They assembled in the drawing room. Ivy reassured herself that Lilac and Rosemary, aside from their understandable pallor and rumpled cloaks, had survived the attack mostly unscathed. In fact, it was Sir Oliver who looked shaken. He drank both the brandies that Wendover offered him. Really, what had she expected? He had just killed a man to protect her sisters.
Even though he had a reputation as a duelist, it would be abnormal for him to be unaffected by taking a man’s life.
Her eyes met his. She turned her head and found James watching her in frowning silence. Guilt flared inside her that she hadn’t yet told him about last night. The attack wouldn’t have happened if Fenwick had remained hidden behind its thorns. If she hadn’t gone to London. If, if, if.
She blinked at the sound of Rosemary’s voice. “We’ve left Quigley in charge of the house,” her sister said, “which worries me greatly. It’s true that he chased off his assailant with a shovel, but only because the man appeared not to carry a firearm. Quigley’s getting on in years.”
James reached down to straighten his cravat, a unconscious gesture that melted Ivy a little inside. She wanted the solace of his arms around her. “What did they look like?” he asked.
“They wore masks, like highwaymen.” Rosemary’s voice was reflective. “I did not see either of them as closely as Lilac and Quigley did.”
“I’m glad I didn’t see his whole face,” Lilac said, putting her hand to her throat. “But he had red-brown hair and fine clothes like a gentleman.”
“A gentleman he was not,” Wendover said from the window in a contemptuous voice.
“Perhaps it was a random robbery,” James suggested. “The house looks deserted, and they might have been two thieves who happened upon the place in their travels.”
Ivy hazarded a glance at Oliver. “Two robbers wearing masks in the morning?”
“Robbers abound in every part of England,” he murmured. “Some men wait for opportunity to prey on weakness.”
“The house no longer looks neglected since Sir Oliver had the garden cleaned and the mortar work repaired,” Rosemary pointed out. “Besides, the dead man had a disgusting obsession with Lilac.”
Lilac leaned from her chair to put her hand over Rosemary’s. One would think it was Rosemary whose life had been in immediate danger, and not the other way around. Unspoken anger constricted Ivy’s chest. She should have been there, and yet it was Oliver who had saved the day. Why could she not summon more gratitude for his actions? She couldn’t bear to think of anyone harming Lilac.
“I’ll be fine,” Lilac said. “What Rosemary means is that as this miscreant was trying to strangle the breath from my body, he kept insisting that I yield my treasure to him.”
James rose from his chair, his face dark with unconcealed fury. “Where is he now?”
“Hopefully six feet under,” Oliver said, coming to his feet. “I sent the footman to the magistrate to have his body taken off the premises. The other man escaped.”
“How?” James asked.
Oliver wavered. “I’m not sure.”
“There was a small carriage on the bridge,” Lilac said, looking unexpectedly at Captain Wendover.
“Can you describe it?” he asked her gently.
“No.” She shook her head as if she just realized it herself. “I never saw it. I heard it. Few travelers cross the bridge. Those who have in recent years only caused mischief.” She colored, as if realizing James could interpret her remark as an insult. “I wasn’t referring to present company, of course.”
James smiled wryly. “I understand.”
“I was outside, you see, taking tea to Sir Oliver in the gatehouse. I broke some of our best china on the man’s head and dented our silver tray. I even threw an urn of red geraniums at him, which I think only aggravated his rage.”
“Good heavens,” Wendover said, shaking his head in admiration. “I’d like to have seen that.”
Lilac gave him a shy smile. “That’s how I was able to fend him off until Oliver shot him. Rosemary frightened off the other one with her gun, but Quigley had done a bit of damage by that time.”
“It’s a blessing that Rue wasn’t there,” Ivy murmured, catching Rosemary’s eye.
Rosemary nodded. “Yes. We would have had two dead bodies for the magistrates to dispose of then.”
Sir Oliver looked up at the duke. “There will undoubtedly be an inquiry.”
