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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?”
Valentine sighed. “Much as it pains me to say it, she’ll be playacting as a lady.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t concern yourself. I’ll soon be saying those same words to you, if you aren’t careful. The thing is, it’s imperative she stops searching for those godawful journals on her own. Imperative. One of us has to be with her at all times. She cannot read them, not so much as a single page. Remember, Simon, I’ve read one of them.”
“I haven’t. Your brother didn’t pass it along to us.”
“As Gideon convinced Perceval, there was no need. That journal is only the first small piece of a very large puzzle. But since we can’t stop her, I could be called away at any time, and nothing less than binding her hand and foot and shipping her off to one of Gideon’s other estates will even begin to put a spoke in her wheel—like a pigeon, she’d somehow find her way back here again—we’re doing three things. Distracting her with your handsome face—but carefully, my friend, or I’ll be constrained to hurt you—keeping her on her toes as she attempts to impress me with her ladylike accomplishments and accompanying her on any searches. Those are our goals. She’s really quite acute, Simon, and beyond tenacious. If those journals still exist, she’ll find them better and faster than any dozen hounds we could put on the scent. Gideon will have both our heads on a platter if she finds them without us.”
“I think I might be able to do with a glass of wine before you introduce me to your sister,” Simon said as they neared the wide steps to the mansion. “Perhaps more than one.”
“That’s strange. My interlude with Kate this morning ended much the same way. She can have that effect on people.”
“Well, if nothing else, Val, you’ve certainly piqued my interest.”
Valentine grinned. “Yes, she has that effect on people, as well.”
Simon was impressed with the house the moment he entered it. Massive. Everything about it was massive, from the size of the entrance hall to the height of the dark, polished oak paneling and woodwork in the fashion of another time. The heavy wooden staircase, again massive, began with three steps up to a landing, then turned toward a full flight, currently blocked by a sturdy yet ornate wooden dog gate that told him the Redgraves loved their animals, but they didn’t love them everywhere.
He directed his eyes upward and saw the staircase had another landing, another turn, and then the railing seemed to wrap itself about three sides of the hallway before rising again to the next floor.
“Impressive, isn’t it? All that magnificent oak is from our own lands, when they were cleared to build this pile. Horribly out of the current style, but we like it, although the maids tend to grumble while they’re polishing that staircase.”
“Beauty being in the eye of the beholder, as opposed to the labor of the worker.”
“Oh, we’ve all polished that staircase at one time or another. Our grandmother considered it the perfect punishment. I was given the job for one day each week for six months after I had the happy notion to slide down the entire staircase on a large silver tray. If the dog gate hadn’t been closed, I might have made it all the way to the tiles.”
Simon gave another look to the sheer height and tricky landings. “How did the tray fare?”
Valentine grinned. “That was sent off to the blacksmith, to be hammered back into some semblance of its former self. Now, about that drink...”
But Simon was still looking at the staircase, which meant he was the first to see the exotic vision that had just appeared at the wooden railing to peer down at them, her long black curls hanging slightly over the railing. “My God,” he breathed quietly.
Valentine looked up, as well. “Oh. It’s only Kate.” He waved his arm at her. “Come on down, Kate. Our guest has arrived.”
Lady Katherine turned toward the stairs, keeping her right hand on the railing, using her left to hike up her hem a few inches as she took on the first few steps. Then she stopped, took a breath, let go of her skirt and continued her descent, this time with her head held high, and at a much more sedate pace.
Simon prayed she’d continue to take her time, stretching out the moments he could simply stand and stare at her. And hopefully figure out a way to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. Please let her open her mouth and squawk like a parrot. Otherwise, I’m doomed.
“So?” Valentine asked.
“Hmm?”
“So, do you think you can do it?”
“Do what?” Simon asked, finding it difficult to believe the beautiful creature had just winked at him.
“You know, Singleton, I don’t think I thought this new twist on our little game through as well as I could have, and should have just let Kate be Kate,” Valentine said on a sigh. “Because this is beginning to show all the hallmarks of a bad, bad idea.”
* * *
KATE HAD ALREADY lifted her right leg to cross over her left before she caught herself in time and carefully placed her foot back down on the carpet. Five minutes into the thing, and she had almost proved Valentine correct—she didn’t know how to behave as a lady. It would have been thirty seconds into the thing, if her brother had seen her wink at the marquis, but he hadn’t, so that didn’t count.
