Page 33 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

Nance said, “That will be enough of your sauce now, Miss Charley. My granny never was no witch, and she’d not thank you to be going about saying she were one.”

“Good gracious, no,” Daintry said, laughing. “You mind that impudent tongue of yours, or we’ll have Feok Warleggan throwing us right off his farm.”

“As if he would,” Charley and Nance said in unison.

They looked at each other then and laughed, and Daintry, shaking her head at both of them, shooed her niece out the door, following as soon as she had snatched up her whip and hat from the dressing table.

She and Charley found Clemons waiting with the horses, and were soon on their way, the groom following placidly behind.

Three-quarters of an hour later, they arrived at the farm cottage, a haphazardly built, two-story building of whitewashed cob with a thatched roof.

As they approached the front door, Annie, as buxom and rosy-cheeked as her sister, opened it with a beaming smile, and bobbed a curtsy.

“Saw you from the kitchen winder my lady. Good day to you, Miss Charley. You’ll be stepping into the hale, you will, and I’ll be fetching me granny, for she’ll not want to miss bidding you a good day. ”

“It is Granny Popple we have come to see,” Daintry said, following Annie into the tiny hale, or parlor.

The room was used only on very special occasions, and it smelled of soap and beeswax.

The furniture consisted of three painted wooden chairs against the whitewashed cob walls, a large table kept beautifully clean by constant scouring, and a corner-cupboard with a glass door, containing numerous knickknacks.

A pair of china spaniels and two brass candlesticks decked the mantelpiece.

They were not left long to wait before Granny Popple, a wizened little woman with eyes that looked like tiny polished lumps of coal, came in hobbling on her stick and pulling her shawl more tightly around her scrawny shoulders.

“Greetings to ye, my lady,” she said. “Chilly in here. Ought to light the fire, Annie.”

Daintry, knowing that turf for the fires had to be cut out on the moor and hauled to the house, said quickly, “That is not necessary, Mrs. Popple. We are not chilly, I assure you.”

“Bless ye, lass, ’twarn’t you I were thinking of. These old bones o’ mine need a fire to keep ’em warm.”

Annie smiled and said, “We can light the fire, Granny.”

Charley said, “May we go into the kitchen instead, Annie? I like your kitchen.” Looking at Daintry, she said, “Remember the last time we came here, when Annie gave us saffron cakes?”

Annie laughed and said, “Come you in, lassie. The kitchen is where we entertain our closest friends, after all.”

The kitchen, much larger and more comfortable than the parlor, was clearly the real living room of the house.

Its ceiling was low with dark oak beams, and strips of wood had been nailed to them to make a sort of rack overhead where Annie’s herbs were stored along with all sorts of other odds’ and ends.

While Annie laid out a comfortable snack of saffron cakes and tea, Daintry explained the reason for their visit.

“Don’t know nothing about that old feud,” Granny said flatly. “His lordship’s pa weren’t a man to encourage idle chatter about his personal life, no more than his lordship be.”

“But surely you heard things.”

“We did, but nothing a body could sink her teeth into. We heard he and Lord Thomas had a falling-out over a lady in London, but didn’t nobody know the rights of it, not then nor after.”

Daintry persisted but discovered nothing more, and soon took her leave, though not before the men came in for their dinner at noon.

Greeting Warleggan, she found herself looking his younger brother over carefully, trying unsuccessfully to imagine the slim, broody middle-aged man married to her Nance.

As they were riding away, Charley showed that her thoughts had followed the same track. “He is not my notion of a good man for Nance. He is too sullen. Nance laughs all the time.”

“Then Nance would be just the person to cheer him up.”

“Perhaps.” But Charley did not sound convinced. They rode in silence for a time before she spoke again. “Aunt Daintry, we have come at least eight miles today, have we not?”

“We have, but don’t get to thinking that means you can go alone to visit Melissa. Your Uncle Geoffrey would be most displeased, I think, if I were to let you do any such thing.”

The child was silent for a moment, then said rather abruptly, “I don’t like Uncle Geoffrey.”

“Good gracious, darling, why don’t you like him? He has been kind to you, and even brought you a present from London.”