“I don’t anticipate that to be a concern, do you?”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“I will, of course, offer whatever help the young ladies may require.” He paused, glancing across the room at Ivy. She could see the questions in his eyes, the doubts, and she would be damned if she would let Oliver spoil the intimacy that she and James had built. “Why did you presume to have the garden cleared, Sir Oliver?” James asked.
Sir Oliver did not appear disconcerted at all by the question. “I believe you’re aware that due to my carelessness I almost took Lady Ivy’s life in London. It isn’t a secret that I have developed a tendresse for her.”
“Which she does not return,” James said evenly.
Sir Oliver’s expression did not change. “That remains to be seen.”
A dark warning flared in the duke’s eyes. “No, it doesn’t,” James said. “Last night she agreed to be my wife.”
“Ivy!” Lilac said with a jubilant laugh, and Rosemary gave one of those smiles usually reserved for the rare times she had written a book that satisfied her impossible standards. Ivy was delighted to see their pleased reactions to the news. If only Rue could have been there, too. If only the gathering had not been caused by such a gruesome event.
And there would be more trouble to come, judging by the tension Ivy sensed between the duke and Sir Oliver. Why couldn’t Oliver concede like a gentleman and go on with his life? He couldn’t have fallen truly in love with Ivy during a chance encounter outside a shop.
“Last night?” he said in a voice fraught with such doubt she wondered then whether he was possessed of a madness that made him oblivious to the opinions of others.
James didn’t appear to care. To look at him now, masterful and brimming with arrogance, he showed no sign of vulnerability, and she knew without a doubt that he would fight to keep her.
“Congratulations,” Oliver said with no pleasure in his voice. “I regret I won’t be able to attend the wedding. It’s time for me to meet with my publisher in London.”
“Oh, Oliver.” Lilac rose unsteadily from the low sofa. “Are we going to lose our protector and tenant? Is there nothing we can do to make you stay?”
There was another uncomfortable silence. The duke stared at Sir Oliver in naked dislike. “You have taken lodgings at Fenwick Manor?”
Wendover pushed off from his position at the window. “Why don’t we leave the ladies to take tea while we finish this conversation with Sir Oliver in your study, James?”
Ivy didn’t know whether this was a good idea. She wanted to act as a barricade between James and this man to whom she was now indebted for saving Lilac’s life. Was it too much to hope that this turn of events would even out their association? Could he not make a graceful exit?
In fact, much to her surprise, he did just that. First he bowed. “Ladies,” he said to Lilac and Rosemary, “your hospitality shall linger always in my heart. I regret that you had to witness the horrendous deed I committed in your defense.”
“You aren’t leaving us forever?” Lilac interrupted, having regained her balance. “I’ve come to enjoy the romance of harboring a poet in the gatehouse. And after your heroism today, how can we do without you?”
Ivy stood up, determined to keep James and Oliver apart for as long as she could. “The tea is cold, and I should see to the children. Sit down, Lilac. I shall be right back.”
James turned as she stepped forward and took her in his arms. “Dearest, you should stay with your sisters.”
“The children might be distressed, James. I should see to them.”
“You should stay here,” he said firmly.
“Please,” she whispered.
His mouth grazed her cheek. “Do what you are told. One of the footmen can find the children.”
She could sense Oliver watching them, even though he appeared to stare straight ahead. If she’d thought she could have gotten away with it, she would have feigned a swoon or a case of hysterics. She might fool James with such dramatics. She wouldn’t deceive Rosemary and Lilac, however.
“Be careful,” she whispered, catching the cuff of his sleeve.
He paused impatiently. “I am walking to the study, Ivy. What do you think will befall me on that perilous journey? Will the statue of Heracles come to life and try to snatch my girdle?”
“You aren’t wearing one.”
“I might have been this morning,” James replied. “The physician was attempting to truss me in bed when I woke up.”
She shook her head, about to answer until she realized Oliver was right behind her. She turned as Captain Wendover opened the door.
“These must be your lost cherubs.” Sir Oliver gestured with his beaver hat to the two children huddled together in the hall. “Eavesdropping on us? That isn’t polite, you know. Your governess ought to pay more attention to her duties.”
