What a Lady Needs. Kasey Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ pair of bays in the traces responded to his light touch on the reins. “That’s it, boys, let’s get this over with.”

      Redgrave Manor got larger as Simon drew closer, even as, in parts, the sparkling top of the walls of the ha-ha disappeared here and there, following the rises and dips in the land. He kept to the well-tended road, which he was certain had run through the huge expanse of property during the last mile of his journey, noticing a grassy avenue lined with ancient trees off to his right. Could that have been the scene of the long-ago duel turned murder?

      To his left he could see what had to be only a small part of the extensive gardens drifting away from the rear of the mansion, along with a moss-covered stone ruin. It was probably a true ruin, and not especially built to appear to be one, as there was at Singleton Place, thanks to Holbrook, who’d thought them the height of good taste.

      Then again, his late brother had harbored many strange tastes. And, as it had worked out, one of them had proved fatal.

      As he approached the main gate a pair of what could have been farm laborers sidled out from small doors cut into each of the massive stone pillars. Now that he was nearly on top of them, Simon could see the pillars were actually a clever pair of gatehouses, complete with colorful potted flowers below the windows and stout iron bars behind the leaded glass panes. Again, it was discreet, but the place had all the beauty of a fairy tale while carefully disguising its many defensive strengths.

      He gave a moment’s thought to the existence of a dungeon in the cellars, one with a well-greased rack.

      The servants stood at their ease just behind the gates. Nonchalant. Waiting. One of them raised a hand to poke a finger in his ear, wiggle it and then visually examine what he’d managed to dislodge. It would appear the Redgraves didn’t stand much on ceremony. Either that, or they liked their visitors caught off guard and more than slightly confused. Was he facing two none-too-intelligent country dullards, or was he facing a fortress?

      “Good afternoon, my fine fellows,” Simon called out cheerfully if facetiously. “The Marquis of Singleton, to see Mr. Valentine Redgrave. Is that sufficient information for you, or is there also a password?”

      The two young men exchanged puzzled glances before one of them tugged at his forelock and pulled a large iron key from his pocket. “You’re expected, my lord. I’ll just open these gates and Liam here will hop up behind you lickety-split so as he can take your horses around to the stables and see they’re bedded down all nice and tight.”

      “That sounds reasonable. Tell me, are these gates always locked?”

      Again, the servants looked to each other before the one called Liam answered. “I’ll be bringing up that there trunk you have tied up behind the seat, my lord, once I’ve got those pretty horses tucked up. You want to open the gates now, Dickie, I suppose?”

      Simon thanked him as the lad hopped up behind him. So much for any idea of cultivating the servants for gossip. Redgrave had trained them well, if not then dressed them accordingly. Suddenly eager to see more of Redgrave Manor, and its inhabitants, he released the brake again, only to set it a minute later as he reined in his team halfway around the wide circle that sported a gray, weathered sculpture at its center. He couldn’t be certain, but he believed the marble had been chiseled to resemble Hades, Greek god of the underworld. Why else would the marble hound seated next to him have three heads?

      “If you’re so concerned about rumors and speculation, you don’t invite it in by greeting visitors with that,” he murmured under his breath as he hopped down from the seat just as one of the massive front doors opened and the tall, darkly handsome Valentine Redgrave bounded down the stairs, his right arm extended in greeting.

      “Simon!” he said, pumping the man’s hand as if they were old school chums reunited. “I heard someone was loitering up on the hill, and hoped it was you. Gives a grand view of this pile, doesn’t it?”

      “And a grand view of anyone loitering up on the hill, obviously. You have sentries posted, sir?”

      “No, no, not sir. And not my lord. Val and Simon, Simon and Val. We cried friends months ago, somewhere in Sussex, I believe we’ll say.”

      “I met you for five minutes in Perceval’s office, and told you then I’m not happy about this ridiculous playacting.”

      “So you did,” Valentine said, draping a companionable arm around Simon’s shoulder and walking him away from the open front door. “I advised you to learn to like it, which you better have done, because Lady Katherine is about to do some playacting of her own, which might put you a little off your game unless you apply yourself.”

      Simon stepped away from the man. “Excuse me? She knows about the deception?”

      “Not quite. She leaped to an erroneous conclusion this morning and I allowed her to leap, even pointed her more firmly in that direction one might say. Kate’s a stickler for the why of things, so it seemed best to have her think she’d guessed correctly.” Valentine hesitated a moment before continuing. “Oh, about that. She thinks I invited you here so she can ‘practice’ on you. Let me explain. Some would say she didn’t fare well during her first foray into society. You may have heard of it?”

      A truly splendidly delivered right cross, Singleton. You should have seen it. “I may have heard a few whispered words at one of my clubs. Should I consider wearing some sort of protection?”

      Valentine immediately glanced down at Simon’s crotch, which unnerved the marquis just a little bit. “No, of course not. Look, Simon, it’s simple. I told her you’re my friend, we’re both bored with London, I invited you here for some respite and, hopefully, to let her practice her feminine wiles a tad before we haul her back to the city next season. It was too soon to take her back this year. You, however, have no idea you’re here to act the role of interested parti in between searches for those damn journals and hopefully, a cave or tunnel that hasn’t yet collapsed from age.”

      “Have you poked around that statue? It could be the portal to the underworld.” Simon wasn’t feeling particularly cooperative.

      Valentine laughed. “Good point, we’ll have to give it a look. Maybe one of the hound’s heads swivels and opens a stairway or some such thing? We call him Henry, by the way. Hades, not the hound. String him with holly at Christmastime. Our grandmother told us, in the old days it served to keep the locals on their best behavior, but now Henry is mostly a family joke.”

      “Do you have many such jokes about the place?” Simon asked.

      “Well, there’s the ha-ha, but that’s only funny if you’re not sixteen and don’t attempt to climb it after you’ve stayed out past the time the gates are locked, enjoying the company of the extremely accommodating barmaid at the Eagle.” Valentine looked down at his palm. “I can still make out a few of the scars.”

      “From the broken glass embedded in the top of the wall, or the extremely accommodating barmaid?”

      Valentine threw back his head and laughed. “No, she left her marks on my back, as I recall the thing.”

      Damn. Simon was beginning to like the fellow. Probably because that’s what he was supposed to do. “All right,” he said, deliberately turning back toward the open front door. “So I’m playacting as your friend, brought here by you to distract your sister, hiding the fact I’m really here to find the journals—which she doesn’t know. In her turn, Lady Katherine is set on finding the journals, but now she’s also playacting as a—what?”

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