But she hadn’t been able to resist. The marquis had looked so adorably flustered as he watched her descend the staircase, yes, like a lady. It was just as Trixie had promised: men were lamentably easy, as they rarely thought with their brains. She probably should have asked her what they used instead, but Trixie had seemed to think she understood, and she hadn’t wanted to appear blockheaded. Still, she believed she was beginning to get an idea.
Now here they were, all cozy in the enormous main drawing room, the introductions behind them, and she was wondering why she continued to find his lordship so appealing.
Perhaps it was his coloring. Her brothers were dark-haired, and none of them had such startlingly green eyes. Perhaps that was it—the marquis was a new experience for her. Not that she hadn’t seen her share of light-eyed, blond-haired men. It’s just that none of them had looked anything like Simon Ravenbill, or dressed half so well. In fact, although his clothing was more than two decades out of date, the man the marquis put her in mind of most was her father, and the portrait that hung in the long gallery.
Maybe it was fate, sending her a warning. Was there something hidden beneath the appealing surface of the marquis, as there had been evil lurking behind the smiling face depicted in that portrait? It still didn’t seem sensible to her that Valentine would have invited a guest to Redgrave Manor now, of all times. Was her brother playing her for a fool? Why?
“Kate?”
She shook herself back to attention. It wasn’t like her to allow her mind to drift. The marquis must think her rude, or shallow...or simple. “A thousand apologies, Val,” she cooed sweetly; she’d learned at Trixie’s feet how to deliver a cutting line with an accompanying smile. “Did you say something of interest, and I missed it?”
The marquis, just then in the midst of taking a sip of wine, gave a short cough and then swallowed, seemingly with some difficulty.
Kate could like this man. If she wasn’t so suspicious of him.
“I was saying, Kate,” Valentine pressed on, ignoring the jab, “I think Simon would enjoy joining us in our small treasure hunt. You know, the jewels supposedly hidden somewhere on the estate by that band of smugglers who then set out on another run, only to drown to the last man in a storm.”
Oh, that was fairly good. Valentine must have put some thought into that fib; to mention the golden rose by name would have been a mistake. Still, it was a lengthy explanation of his lie, and he probably should have kept it shorter. And probably would have, if she’d been paying him the least attention when he first uttered it.
“Really?” she asked, turning to the marquis. “I doubt there’s any truth to the legend, but I will admit to being intrigued ever since I heard the tale a few weeks ago. My brother Gideon thinks it all a great hum, but Val here has promised to help. You don’t think us incredibly silly?”
“Not at all. There isn’t a little boy in all of England who hasn’t dreamt of finding buried treasure. I don’t see why it should be so different for the fairer sex.”
She smiled at him, careful to bat her eyelids, just the once. “La, my lord, how forward-thinking of you. Many would suggest we of the fairer sex are too fragile for such undertakings.”
“Not true. But I would be remiss if I didn’t add joining you and Val here will also afford me an excuse to spend more time in your fair company.”
Oh, now I know I’m being led by the nose! Such stuff and nonsense, and laid on with a trowel, it’s so thick! “You put me to the blush, my lord.”
She sensed Valentine looking from the marquis, to her, and then back again. He then got to his feet, rubbing his palms together. “Good! That’s settled, then. Kate, isn’t it soon time for some afternoon refreshment? I’m sure Simon is hungry for a little something before dinner.”
“Yes, of course. A poor hostess I’d be, indeed, if I hadn’t thought of that myself.” Don’t ask me to be perfect and then continually test me, Val, or you’ll be sorry you ever began this farce. Although I suspect you already are!
As if he’d been hovering outside the door awaiting his cue to enter, Dearborn stepped into the room to announce the arrival of refreshments, “as requested by Lady Katherine” (she’d asked him to add that last part). In marched a trio of maids, all carrying silver trays laden with sandwiches, cakes and a large pitcher of lemonade. They could have fed a half-dozen ravenous men with this display of food, but then, the Redgraves did nothing in a small way...and the servants would enjoy the remnants that returned to the kitchens.
The marquis surprised Kate by taking on the role of mother, pouring them each a tall tumbler of lemonade. “So you don’t have to strain to lift such a heavy pitcher,” he told her, handing her one of the glasses.