Ivy slipped out between him and James to confront the children. Sticky red jam coated Walker’s cheeks, and he backed up slowly when she reached for him, content to let Mary suffer the consequences of being caught first.
But Mary didn’t move, didn’t utter a word. She stared up at Sir Oliver, a confused look on her face. “Mistress Mary?” Ivy said, holding out her hand. “Shall we wash up and take tea with my sisters? They’re dying to make your acquaintance.”
“This can wait until we’re out the door,” James said behind her, and at the sound of his clipped voice Mary darted around Ivy and Oliver and threw herself like a heroine in a melodrama at his mercy.
“You aren’t going to die?”
James frowned, holding her away from him. “Fanciful girl,” he said in a tender voice. “Of course not.”
“But I had a dream—”
“Just go into the drawing room and let me introduce you to my sisters,” Ivy said softly. “The footman can bring some damp towels. Don’t touch anything or anyone until you’re clean.”
“Our mother never allowed us into a tea party,” Walker said, wiping his hand on his shirt.
Sir Oliver made a face. “I don’t wonder why.”
“Were you acquainted with my lady mother, sir?” Mary asked boldly.
Ivy drew a breath. “That’s not an appropriate question.”
Sir Oliver frowned. “I don’t believe so.”
Mary gave a shiver and stepped closer to Ivy.
“Are you ill, child?” She grasped Mary’s hand and motioned at Walker to follow. “Come. Have a sit-down with my sisters. They always make me feel better.”
She whisked the children into the drawing room, aware of the pensive look on Oliver’s face. Hadn’t she used the children’s ailments as an excuse for the physician’s visit to the house? Had Mary recognized his voice from last night? It was unlikely but possible.
But if Mary could put Oliver’s face to the few words he’d spoken, it would seem as if Ivy were hiding Oliver’s visit from James.
The longer she waited to tell him, the worse keeping silent would seem. Should she ask her sisters’ advice? No, not after what they had experienced today. She would wait until Oliver had left the park.
* * *
The three men sat in the study, taking brandy, the details of the death at Fenwick not a subject gentlemen cared to discuss in the presence of ladies. Wendover had put into words what James was thinking: “It’s remarkable to me that those young women can speak of the incident as though it had occurred a decade ago and not today. And how astonishing that they went into action.” He shook his head. “I understand now, James, why there could be no other duchess for you in England.”
James failed to suppress a grin of agreement. “The Fenwick sisters haven’t descended from royalty for nothing. Remarkable, yes, in so many ways. But vulnerable, too.” His gaze fell on Sir Oliver. “Tell me more about the attack.”
Sir Oliver shifted in his chair. “There wasn’t time to think. I was asleep when the men staged their assault. It was early, but the gardener was up catching snails, and Lilac was bringing me my morning tea, despite the fact that she knows I am not an early riser.”
“How inconvenient for you.” James rolled a golden sovereign across his desk.
“I stay up late to write, you understand.”
“And last night?” James said. “The moon was full? It inspired you, and so on?”
“I was up until the sky lightened. I’ve fallen behind in my work, which is why I must leave now for London.”
“What did the men look like?” Wendover asked.
“As I said, I was asleep when they attacked. I ran barefooted down the gatehouse stairs with my gun. Quigley had beaten back his assailant with his rusty old shovel. The second man seemed intent on violating Lilac.”
James caught the sovereign before it reached the edge of the desk and tossed it in the air. He reached for it and missed. “Does it not seem strange that he would commit a sexual act in front of witnesses?”
Sir Oliver looked James in the face. “I have long ago given up searching for reason in the irrationality of mankind. My talents are better put to use writing poetry. I might die in poverty, but at least I shall have invented worlds I can understand.”
“And their description?” Wendover asked again.
“For the last time, my mind was muzzy. The attack happened too quickly to take notes for a fashion magazine. The men wore masks. Did I not say that? The one who escaped appeared to be less agile and perhaps older than his dead accomplice. Or perhaps he seemed slow because Quigley had rendered him several stunning blows while I went to Lilac’s aid. The man I killed was dressed in a gray or brown jacket and trousers. Again, it is difficult to give an exact description as Lilac had battered him with an urn of geraniums before I ended his abuse with my gun.”