“Oh, yes, and I know it is my duty to love him because he is family, but he is so sticky smooth. Being with him is rather like having a jar of honey spilled all over one. He likes such smothery hugs, and he tickles people who loathe to be tickled.”

“You?”

“And Melissa, too. I know she is required to love him; he is her papa, after all. But I do not think it is precisely mandatory for me to do so, is it?”

“No, darling, certainly not.” Daintry replied, chuckling at the phrasing as much as at the sentiment.

Charley sighed. “I do not want to displease Uncle Geoffrey, because he can get very angry, but I still don’t see that there can be any harm in my going by myself. If you don’t want me to ride over and back in one day, perhaps I could stay overnight.”

“That is something you must talk over with your parents, darling, not with me,” Daintry said, realizing that she ought to have pointed out that fact rather sooner.

“But Papa and Mama never listen to me. They just say no and go on about their business, or they tell me to run along to the schoolroom. At least you listen.”

“Nevertheless, now that your papa and mama are at home, you should not ask my permission to do things that they must approve. You must make them listen, and,” she added swiftly, “you will not do that by being impertinent. Make a plan of what you want to say, then go to them and say it.”

Charley would no doubt have continued the argument, but at that moment her attention was diverted, and she exclaimed, “Is that not his lordship riding toward us, Aunt Daintry? Oh, it is! I would know that stallion anywhere!”

Daintry, too, recognized horse and rider, and the rapid beating of her heart informed her that she had not yet managed to deal with her wayward passions.

Only with great effort was she able to restrain the impulse to urge her mount to a faster pace to meet him.

Had he perchance been on the lookout for them?

She had not thought about the likelihood of meeting him—or at least she had not allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the possibility—but now, as she watched his approach, she could not fool herself into believing she was not very glad to see him.

Deverill looked tired, she thought, but he smiled and greeted them, saying politely when Charley told him where they had been, “I hope your visit was a pleasant one.”

“Aunt Daintry asked Granny Popple a lot of questions about that old feud between our families,” Charley said, “but Granny doesn’t know how it got started.”

Deverill looked at Daintry. “Nothing new?”

“No, and I’ve read Aunt Ophelia’s journals, too.”

“Well, I’ve spent the week searching, and I’ve asked anyone I can think of who might remember it, but I’ve done no better.”

She had been watching him carefully. “Is something amiss, Deverill? You look as if something had vexed you.”

He was silent for a moment, turning the stallion and falling in beside them. “I am confused rather than put out,” he said, then added with a wry smile, “No, in truth, I am very much put out, but since I do not know what lies at the root of the business, it seems more accurate to claim confusion.”

Charley, chuckling, said, “You must know what vexed you, sir. I always know.”

He looked at her, then at Daintry, and Daintry knew he was choosing his words with care.

“I received payment of a wager,” he said, “from someone who is angry with me. And while I know that he has some cause to be angry, the contents of the letter he wrote have nothing to do with the matter that I recall.”

Daintry said, “I believe I understand, sir, if you mean—”

“I do,” he said quickly, with another glance at Charley. “He has warned me away.”

“But he has no right!” He spoke of Geoffrey, she was certain, but although the man was her brother-in-law, he had no business to be ordering Deverill to keep away from her. Her father had already done that. The thought brought another, more unwelcome one. “Do you think he has also written to Papa?”

Deverill shook his head. “You misunderstand me. He would have every right to protest if what he writes were true, and no reason to complain to your father.”

Daintry could stand it no longer. “Charley, ride on with Clemons. I must speak to his lordship in private.”

So abruptly did she speak that for once, though Charley had been listening with unconcealed curiosity to their exchange, she did not question the command but touched Victor at once with spur and whip. Calling to Clemons to catch up with her, she rode on.

The moment the child was beyond earshot, Daintry said, “What is it, sir? Of what has Geoffrey accused you?”

“Only of trifling with his wife,” Deverill said grimly, watching her with narrowed eyes. “I would not blame you in the least if you believe—”

“I don’t.” She tried to think of what he might have done to make Geoffrey suspect him of such a thing.