“Oh, too kind, too kind,” she purred, smiling around gritted teeth, mentally exchanging that trowel for a shovel. “We’re quite informal here, my lord. Please feel free to help yourself to anything you’d like.”
“Yes,” the marquis said slowly, his back to Valentine, looking at her rather than the trays of sandwiches and decorative cakes. “I’ll do that.”
Kate felt herself being put to the blush, an occurrence so rare in her experience she couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. “Val? Aren’t you hungry?” she asked quickly.
Valentine was looking at his own glass with barely veiled horror. Kate believed she could read his mind: Lemonade? Is the man mad? What in bloody hell am I supposed to do with lemonade?
“Not anymore,” he grumbled, eyeing the drinks table.
Kate had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She didn’t know how long she could last with this ridiculousness, but she was certain she could hang on longer than her brother. Besides, it was rather fun being flirted with, even if the man was doing it on orders from his new friend—because that had to be the answer, it was the only answer that fit. Val had told both of them to flirt, his lordship in order to do his friend a favor, and Kate in order to play at being somebody other than herself. Or could her brother actually have brought them both together, spinning lies for both of them, all in order to matchmake? Clearly her brother had no head for intrigue. No matter what, Valentine was in trouble!
Kate reached for one of the plates holding a cake iced with some lovely pink confection. It was time to learn more about their guest. “Valentine tells me London is very flat this season, my lord. Is that true?”
“London is London, my lady, and in the end, I suppose what you make of it,” he answered, having somehow already downed half his sandwich, rather like a person who has learned to feed his belly as quickly and efficiently as possible. Someone like a soldier, perhaps?
“Yes, and I made a shambles of it last year. It was really quite enjoyable.”
“Kate,” Valentine said warningly.
“There’s no sense in pretending it didn’t happen, Valentine. Now is there, my lord?”
“I’m certain you were quite justified in your actions, my lady.”
“No, I wasn’t. I could have done any number of things. Walked off the floor, for one, cutting the man dead. Claimed a sudden indisposition and asked him to return me to my grandmother. Feigned an overturned ankle. Any number of things. I simply preferred my chosen rebuttal to his statement.”
“Again, may I say I’m certain you were quite justified.”
“Thank you.” She turned to Valentine. “Now, see how simple that was? Rough ground gotten over swiftly and smoothly. It had to be said, didn’t it? Elsewise, it would hang over us all. My goodness, she’s the barbarian who bloodied that man’s nose last year at Almacks.” She gave a slight toss of her head. “I feel much better now. Shall we cry friends, my lord, as you and Val have already done? We prefer to be informal here at Redgrave Manor.”
“I would be honored,” the marquis said with an inclination of his handsome head. “Kate.”
“Simon,” she answered, again feeling heat climbing into her cheeks. She was going to have to be extremely careful around this so pretty, so pleasing man. “I’m certain Dearborn is waiting outside, to show you to your rooms.”
As Kate rose, he stood up, as well. “I would like to change out of my traveling clothes, thank you.”
“We keep country hours, Simon,” Valentine told him. “Dinner gong goes at six, tea at ten and then early to rise. We might think about a ride over the estate in the morning?”
Simon looked to Kate. “Do you ride?” His tone implied if she didn’t, he wouldn’t, either.
“I do,” she said, “thank you for asking.”
He inclined his head to her once more. “My mount will be arriving shortly, if it hasn’t already, along with my coach and valet. I eagerly anticipate the dinner gong, so that we may become more acquainted.”
She dropped him a small curtsy, then watched as he strode out of the room. Grabbing up one of the well-cut sandwiches, she plunked herself back down on the soft couch and clunked her heels, one after the other, on the low table before crossing her legs at the ankle. “All right, where did you meet him?”
“Is it impossible for you to employ correct posture for more than ten minutes?” Val asked, seating himself on the opposite couch and repeating her action with his own legs.
She spoke around a bite of ham shoved between a split roll spread with their own homemade mustard. “No, but that doesn’t answer my question, does it?”
“Sussex. Somewhere in Sussex, I disremember where. We met again in London, at some insipid affair, and soon I was regaling him with the beauty of Kent. Did you have to bring up Almacks?”
“Of course I did. Everyone knows, even if Gideon made it clear no one was to talk about it. You can’t stop gossip, Val, you can only make it whisper instead of shout. Why else did you all decide I shouldn’t return for another year? Simon was sure to have heard, so why not admit it and be done?”
