Page 31

He grew sober, and her heart lifted when she realized he was truly listening—to the things she hadn’t said, as much as those she had.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Eventually, she cleared her throat. “And you?”

He knew what she asked, but he stood to cross to the edge of the stage and stare down at the natural stone platforms that jutted into the sea far below.

“You know, those stone jetties are only accessible at low tide,” he warned.

“When the water comes in, only a few spots are above water. Don’t let any of your household be caught out there at high tide. ”

Merritt shuddered. “No need for worry. Neither Julia nor I swim. I much prefer gazing at the sea from the heights. And Havers won’t venture down there.”

“Good, then.” He watched the waves breaking over the stones below. “You heard about my career, you said.”

She nodded. “A rising star of a barrister, specializing in prosecuting hardened criminals.”

“Yes. It was hard work, but I was good at it. Damned good.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She could well imagine him in robes, all deep-voiced conviction, unassailable logic, and irresistible persuasion. He would be mesmerizing.

“The law was a controversial choice, but I was a third son—”

“And argumentative?” she ventured.

“Yes.” He laughed. “And so I was indulged.” Sighing, he shot her a rueful glance. “I loved it. Even the difficult parts. I was in the midst of preparing for the biggest case of my career when word came…”

“Word of your brothers’ deaths?”

“Both of them at once,” he said on a sigh. “It didn’t seem real. It still doesn’t.”

“But here you are—a duke.”

He nodded. “I resigned myself to the loss of the career I loved. To relinquishing the case I’d prepared so carefully for. The newly appointed barrister has consulted me a few times as the trial grows nearer—”

“Wait! You don’t mean the murder trial? The trial of Deacon Allard?” She couldn’t help but be impressed. “I am sorry. A case like that would have made your career.”

“You know it?”

“Everyone does. It’s in all the papers. And Julia, as I said, has a special affinity for the theatre. The murder happened in a theatre. One of the performers she most admired was killed.”

“If Allard had only killed the actress, he might have been successful in keeping the whole thing quiet,” the duke said, sounding disgusted with that truth.

“But the man she was with was also murdered. Viscount Aston’s youngest son.” She shrugged. “As I said, Julia has followed the news of the case avidly.”

“It won’t do. His money and influence can’t help him now.

Not even his position in the East India Company.

He can’t be seen getting away with killing the son of a peer.

The viscount’s fury and desire for vengeance is a large factor in all of the attention.

” Pausing, he cleared his throat. “If you have followed it, you will have seen the rumors of an eyewitness to the crime.”

“Of course. Everyone is agog, waiting to hear who it is. They must be very brave, to stand up to a man like Allard. He has money and power and a notoriously bad reputation.”

“Allard is a villain. A ruffian who uses his position to torment the people in his life, to harass and destroy his competition, and now, finally, to kill. He murdered his young mistress, only because he found her with another, younger man and assumed she was playing him false. He knows who the witness is, Lady Merritt, because he saw him there. And now, someone has made an attempt on the witness’s life. ”

“Someone,” she said, snorting.

“They very nearly succeeded. The solicitor I worked with on the case spirited him away before Allard could try again.”

Understanding began to dawn. “Spirited him away…to Shoring?”

“We need to keep him hidden.”

“Here?”

“It is ideal.”

“Why? You have an entire estate.”

“And I am connected to the case. Allard is smart enough to send someone out to poke around and inquire if I have an unexpected guest.” He turned around and leaned against the stone, examining the stage area while she examined his large, powerful physique and went warm all over.

She distracted herself by pondering the dilemma before them. Allard sounded like the very worst sort of man—the kind that felt exempt from following the rules of basic human civility. “He sounds like a bully,” she mused out loud. “And there is nothing I hate more than a bully.”

The duke brightened. “Then you would consider letting me have—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I am keeping Cliffstone. I have plans for it. But I will consider allowing your witness to stay, depending…”

“On?”

“On whom it is—and if he can be trusted around my sister and perhaps some other young ladies.” She thought he looked suddenly hesitant. “Who is it?” she asked.

He drew a breath. “Mr. Henry Linwood.”

Merritt blinked, surprised. “The playwright? But Mr. Linwood is—”

“Here!” a voice rang out as another gentleman stepped out of the shadows and onto the stage. “I am here!”

*

Cart let loose an exasperated sigh. “Linwood, what are you doing?”

“I had to come! To see for myself. Evans has dragged me to this barnacle of a village with no culture, no art, or music, or even a club to visit for inspiration. Then he tells me I am to find it here—in the quiet of a theatre hanging over the sea.” The playwright moved lithely across the stage to stare out over the magnificent view. “It is lovely, I give you that.”