“Don’t be so quick off the mark, my dear,” he said dryly. “You once accused me of trifling yourself, and I confess, your accusations were not altogether undeserved.”

She waved his words away with a gesture. “Susan would not respond to such advances,” she said. When his eyebrows rose ludicrously, she laughed and said, “Does that prick your vanity, Deverill? Are you so certain of your charms?”

“Certainly not.”

“It would not matter if you were, for Susan, as you have seen for yourself, is in love with her husband. Even if she were not, she likes protective men, the sort who like her to flutter her lashes and tell them how wonderfully strong they are.”

He reached out and caught Cloud’s bridle, pulling the silver dun to a halt, and Daintry suddenly found his face disturbingly near her own. “Do you think I don’t like such women?”

Her breath stopped in her throat, and all she could think of was that the last time he had been this close to her, he had kissed her.

Determined not to allow her passions to betray her into unbecoming behavior a second time, and drawing upon every resource at her command to control her voice, she said, “Do you like them, Deverill? I should not have guessed it.”

“Why not?” His face was inches from her own.

Fighting an impulse to lean forward just enough to press her lips against his, she murmured, “In truth, I believe you are tempted by anyone with bosoms, sir, but I also think you would find a lot of fluttering and fawning downright bothersome.”

“Do you?” He held her gaze for a moment longer, and she fancied he was somehow both amused and a little shaken.

But then he straightened, released her bridle, and added in a more natural tone, “We have drifted from the point, however, which is that your brother-in-law accuses me of trifling with his wife, and insists he has his information from an unimpeachable source.”

“But that must be nonsense.” She wished he had not released her bridle. She did not want to talk about Susan or Geoffrey.

“It is nonsense, but I am not altogether certain what I can do about it, though I doubt he’ll make the accusation public.”

“No, for that would damage Susan’s reputation and his own, too. But you may be wrong about his not telling Papa. He might do so just to add fuel to the feud, and it would, you know.”

He said, “Your niece is waving. If you don’t want her riding back here, I suggest you smile and wave back. Whatever Seacourt does, I must tell you I do not like this cocksure attitude of his very much, and I’d like nothing better than to have a private chat with him to tell him so.”

Smiling and waving at Charley, she said nonetheless firmly, “You must not, for it would only make matters worse. Let me see what I can discover first. Charley has been begging me to let her visit Melissa, and while I have refused to let her go alone, perhaps if I go with her, I can learn more about this matter and put in a good word for you at the same time.”

“Much obliged to you,” he said dryly.

She grinned at him saucily. “At least you must agree, sir, that doing it my way is less likely to result in all-out war.”

“I agree to nothing of the sort.”

They caught up with Charley a few moments later, and not long afterward he left them, saying it was not advisable for him to ride too near Tuscombe Park.

Daintry, listening to Charley’s chatter with only half an ear, spent the remaining time trying to think of how she could discover what had led Geoffrey to believe the worst of his own wife.

She said nothing to Charley about the intended visit to Seacourt Head, which was just as well, for as they rode up to the house, a chaise drew up before the front entrance, and two figures descended.

Charley recognized them first, shouting, “Melissa! It’s Melissa and Aunt Susan! ”

Daintry recognized Melissa, but she was still not certain that the veiled figure who emerged from the chaise after the child was her sister. Jumping down from her horse and throwing the reins to Clemons, she cried, “Susan, is that you? Why on earth are you wearing that veil? Did someone die?”

“Go inside with Charlotte, Melissa. We will be right behind you.” The voice was Susan’s, but she was clearly not herself, for she held her arm tight against her waist and moved with unaccustomed stiffness.

“Take in our things,” she said to Jago when the young footman came down the steps to meet them.

“You are staying a while then,” Daintry said, surprised.

“Don’t chatter. Just come with me,” Susan said, looking down the drive as though she expected to see someone approaching.

Her curiosity nearly overwhelming her, Daintry followed her sister into the house and up to her own bedchamber. Only when that door had been shut did Susan raise her veil.

Daintry gasped with shock. Her sister’s beautiful face was a mass of livid bruises.