James looked down at his desk. “And you heard him command that she yield the treasure?”
A pause. Sir Oliver frowned as if he had to relive the memory, word for word, moment by moment, and James understood why. It wasn’t every day a man interrupted another man in the act of rape and was obligated to make sure that this would be the last woman he ever assaulted.
“I can’t remember the exact order of how everything occurred,” Oliver admitted. “I believe I swore. I—I think I said, ‘Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.’ My voice startled him. He turned to me. I wanted his attention. I needed him to step back from Lilac so that I could have a clear shot. And I—I had asked Rosemary to stand away. I shot to kill, hitting him in the chest. I ran after the other man. Then I came back to Lilac to cover the bloodied corpse.”
James was silent. It made sense, and yet he wanted to find fault. “You covered him in dirt?”
Sir Oliver grimaced. “I don’t remember. It might have been Lilac’s shawl or the jacket I’d been about to put on when I ran down the stairs. Remember, I’d been in a dead sleep myself.”
“How did the other one escape?” James asked, picturing the garden, the slope to the bridge, the impediments, gone now, thanks to Oliver’s intervention.
“He had a small carriage on the bridge. I didn’t see it, but I heard the snap of a whip, the rumble of wheels and hooves.”
“You didn’t think to run after it for at least a look?” Wendover said in a faint reproach.
Sir Oliver answered him with a cold stare. “No. I thought to draw Lilac away from the dead body that had fallen on top of her. Was that wrong of me? Should I have left her there in shock? You were an officer, Your Grace,” he said to James. “You are better trained than me in these matters. What would you have done?”
“No doubt the same thing. But you have killed a man—two men—before, Sir Oliver.”
“On a dueling field. There might have been a woman involved, but she was not being assaulted in my sight.” Oliver’s voice rose. “Am I on trial for protecting a woman’s virtue?”
“Of course not.” James glanced at Wendover for a moment before speaking further. “I don’t think they should return to that house.”
“You will have a job persuading them, I fear.” Sir Oliver came to his feet. “With your permission I will return to Fenwick and leave for London before it is dark. I might even come across a drunken man in a tavern who is lamenting the death of his partner.”
James rose. “Then unless the magistrate requires a formal report from you, we are finished.”
“Perhaps.” Sir Oliver nodded in Wendover’s direction. “Good day.”
James stroked his jaw. He waited to speak to Wendover until the footman in the hall closed the door. “What do you think?”
“From what little I know of Ivy and her sisters, the two ladies won’t leave Fenwick of their own volition.”
“Perhaps we can convince them that a temporary stay in the park is a good idea.” James flipped another coin in the air. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.”
James caught it in his left hand. “It’s tails. He’s hiding something, and I don’t know what.”
“He’s a cocksure bastard. Perhaps he knows more about the other assailant than he’s willing to tell. He might even be going after him to make himself more the hero.”
James grunted. His arm had started to hurt. He swore it was because he wanted to reach across his desk and throttle the weasel. “This was supposed to be a day of celebration,” he mused.
“Which I interrupted,” Wendover said.
James released a sigh. “I was showing her the library.”
“The hell you were.” Wendover shook his head. “I know the difference between the sound of pages being turned in a book and bedsprings.”
“I’m not the least bit interested in good manners.”
“I’ve noticed.”
They walked toward the door together.
“Come to think of it,” James said, “I’ll need more than good manners to put her back in a receptive mood. I wanted to give her my mother’s diamond and sapphire necklace while we were upstairs. Remind me later to look for it again.”
“Offer her comfort,” Wendover said. “She’ll need it more than jewels. She isn’t like Elora.”
“I’ll have the devil’s time taking her mind off what happened to Lilac. No doubt she will want to comfort her sisters.”
“Allow me to assist.”
James grinned. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Why did you hide them from me for so long? You could have invited them to dinner or a picnic at the lake.”
“They hide themselves from the world.”
Wendover frowned. “Four women of reduced circumstances couldn’t keep up a manor that grand forever. What sustained them through the years?”