“It is isolated,” Cart pointed out. “That is what’s paramount.”

“Too isolated, I fear,” Linwood objected. “My muse will be too lonely to speak to me.”

“You will be too dead to hear her, should Allard find you,” Cart reminded him.

“What is life without art?” Linwood sighed, waving a hand.

Cart glanced over to Lady Merritt. She watched, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Perhaps she would have Cliffstone to herself after all. But he found himself goaded by a sharp desire not to lose in front of her. “Linwood—” he began.

“Merritt!”

The cry interrupted him. As one, they all turned to see a young woman take a hesitant step out onto the stage.

“ Ooh, ” the new arrival breathed. She steepled her fingers against her mouth before flinging her arms wide and turning in a circle. She ran a hand along a carved stone seat, then rushed to the edge of the stage to look out over the rocks and the sea. “Oh, Merritt! You were right! It’s perfect!”

Lady Merritt watched the girl fondly. “I am glad you approve, Julia, darling.”

Cart thought he caught a hint of assessment in her gaze as she watched her sister.

Seeing her concern for the girl, knowing what lengths she meant to go for her—it touched him.

It also gave him a strange, yearning sort of ache, deep in his chest. Ah well .

At least he could let her have Cliffstone.

He hoped it would somehow raise his credit with her.

“Well then, it seems the matter is decided,” he began.

“Evans and I will search out another hiding place for Linwood—”

“No!” the playwright cried. “I will stay!”

Cart turned to find the man staring at the girl.

Personally, he found her a pale copy of her vibrant sister.

They shared coloring, and a certain turn of the nose and set of the chin, but at first glance, Lady Julia emanated innocence and vulnerability.

She lacked her sister’s fire, wit, and bright energy.

Linwood, though, appeared awestruck as he took a step toward the girl. “I must stay,” he said in a loud whisper. “The play, the entire thrilling tale, has sprung to life, carried along with the arrival of my muse!”

Lady Julia was watching him just as raptly. She did not shrink at his approach, but stared into his thin, dark face. “Linwood?” she asked. “You are not Mr. Henry Linwood? The playwright?”

“But I am.” Linwood struck a dramatic pose. “As surely as you are the inspiration for my new drama.”

“Me?” Lady Julia asked, her gaze never leaving his.

“You and none other.”

“But you are my favorite author,” she whispered. “I adore your plays. I have read Death and the Scarlet Rose a hundred times, at the least.”

Linwood took a step back. “Please. Stand just there. I must fix the image in my mind. The entire scene is playing out inside of my head.”

“ Oh, ” Lady Julia breathed.

Cart would have rolled his eyes, had the entire thing not been unfolding to his satisfaction. “Well, that fixes that, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps not.”

The challenge in Lady Merritt’s bright eyes sent his heart rate ratcheting. “You have an objection?”

She nodded toward the young people. “That is a complication .”

“I’ll speak to Linwood. Make sure he acts the perfect gentleman—”

Her chin went up. “Do you think he’ll hear you above the call of his muse?

Cart thought quickly. “Evans, my solicitor…my former solicitor… If you have a room for him, I’ll have him stay and watch over Linwood.”

“That is another problem. Several of the extra bedchambers here need work. I meant to hire men from the town. I cannot delay. The work needs done quickly, but they could possibly go back and mention Linwood’s presence.”

“No, that wouldn’t do, but I can send my own men. Workers from my estate. They can do the repairs you need, and I will instruct them on the importance of keeping quiet about who is here.” Cart gave her a slow smile. “I will stop by often. Taking care not to be seen, of course.”

She moved the merest inch closer and swiped a windblown curl away from her brow. “So that you may check on your men? And on Linwood’s safety?”

“Of course,” Cart agreed readily. He allowed his hand to creep along the balustrade until his fingers brushed hers. The merest touch, yet his heart beat erratically and heat surged through him. “Why else?”

Her mouth quirked. “Why else, indeed?” She stared up at him for a long moment, searching. And then she gave him a saucy smile and pulled away. “Come, Julia,” she called. “If we are to have guests, then you may help Havers and me make preparations.”

“Thank you, Lady Merritt,” Cart called as she took her dazed sister in hand.

She grinned back at him and his breath caught. He watched her go, feeling more alive and hopeful than he had since he’d been handed the black-bordered letter that carried such tragic family news.

“Now, Linwood,” he said sternly, turning to the playwright, “I fear we must set a few ground rules…”