed, straightening. “So this means you weren’t really involved in treason at all.” She turned back to stare at him. “Murray was right. You were acting as an agent provocateur.”
“Not at all. An agent provocateur seduces people into criminal activity and then turns them in to the authorities. I seduced no one. Unlike you.”
Hot memories flooded her, not least of begging him for a night of pleasure, but she knew he wanted those memories, wanted her to feel uncomfortable.
“Goodness,” she said, hands on hips, “are you suggesting I acted as an agent provocateur, seducing you into fornication? But at least I have no intention of turning you in to the authorities.”
“No? I rather thought you’d enjoy urging your brothers on to revenge.”
“I don’t deserve that.”
“You deserve everything that’s going to happen. If you don’t intend to stir up trouble, be assured that I do.”
She stared down at him. “What do you mean?”
He smiled, reminding her in a twisted way of his beauty. “I intend to tell the world about our adventures. In detail. Think of it. Items in the lower news sheets. Stories in the clubs. Cartoons in the print shops for the amusement of hoi polloi. It should all be vastly amusing.”
“Until Rothgar kills you for it.”
“I count on it, unless I am blessed by good fortune and manage to kill him.”
Every scrap of good she’d done was undone, and she’d added a whole new set of wounds so that he was scarcely sane. “Oh, stop this,” she begged. “Stop to think!”
At that moment, the door opened and she head Sappho say, “They are in here, my lord.”
Elf turned, stomach churning, to see not only Rothgar, but Cyn and Chastity, enter the room.
Before she had a chance to say anything, Fort turned his head toward the door. “Ah, the family! Elf and I were just discussing how best to tell the world about our night of lascivious passion.”