“Wits, a strong heritage, the revenues from Rosemary’s writing, plus a bountiful supply of fruits and vegetables from the back gardens.”
“That’s all?”
“And, I gather, sisterhood.”
They had reached the doors to the drawing room, from which drifted warm voices and laughter. “I hope I don’t offend you, James, but your fiancée and her sisters are not the ‘usual’ sort of gentlewomen one encounters at a country assembly. Or anywhere that I would think to look.”
“I know.”
He only wished he’d known years ago when he first met Ivy and assumed she was too desirable, too young and vivacious, to wait for a man who aspired to climb the military ranks. He should have wed her before going to war. With luck he’d have left her with his father and an heir to keep them contented until he came home. Perhaps, if he’d had the wisdom to marry her then, he would have had a reason to return home sooner.
* * *
Oliver had intended to drive to the gatehouse and collect his belongings before he set off for London. But when he reached Fenwick, its mystery beckoned to him once again. This might be his last chance to search for the treasure, if it existed.
It was definitely the last time he would be able to poke about without one of the sisters inadvertently trying to end his life or requiring that he save hers.
He brought his carriage around to the stables, identifying himself to the nervous young groom, and walked back to the house, where Quigley sat dozing against the door.
“Quigley.”
“What? I’ve got a gun—well, it’s you, sir. Why’d you sneak up after what happened today?”
“What are you doing?”
“Standing guard.”
“God. Let me in the house, would you?”
“Why, sir? The ladies aren’t at home.”
He helped the gardener to his feet, wincing as the man’s grimy hand left a soil mark on one of Oliver’s fawn riding gloves. The urn of geraniums, bruised and missing most of its vibrant red petals, sat as it had before Lilac had hurled it at Joseph’s head. The damned idiot. And Ainsley. How had that fool found out about Fenwick?
“No trouble with the magistrate?”
“Not a bit. I told him to go to Ellsworth Park if he had any questions, and that seemed to satisfy him.”
“That’s fine. Be a good man and let me in.”
“Well—”
“Listen to me, Quigley. Trouble comes in threes. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if those two varlets hadn’t traveled with another man.”
Quigley spit on the ground, narrowly missing Oliver’s boots. “The servants would have seen ’im by now.”
“What if, during the mayhem and confusion, the third villain managed to sneak inside the house and hide? He might be lying in wait for the ladies to return.”
“Lying where?” Quigley asked, like a bull about to charge.
“There are hidden passages inside the manor. I know because Lady Rosemary accidentally closed me inside one, and I would surely have expired had her sister not heard my feeble exhortations.”
“Feeble whats?”
“Never mind, good fellow. You know of these passageways?”
Quigley swiped his muddied hand across his nose. “I do. In the time of the Pretender Oliver Cromwell, his soldiers traversed these passages searching for the exiled prince who’d long escaped, as the legend goes. But not all of Cromwell’s men were as fortunate. They haunt the house.”
Oliver was in no mood for a history lesson. “I thought it was Anne Boleyn’s ghost who came to play in one of the bedrooms.”
“That’s true. Her spirit and that of the young lady who lived in the manor at the time are those thought to have trapped Cromwell’s men in the tunnels in order for the young king to escape.”
“Which he did,” Oliver said.
“And lived on to rule merrily over England for a good many years, bless his wicked soul.”
Oliver tamped down a surge of excitement. This legend supposedly held the key to the treasure. “Quigley,” he said in a grave voice. “You risked your life today, and I cannot in clear conscience leave this house without ensuring it is safe for the ladies to return. I will search the hiding places before I go, but I need you to stand watch so that I am not closed in and forgotten.”
“I could go down with you.”
“My eyes are probably better than yours, Quigley. Do not fall asleep on me.”
“I’ll have the footman sit with me.”
“Excellent idea.”
“One caution, sir.”
He curbed his impatience; he had to gather up candles, flint, and tinder. “Yes?”
“There is a passageway below the staircase that no one has ever searched. It’s where the soldiers were thought to be trapped. Be prepared for a skull or two.”